POETRY - HISTORY


Sixties London Star:

Was where the focus was, during my adolescence, Wembley & Carnaby Street,
World Cup winners and fashion trend centre, for the flower power world.
As I sat perched on a front garden wall, watching England’s finest sporting hour,
An underage paperboy stand in, on this momentous afternoon in English history.
The star that had first heralded it’s arrival, with the Busby Babes in the late fifties,
That floundered so tragically in the Bavarian snow, to rob England of two world cups.
Perhaps, we shall never know, for I never saw, before my time,
But a glimpse I had, of Nick’s Blanchflower Spurs, that Europe did conquer.
As in history of old, without the blood and savagery, the sex by mutual consent.
Then the Hammers of east London, the magic trio, that would the world conquer,
First Europe in ’65, a Wembley spectacle rehearsal, for the big one very soon.
The unofficial English football academy, of the post war 20th century,
Were any of this team, not to become supreme coaches, a mark of pedigree,
Set by the golden master of British football, Bobby Moore.
A hero, in the most British traditional way, utilized but not fully recognized,
Or repaid for glorious leadership, that in reality was never cultivated.
A general who stayed a captain, class echoing colonial stigma,
That haunts and plagues us to this day, hinders and delays us, in retrograde narcissism,
The mirror in which we can see, the tragic reality of blatant snobbery, or worse.
All I knew as a boy, is that when I saw that blonde Adonis, leading England,
It never occurred to my young mind, that England might not win, this home field world cup,
As east London’s finest trio, traveled linked to the world cup stage.
The general, the guile and the executioner, Bobby, Martin and Geoff,
The omniscient poise and control, the shadowy guile & creativity, the explosive power and finishing,
All personified in the last minute of frenetic defence, from which,
The golden master controls, feints, looks up & strokes the most sublime sixty metre pass,
“And they think it’s all over, well it is now.”

POETRY - HISTORY


Anglo Deutch:

What a contest, myriad repeated conflicts, colossal confrontations,
Awesome in scale, world history in the balance, decided in the detail,
Heroism and darkness, genius and arrogance, fanaticism and camaraderie.
Was history sealed and divided, by the U.S. Supreme Court decision,
To officially adopt the English language, as the American mother tongue.
If so, one man’s vote decided, the World’s 20th century path of history.
German royalty, jealous of Britain’s empire, power & prestige,
Built an awesome navy, to challenge Britannica’s hegemony of the seas.
So thus, Jutland became the rolling arena venue, for giant head to head confrontation,
A truly unique epic & unheralded titanic struggle, whose scale and proportions, peaked that day,
Signalling the end, of the era of the battleship.
The next arena, the now poppy fields of Europe, where American logistic assistance,
Turned the tide to drive, the Germans to a last frenetic endeavour,
That only the British could withstand, until exhaustion slowed the German war machine.
Inducing starving Germany to anarchy and chaos, a budding Bolshevik revolutionary field,
In conjunction with Tsarist Russia’s collapse, for Lenin’s proletariat revolution,
That precipitated the nazi fascist rise, that would engulf the world.
So the arena aloft, witnessed the next supreme trial and test,
The spitfire and hurricane, against messersmitch for world domination,
Again stalled by the dogged humorous Brits, whose allies,
Flocking from the four corners of the world, to defend the motherland against the old mighty foe,
Turned the tide again, to liberate Europe and the world, for the coming of a new age.
Wembley stadium ’66, world cup final venue and arena, for competing northern European genius,
So the titans clash again, with Britannica triumphant to rule again.
But the tide is about to turn, in Mexico ’70, Wembley ’72,
With the long awaited world domination, achieved in Munich ’74.
Collossal rolling victories in Spain ’82, Italy ’90 & Wembley ’96,
Relenting to the long awaited mirror echo, of new age English, devastating Munich victory 2002.
This amazing clash of cultures, where even the Romans feared to tread.
Where toilets, door handles, brushes, shovels, cars, roads, football & armies,
Are conceived of and utilized, in diametrically opposed manners.
Truly a strange development, of close Anglo Saxon rivals.
So near, but so far apart, whose opposition shaped world history and sport.

