Voices from beyond control

...on these streets i once belonged:
make these feet move
one by one...

...in this car I thought I owned:
take the wheel Lord
drive me home...

...in this body: blood and bones,
fused and mingled,
breath on loan...

...in this garden, in this home:
when I've watered
you have grown...

...i sail this mind of overload,
beyond control,
these memories roll...

ghost churches/new haunts

Ghost churches,
where somehow some forgot their place,
and lost and sold the plot
(the Spirit shown the door,
still pain creaking in their stoic joists)
retreat, rebrand and resurrect:
your carpet warehouse,
your local Indian restaurant,
a night out at the theatre,
or the perfect home
among the graves,
a place to lay your weary head.

Unsuspecting,
souls stop to sip this new communion,
with gone
generations mingling in the ether,
their trapped psalms jammed into the brick-work,
their spoken blessings looping onto shoppers,
diners, leisure lovers
in these gifted buildings,
sent to the wind,
to be transformed again,
when Spirit, once more welcome,
settles in.

catch them while you can...

bright ideas
lurk
in darkest thickets,
prone to prowling,
focusing their prey,
their sinews itching but
biding their time,
staring you out...

Pouncing,

headlong into your psyche,
letting you deflect them
or forcing you to face them down,
devour them whole or
consume a fleshy bite,
in this fight or flight,
for the right,
to feed afresh

from the dying carcass of your mind.



Shared with poets united

On waking today at Crieff Hydro I called out in my mind...

...men of my age
careering forward
dig your heels into the mountain
disconnect from avalanche
(for just a minute)
lie back
(the sky awaits your eyes)
and dream
(don't scream).

God sends talk.

alone in our thoughts
and out of our minds
we are found to be beside ourselves.

take a break

sip a cup of cappuccino
and
control your pulse:
settle for a second,
flat the landscape of your scan.
You can chip the dust from the unjust,
retake the territory of your time,
and fight against your mind,
breathe in,
breathe out,
what hope we have
against our doubts
alive, alive-oh,
sip slow
sip slow,
sip now.




  

consumer rumour

more is less
i guess
and i believe this
(more or less).

The Trust Test

Just
trust.