it’s the season of bleeding.
angels and demons will be breeding.
demigods demonstrate the dimensions of dreaming.
a devil descends and starts to discuss
the reality of reincarnation and rust.
“You do know that you don’t exist?”
i nodded my head and the devil was pissed.
he thought there must be a trick that i’ve missed.
“Bring Me your blues as I’ve nothing to do for an hour or two.”
spellbound; he stole my stare and smiled at what he saw there.
a notion of ruin, an ocean of poems….the presumption to know Him.
he drily smiled and rose with a ruse of respect.
“I did not expect you to be perplexed.”
i shat myself as my body relaxed and the next track on the tape began to play.
Black Sabbath’s Black Sabbath. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5yR5XhCIeg
i shall remember forever till my soul is unchained.
“So I’m not real, am I not? but what of the wicked within the world?”
at that his bat like wings were unfurled.
“Touch Me, smell Me, gag on My filth.
I fucked your mum last night, the perverted milf.”
i tried to tell myself that this is a test;
just keep on breathing and hope for the best.
what is will be, both for the brutal and the blessed.
and of the future; even demons must guess.
i saw inside us, him and me and the trees.
the dog, the daisy, the flea and the disease.
we are all made of the same grains of God.
and dance on the paths that He has preset us.
how can i fear the folly of the fallen?
i smiled awhile in deep thought as if naught were about me.
in communion with the Cause of plausibility.
the light of His Love from below and above
shone with a divine shine and the shadows slunk beneath our feet.
and again i did meet the devilish soul that had stolen my stare.
His fair form and hair unshorn, kindness i saw there in pairs.
“Remember to realise Me, and remind those that might.”
He embraced me as a father and i felt alright as he nonchalantly strolled off into the night.
I’m a sheep.
Hear me bleat.
Shear my fleece
Cos bein a sheep aint cheap.
Take my wool.
Three bags full.
You must think me a fool
Yet ’tis i who stands tall.
I’m no shabby-chic sheep
That goes weak at the knees,
Asking to be fleeced.
Controlled consumer disease.
Oppressed and repressed.
Celebrities side track us
While i watch society rust
Though i confess
That i have faith in us
To rise and uprise
Through counsel of the truly wise.
To show true humanity and humility.
To resolve to evolve.
Looking for liberation.
Am i naive to believe
It could be so easy
As to break on through
To the Otherside
Of Love and Light
And the Eternal Mind?
Lyrics and photography by my own amateur hand.
time expanding and shrinking.
autopilot the miles.
travelling time sometimes it seems.
time; she weaves amongst my dreams.
had i stopped walking?
i better start jogging.
jogging in my jeans.
past keep-fitters tight-knit in teams.
jogging in my jeans and two coats.
past Tesco and A to B roads.
lungs warming, time shrinking.
trees appear and flee the scene.
they’ll play no part in my hare-brained schemes.
not too fast not too slow.
where the path parts, the grass will grow.
cars; they pass on down the road…
Cars; they pass on down the road.
Time is the Truth;
that which ‘is’.
and forever ‘exists’.
we yearn with a lust for bliss.
the kiss that we miss.
is this all that there is?
Love is the Truth;
a gentle reproof that to choose is to lose.
there are clues in the blues, if only we knew.
as i sit here i stew; and think of you.
as i sit here and stew, i think of you.
bhagavan badman i know what i am.
i jus’ wish i had the faintest plan.
some think i’m good, because they are bad.
some think i’m bad because they are good.
some think i’m crazy because it takes one to know one
or because i hide my eyes from their prying warped minds or sane brains.
i wish i had the courage of my conviction
to live my life without contradiction.
i’ll have a tin of tartan paint.”
said the sparse and spartan saint
who knew a thing or two about the blues ‘n’
this and that with a faith to match that was intact.
it’s easy being modest when we have fuck all
so wait and see when the curtain falls
who’s the clever ones and
who is the fool. only the meek will rule.
even those that have nothing have something to lose.
i call this the Ramble in the Jangle Blues.
nothing lasts forever i repeat to myself.
not in this material realm of His breath.
everyone fears getting put back on the shelf.
the shelf and yourself.
forever and ever amen.
but nothing lasts forever
if i can just believe.
wipe my dry eyes with a wet sleeve,
thankful my daughter isn’t here to see.
swings and roundabouts
what goes up must come down .
who likes to see a grown man down?
stand up and be the clown!
oh the grand family of Brown,
how they oft do like to frown,
and just as they reach for the top of the crop
they are beaten down again.
*don’t worry people, things aren’t as bad as they read. even if they are, life goes on 🙂 x
my belief, i cannot choose
it lifts me up and gives me the blues,
how can i decide
whether to believe in You?
we either believe or we don’t
though our minds may be changed.
but to choose what you believe
seems awfully strange.
Closed my kitchen door…
we aint on speakin terms no more.
what a waste o hot water…
where’s my wench when i call her?!
“woman, come n do the dishes”…
she always does as she pleases.
she gone long ago… she gone long ago…
and so i’m keepin my kitchen door closed.
but i gotta cook our dinner…
bitchin kitchen knows she’s a winner.
ye my kitchen is a woman…
always demandin of me.
always demandin of me…
Always demandin of me!
me an my daughter…
we fix the kitchen like i aughta.
this maybe read in the style of Junior Kimbrough Done Got Old