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Feel Change:

A first officer of an organization, professed to be legacy,
Of repression from the Vatican, the true harbingers of the sacred knowledge.
Who boasts of a regretted missed calling, in the Jesuit priesthood college,
Which from my perspective, shadows the dark hooded Dominican, opeis dei inquisitore,
Who blocks my way, necessitating a decision, concerning choices clear and not so clear.
Is this purely a healing crisis, an evocation exercise to be resolved,
Or is this now, at this time a sign, indicating hidden aspects to be revealed.
Awaiting the catalyst for change, a new beginning afresh in enriched pastures,
That alas I never see, long gone to where next needed and useful.
In the silent vanguard solitaire role, to prepare the path
For change, a metamorphous of choice, for those with eyes and ears,
Ready and prepared for poignant innuendos, that light the ascension way.
In true selfless service, as best samscaraed suited, for this production
Of the great leela duality game, for our classroom edification.

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Karmic Spies:

Well it must be, when you discover that even your so called spiritual master,
Is having you enquired upon, but oh how it popped out so unexpectedly,
To reveal the laughable conspiracy, of light in subterfuge fear.
Be careful I’m warned, other people feel like what you have said,
But are too fearful to express it, is this for real I thought,
Is this energy without love I wondered, as I faced this apparent victimization.
A test was right, for as my antipathy to this behaviour arose,
I now have the techniques and knowledge, to release and cleanse this.
But a second time is a mistake I feel, for there is no reaction,
Troubling these mistakes, with apparent negative emotions, such as
Anger and intolerance, laced with a small modicum of paranoia and fear, mechanism
Control techniques, that seem incongruous, to a group consciousness of light,
Enforced by a declared Jesuit, inquisitorial purity officer.
Who eagerly compiles blacklists of dissidents, labeled as dogs of darkness,
Whose main concern and criteria, for further advancement and conviviality,
Is material and financial, not service, intent or experience, but affluence.
Quoting the ephemeral but perennial truth, that when you are ready,
God will provide, for which perhaps, one must struggle to achieve,
To pass spiritual tests, in prepared readiness and ethical worthiness.
Removing outstanding issues, by clearing and balancing discordant energies,
Manifested as negative emotions, in reaction to triggering incidents.
But total selfless service without regular income, disqualifies one from further advancement.
While buried stagnant, material accumulations without question,
Is instant code qualifier with open arms, an incongruous anomaly for sure,
Whose imbalance manifests, in what I experience as true devotee.
Adios !!!

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Bored With The Game:

Afraid is what it is, where once your game was efficacious, in it’s resultant effect,
This repetition is now rather tediously restrictive, in the career aspect of my life.
Where once my vocation was my work, my unfruitful workshop presentation,
Forced my seeking other employment, to finance my humble lifestyle.
A retrograde step I feel, with my waking time spent, with macho assertiveness,
With my body weakening and sagging, to eventual imbalance and pain.
All in consequence of prioritized service, to finance lame response seminars,
Blocked from further learning and scolded, for misunderstood acts of assistance,
The object of psychological plays, that smell stale and obsolete.
What are my options, for how long must I endure in blind faith,
These actions and verbal onslaughts, that ride against my nature and experience.
No longer it seems, the dye is finally cast and I am free,
To move on and further explore, to learn whilst serving the best I can.
No more strange strictures to endure, for my faith was not matched, by my respect
That was not duly earnt, so I pass as my imput lies, on stony ground.

POETRY - LOVE


Skipped Reappear:

Pier pressure conceived impression, in desire for feline visual perfection,
Any blemish, a vulnerable spot for ridicule and derision, in the macho arena.
Therein I ignored, nay not even noticed, this unasked for procession of beauty,
That was so ever eager to thrust itself, upon me in adoration and glee.
But now that I begin to see and appreciate the beauty in all women, I begin to realize
What I missed, is it now when I’m entering the autumn of this journey,
Evidenced in greying thatch, that is now halting this ignored procession,
And deflating my ego and confidence, in disturbing ease and depression.
Leaving me in melancholy reflection, about youthful arrogance and lost opportunities,
Lowering my expectations, to look deeper and longer, to appreciate all beauty,
While wondering what beauties had I passed, that I would now drool and pant for.
That I now find that the intro courtship patter, now so obviously required,
Is a subject of which I have no knowledge, a legacy of alpha male fame and exploits.
So now I must struggle and think, listen and watch, to learn basic sociological lessons
Previously skipped, thus evoking deep shadows of emotive experience.
All so uncomfortable and strange, but now ready to be absolved,
Enabling forward free movement, to fulfilled experience in joy and happiness.

