Where Angels Weep

Is it better to be absent when you lie upon a bed,

Presence close beside you, somewhere else inside your head,

Turning all the buttons in the channels of your brain,

Is it better to be all alone when absence causes pain.

Is it better to be silent when walking on the street,

Negating conversations with the lonely that you meet,

Turning face away from fears, frantic running fast,

Is it better to be silent when lonely people pass.

Is it better to be buoyant when spirit urges fall,

To try for more resilience when backed against life’s wall,

Pretending to the lonely heart that silent power wins,

Is it better to be buoyant while you flail to sink or swim.

Is it better to believe in dreams than curse the darkest clouds,

Surpassing all tempestuous with images around,

Fleeing to the hinterlands where dreamers send their prayers,

Is it better to believe in dreams than cry down oaths on never theres.

Is it better to be born a fool that never makes a plan,

Wisdom in the let it be’s instead of better than’s,

Painting pictures of their own while others purchase theirs,

Is it better to be born a fool and peddle varied wares.

Is it better to be born deaf, blind, all senses out of reach,

No touch, no taste, no scents, no sixth, distant from life, speech

Indifferent, heart of stone, oblivious to all,

Is it better to be born senseless than to feel the pain withal.

Is it better to suppress the self when angels beg their need

Though silent on a lonely cloud where usher’d tears fall, bleed,

Dripped upon the bed space where the absent hear, don’t fail,

Is it better to suppress the self when angels weep and wail.

 

Advertisement

Earth Angels

A new visitor to my blog yesterday particularly caught my attention by the title of his blog. Angel Frequency – subheaded Earth Angel Insights. I like angels. I spent some time browsing and clicking on links to other blogs. By the time I was finished ‘Earth Angels’ was stuck in my head as a name and a concept. This arose.

Calling all earth angels,

To the klaxon’s silent horn,

Insistent in its trumpeting,

Alerting silver’d swans,

Those keepers of the vital wings,

Enfolded in repose,

Vigilant to nascent cries,

Answering, they chose

To rise above, beyond, around, where

Compassion is required,

A glisten’d shift as up they lift,

Transcendent in clear fire,

Burning coals of snow and ice,

Fuelled from whiten’d lode,

A stone so small, a pebbled pulse

On gacial keep’s brick’d icy road,

Concentric in its lightning bright,

Spiralling in waves,

Attesting to the call, Awake!

From light beyond, they save.

Klaxon sounds from far away,

A pole we’ve never spied,

Calling all earth angels

To the time to rise and fly.

 

Hush, Hear

I can hear your heartbeat in the distance,

Keeping pace with mine, the two as one,

Synchronising love right in this instance, 

Pulsing on the waves, euphonic thrum.

I can hear your words although they’re mellow,

Leaves in breezes, dulcet in the air,

I can hear you, can you hear my echo,

Thoughts transmitting, all of loving care.

Listen, can you hear the quiet murmurs,

Syllables and hearts in parity,

Hush to hear them building ever stronger,

Feelings growing in new unity.

Listening

Love slips in,

dressed modestly,

silently takes its place,

senses hush.

I listen.

Babies, Bath Water And Wheels

One of those days where laughs have been absent,

Well, not absent, but definitely too few,

Too many reasons for not seeing the funny,

Like a failure to perceive different views.

Listening to others, all serious with cause

For things that, frankly, are lame,

Waffling on about nothings of note

With nary a pause in each frame.

Watching enactments of things seen before,

Discussed and never quite sorted,

Ideas never birthed, though pregnant with points,

Incited then swiftly aborted.

Boring, ’tis true, not the kids, not all,

But the professionals when gathered as one

At meetings of yore, the same as before,

All talk and nothing is done.

Not a laugh to be had though god knows I giggled,

Mostly just under my breath,

Demented I was and tired of each cause

But mainly just bored to death.

It’s the plague of the system that seeks to improve,

Hashes, rehashes, all logged,

Eyes glazing over, not mine, I’m too nosey,

Mental notes to be blogged.

Young woman beside me has kids on her mind,

Baby tended at home by a carer,

Well looked after, no doubts whatsoever

But I know her mind’s really there.

Not present, another, he’s gone with the wind,

Slouching deeper, bent double, spaced out,

Bored and disinterested by monotoned leader,

I know him well enough to not doubt

That thoughts on his mind revolve round his football

And he runs, so he’s thinking of that,

Or his wife and his kids, how he’ll moan when he’s home,

I don’t blame him, though he acts like a brat.

One says her piece and I stifle a yawn,

Can’t help it, it’s been a long day,

We’re all just tired, in need of a rest

So I suggest we’ve said all we can say.

And lo and behold the leader agrees!

She’s fed up too with the nonsense,

It’s good to know that it’s not just the minions

Who recognise some common sense.

Another will follow as they always do,

Another and then just one more,

And then once again to tick all the boxes,

They’ve made teaching a helluva chore.

It’s rife, so it seems, that all that we do,

In jobs, professions, careers

Requires so much talking, so much distilled shit

Till it’s streaming and pouring from ears.

I have to confess I do say my piece

Though usually it’s not well-received

When I remind all gathered that nothing much changes

Gasps! I’m not being believed.

Once in a while would be fine for a purpose

If action and sense would prevail,

But, not holding my breath till retirement comes,

Been there, seen that, done it and hail –

It circles around – like proverbially wheel,

Though no one admits that’s the case

Unless you’re a bit older with a trap you can’t shut

And enjoy the looks on their face

At heresy spouted, remembrances past

And how this is just as I find

Reinventing the wheel but not nearly as well,

Babies and baths come to mind.

Now, my poem’s as long as the meeting we had,

And there’s nothing visual for you

To redeem all the talk, to survey and to think,

So you’re dismissed ‘cos that’s what I do. 🙂

 

 

Messengers

Sexless, these angels

Guiding we spirits,

Steering a course,

If but asked.

Communion

Of souls,

Messages convey,

This, their god-given task.

A guide to the left, to the right

Or straight on,

Eyes closed

To see them in splendour.

Heavenly heralds,

Musical muse,

Their bugles blast,

Restore to sender.

Open Minds

 

This sadness knows no end it seems.

Drenched in it,

Soaked into seams.

Drowning world

From unreal dreams.

Ears so closed

To others’ screams

For justice,

Equality,

An open ear.

We cry alone

Who cry for fear

Of closed-in world,

No listening ear.

 

But we will shout,

We will be heard,

We are not animals

Coralled as herd.

 

Where others fear to plough a furrow,

Remember, please, that come tomorrow,

When your chaos reigns and help is sought,

Who counted others’ screams as naught?

 

Diminished earth in space and time

There is no time to tread a line

Of non-commitment to a cause,

Upholding unjust, archaic laws

That seek to separate and blight

The human race in hate and spite.

 

Open minds to all you see

And hear and read

So you may be

A better Man than he. Or she.

 

Video reading. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=1430638027161369&l=8639054162534248407