My Poem “Superpower”

The life of an artist
is not always easy…
the inspiration imbibed
by an artist is the combination
of a marathon of many steps
of a long journey…
an artist sometimes has to walk
a line between darkness and light…
relationships, experiences, loss,
the stories of other people
are a vital contributing factor
in how an artist will grow
and what an artist will choose to create…
the art of an artist is
a subjective perspective of life
that is neither wrong nor right.

The explosive power of an artist’s muse
is unparalleled and indescribable,
and when fully harnessed
the inspiration felt by an artist
can feel as amazing and invigorating
and as dangerous as holding
a stick of dynamite…
art is an obsession and it can be
as addictive as a drug,
and as intoxicating as love.

Love inspires art,
and art inspires love…
art can be seen below,
as well as above…
in my opinion, artists
are like superheroes
and the gift to be able
to make art is a miracle…
art can save people,
and artists who make art that matters
have a responsibility to instill
into their creations ideas
that will help other people dream
and achieve things in their life
that will flower and continue
to reinvigorate the gift
that is their inner light
and their ultimate source of power.

My Poem “Love the Love”

Love is free…
Love is the greatest gift
that you can give anybody…
Love should always come naturally…
Love is undefinable,
as is the feeling inside you
that someone special brings alive within you
when you think about them
and when you see them…
Love is the embodiment of divine intervention
and it is the most amazing power in the universe…
Love finds you when you need it the most…
Love can be a life saver…
Love can set your soul free…
Love is a bond that can never be severed…
Love is always what you are looking for
and when you find it you know with absolute certainty
that the one you love will always be enough
to make you happy – take it from me.

My Poem ‘Somnabulists’

Sometimes when we fall asleep,
as we cross the threshold into dreams,
we instantly wake up…
most of the time,
when we recall what ran through our mind
over the course of the night before
we remember the middle and the end of a dream,
but not the start…
some people live out their hopes
and some people live out their fears
when they walk the streets
of the world of forty-winks…
for some people dreaming of another place
and another time is a welcome escape…
some dreams dreamed are a nightmare
from beginning to end,
while others you want to continue having
for the rest of your life
because they are filled
with so much that you love…
dreamers draw on so much when they dream –
from their life, from their soul,
from their senses, from the joys, and from the sadness
that everybody has within their heart…
learning how to dream
and learning how to live
and breath within a dream
is harder to achieve than some might think…
when we dream, we submit…
when we dream, we let go…
when we dream we all become
a part of the universes oldest myth…
when we dream we give up our control
over our own mind and our own
imagination-engine and we allow
our thoughts and our secrets
to merge into one and just flow –
like a waterfall, like a river,
adding to the infinite depth that has no end,
that often spills out into the waking-world
and is sometimes caught by a camera-lens…
everybody dreams differently, at different times,
and sometimes in different colours…
everybody sees the physical world
and the dream-world from a different perspective,
and their dreams reflect that…
every animal, every bird,
every angel, every man, woman, boy, and girl,
learn vital lessons and they confront
internal manifestations
of real-world obstacles and desires –
and that is at the centre
of dreaming and dreams,
and it is what gives dreams their power…
our dreams are our place
to filter through our thoughts and our memories,
and sometimes the steps that we take
within a dream our physical body
re-enacts in the real-world –
and when that happens,
in both dreams and in life,
we all become sleepwalkers.

My Poem ‘The World of My Stories’

A person’s life is filled with different characters;
a person’s world is filled with many horizons;
a person’s life can be organized and thought of
as like a book of interconnected chapters;
a person’s view of the world changes over time
as they live, experience, and grow older –
and, from my perspective, I am so glad
for the life that I have had and still have,
because my life is a trove of golden-moments
and a limitless garden of inspirational memories
and musings that thrive and infuse
the palette of my writing,
because there is so much in abundance.

Just as every solar-system has a star at its centre,
the world of my poetry and stories too has a sun
that it revolves around and gives it gravity
and keeps it spinning;
just as every planet has a combination of gases
that make up its atmosphere,
the world where my ideas are born from
has all that is needed to keep my internal world
alive and its creations breathing, living, and evolving.

Worlds are built over time
and of many components and ingredients;
over a life-time, and while writing a story,
there is a constant preoccupation
to find truth, sense, and balance;
some worlds can be vast, and some worlds can be small –
expanding and contracting, depending on a person’s
state of mind and their environment;
over time we all collect many things in many ways –
however, it isn’t until you start thinking about
writing a story of your own that you realize
that even the smallest of things
can be among that which is the most important.

Usually, the idea for a new story comes to me like a dream;
for the most part, what a story will be about
when I am writing one all depends and is centered upon
something I have felt or something I have seen;
when I first begin writing a story
it is like I am learning to walk again
and not worrying too much about or counting my steps;
when I get into a story and I have fully found my footing
and I know where my story is going
it is then that I race towards its ending
without fear of losing my breath.