POETRY - LOVE


False Start:

When one gets in a car and your date, breathing stale garlic aroma
Into your face, as she babbles about how, immediately after the movie,
She has to bla bla bla, in nervous excitation and apparent discomfort.
I reflect on exactly why she has bothered, to come in such disease,
To then insist on giving the ticket teller, money for her ticket when already bought,
Even disconcerting and annoying him, in ignorant and offensive rejection.
With my every word contradicted, forcing me into reflective and non combative silence,
That was misconstrued I suspect, into moodiness or some negative attribute.
For the pawn and target of ill informed, inappropriate and unhelpful advice,
That I could only really greet with silence, to this misplaced matriarchal guidance.
Amazing that such a first total symbiotic meeting, could enter a second
Such as this, total antithesis of the former, a mystery and a sign,
Of what will and should not be, a relationship that will never be.
A further exercise in my emotional cleansing, that actually showed no reaction,
To this rejection, hence this blesson is passed, hopefully preparing me,
For the real thing !

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Great Rethinking:

Is what we need at some time or other, individually and collectively.
But this second weekend, of the autumnal ninth of 2004,
At the historically great debating chamber, for budding and aspiring sons,
Of the great and not so great, masters of these islands and beyond,
The Oxford Union in classical setting, again adorns history where much was conceived and made,
Perhaps the ideal environment, to inaugurate the necessary change, for the New Millennium.
The proof is in the eating of course, for only time will tell, in his own inimical style,
What we already know, but yet perhaps do not fully realize.
So now a gathering of spirits has been orchestrated, souls young and old,
Under the banner of, prophets initiating and precipitating, a ‘Great Rethinking.’
A wonderfully auspicious and opportune experience, for my prodigal UK rediscovery,
In the mystical light of my esoteric studies and teaching, on foreign fields in distant lands.
This vibration is good for me I feel, possibly a nutritious soil for germination.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


Druid Green:

With such eager glee, I fled the UK grey, for the Cyprus blue,
Never again returning to dwell, beneath the North Atlantic drift cocoon.
But to nightly watch the celestial bodies, in their twinkling dance,
A cyclic procession of the moon, following the glorious sunsets over Aphrodite’s Bay.
The royal mediterranean blue of the sky and sea, with helios himself,
Overseeing the stage from east to west, crimson to crimson.
The seas velvety thalassic touch at sunset, as the rocks release their minerals in homage,
To the perfectly synchronized, monthly changing of the celestial guard,
With the full moon rising to the setting sun, reappearing as the silver orb sets.
Or the gleaming cloud nebula, straddling the sky so clearly, during the absent new moon.
Proceeded by the perennial evening star, overseeing the baby crescent moon,
Arcing above the vacating sun, a glorious tri vertical pageant in fire,
Glowing over the hill peaked Akamas peninsula, inflaming the rolling sea.
First golden yellow, then crimson red, post impressionism in action.
But upon my prodigal return, to the land of my birth and education,
The deep dark green of even midsummer, mesmerized me as I journeyed home by train.
The following spring, as I watched the bursting green tree buds,
With their blossom, attracting me quicker than the bees,
I realized the power of this land, the worshipped trees of druidic antiquity.
Their oak flesh shaped, to conquer the world on the seas.
The key I perceived, was to focus on the green and not the grey,
A majestic glory and power given by the grey, the life blood from the ocean,
That sprinkles and engenders, our magnificent companions in their glory.

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Dartan:

The grandfather that I never knew, in person the early influence I craved,
No serene overview perspective, balancing youthful paternal authoritarian stricture.
Should it arise, which for me was the totality of my paternal guidance,
With a modicum of intimidation and violence most days, to top up my vacuous dessert,
From bestial overseer stepfather, the dark cloud that haunted my youth.
Shutting out the cockney sparrow guardian, loving light of my adolescence,
To herald the dark ages of my youth, without love, guidance or light,
Until my boating days, when I met that crazy old man and his dog afloat.
An open fireplace on a wooden boat, a contradiction in terms, that veiled genius behind apparent nonsense.
My teacher on the way of the system, my place on the path and the roots
And causes of the troubles, that hindered and plagued me throughout.
Where his understanding and experience, were to benefit me before he left,
Preparing me by clearing the way, of deep rooted obstacles, that might hinder my way.
There, but not deeply embedded, for me to experience and learn,
But not fail and fall, against impenetrable walls of karmic retribution.
Only to struggle and learn, to blossom forth in light and understanding,
For the benefit of all, on our journey from light again to light.

