Monday, June 11, 2018


We strive for the illusion
that nothing will true change,
and drown in our delusion
as night makes way for day.

Monday, May 14, 2018

To find ...

As we feel to find
the shape of self,
that rustling in the
dark, and fumbling

through the halls of
life, where light is
fragile, stark, so does
soul now whisper,

in heady tones of
grief, that we may
hear and recognise
who we are at least.

And in the mortal
yearning, where hope
is calling still, we
hold our arms in

act of grace, and
draw on bitter will.

Tuesday, April 10, 2018


The nature of things is to be
opposite, to strive for balance,
to seek the connection, in that
which has the other electric

charge, where the combination
of the two, creates this world
and all that is in it: matter and
anti-matter; electron and anti

electron; proton and anti
proton, meeting each other
and in that deep place of
annihilation, life is created,

energy is born; in that sure
destruction comes all life,
possibility and being; and
in that death is found pure

birth and transformation, as
the perfect marriage, hieros
gamos,  from micro to macro:
and so do opposites attract.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

Christ consciousness

We are made cellular,
Christ consciousness,
Apoptosis; where each is
Created to sacrifice,

Give its life, for the
Good of the whole;
Where each individual
Cell, is programmed

When healthy, to die
For the sake of the
Rest; to choose
Extinction, in order

That others may live,
On, just as Christ
Is said to have done;
Each cell a saviour

And a redeemer in
The story, the glory
The crucifixion of life,
From which comes,

Resurrection. Only
When a cell forgets
The truth of what it
Is, and why it was

Made, does it seek
To be eternal in the
Material and, in the
Doing, bring Death.

Monday, March 12, 2018

Dance of death

You were seventy,
you said, that day
at lunch, and you
would not grow old

and infirm, where
others had to care
for you, and where
you drained their

lives, and existed
in your own misery,
and so, you gave
yourself ten years,

and then, you said,
you would go to
Europe for a holiday,
somewhere lovely

like Lake Como, on
your way to someone
with a needle, who
could, in an instant,

bring it all to an end,
so no-one had to
suffer in that lingering
of life - but would you?

It is easy to talk of
what we might do in
ten, long years, as
opposed, to ten, short

minutes left of life,
and where in that
plan is trust, for the
process of this journey

we take as mortal
beings; gratitude for
the horrors and joys
of living in this

material world? But,
of course, your path
is not mine, and it
may have its own

ending, long before
you set out for Lake
Como, and the need-
ling end of existence.

Friday, March 9, 2018

The Ocean Spoke

The ocean spoke in waves of song,
turning in upon itself, caressing
all it touched, as if it sang itself
to sleep; in lullabies of semen surf,

requiring nothing of the sands which
soared and drifted in its wake, settling
into place, renewed, removed, as
something new, beyond the pure

beginnings of creation where all was
possibility; revealed now as womb
and source of all becoming, roiling
in a brew of life unknown and barely

recognised, from which would come
the bones of ancient arks of being,
and where the scud of foaming crust
would settle and lay quiet, allowing

in the silence, through aeons of
darkness and of light, the creep of
creatures, steadying salt-crusted
lips, waiting to breathe the air.

It was dark

It was dark when
I thought of you
and tried to call,
but there was no

answer, and then
it seemed even
darker than it had
been, darker than

the night could
muster, blacker
than midnight;
bereft of shades

of dawn, lost in
wondering and
fears which lurk
in the belly of

night, groaning
in the acid of
dissolution; that
refusal to digest.