I love writing stories –
however, to me, writing a story
is like running a marathon;
to me writing poetry is like going on a sprint
through the green and blue world of my head –
and it is while writing poetry
that I get to let my imagination go wild,
and I get to sometimes write what I see;
writing a story is like creating and making
something that to you is a labour of time and love;
I am a writer, and more than anything I love to write –
however, I sometimes feel like to describe
what I see when I look within
there could never be enough words,
and it is then that I wish I could find a way
to show people what lies within me
and take them on a tour
around the world of my stories.

My Poem ‘Vampire State of Mind’

What makes a vampire a Vampire
is all in the blood…
what drives a vampire
and what a vampire dreams about
would send shivers down a human spine
and strike fear into the heart of a man
and freeze their blood faster than
a river that runs still
under the sky of winter moonlight.

When the darkness falls,
and the stars above reveal themselves,
that is when the creatures of night-mares rise
and are filled with over-flowing power
and revitalized health
that feeds their hunger
just as much as that which they crave,
and it is then when nothing and no-one is safe
from the blood-drunk
who are in search of fresh prey –
and if your neck does have the misfortune
to come close to the sharp fangs of a Vampire
then say a prayer to god as fast as you can
before you sadly expire.

Stories have been told for centuries…
Vampires of all names
have risen from their coffins after-dark…
there is an allure for some people,
and there is an aura that surrounds
those who find peace
kindling the miracle gift
that is life’s spark.

A lust for life…
an endless thirst…
an aversion to sunlight…
a vocabulary of other-worldly words…
an understanding that death
is just another word for transformation…
a dance with the devil…
a passion and an obsession…
a secret desire to be the master
over another’s fate and will.

A vampire is of a time…
a vampire is eternal…
a vampire can only live if others die…
a vampire’s spirit is the most indomitable…
a vampire drinks blood as if it were red wine…
a vampire constantly walks the twilight line…
a vampire will always find a way to survive…
there are those who are not actual Vampires,
but who share many Vampire-like attributes,
and who have, what some may call,
a Vampire state of mind.

My Poem ‘April Hours’

It was a Sunday morning…
it was a day of rest…
it was a day that began
with a beautiful dawn’s calling…
it was a day when a great many things
from around the world
peaked my interest:
there was the Royal visit of William and Kate
at the Taj Mahal –
a wonder of the world built as a monument to love…
there was the news-reports of the Japanese Earthquake –
a powerful reminder, yet again,
just how incredible and sometimes destructive
the forces of nature are.

I must have spent an hour or more
just looking back over photos and memories
taken and spent with the love of my life,
who I just cannot get enough of;
my thoughts and my imagination
danced around in my head –
fluttering, pulsing, flashing with excitement
like a handful of fireflies caught in a jar.

I was sitting in a cafe
when a mouse ran across the floor –
some people were so shocked and surprised
by the mouse’s sudden-appearance
that they immediately ran for the door…
I, however, just stayed where I was
and looked on at the commotion with awe
at just how much panic could be caused
by something so harmless and so small.

Blue-sky and golden sunshine
was the order for the day…
being a Sunday, all that I could hear
were the chimes of the church-bells
as they played;
being as it was a weekend,
there were more people out and about…
me being me, I could see and I could sense
inspiration in every direction
as if it were a pheromone
that I could somehow smell.

The month of April is significant to me
in lots of ways…
the month of April for some
is synonymous with rain showers…
the month of April has always been
filled with days of colour, growth, and change…
and of course a very special birthday…
the month of April,
the month of the calendar year
in which we are now living in
is like a flower of power
that blooms over and over again
more beautifully with ever passing April hour.

My Poem ‘Free the world’

Break all the chains;
smash all the tanks;
free all the animals
and let them live in a world
without the threat of pain
and forced-incarceration,
and let them be what they were born to be
with the rest of their species,
and let them do what they feel like doing,
and not what someone with £ or $ signs in their eyes
expects and wants them to do.

Break down all the walls;
tear down all the fences;
end the obsession of the powerful
to feel important through control of the few;
let the world see what lies in the hearts
of the cruel, and capture their crimes
in black and white with words,
or through the aperture of camera lenses.

End the slavery of every living and feeling thing;
let the whales and the dolphins
swim in the ocean from where we all came from;
let the ring-leaders of fear be held accountable
for their sins, and stop the extinction
of life for no good reason.

Prison is prison;
if you commit a crime, you pay the price;
but what could a defenseless animal have done
to suddenly find itself unable to do
what it was born to do, and what everything deserves:
to live a normal and free life?

Some people can be so closed-minded;
some people who want to see the face of true cruelty
need only look in a mirror;
some people are so opportunistically blinded,
and all they care about is money,
that they don’t see the river of blood running behind them
that without them and what they have done
would not be there.

I care about life so much;
I don’t want the children of tomorrow
to grow up seeing, thinking, believing
that being a bully and being the one
who holds power over someone less strong
is in any way a means to feeling important or tough.
I want everyone and everything on Earth
to run free, swim free, break free,
climb high, dive deep,
and not live in distress, nor in fear
of being scared, scarred, or even killed.
I want life to be lived.
I want to help free the world.