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Mother Mary, Mother Gaia:

The duality of nature, the Gemini twins manifesting, big time in this game,
On what levels, interdimensional interaction, bewildering to contemplate.
A divisive, sometimes schismatic, behavioural conflict of perspective and destiny.
Contradictory behaviour, indicative of what, is the question once asked,
Lights the torch, of speculative contemplation and progressive understanding,
In a half full glass life, of golden ripe opportunities, in sunshine and joy,
Lighting the illusionary shadows, of a half empty ego shell of an existence,
Achieved by philosophy in action, sociological Tai chi in situ, yin yang equi balancing.
Slight adjustments effecting profound change, individually and then collectively,
Not abrupt forced intrusiveness, instigating reaction and possible violence,
But interactive positive imput, evolving collective fulfillment.

POETRY – SPIRITUAL


Skewered:

The spear through my heart, that lay there for so long,
Was not only a symbol of injustice, initiating pain and grief experience,
But a tool of repression, stunting emotional growth and reciprocation.
Blocking energy life force flow and emotional expression,
Feelings of love, not appreciated, felt or even contemplated.
Inevitably loves antithesis, expands inexorably in the shadow, from love.
But from whence does the spark, originate to break the cycle,
To bring forth the light, to illuminate matters and highlight solutions.
So as to alleviate dis ease, first individually, then later for collective benefit,
A lesson learnt, a new skill mastered, in the Hall of Experience.

POETRY - POLITICS


Brit Aggro:

Institutionalised aggression, is something that is encountered even before school,
In this green and pleasant land, where genteel classicism,
Is the roots and essence, of aristocratic governance and philosophy,
Engendering effete snobbishness and distaste for the militaristic pawns,
That effect their whims and wills, upon the unsuspecting world.
A shop floor alpha male arena, of aggression and assertiveness,
A military system of officer class decision control and dual master sergeant location liaison.
Between top and bottom, from decision to action, in theory to practice,
The pivotal power and experience, the flexible lynch pin in conflict.
Rugby Union, a game for hooligans, played by gentlemen,
Association football, a game for gentlemen, played by hooligans.
Perhaps reflects this Teutonic, Latin mix and split, that is reflected
As the duality, in every aspect of English life, with the Celts immersed but distinct,
On the fringes but everywhere, nevertheless a key in colonial expansion.
Cricket, a game for gentlemen and players, a game of the empire,
The Roman lesson tool, of effective and integrated control and education.
Football, the game of the people, for the people, now commandeered by corporate business,
To sell us what we do not want or need, to swallow the poison without murmur.
The playground bully, with protective elder brother security syndrome,
Awaiting my timidly fresh but solitary stranger, to harass and ridicule.
The first fence, barrier and lesson for all boys, in this sophisticated and civilized country,
A culture of violence, authority by intimidation and fear, a depersonalizing regime,
Where individualism is ostracized and sensitivity attacked physically and psychologically.
While any threat to the status quo is awaited and sought, not genius encouraged and nurtured,
For new inventions and ideas are perceived, without notice or encouragement.
Because here, selfish motives are promulgated, as national needs and desires,
To the detriment of the majority, a divisive fragmentation that engenders not respect,
But an aggressive dishonesty, in necessity for fair recompense,
For disproportionate opportunity and livelihood, in a duplicitous system,
Where honesty is manipulated, to self detriment and unequal benefits.
Encouraging a cunning flyness, to be a successful survivor and not a loser,
In this consumer orientated, capitalistic society, where even the attributes
Of competitive, overproductive low prices, are denied in cartel protectionism.
Illegally, immorally and in contravention of European law and International trade agreements.

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Private Dream:

A private dream indeed, unfortunately, as I so much would have liked to have shared,
This quest for sporting and public success, alas only in my head.
So many times I have lived the glory of heroic endeavour, only to awake in grey reality,
To mourn the loss and broken heart, of destiny denied.
Standing on the chasm’s edge of oblivion, confused and battered,
In youthful innocence, unable to comprehend this dark and retrograde scenario.
Watching the striker vacuum, denied a decade of national success,
My position deprived, to the detriment of all, for what in the name of who.
Necessity instigating my inventive search, for reason and understanding,
Educating me in the university, of life’s perspective and multi dimensional reality.
To empower my future progress, without karmic limitations or restrictions,
To an arena of light ascended, aloft from the coliseum of competitive aggression.

POETRY – SPIRITUAL


From Cloud Nine To The Gutter:

Is a journey to behold, a helter skelter spiral to oblivion,
And back again, of course is the whole story, back again,
One moment a star heralded as a saviour, the next wandering the dark dingy streets alone.
A wake up call to reality that’s for sure, but so young and tender, the necessary price
For rapid accelerated advancement, to lofty climbs in double quick time.
Where problems will obviously arrange themselves, to pose the most searching questions,
In preparation for enlightenment and empowered service, to humanity and the plan.

