Chartered

Lift up your voice, let the clear air carry

From the Sounds and the Firths out to the seas,

Enter in the inlets, in the estuaries,

Vocal now, no supplicants’ pleas.

These are not the voices of the woaded tribes,

But the born to be, destined to be free,

Lift up your voice, let the message ride,

Polemicists, apologists we.

These are the voices of the meek grown bold,

Emboldened by the truth when it is known,

History rewritten, in the present told,

Seeds of justice long ago sown.

Vanquish defensive, the cringe once bred

By the words of the woeful, books and news,

Lift up your voices, elevate your head,

Sing songs of freedom born of battled blues.

Carry the banner of the free, unveiled,

Perish the thought of lowly born,

People of the future, never more assailed,

Abandon ashes, sackcloth ever worn.

Shrug off the fear, designating state,

Antonym to action, thus enslaved,

Write now with purpose on a wipe-cleaned slate,

Capitalised, italicised, writ brave.

Be the free citizens where’er you live,

Terminology none may revoke,

Pass on egality as the gift you give,

Charter of mankind now quote, invoke.

Bring Them Home

Reaching out to others is a burden I can’t half,

Though it’s laudable, it’s laughable,

As if my concern lasts

Way beyond the slightest

Of your needs,

As if I fit,

Laughable,

Truly,

Beyond, in fact,

Really,

Think of it.

That one such one

As me or you,

Such a tiny voice in all,

Should make the slightest difference.

Insignificant withal.

Yet the someone,

Maybe not me,

In fact, the chance is slim,

But someone,

Someone close or far,

Some she

Or maybe him,

Bequeaths the words,

That gust of air,

That treasured little drop,

That tiny, teensy something

That urges, do not stop.

Be the voice,

The shouting one,

The silent, but for tone,

The something

Just for someone

That may bring that someone home.

Sung of Trusting Hearts

Who do you trust with your heartbeat,

Your friend, your husband, your wife,

The one by your side, do you let them inside 

To caress and keep beats of your life.

Is their touch the soft hand of an angel,

The firm but the gentle with heart,

Can you trust that their love will secure it

And keep it from stopping with start.

Do their fingers pulse to your heartstrings

And strum all your worries away,

Kept alive by the touch of another

With heart massag’d lovingly each day.

So who do you trust with your heartbeats,

Be it woman or man of your choice,

Be it child or a friend or a lover,

Let them play you with touch of their voice

For the touch of an angel is spoken

In the words that fall from their lips,

Their blessing sustains all hearts broken

But, more, they protect it from this.

This feels like a song, it sounds like a song to me. The music is optional. Your own tune fits just as well as mine.

 

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.

Beacons

Put a little powder in the fuse for me,

Just a little, you understand, to make the fireworks pop,

A smidgen here and another tiny drop,

Colours bright in dark that we can see.

 

Fetch fuel from evidence lying all around,

Build bonfire high, useless effigies stacking on top,

Dead men breathing, walking, heartless zombies stop,

A plot where they’re all razed to the ground.

 

Give a little, take a little liberty,

Aurora’s fiery, crackliest backdrop,

Keep the fireworks burning on the heath’s hilltop,

Beacons guiding sans apology.

 

 

Linked

Face to face, cross-legged sit, with hands clasped,

Tho’ miles of distance far away, apart,

Eyes closed in the moments, breathing deeply,

Link to link in silenced minds and hearts.

Energy in ether, surging outwards,

Feel it, see it, with an inner eye,

Distance void, communing in the spirit,

Pulsing love ‘tween earth and us and sky.

Whisper On A Breeze

There’s a void where the voice of love is missing,

Though it’s present still, it’s lonely and afraid,

Like a child bereft of toys and comfort, silent, waiting

For a glimpse of dawn to make the shadows fade.

There’s a vacant sign above the hearts that feel this,

As if love will ne’er enter there again,

That easing passage to the pining chambers

Will always be a path that’s fraught with fear and pain.

There’s a wind though that wends its way between, among us,

A breath of love that whispers into fissur’d hearts

Forever pouring forth from airy fountain,

Carrying love on breeze to bring voice back.

 

Evolving Seed

Virtuality,

New earthbound dream,  

Nothing quite as it would seem,

No one seen quite who they are,

Virtual reason, virtual stars,

Pictures painted,

Landscapes viewed,

Ungestured words believed, imbued,

Compelling world of make-believe,

Open, honest or deceive.

