POETRY


Laundry

Oh yes, that perennial hustle for all travelers.
True monks, preach & practice detachment
And so consequentially, have two sets of simple clothes,
One to be washed every morning, during pre-breakfast personal & general chores.
Even having off-loaded most of my possessions, I never actually sustained that routine.
So here I am now, sat in the local bedsit launderette,
Watching my double load, of dirty linen rockin’n’rolling
And reflect, about how I am perhaps, slowly swinging back into an old routine.
But to be detached from possessions, means dependency on others,
So as a virtual stranger, returning home penniless & homeless
After five years abroad, means that adjustment may take some time.
Opportunities have to be sought & taken, in preparation
And so I am back, in a launderette, after a five year pause,
With a large bundle accrued, from twelve intense days straight labour.

POETRY


Sister River

Round the river again, after so many years,
How peaceful & serene, but hasn’t it changed.
Or has it, on the bank yes, now blocks of flatsOf unspectacular design, trying to upstage the perennial Bittern Manor,’
Situated just before the bend & Northam Bridge.
A Gothic ambience, adorned in verdant green woodland,
On Clausentum, the original ancient Roman settlement,
That pre-dates Saxon Hamwich town, downstream
At the river’s mouth near Canute, the landing place of the foreign uniting King.
Later reclamation strategic dockland, both commercial & residential,
Blitzed so totally &devastatingly one dark moonless night.
The river Itchen, my companion for so many years,
Ever present & ready refuge, from domestic chaos & madness.
Flowing quiescent, a mesmerizing movement that soothes the mind,
Nourishing the soul, enabling harmony in balance, resolving opposing conflicts.
The only interruptions, the flowing pageantry of tidal river blues,
White majestic swans, being caroled by ever watchful assertive alpha male.
Noisy darting ducks, establishing hierarchal food foraging.
Lazy late summer evening air, echoing to the bellowing coxman calls,
As his boat spasmodically glides, through the flowing water.
Synchronized effort, propelling the light slim craft,
Jerk like, in every quickening rhythm & pace.
First faintly & then more distinctly, the indistinguishable
Sound of the seagull outboard engine from afar,
Signaling another old sea dog’s approach, pedestrian like upriver.
This has not indeed changed, as the tidal rhythm dictates all
Still dots on the river survive, clusters of boat huddle
Between new emerging developments, that have sprouted along the banks
Descending upon ancient boat-mooring, leaving little trace.

POETRY – POLITICAL


Power Fuels

Twenty first century Iraqy conflagrations, is it the final cleansing of the twentieth century total conflict
At the dissolution of the old European colonial order that precipitated new mechanized total war
The initial hidden agenda was the control of the infinite source of energy & power
That would guarantee world hegemony for the foreseeable future
From this first initial world conflict, the control of Iraq’s new found unlimited oil resource was set
And the ‘Balfour Agreement’s Agreement’ suggesting & possibly assuring the forming of a Jerusalem center Zionist state
Was an unholy alliance, guaranteeing Britain’s European dominance by this assurance
In return for America’s logistical & personal support, assuring her eventual world dominance
So now in this fresh post World War, twenty first century New Age Aquarian group energy era
With all past colonial divisions slowly coming to the fore & healing
France & Germany, Yugoslavia & the Balkans, Ireland & now Cyprus
We have America’s imminent attack of Iraq, to endeavour to secure this enormous oil supply
And as I sit in a Bahrain hotel room in transit, awaiting my flight back to Cyprus from wintering in India
A matter of days before a possible, nay even probable American led invasion
Which even if it is for the right reasons & disarmament of real global threatening weapons
It is being led by the wrong face of democracy, a blatantly rigged electoral President
Defacing the pinnacle & cream of man’s struggle for freedom & equality
The American Constitution, an Administration so greedy, crooked & stupid
That I fear that they are entering an arena in classically ill-prepared arrogance
For even great Imperial powers disastrously slide or fall into inevitably oblivion due to ill prepared folly
While others resiliently bounce back ever stronger, but also ever wiser
This is the hallmark of a great Imperial power; he eyes & demeanor of George Bush’s troubles me
I fear that in fact they will in the long run only manage to unite not only the divided Muslim masses & militants
But also all of the deprived & disaffected peoples of the world against them
A scenario & nightmare that even the great & all powerful Roman Imperial Emperors feared & avoided
Taking great lengths to avoid this possibility, fearing, watching & placating the ever present Roman mob
Control is now probably a science & an art, witnessed, processed & perpetrated over thousands of years
Written about & studied, systems conceived, adopted, manipulated, changed & then dropped
But our new cowboy king, perhaps the new emperor without any clothes, chooses to ignore all of this history & knowledge
Partially due to a combination of ignorance & bad advice, but also an element of greed & corruption must be involved
Our only hope I believe, is the fresh breeze of European Union political influence
That has induced so much positivism in uniting modern post-war Europe
France & Germany & thus Great Britain, peace to Ireland & now Cyprus
That Germany & especially France have with Russia & China vetoed & blocked easy war passage
Is a very promising & heart warming, fulfilling the role that the United Nation was conceived & formed for
I only hope that Tony Blair is at least as clever as he looks& probably thinks he is
And uses his political position as a divided Labour Party leader, in bed with a war painted Republican American President
For while having used his position as a close, if not the closest, political & military ally
To impart the wisdom of colonial British governance, hatched on European classical history
He could then pull out just prior to kick off in the face of political suicide
To go down in history as the man who with one decision avoided World conflict
And be a real hero, in the face of tremendous power, betraying the mightiest power on Earth.

