I am Drunk

green beltane.jpgI’m drunk, I’m really drunk. Not any old drunk,
I’m not punch drunk, or drunk as a skunk
I’m Beltane drunk

I’m dizzy on the heady scent of late night blossom,
I’m giddy on the sweet salty smell of the ocean
Last night I put on my best red Beltane dress,
and I’m afraid I got into a bit of a mess.
We danced around the Bel fires
and felt the hot rising of desire.
I woke up to find a green man in my room!
I had to get up early to wash myself in the dew.
Well when a green man has the horn,
what’s a girl to do?
I don’t often get that drunk,
maybe once a year when winter’s done,
because Beltane drunk is the best kind of drunk.

Psychic Remnants – #Napowrimo 25

 

grahame park.jpg

I wonder if some memories remain
in the space that they were made,
echoes of distant times
residing after we have left the place.

Ghosts in the atmosphere
of who we once were,
while we are still living,
could a part of us still be there?

In northwest London,
a brand new 70’s construction
on the fourth floor, the middle block,
the hallway smelled of fresh emulsion.

A child, just seven years old,
wilful, uncontrolled,
sent to her room
red faced and scolded.

Her sister was out,
her mum was shouting
as she climbed the stairs,
13 of them, she was counting.

From under her sister’s bed,
where she ran and hid
among dusty sweet wrappers,
her still shallow breath!

Just imagine staying there forever,
among the lost treasures,
of childhood fantasy,
and living on displeasure.

And discarded mouldy snacks,
shifting right into the back,
disappearing into nothingness,
so there would be nothing to smack.

Is she still there,
now the tower blocks have fallen
into shallow gentrification,
memory of a girl suspended, high in the air
of frightened anticipation?

Overheard at the White Spring – #Napowrimo 21

“Gerroff my leyline,”
he shouted
in a spectacular display
of anger.
He scared the tourists,
expectation
of sacred space crumbled,
dissolved
as chalk in water.
Wild
as a hedge monkey,
ready
to chase off the war drums,
yesterday
he hummed a sweet tune,
harmony
through cider rouged smiles,
happy
as a boar in springtime.
Today
he is protector of dragon lines,
he hates
the sacred space full
of ceremony and nakedness,
today
he is blessed, magnificent,
unbridled.
“Gerrof my leyline!”

People are Not a Commodity – #Napowrimo 18

Hello folks,

 

Last year, all the banks left Glastonbury High Street. Lloyds Bank, HSBC, Barclays, all abandoned the town. (‘Boo … or hooray!’ depending on your perspective.) A campaign by local residents and the Town Council, ‘The Last Bank Standing,’ did not convince the banks to stay, but it did attract the attention of Nationwide Building Society.

Personally, I think the local Credit Union is the best way to make money work for a community. However, Nationwide building society does not invest in war, nuclear, oil or gas, which is a bonus, and it makes them more ethical than the bag 6 Banks, and rather than investing in corporations, they invest in the community.

Divest from the big six and switch! That is something I can get behind.

Even better, Nationwide are supporting poetry with a ‘National Voices’ Campaign.  Hopefully, I will perform today’s poem – ‘People are not a Commodity’ in the Market Square on 27th April. Come down if you can, between midday and 4pm, some of the poets from the advert campaign will be there too. After the poetry takeaway event in Glastonbury, I will post the poem here.

Here it is …

People are Not a Commodity

Altogether, we are building society,
finding new ways to strengthen our community.
Common unity, with no rank or authority;
and while it seems like everybody
is competing in a competitive economy,
people are not a commodity.

Here, we are building bridges,
embracing so many faiths and religions.
and with all these different traditions,
we can’t afford to invest in divisions.
So it’s time to think about divesting,
and switching to something real,
something that we can believe in.

We are advocating unity in diversity,
but while we are celebrating this,
who is caring for the family,
who’s there for the young and the elderly?
Community despises isolation,
it comes alive with our participation.

Like birds of a feather,
it works when we all work together.
So let’s take part, let’s take the time
to meet one another, eye to eye
take a moment to share a smile,
and call on your mates once in a while.

We all need a place to belong,
a place where we don’t feel alone,
everyone wants a welcome home,
so let’s cheer one another on.
That’s how a community remains strong.

Letter to Leary – #Napowrimo 16

timothylearyposter

Now you are long gone,
20 years dead,
what have you got to say
about consciousness?
Do you still believe
every citizen is a scientist?
Did you lose respect,
when you switched from psychologist,
to unregulated mind space cosmologist?

What would you say if you were here today?
After the rise and fall
of that clever marketing spin –
turn on – tune in – drop out –
a catchy slogan for a generation
to make their future about.
A philosophy swallowed by everyone
needing a way out.
It hit them like a meme on a long run,
you could have sold anything to anyone.

Would you consider this success?
After all these years, of misunderstood
and mistook consciousness experiments,
I am sure you never meant
for a population to tune out so far
that they couldn’t care less?
Children seeking a way to be numb,
far from turning on, now they want to
turn out, tune out, drop out.
I hope they turn out fine.

I often wonder – Did you ever answer Ginsburg?
What did you tell him when he asked you,
“What is everyone supposed to do after
dropping out?
How does that help you deal
with human issues
like facing old age,
sickness, suffering,
and death?”

Somewhere – #Napowrimo 15

refugee sillouette

In the terror of a war zone,
somewhere
in the middle of no-where,
a long way from home

there’s a place for us

Life is bought and sold,
somewhere
in the middle of no-where,
fear lies down with hope

there’s a place for us

A place we can thrive in,
somewhere
in the middle of no-where,
there on the horizon

there’s a place for us

People floating in the ocean,
somewhere
in the middle of no-where,
don’t forget to pay the boatman.

There’s a place for us.