Venture where

Once footsteps trod,

Meet your nemesis or your god,

Faith in all enacted there,

Hidden ascension excluding stair.

No eyes to search

Nor touch convey

Friend or enemy, predator or prey.

World where judgement matters most,

Five senses voided, sooner lost.

Uploaded sixth,

Evolving seed,

Certified at point of need.

Embrace, escape, first sanctify

With power disclosed from inner eye.

Connect the bytes,

The matrix really,

See the feel, virtually.

Pressure

Do you bend under pressure or strengthen

As steel that’s forged in the fire,

Alloyed, allied to greater intention,

Striving, with faith, to aspire?

Do you buckle and break like softest of metal,

Non-resistance a foregone conclusion,

Or gather the girders supporting your mettle,

Fight on, to the end, for solution?

Have the fires of the furnace burnt out your heart,

Ceding the will to go on,

Or has tempered exposure, given will to impart,

Galvanised, proofed, made you strong?

Many there are who burn wth the flame,

Alight in their soul and their eyes,

Growing in number, growing in name,

Swelling to quell all the lies.

Many there are in smelters worldwide,

Sweating and toiling for truth,

Raising young blood to embrace every side,

Teaching tough peace to our youth.

Are you standing with armour of love in your soul,

Battling with right on your arm,

Wielding the sword of justice for all,

Ready at klaxon’s alarm?

Our shift’s almost over, done for the day,

An army awaits at the gate,

Legions of light who fight for fair play,

Vanquishing greed, poverty, hate.

Apprentices needed in yards by the Clyde,

In offices, in factories, in arts,

Tradesmen and women standing firm side by side,

Trained to know and to start

A war of attrition that smothers the power,

Extinguishes those who digress

From bringing the seconds of minutes to the hour,

Languishing in workers’ largesse.

If metal there is that runs in your blood,

Mercurial, when driven mad,

Strengthen its core, let thermostat soar,

Fired pressure, a cause to be glad.

It’s the strength of the ore that lies in the earth,

The power at Nature’s behest,

It’s Gaia calling a time of rebirth,

Listen well, Mother knows best.

 

 

 

 

Scotland’s Eve

I feel physically sick tonight.

My stomach is doing somersaults and my heart is racing.

I can’t eat.

It’s the eve of the Scottish Referendum.

Tomorrow I will go to the polls along with my fellow countrymen to cast a vote that will determine whether Scotland stays within the 307 year union of the United Kingdom or declares its wish for independence.

For me there is no doubt in my mind that a vote for independence is the right thing for Scotland.

And, perhaps, more importantly, the right thing for the rest of the world.

A rather grand claim, some may say. And yes, I quite understand the doubts that billions of people would have in imagining that a nation of just over 5,000,000 people could have any great impact on the rest of the world.

What possible benefit could the rest of humanity gain by Scotland declaring itself as a self-governing nation?

You would have to know us, to understand us, to believe what so many of us believe. Our history has written our character as the history of any nation has written theirs. What makes the heart of a country are the common experiences of its people.

Here I could hark back to the past as all peoples can do, review a chequered history and claim, with some justification, that we were robbed of self-determination.

I could. But I won’t.

Suffice to say that, ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’. And there is truth in that.

Our hearts have been tested and they ache for the plight of all disenfranchised. They ache for the poor and the hungry. For the homeless and the destitute. Those with no clothes to their back. Those who live in the shadow of weapons that could annihilate millions.

Our history is littered with occasions that have caused hearts to ache fit to breaking. We know and understand that justice begins with one hand reaching to help another. Out hearts have not broken. They are stronger.

When our hands are free we, the people, not the politicians, determine the path we follow in aiding justice and peace in our nation.

From there the ripples grow.

I have no enemies. None in the UK. None in any part of the world.

The enemy I deal with is the the lack of hope that people have around the world when those elected in our name pay lip service to the needs of people and to the good of our planet as a whole.

We are all culpable in how the world stands today.

Only voices and action will change the status quo.

The mood in Scotland is one of renewed hope. The movement has risen from the ground to the surface. The people believe in a better way. The people are capable of delivering a better way.

There are no bullets here. Only a ballot box. And the will of the Scottish people.

I pray with all my heart and soul that the majority of the Scottish electorate will vote tomorrow for independence. That, in gaining a free hand, we will reach our hands out to embrace justice and peace. And others may believe, that if a mere two million voters can declare for this cause, so can the world.

My sickness has turned, after writing this, to tears. I want a future worth having for my seven children and for all the children in the world.

We have to start somewhere.