POETRY – PHILOSOPHY


Not Even for a Moment

Never alone, not even for a moment, difficult to believe,
In those moments of gloom & despair, when even the very fabric of nature,
Seems to conspire against one, where no easy escape can be found.
But what is higher consciousness, an achieved different perspective,
The test being, the ability to reconsider one’s stance & outlook.
The ideas, reconsiderations, impetus for change & resolution,
Come from where ?

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Greed, the Chicken or the Egg.

Is the driving impetus desire, of a capitalistic consumer orientated society,
Greed, a perniciously degrading bestial tool of control,
Conceived to fulfill the breach, in fatalistic slave consciousness.
Where the new sense of freedom to work, earn, spend and enjoy,
Veiled the intangible but ensnaring shackles of material desires.
Or is it that this level of consciousness, is where the majority of humanity focuses,
And when this focus rises, so will the morality of the mode
Of engine, driving our sociological train ever forward, outward & upward.

POETRY - PHILOSOPICAL


White Coat

The white coat, a symbol or excuse for detached analytical study,
In the name of pure science, in true jocular Mengele style.
Strange that in this instance, white really signals grey,
A non-descript, colourless, non-committal, cerebral non-emotive,
In control, omniscient, atheistic blunderer, without ancestral respect
For the ancient knowledge, of our forebears & the path of wisdom.
Focused specialized study & research, without a Platonic overview,
Is to have Pandora’s box, unlocked by a curious & empowered child
Of consciousness, intellect & responsibility, whose attitude of callousness,
Is engendered by double think duplicitous illusion, beyond karmic responsibility.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHICAL


Gemini Twins

Gemini, twin stars, inclination & nature,
Possibly infuriating to some, a misunderstanding will o’ the wisp.
Flighty, impulsive, a jovial creature of the wind,
Born of the air, a loquational Hermes in action.
A mercurial disposition, sparkling intellect & repartee,
Irrepressible athlete, energetic with flair.
Tai chi astrology, twin star expression,
Symbolic realism, a flowing yin yang interaction.
An alternating exchange, equalizing opposing conflicts,
On this terrestrial blinkered journey, of experience.

POETRY


Sister River

Round the river again, after so many years,
How peaceful & serene, but hasn’t it changed.
Or has it, on the bank yes, now blocks of flatsOf unspectacular design, trying to upstage the perennial Bittern Manor,’
Situated just before the bend & Northam Bridge.
A Gothic ambience, adorned in verdant green woodland,
On Clausentum, the original ancient Roman settlement,
That pre-dates Saxon Hamwich town, downstream
At the river’s mouth near Canute, the landing place of the foreign uniting King.
Later reclamation strategic dockland, both commercial & residential,
Blitzed so totally &devastatingly one dark moonless night.
The river Itchen, my companion for so many years,
Ever present & ready refuge, from domestic chaos & madness.
Flowing quiescent, a mesmerizing movement that soothes the mind,
Nourishing the soul, enabling harmony in balance, resolving opposing conflicts.
The only interruptions, the flowing pageantry of tidal river blues,
White majestic swans, being caroled by ever watchful assertive alpha male.
Noisy darting ducks, establishing hierarchal food foraging.
Lazy late summer evening air, echoing to the bellowing coxman calls,
As his boat spasmodically glides, through the flowing water.
Synchronised effort, propelling the light slim craft,
Jerk like, in every quickening rhythm & pace.
First faintly & then more distinctly, the indistinguishable
Sound of the seagull outboard engine from afar,
Signaling another old sea dog’s approach, pedestrian like upriver.
This has not indeed changed, as the tidal rhythm dictates all
Still dots on the river survive, clusters of boat huddle
Between new emerging developments, that have sprouted along the banks
Descending upon ancient boat-mooring, leaving little trace.

POETRY - PHILOSOPICAL


Pearls to Swine

‘Lest they turn & end thee’, is to stand true in the gutter
And be besmirched, without recourse or redress, unless one is prepared,
In street posture & group male instinct, behavioural psychology.
To sit teetotal in a local waterhole, is to be the recipient of, mirror reverse psychology assertiveness.
To be an enlightened reformed smoker, is to mouth unpalatable remedial bullshit.
To express echoes of concentric dialectics in tea-break, in concise philosophical rhetoric,
Is to invite inverted snobbery, vociferous in cultureless condemnation.
To teach ill prepared students, is to invite reactionary negativity.
To publicly espouse abstruse esoterica, is to court fire & ridicule.
To exhibit fresh & efficacious techniques, at an Expo of New Age Esoterica,
Reveals antagonistic motives, ill-suited & inappropriate to their ideals.
To publicise oneself freely, as a teaching exponent of healing & meditation,
Is to expose oneself to darkness & attack, a test of metal & purity.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Phoenix from the Street