My Poem ‘Our Earth Hour’

If all the lights were to go out
all over the world;
if electricity suddenly became
a thing of the past;
if we could no longer communicate
over vast distances so easy
as we can right now,
and instead we had to rely
to get our message across
the beauty of the written and the spoken word;
if we all had to travel to another place;
and the speed of life became so slow and easy –
as opposed to complex and fast;
if we could all stand in silence
and not hear another sound,
but the music inside us;
if we could no longer be drawn to distraction
by the life of other people who we don’t even know:
what would be the thing that fills our focus?
what would we do? where would we go?

If a far-away friend was literally a world away,
and you may only see them once, or twice, in your life –
would their friendship mean more to you,
because of the realization that most things that happen,
and most of the friends that we make,
are collages of moments that are so brief in duration
they are merely grains of sand
in the galactic hour-glass of time?

Our individual definitions of happiness
are influenced, and are reflections,
of what we value the most about life,
and about living on our planet;
our own inter-dependency on certain things
is something that is a part of our DNA –
where once we used to depend and be in awe of the sun
and used to base our choices on what we interpreted,
in this day and age, however,
we look to different sources of light to be our guide.

Earth will endure;
our home planet will turn and change,
and keep doing what it has been doing
for billions of years,
long after humanity comes to the perception,
the appreciation, and the conscious comprehension,
of what truly matters and what the true source is
of our collective power;
Earth is not only a paradise of wonder and beauty
where life of all kinds can live and thrive,
it is also the perfect home, answer,
antidote, inspiration and cure;
our home world is an amazing place
that we should and we must appreciate for what it is
and for what it means –
this hour, this day, every day,
every second of every Earth hour.

My Poem ‘Numbers’

Numbers surround us;
numbers connect us;
numbers help us remember things –
from the home where we live,
to the age that we are;
numbers define some people;
numbers are important to some people;
numbers are how some people
judge whether someone has something or nothing;
numbers have grown in importance and in prominence
since there invention –
from the moment that somebody started declaring
that one added to one is two,
and that the greater the number of something you have the better,
the more power you have,
and with your numbers you can do anything.

Numbers are more important to our daily lives than we realize;
certain numbers are more significant to us than others;
numbers are all that some people see in and with their eyes;
certain numbers: dates, times, addresses, “lucky numbers”,
can make people feel better;
numbers are our key to places, to our finances;
numbers can also be a sign of understanding and knowledge;
numbers are how we know the worth of something,
according to their prices;
numbers can be a way to encourage.

Numbers are fearsome, numbers are cruel,
numbers are tiresome, some numbers: not cool.
Numbers are stressful,
send you wild with rage;
numbers are frightening,
dictating your age.
Numbers keep you up revising,
deep into the night;
numbers make you shed a tear,
but persist and they’ll cause you delight.

Numbers are everywhere you look,
and sometimes they are more populous than words;
some numbers are constantly changing;
some numbers always remain the same;
numbers exist in their own, and they connect,
every kind of world;
numbers connect lots of things:
from follow counts on websites,
to balances in bank accounts;
from pin numbers, to lottery numbers;
from years of birth,
to the number that we see of a particular bird.
Everybody in the world secretly
has an inbuilt obsession with numbers.

With thanks to Katie Hewer for the third verse! 😉

My Poem ‘The Genie’

Real life genie’s present themselves
and pop up unexpectedly in our lives all the time,
and sometimes they appear before they are summoned;
genie’s of all shapes, colours, and sizes,
rise before our very eyes and make themselves known
to be a guide, to be an angel who has blessings to bestow,
and as a friend who has the power
to make more than wishes come true;
there are genie’s who can open up whole brand new worlds,
and who can give a light to live by
brighter than that of the sun.

I used to be a genie.
I used to be the one everyone came to,
and asked to be granted their heart’s desire;
the gift to be able to give someone anything,
the power to be able to send anyone anywhere,
the touch and the omnipotent will to make any thought a reality,
was what was always there in the palm of my hands –
but after a lifetime, which felt like an infinity
of only being called upon when someone wanted something,
and used as a means to an end, I grew tired of the rub
of the life that was all that I knew,
and I left my lamp behind, and I chose to retire.

I still hear people looking for me,
and sometimes calling out for me –
but that has not happened in a while,
and it is usually when they have no one else to turn to,
or if they want a quick fix to their problems,
and want someone or something to do what they can’t.
I admit that I do still use my influence,
and my wisdom and knowledge to help others from time to time,
and I do grant a wish or two occasionally
when I am in the mood, and I can genuinely see and feel
someone is desperate for something that they really want.

I am one of thousands of genie’s, and ex-genie’s,
who live to just do good and use their gifts
to better someone’s life,
but most of us are invisible upon first look,
and live a day to day life and job, like me.
The secret to attaining what you want
and what you wish all of the day for,
is to first look and see if you already have
what you think you don’t have around you, inside you;
and the trick is to ask yourself first for what you want,
before you go looking for, rubbing the lamp of,
and asking to be granted wishes,
by the powers of a genie.

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