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


The Shadow To Be Discovered:

Lies not where the sun shines, but hidden from immediate view.
Always there, unseen, imperceptibly present, behind the veil
Of the mind, always driving forward, creating, searching for and satisfying desires
Of every sort, a blind spot where for some, the sun never shines.
A moving, walking, talking eclipse, whose ramifications only others see.
Of us oblivious, even arrogant in blissful ignorance, until the time
Is ripe, the light shines forth, in whatever manifestation appropriate,
To dispel our blocks and emotional traumas, mental disillusions and selfish motives.

POETRY – SPIRITUAL


Harmonising Duality:

As we bounce from one wall to another, in this helter skelter ride,
The prophetic middle path, must surely be to harmonise the opposites,
In this third dimensional, material duality, school playground.
Which when we eventually but surely realise, with ever greater ease,
We will effortlessly glide, on vibrational ripples, into ever increasing light.

POETRY - PHILOSOPHY


The Illusion of Superiority:

It is strange isn’t it, how cocksure is the ignoramus,
In his ridicule and damnation, of all aspects of culture.
Especially the colourfully vibrant and rich living tapestry of life,
Expressed in differing ethnic traditions, that are now traversing the globe.
Nationalism, the whip of avaricious exploiters, throughout history,
A propaganda tool in the state armoury, an organization evolved or manufactured,
The last refuge of a scoundrel or soapbox for a fiend.
Racism, the false illusion of superiority, that history and genetics categorically refute,
Another dark tool in the hands, of misguided children and politicians.
All revealed to have no basis in reality, with no true sociological or political gain.
The great social experiment was achieved, in Rome’s extended franchise for foreigners,
Extending it’s influence, into another dimension of government.
While classical Athens refused, to it’s inevitable demise.
Today science shows, that inter-breeding weakens the stock,
Generating weak genes that can be viewed, in some claustrophobic village communities.
So why is this aggressive stance, generated by fear and ignorance,
So strong and virulent, as constantly viewed throughout history and the globe.

POETRY - POLITICS


Socio Economic Slave:

Freedom to buy, able to consume, a surf to economics,
The total slave of yesteryear, had no incentive to work and meandered along.
The economic slave of today, has every incentive in the world,
To struggle to maintain, the standard of living that he has.
Toiling in three jobs for twenty hours a day, in frenetic competitive industriousness.
The lord of the manor in feudal England, owned all within his lands and vision,
The surf was obligated to work, an allotted time each week,
For the lord and then the church, before he could work to feed his family.
The neo economic surf has no land, only his labour as a commodity,
To acquire money, to be able to procure goods, necessary for survival.
But today the individual has the vote, as a check and balance on our peers,The option to choose, between strangers from other places,
Representing themselves and their parties, in a career orientated ‘Gentleman’s Club’.
Where despite the international dissolution, of anachronistic monarchies,
By people inspired revolutionaries, precipitating democratic constitutional documents,
Indelibly enshrining, by imprinting individual rights and freedoms,
On legally binding, nationally and internationally recognized agreements.
Thereby civilising the attitudes and behaviour, of our aspiring brothers and sisters.
A system where an honest perspective, puts one at the back of the queue.
To get ahead, is to advance at the expense of whoever,
In a moral vacuum of greed and individualism, at the expense of all.
Where individual will, can only be expressed in group action,
By the withdrawal of labour and collective consumer selectivity,
Affecting the God and shrine, of corporate economic performance.
Profit, the shareholders dividend, where if they can clearly ascertain the economic reality,
Through the veil of creative accounting, to exercise their democratic boardroom influence and control.
Perhaps the only real individual influence, able to check systematic corruption and abuse.

POETRY - SPIRITUAL


Stones & Drones:

A meandering moving circle, of bowed headed zombie devotees,
All tuned into the tourist audio guide, their badge of the path.
How curious to notice, the lack of visual connection to be observed,
By the snake’s individual focus, on the audio and the path ahead.
So sad and frustrating for myself, consumerism’s tentacles ensnaring our heritage.
The liberties they are taking, this frankenstein ghoul that voraciously
Consumes and ensnares, an ever demanding black hole, cosy alien monster.
I was there and we saw the best of it, this freedom now gone forever more,
A veritable goldmine, for the roof restoration fund I suspect.
The pressure is one pressing ever downward, on us all.
But those with the knowledge and techniques to compensate, progress and evolve,
As of old, so the new, ever onward in freshly labeled bottles.
The vintage will prevail, endure the test of time and tribulation,
Ever glowing, heralding the light of universal love.