Destined to awake in isolation & conflict, a warrior from the cradle without respite,
A fragmented family diaspora son, genetically a foreigner, far from home.
Twin dual cultural antecedents, colonial divisive hotspots of rebellion,
A victim of sociological discrimination, on the street, in the playground & work place.
A recipient of brutish, animalistic violence, in the home by Neanderthal stepfather,
Son to a dictatorial & manipulative mother, a lesson in control & possession.
An individual forced to leadership, by group envy, jealousy & bullying,
A supreme sportsman in every genre, a champion footballer in sixties England.
A natural prodigy chess player, legacy of colonial inheritance,
So body & mind of the first order, in early preparation for survival.
A grammar school boy of excellence, disaffected by teachers & family,
Roots skinhead warrior in tribal hooliganism, an outlet for home anger & frustration.
Denied opportunity for professional vocation, broken hearted by blacklisting victimization,
A home of violence & madness, an early exit the only option.
On the street in hippy Southampton, bustling nautical Dodge City,
Peace & companionship in drugs euphoria, oblivious to pain & self-destruction.
Sex , drugs & rock ‘n’ roll escapism, full on hedonistic excitement
And so the descent into Hades, the neo-underworld continued,
Until one day the brick wall & borstal boy education.
Institutionalised violence on a frenetic, helter skelter regime ride
Fear trip London style instruction, fast, furious & extremely violent,
Only one viable possibility, attack & immediate ascension boss.
A thorough & intense education in survival, street, institution & home,
At an emotional price of anger, frustration, unhappiness & isolation.
With the perspective that violence is the tool & solution to all problems,
In this apparent continual darkness, there have been some beacons of Light,
Like the early love of a cockney guardian, whose accent still echoes through me today.
The later old boat building ex-spook, eastern traveled friend, guardian & guru,
The school football teacher now knighted, fan ,coach & continued friend.
A biker & consort of Hells Angels, hedonistic kamikaze seeker of excitement,
An ‘aufweidersehen pet’ working traveler, construction worker & nightly reveler.
A Stonehenge convoy consort & guardian, companion & elder statesman,
So a wet wintry evening excursion, that ended in a skidding demobilizing hospitalization,
Was a momentary taster glimpse of the reaper, before escaping leap to fractured rest & pause for reflection.
Exactly one year to the day, a roots journey to the land of unknown missing father,
An instant restoration of pride & consequent reunion with unwitting patriarch.
Thus began the road of self-discovery, from a life of subconscious self-destruction,
To one of studious training on all levels, to become a teaching purveyor of Light.
So now all focus is forward, retrospective reflection only for understanding & knowledge.
In the face of adversity, one should be gratified, for the opportunity to acquire wisdom.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Family Blues

Those fractious moments, why does it happen,
That people once so close genetically & in love,
End up in such deep & diametrically entrenched opposition.
That inevitably germinates traits of behaviour,
Which repeatedly performed, precipitates grid lock scenarios,
That sink & escalate, into destructively negative, nightmarish confrontation.
Frequently witnessed by the innocent & young,
Who are often engulfed by the ensuing ripple,
Whose effect can inflate & degenerate, into anti-social dramatics & violence.

POETRY – PHILOSOPHY


No Moss

I now perceive a repeating pattern, visibly emerging daily more clear,
For already I feel the enclosing clutches, proceeding slowly towards me.
Strange isn’t it, how wherever you go, after the brief honeymoon period,
There comes the shackling introductions & egotistical ideas,
That entice one to dally, a little longer than one should.
For they seem to manifest themselves, in different successive guises,
Perhaps mirroring what is & what should be, inversely or otherwise.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Hold Up !

Why not straight in there, I used to say in my youth,
Don’t hang about, get on with it and forget all the bullshit.
Now coming out of my peak, as opposed to the then surging testosterone adolescent crescendo,
In retrospect, still dodging the pitfalls, more gingerly than ever.
With the added benefit of insight, precipitating a possible illusion of wisdom gleaned,
Inducing the impression, of a deeper reading and understanding, of people and situations.
Assessing future problems, that experience has taught, are more than probable in certain scenarios.
To not blindly drive forward, oblivious of potential ramifications,
Blinkered by passions and desires, that egocentrically conceal beauty and truth.
In the arrogant belief in, and adherence to, blind and dogmatic individualism,
A delusionary freedom that veils reality, with the mask of hedonism.
The greatest of ironies being, the realization in reflective middle age,
That this shallow, sometimes callous, youthful exuberance,
Is to what our young yin sisters are instinctively drawn, despite the mellow reflective option.
Despite their desire for deeper love, mature responsibility and emancipation.
As one increases in age, the gulf and difference between male and female,
Becomes increasingly more apparent, enticingly intriguing and sometimes mystifying.
But always instructive, in what I need to understand concerning posterity,
Objective goals and the most beneficial and benevolent course of action.
In the light of understood experience and relationships.

POETRY - PHILOSOPICAL


Delusion or Lies

I wondered, as I attempted to fathom, the ramifications of these words,
That were fired broadside, from my old distant friend in his stupor.
Has he stagnated so much, or have I changed so radically,
Difficult to ascertain, to what degree either of us has changed,
But there is definitely a ranging gulf between us, when the sun has set.
What exactly am I witnessing, a slow degeneration by toxic poison,
Manifesting aggressive assertiveness, in posture & action.
The denial of truth, in forms flippant & self-destructive,
An interesting cameo of roles reversed, yet again, in a short passage of time.
And I wonder whether this drama I am witnessing, is purely for my benefit,
Perhaps subconscious, copy cat, subliminal reverse psychology.
Or is it degenerate behaviour, a physical & psychic disorder,
Oblivious of differing personalities & subtleties, in blasé besotted arrogance.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Desperadoes

What a gang, if the devil were to now to cast his net, what a catch and a haul
Of seasoned villains, like pirates with glimmering gold hanging from their ears.
Below the now perennial shaven heads, black woollen hat covered,
Rough and ready, but also warm from the gloomy arctic winter winds.
Tales of drunken revelry and sexual escapades, abound at communal breaks,
Married migrant workers, a breed of multifarious escapees.
Each with their own individual story, to tell and carry burdensome around, every moment of the day,
Veiled by masks of bravado and drug booze induced craziness.
A crescendo of escalating aggressive competitiveness, that permeates all.
Is it that they do not notice the hell hole that they daily frequent,
Because of the toxins, they voluntarily inhale and ingest in recreational pursuits,
Desensitizing them to toxins and chemicals, that continually assault the body.
In this dank lifeless, gigantic hole; a world of concrete and steel,
Reverberating from ceaseless piercing noise, and devious political games.
A duality of military orders; security, cleanliness and politeness,
And disheveled civilian worldliness of violence, booze, dope and light fingers.
Where going with the flow, is an art form and way of life,
A prerequisite for survival, in this full on mental marathon.
For without peace of mind, there is no chance to sustain and endure,
Without craziness enveloping one, during this assault upon the bodies and senses.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHICAL


