Tag Archives: Spoken Word

Fertile External Self – Spoken Word

Just a little something to break the drought, or feed the flood to wipe away its traces.

Poisonous Opinions (Spoken Word)

Where do get off
Trying to tell me
To see through the fog.
Where is this ultimate understanding
Caring
Overbearing
Heart supposed come from?
Is it all your rights
And all your wrongs
Which enable you
To speak like this
On what I thought I knew?
See I imagined free speech
Had a great deal to do
With my view.
Apparently not,
Apparently it’s you
I forgot;
And need to be reminded
About all the wrong things
And all the bad things
I do
Just in case I tried to level myself
Near you.
But hey,
I don’t think you should go just yet.
Come back, stay a while
And tell me of the deep denial
Of man kind,
You know the tangent
The one where it’s everyone else
With a sick mind
And you’re the only right
And well informed son
Of the well oiled gun
Who can shoot down happily
And not need consequence
When you have effort and gumption
Because of your assumptions
Sorry ‘knowledge’,
And your thorough self surety
Enables you to find judgement
And purity.
I am here aren’t I?
Looking through our boxes
Layer upon layers more
Of our lives wrapped in paper
Trying to search for
Your integrity
And my respect for you.
It doesn’t seem
To be there
It’s just the same platitudes
All thread bare and worn through
I don’t really think I’ll find it
I am still blinded
By you.

Secrets Living In the Parallel (Spoken Word)

The cryptic keeper of secrets most foul
Must keep mine in a glass jar
Next to a night stand
Next to journal of all the things
I try to say in self mockery
Of life in words
It is a book with so many voices
Of other peoples hate
Anger,
Sorrow,
Love,
Lust,
Desire,
Joy
Yet I write my own on tissue paper
Caught upon air and floating away
Hoping that someday
The keeper of secrets
Will find it
Will save it for later,
Save it for that glass jar
By sliding it into a page
Of a Neil Gaiman novel,
Marking my self and sin
By my inward creeping
Mind numbing
Soul shining
Self obsessed lines of literacy
That I keep all to myself
In the hope that if they are not
Worn,
Wired,
Walked,
Worded
Stored
Then they simply don’t exist
And my hands and this heart
Can stay tethered to the here
And to the now
Not the in between
The before and the grey
Which is the way
That my soul seems to drift
And absorb life
Although
The current formulation
For information
On time keeping and judgement
On present and the now
Is warped and depleted
By my own memory going back to places,
Things,
Moments,
People that I haven’t seen
Haven’t been to
The split off
Torn from
Frayed edges of life
Not lived
In this present
Doesn’t mean that somehow
Or someway it didn’t just detach
From our current time
And grow a whole new arm and leg
And whole new life
And is now
Living
Despite our belief that it can’t.
So there I lay on the tuft of green grass
Between the parallel
Between the now (the what is)
And the now (what might be)
Showing that the presently
Has great possibilities
And tangentially
It can exists
Externally
No matter what
You perceive
As logical
Because time
And the universe
Do not care
What you think is possible.

Wonders Beyond This World- (Spoken Word)

Surely as you ponder
Each small wonder
You encounter
On your way
You distinctly remember
A souls hired helper
The brain
And its function to play.
Does it have a wee button
That sits on the side
And impressively
Tells you what to see
What to hide?
Does it discover the greatest of joys
Perceived by the previous
Serotonin employed?
Or does it precisely
Have something to do
With the matter of me
And the matter of you?
Is it more intrinsic for us
To keep focusing on
The immediate, the future
The was and what’s gone
So that we may not see
Just how much of a spec
We might be
In comparison to the entirety
Of everything
Perhaps we need
A compass and key
To lock ourselves down
Presently
In case
We escape
To the universal question
Of what and what for
Why a mental repression?
Because, I’m afraid,
If we all knew the truth
Then possibly we wouldn’t
Think of ourselves
As the great super sleuths
Of religion and mind
And philosophy
And just quietly
Our sciences are proving
Our sciences further
That maybe, just maybe
Our religious fervour
Is starting to be proven
Ever so wrong
That we own the sole province
Of any souls song
That there is more of a possibility
Of greater existence
Than what our meagre minds
Perceive as consistent
But hold on
Aren’t we all thoughts
In the old woman’s mind
Of memories and lovers
She once left behind?
Aren’t we all puppets
In a giant parade
Of greater giants than us
All paper made?
Aren’t we just layers and layers
Of truth
All bound together
By the promise of youth?
Or perhaps
We are just creatures
Of each others demise
Waiting, just waiting
For death to arise?
But in essence our brains
Are functioned to make us
Distracted by small things
In some way to fake us
And keep our heads grounded
Not flying high
So that our eyes
Watch the ground
Instead of the sky
And instead of the moment
We all just expect
That the mothership arrives
And informs all us specs
That for so long
We had the nerve
To think of us all
As the only inhabitants
Of galaxies and worlds
The truth of the matter
Is that we are the joke
Of their collective humour
The punch line,
The amusement and rumour
In this vast expanse
Larger than all of our
Consciences combined
Yes we are the infants
The universe left behind