Hogmonay Reflections

New Year’s Eve 2003, what does the future hold,
At the end, of a very productive & yielding year indeed.
The first for many a year, in the town & country of my birth,
The last two, at the Ananda Naga Kiirtan crescendo,
That created the sustaining glow, feline perceived upon my travels.
The first to energise the service, throughout Cyprus with my giant companion,
Whose demise heralded my slow, but imminent departure,
To travel throughout Mother India, the following winter’s escape.
A journey of discovery & joy, in preparation for a new beginning
And revelation, to fulfil the preparation & service to blossom,
In Light & release, from obligations old & new, individually & collectively.
On our personal paths in unison, to integrate purpose & karma,
For positive evolution & enlightenment, in vessica pisces style.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Impending Conflict or Prodigal Son

So what I feared during my residence in Cyprus, about returning to England,
Is possibly beginning to happen, for I just glimpsed the faintest perception,
Of being exorably dragged back, into the ensnaring tentacles of internecine conflict.
For I have the choice of letting this situation pass, without wasting time & energy,
In a protracted struggle, engendering deeper antipathy, which will delay me
On my journey of discovery & enlightenment, enjoying creativity & fulfillment.
But be thankful for this blesson & opportunity, to clean the slate & generate more Light,
Or to stand up for what is right & just, in the face of uncontrolled greed, animosity & arrogance.
But to fully comprehend the whole problem, it’s source & ramifications,
Must surely be a prerequisite & introduction, before any course of action is contemplated & implemented.

POETRY – SPIRITUAL


Merkaba

Body Light Spirit; Light Spirit Body,
An Egyptian composite word and mystery, once universally available at a price.
Of sustained evolution and knowledge, wisdom gleaned from bodied experience,
Now freshly available, after so many centuries of sustained repression and persecution.
The Cosmos our Universal Teacher, personal picture show,
Where lessons abound for those, with eyes to see and ears to hear.
Whose consciousness has raised sufficiently, to be able to correctly discern
Between eternal Truth, temporary illusion and the significance of every event.
Which appear and confront one as obstacles and hindrances that serve as opportunities,
For release and accelerated growth, in preparation for greater service.
The anticipated New Age synthesis techniques, squaring an ancient circle,
For a significant jigsaw puzzle, an emerging pictorial message.
An ancient and mysterious primed trigger, old wine in New Age bottles,
Timeless philosophical appraisals, reaffirmations of Light, Love and Truth.
Revealed and taught by Suns of God, throughout the ages on Mother Earth,
But always later misrepresented, mistaught, re-interpretated and re-arranged.
To create the illusion of Maya, manipulating reality for personal gain,
Becoming selfish and helpless pawns, in a larger game of self-determination..
A long and painful lesson, for those unable to realize and perceive,
The true nature of reality, the real significance of certain important aspects,
In manifestation and motion, that highlight and colour our respective roles,
On this Cosmic provincial stage, a unique scenario and eternal cast.
That imperceptibly influence and imbibe, certain modern expression and art,
A permeating flow of consciousness raising Light, that activates primed ready brothers and sisters.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHICAL


Old Friends

In the greying Autumn years, it s refreshing to occasionally re-acquaint with old friends,
Comrades from afar, so close, so long ago, but still I feel the warmth,
Of experiences and laughter shared, bound or ever in our memories.
Momentary twin souls, pausing in their respective journeys,
Where friendships blossom, at these crossroads of symbiotic experience.
Our re-establishing of contact, a litmus test & yardstick of change,
In ourselves & our comrades, recognition of manifested remembered traits
Of distinct & unique character, in our old & trusted friends of yesteryear.
Occasionally emerging, to rekindle warm bonds & fraternal feelings,
Revealing eternal things, that have not indeed metamorphosed, with the trends
And fashions, that ride the market winds, controlling so much of modern life.

POETRY - LOVE


Rekindled Flames

Old flames often seem to bear, the glowing embers of yesteryear,
Ancient overgrown paths re-crossing, rekindling an old fading glow.
An enlightenment, where negative memories of old, are momentarily forgotten,
In the shining flow of golden pure love, emanating from our fresh but passionate union glow.
Before ego’s and misunderstandings, began to cloud and poison the love between us,
Darkening our life, into combative individualism and selfish egocentricity,
And so, should one re-enter and enjoy the passion fruits, we can share
Before the inevitable clouds of doom, return and soil our love.
Or should one walk away politely and avoid any deepening contact, that might wound and scar.
For in the context of a long term worthwhile relationship,
Experience shows that beyond a certain point, re-establishing contact is futile.
So should we go with the flow, concentrating on enjoying the positive aspects of life,
Without reflection, speculation or ambition concerning the future.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Spring Eternal

Winter’s hibernation, back in the misty land of the Druids
For is it now, a spring budding time after the germination,,
Am I witnessing the first shoots, of a new beginning sprouting.
One lives in hope as always, but do I perceive something, more than
Mere self engendered desire realities, an awakening perhaps.
A stirring of awaiting dormant brethren, a coming together,
Time will tell of course, but I sense that now, is the time for me to focus.

POETRY - POLITICAL


Queues

That perennial British habit, once a working facet of etiquette,
A symbol of sophistication and civilization, now a tool of control.
When there is a mass of people in demand, then queues pre-empt anarchy,
But it seems now, that the ruling class mechanism of status and governance,
That ordains subordinates, to wait as a matter of course and procedure,
Has metamorphosed into a prevalent sociological norm, for every conceivable service.
Without thought or preconception, customers must interminably wait
For everything, making each day, a litany of staccato queues.
To stand motionless, speechless without complaint or comment,
Brain dead, waiting to order or pay exorbitant fees and rates,
For the privilege of, well what, to be British.
Where to complain, or even comment, is to adorn the mark of Cain itself,
This wasted time, business and energy, an antiquated anachronism,
Where lack of investment, organization and planning, are veiled by snobbery and complacency.
What would the Americans or Indians say, where you as a customer
Will wait for little time; the opportunity to accept your business and money,
Would be immediate and grasped with both hands, tightly gripped.
I agree that the concept of queues, is civilized and evolved.
But the exploitation of it, for selfish control and excuse lack of investment or organization,
Is retrograde, lazy, anachronistic, complacent and ultimately self-destructive.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHICAL


Virtual Reality or Soap

A boring and mindless chitter chatter, of bored unoccupied groups of women,
Oral duplicitous conspiracies, against men, authority and God.
A mundane catalogue, of meaningless interactions, that titillate and debase,
Or a personalized, educational virtual reality show, enacting instructive cameos,
Delivered directly to every house, mimicking or precipitating, coffee morning hen parties.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Sensationalism

Sensationalism, what does it mean, how does it affect
Everything that we perceive & do, not easy to assess.
Something that permeates everything, by contamination of Mind,
Is by nature pernicious, whatever the dressage, a shifting sand chameleon.
But debasing gutter class philosophy, oblique fascist velvet control,
Conjuring a kaleidoscopic yard stick evocation, in a symbiotic technological miasma.
Is perhaps the most distasteful aspect & negative side effect, of surging New Age Emperors,
As they expand their influence & domination, by titillating & fanning people’s baser instincts,
Powering the basic level of consciousness, contrary to the New Age flow.
A direct, or indirect, vehicle for materialistic anti evolutionary dark forces,
Whose interest is totally self, against the path & evolution of humanity.

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Yippee Hippy

The alluring world of progressive psychedelia, hippy dropout acid culture,
Long haired freaks in trench coats, velvet bell bottom flares & leather boots.
Turn on, tune in & drop out, ran the gurus mantra of the era,
But what programme he was in, is anybodies guess.
Purple haze & strawberry fields, connotations symbolic & real,
Ummagumma & Troutmask Replica, gargantuan mindbenders,
Apparent nonsense, revealed subtlety but suddenly, in chemically altered states of consciousness.
A mystical secret, revealed to the few kindred rebels bonded,
In a war rejection, love centred, anti sociological drop out culture.
Where is it now, on a truer spiritual search without the trappings,
Of a blinding & misguiding, centrally conceived, chemical experiment conspiracy.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


The Struggle Why

The struggle for life, our ability to understand & control it more acutely,
Could one day be our epitaph, if something is ever actually
Stimulated enough, to reflect over and cognise our existence.
The perceived point of it, determining one’s objectives & manner of achieving them,
The inclination to which, indicates past events, strengths & deficiencies,
Determining future events & happenings, in which lie possible salvation.
Our chance to change & control our life, by what happens in & about it,
An opportunity indeed, to be total master of every situation & hence our lives,
By learning to truly know thyself, by cultured multi-dimensional analysis.
And now the search begins, or so it appears and now I realise it.

POETRY – SPIRITUAL


Firewood and Water

To endure a period of one’s life, toiling purely for monetary considerations,
Is to live a soulless existence, wishing one’s life away,
Watching the clock all of the day, as we slowly edge nearer to release and a reawakened freedom.
Alas, only momentary, until the following mornings ritual bondage,
A daily fading deterioration, desensitized by dread and boredom,
In tempo and tandem, with management mind game theatrics.
What a price to pay and for what benefit, in the overall scheme of things,
Will this polluting exercise, produce for my progress and sustenance,
A rapid poisoning of my mind and body, surely counter productive.
So I wonder, to what degree this contamination, has in retrograde
Perhaps hindered, my overall position on the ascension path.
But this was the financial opportunity, presented to me in my time of need,
Where this quick earning potentiality, was the sole dot on the horizon.
For although a pause for reflection, may have engendered contrary avenues, to be perceived and approached,
Maybe the time for this is now, while the vessel is balanced and secure,
Another blesson for sure, how necessary only time will tell.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHIICAL


Hero or Scapegoat

Hero then scapegoat, when does the change commence,
Is it a matter of discrimination and discernment, or perspective.
Does one merely replace the other, in a natural succession,
Like night passing day, or is each a facet of the other, a continuation in guise or alter ego.

POETRY – SPIRITUAL


Miriam Salena

Miriam Salena, a distant angel on the net,
An angel of mercy, fulfilling her destiny on the path of service.
With an uninstigated helping hand for all, especially newcomers to their teaching role,
Always thoughtful, ahead of the game, assistance before your desire beckons.
A fellow traveler upon the road of experience, whose journey was in tandem,
From whence is not yet clear, to where intriguing and mysterious.
Is our internet liason, an echo of the past or a portent of the future,
Featureless contact, tangible but not, one moment clear and bright,
Another vague and distant, a memory or remembrance, or is it a dream.
To spasmodically click dim memories, unsure of source and significance,
An oncoming revelation or fantasy, an illusion of Maya,
Instigated by my desires, or an imperceptible beacon of Truth,
Always there, unseen, sometimes perceived, now more readily glimpsed.
A coming together of perennial energies and forces, dormant potentiality,
To be awakened and revealed, for all to benefit and receive.
Miriam, a name of magic and mystery, symbolic and real,
Mother Mary, personal and universal, a gift for us all.

POETRY - POLITICS


Only Obeying Orders

In a regime of absolute obedience, without question or hesitation,
Strict discipline the mechanism and means, to mould an efficient and effective group.
Where the individual matters little, often perceived as a menace and threat,
It is difficult to even differ in opinion, let alone question the orders and actions of a superior officer.
Where your life is not your own, legally or practically and anything is possible,
But to refuse an order is unpardonable, whatever the circumstances, I suspect is the prevalent military attitude.
So what is it, to accuse a superior of crimes against humanity, in a time and theatre of war,
Suicide perhaps, the act of a fool, madman or a hero.
The archetypal cap’s ideal fitting, differing in locations and period,
An effective way to achieve what you want, whatever and despite the personnel and circumstances.
But morality, as in all things, is both an individual and collective responsibility,
As above, so below, the microcosm and the macrocosm.
The archetypal Son of God, a man walking on Earth, with Christ consciousness.
As a society we must aspire to God and Unity, an individual responsibility
To rise above, our individualistically selfish motives and instincts
And love our fellows selflessly, not evading our personal responsibilities.
To challenge injustice and persecution, by setting an example
Of Love and Light, in living the Path to Enlightenment,
In service by teaching and healing, enlightening our brethren.

POETRY - POLITICAL


Queues

That perennial British habit, once a working facet of etiquette,
A symbol of sophistication and civilization, now a tool of control.
When there is a mass of people in demand, then queues pre-empt anarchy,
But it seems now, that the ruling class mechanism of status and governance,
That ordains subordinates, to wait as a matter of course and procedure,
Has metamorphosed into a prevalent sociological norm, for every conceivable service.
Without thought or preconception, customers must interminably wait
For everything, making each day, a litany of staccato queues.
To stand motionless, speechless without complaint or comment,
Brain dead, waiting to order or pay exorbitant fees and rates,
For the privilege of, well what, to be British.
Where to complain, or even comment, is to adorn the mark of Cain itself,
This wasted time, business and energy, an antiquated anachronism,
Where lack of investment, organization and planning, are veiled by snobbery and complacency.
What would the Americans or Indians say, where you as a customer
Will wait for little time; the opportunity to accept your business and money,
Would be immediate and grasped with both hands, tightly gripped.
I agree that the concept of queues, is civilized and evolved.
But the exploitation of it, for selfish control and excuse lack of investment or organization,
Is retrograde, lazy, anachronistic, complacent and ultimately self-destructive.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHICAL


Virtual Reality or Soap

A boring and mindless chitter chatter, of bored unoccupied groups of women,
Oral duplicitous conspiracies, against men, authority and God.
A mundane catalogue, of meaningless interactions, that titillate and debase,
Or a personalized, educational virtual reality show, enacting instructive cameos,
Delivered directly to every house, mimicking or precipitating, coffee morning hen parties.

POETRY - POLITICAL


1984

A Kafkaesque totalitarian, Orwellian dark and sinister nightmare,
The archetypal fascist state, a grey creeping inevitability.
No hope, no chance of change, only the discovery of one’s deepest innermost secrets,
To be revealed, that instinct of rebellion, quiet and hidden.
But spotted and observed by the trained waiting eye, inexorably drawing closer
To it’s prey, the bounty and prize, at the epicenter of the homing signal.
In reality, the year the British establishment executed their assault and repression of the working class,
Prompting the Yorkshire miner union backbone, to battle on a field not of their choosing,
In the year of Orwell’s prophetic nightmare, of control and hopelessness.
Appropriate perhaps, deemed by whom, does it matter, do you care
About the patterns of history, the oblique lotus appearing throughout time, in periodic brushes.
Picturing cameos, mimicking mythological tales, of old archetypal roles re-enacted,.
Repeated throughout the globe, ethnically dressed and choreographed.
Now part of a brilliant militaristic plan, to perhaps finally conclude,
The chapter on internecine, ideological divergence.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Arbeit

Arbeit macht frei, work libertates, probably the ultimate degradation in exploitation.
The ethos of antiquity, was to enslave one’s defeated adversary,
But as empires came and went, exploitation progressed from physical slavery
To consumer capitalism, where one is enslaved by one’s destiny,
Where the incentive is raised, to quicken productivity and heighten the level of exploitation.
For even in a balanced society, individuals pause and reflect,
Exhausted and wondering, why they seem to be moving downstream, backwards.

POEM - PHILOSOPHICAL


Birthday Blesson

An inspiring and busy reconnoiter of London town,
Enticing and warm contacts with ladies, whose birthday we share.
Invites and errands ignored, in recognition of family commitments and priorities,
A birthday dawn rush back, to my non-spiritual home.
To sleep and later discover, my daughter’s not unusual blasé forgetfulness,
A special day lost, in respect of a special person, who is unaware and does not care.
My sole Southampton mosh gift, a parking ticket for my ignored troubles,
The real gift, an emotional energy release, in preparation for this letdown and test.
Allowing a non-emotional reaction and decision, to now leave this scene behind
And follow the signs, to meet kindred souls and destiny in service and study.
To utilize my thorough and full rounded education, in Gemini London my twin,
The place of my conception, my mother’s vocation and education.
My father’s business and politics, my cockney guardian and godfather.
The Grand Hall awaits me and soon I will finally shed this skin,
This cocoon of my youth, to move freely forward to the real work.
To where I always felt that I belonged, but now the signs also concur,
Indicating the time is now ripe, so why cry for silly girls,
When release is my gift and shackles their prize.

POETRY – PHILOSOPHICAL:


Cobra

Strike first, the key to street survival.
Deflect the blow and turn the energy back,
Towards the assailant from himself, Chinese philosophy in movement.
A Tai chi master, in continual flow without physical pressure,
In self defense, no aggression or physical application.
Our ancient Hindu master, a symbolic snake shedding skins and lives,
In pursuit of wisdom, awareness and enlightenment.

POETRY - POLITICAL


Euro-Phoenix

Did the intellectualisation of progress and evolution,
Ultimately precondition, the inevitable mighty 20th century conflagration,
Between Hegel’s dual offspring, German doctrinal nationalism and internationalism.
National Socialism and Bolshevik Communism, in duel ascendancy,
Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia, head to head to the death.
What was the lesson, of this colossal European explosion,
That so nearly engulfed the world in terror, horror and darkness, for the foreseeable future.
Was it perhaps a mirror image, reflection or reverberation of an earlier event,
Of divisive competitive dual, consular power politics of Republican Rome.
That fuelled a competitive expensive foreign policy,
To finance demagogic patronage bribing politics,
Blindly riding the Ben Hur, helter skelter chariot race to civil war.
Imperial and Absolute Power, astride the ashes of the Republic,
The great social experiment, of democratic evolution ended.
I hope that my intuitive comparison is no illusion, but a sign
Of a portentous European future, a rising phoenix of stability and wisdom,
Mirroring the stability and longevity, of Imperial Rome.
With decentralizing, self-adjusting democratic mechanisms and regulations,
Bringing peace, harmony and prosperity, within and without
The historic boundaries, of this pioneering continent.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHICAL


Little and Large

Microcosm and macrocosm, on a global and a family stage,
An inner education, for later outward understanding.
The clash of ideologies and paths, motives and attitudes,
Selfless and selfish, opposing ideological and empirical ways.
The understanding of which, highlighted the familiar microscopic reflections,
In which I was a part, of those conflicting causes,
Not realizing the differing perspective, involved in this scenario.

POETRY – LOVE


One Last Message

Just another hustler, my misfortune indeed.
To fall in love with the sweetest, most self-centred,
Selfish, intuitive and manipulative hypocrite.
Donning the white robes, of the New Age healer,
Liberated warrior of Light, seeking the energy of others.
Consciously or unconsciously, that is the question.
A major lesson for sure, educating me in misguided methods
Of shortcuts, to egotistical and spiritual exhibitionism.
A heavy price to pay indeed, to become a vehicle of darkness
And prevented from true advancement, to enlightenment and contentment.
In a helter skelter of illusion, on a road to oblivion,
A complete withdrawal and disconnection, the only course of action.
I wonder though perhaps, for I believe that I can no longer help,
For this repetitive annual summer, behavioural pattern must now end.
Clearly unacceptable and manipulative, self-seeking and grasping,
No return and no contact, the only true answer.
With no hypocritical platitudes and no bitterness,
Time to move free; but still my heart jumps to see her !
One last message ?

POETRY - POLITICAL


The Individual

Is the leader, a wanted and needed commodity, in a crisis,
An innovator and conceptual engineer, in expressive ideation.
A cool breeze in humid stagnation, fiery sword against prejudice and persecution,
A questioning intellect, against established sociological norms.
A rebellious nature, engendered during repression and injustice,
A flowering genius, in an artistic garden, of expressions and creation.
An avenging hero, against the all conquering invaders and marauders,
A priest teaching ancient wisdom, in the face of antipathy and stricture.
The dribbling to and fro, long dark haired Irish legend, tormenting all,
The Brazilian three time World winner, a sixties dark maestro,
Bavarian forestopper, Kaiser sublime sweeper, master number one.
Seattle born black Navaho, shaman Indian guitar genius wizard,
Ethnic brother, quintessimal innovative trumpet, soothing magician.
Dancing, skipping eloquent wit, firing from the hip, ‘I am the Greatest,’ pugilist,
The Bolshevik, 1917 man of the moment, awesome revolutionary.
The shop steward, against the capitalistic juggernaut, in protection of brother’s rights,
The little Indian lawyer, passively resolute against the Imperial British Empire.
Horatio on the bridge, in brave selfless defense of his homeland,
Pericles’ vision and orchestration, of innovative democracy.
Jesus’ sacrifice upon the cross, the Buddha sat poised waiting for enlightenment,
Heracles on his labours, Odysseus struggling home.
Phidias in his sculptor, Van Gogt, in his pain and expression,
A prime example, of the individual’s potential suffering.
Often misunderstood, apparently threatening and non-conformist,
A perceived threat to same gender, but a sought after exciting curiousity,
To potential partners, mates and seekers after Truth.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHICAL


Alone in a Crowd:

Anonymous in a crowd, alone but not alone.
That eerie surreal feeling of loneliness, in a tightly congested space.
Of pounding London streets, amidst the throng of millions, at the hub of the world.
Congested fuming highways, chaperon my silent walking vigil,
Passing intent purposeful folk, upon their etheric tramlines,
Interweaving meandering tourists, no eye contact or verbal salutation.
Sardine can subway trains, where no dialogue will be heard
From heads hidden behind newspapers and books, where only Greek
Will break the unwritten subway code, of intransit silence;
Fear, aloofness, single-mindedness and modesty, all prevent contact and communication;A fly on the wall position, of surreal observations removed, distant but close.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHICAL


Change

Is it time
Is this the meaning of the changes in my fortune
This succession of abrupt endings and disappointments
Are these changes signs that I must change
But change what
My ways, my thinking, my friends
Or is it my work, my house or my location
Something new, but what
For sure this is an ending
Of a relationship, of a phase and a period of my life
But is this a change in emphasis or direction
Was my time a hiatus
A new beginning or a transition
A transformation and metamorphosis, in preparation for what
When will I know
How will I tell
Have I missed the signs that are all around me
Did I misread the ones that I saw
Or is this a test of patience and faith
That there are no signs of imminent change to read
That all will come soon
(Then the telephone rang)Da-ling da-ling, da-ling da-ling, da-ling da-ling:

POETRY - SOCIOLOGICAL


Consumer Slavery

Latter day post-industrial, modernistic consumer society,
With it’s frenetic activity and not a second to lose mentality.
Where once hooked in and established, as a successful player,
There are few chances or options and little chance of change.
For to pay for all of the glittering trappings, to sustain this image of success,
Is to be fully committed to the program, with little scope for independence and free enterprise.
And so the golden allure, must be false and hollow, desire thought forms
That enslave one to the wheel, of toil and hardship.
In pursuit of an illusionary dream, in someone else’s reality,
A calculated distraction to divert gaze, from the slavery wheel,
That we chain ourselves to, in order to satisfy our desires.
Instigated by our Masters, that keep us willingly treading, in ignoranceOf our true potentiality and destiny, clouded in ignorance and egocentricity

POETRY


Inside

Of Pandora’s box, prior to impetuous revelation,
Concealed mystery revealed, a collective eternal consternation
Rings the story, an echoing myth from beyond the mists of time.
To intuitively feel inside, is to instinctively synchronize bodies,
Triggering the release of multi-dimensional energy, that manifests
As effortless genius, in the inch perfect match winning pass
Curling, in weighted poise into the speedily striding companion,
Who charging goalwards without pause, connects blindly in perfect execution.
Evoking passion for the viewing artist, in recreation from inspired invocation
That so colourfully delights us all, in hanging angelic expressions.
Incarcerated, estranged from urban cult, self-destructive fashions,
Isolated, emerging daily physically purer, mind clearing
Thoughts begin to stimulate the re-awakened intellect, now thirsty for Light,
First to let the market, forewarned to the hunt, the early morning feed.
Cartel conspiratorial dealings, watching the pounding rain.
Prince Siddharta with his family, a canary in it’s cage.
Sellout Cup Final spectacle, atmospheric exhilaration to be savoured.
The Foreign Legion in the desert, where outside is alien and hostile,
United in collective fear and necessity, escapees attempting control in a strange land.
The passionate rhythmic embrace, a man and woman in ecstatic union,
Microcosmic material unity, God mirrored in sacred geometric architecture.
The merged yin and yang yoga, physical creation in God’s image.

POETRY – LOVE


Unrequited Love

True but unrequited love, the biggest test of all,
Selfless sacrificial devotion, the benefactor in the shade.
The pain of ostracization, deep burrowing sensation,
To desire the unobtainable, the illusion of possibility.
The ambiguous words of friendship, a mirage of wondering hope,
To love without expectation, the most difficult and highest love of all.To be content for their happiness, even though you figure not, in their joy.

POETRY – LOVE


The Anniverary

An intended day of celebration, that manifested as fears.
Much preparation for the perfect day, that dissipated into conflict.
One persons dreams precipitating, the other person’s nightmares.
A wall of restriction and a barrier to development,
The beginning of a schism, from harmony and understanding
Into frustration and intolerance, on a road that has now ended.
A path of companionship and warmth, that now divided into separation.
An unwanted parting of the ways, that heralded personal freedom
To travel and experience, unshackled by emotional attachmentsIn retrospective analysis, a very necessary and instructive lesson.

POETRY – LOVE

Au Revoir
.
In art deco modern life so free, is love possible without bars,
When unconventional behaviour, dictates the fashion moulding our mind.
In fluid New Age relationships, that have no commitments, leaving only scars,
The new globalised communications, are opening the floodgates of repressed emotions and their kind.
Rekindling undulating echoes of frenetic hedonism, unbridled passions that do cloud
The fragrant distant faint aroma, in the late blosooming spring of my life.
That unlocking clanging key in the dungeon, of the fears that did shroud
The solitary red rose, in the bare garden of my strife.
Beginning now slowly, passions dark clouds do clear, revealing God’s vision as the rays begin to shine
On my stone heart now warming, new sensations, strange but cleansing, it spins
My whole being, what joy, what freedom, a new dawn my heart sings, radiant so fine.
In our secret garden, skipping light in joyous laughter, through Aphrodite’s Bay as if twins
But, as passing ships in the night, a brief flickering light and she’s gone;
I awake in reflection and wonder, feel lonely but light and warm, where love once shone.
Au revoir ma cherie !

POETRY – LOVE


The Love for a Woman

Is the love for a woman, a passing infatuation masking God,
A developing reality, mirroring childhood relationships, in adult desires.
Searching for denied love, in adult pre-motherhood.
Or is it an opportunity to express the highest selfless love, in beauty manifest here on Earth.

Holistic Writing.

Hi World & beyond !!!
This is my first blog.
I am a child of the Universe who has been travelling, learning, teaching and writing.
I have been teaching Tai chi, yoga, meditation & English, as well practicing other holistic traditions.
I have just returned to London after teaching English in China, Singapore & Hong Kong for a couple of years.
Before that I was teaching Tai chi & yoga in Cyprus for five years.
I am going to publish poetry and pieces that I have written in this forum, as well as things that I will be writing in the future.
I want to share this experience with everything and hope that you will share also after you have made this connection.