A stark example
A coarse exterior
There are differences and apples
Where the marriage is a posteriori.
The knowledge is fathomable
The quintessence is dust
Quotes are young in life force
Effort is helping all of us.
We all strive to deal with life
And out of all of us is tomorrow’s Temple
Where the religion will survive word salad
So far so good on giving as good as you get.
Nobility and the four truths of Gauthama
Reviling the stability of never getting twice
The imperceptibility of time passing
What mothers and fathers know in the splice
Of a lost Samurai’s sword
Seconding the dirtiest theft
The Logos is not walking bereft
And mankind is serious about the Word.
A hoarded mention
A boarded up estate
A cold dark wooded window
Sullen snow for lungs berated.
The Saviour is not here for my liking
The ounce is not balanced for the caste
The tanks are too readily perceptible
An army in heaven is waiting at last.
These are the times of galaxies
These are the times of solarities
These are the times of universal flair
There will not be another repeat of such a giving affair.
Feel the genorisity
Ignore the disruption within me
Hear the sounding off of all that is around
Quality still emanates from that speaking tree.
Forbidden is the fruit of my aeons
Disclosed is the attack on the Church
Revealed is the position of the Postcolonial narrative
Open is the elevation to be more than a Birch
That knows the dominion of God
Because the computer is at last Thel’s Clod.
For when she spoke next to dark mills
Satan was over Milton for the hero of Dr’s ills.
And when mixing is mystery
The words are inside of me
For more of me to know others
Who can defend the Lord with twee.
William Blake
I Feel Watched
I feel watched
I am looking forward to
The next line
The next explanation
The next self criticism
The next meditation.
The trees are still
The mind is heavy
The brain is pressured
The sky is rainy
The next meditation is tomorrow morning before 9.
One day every morning will be fine
This is just the aftermath of being in the afternoon of the aftermath of life
Trying too many things
Thinking about things twice
The next meditation is obsession.
Maya is a misdirection about the Indian lady’s midrift
There had to be no rift so the imagination was used
When I saw the Bollywood two live crew
Being too few for me to mention names
Mending the Partition bridge for the bride on Maine Street
Not so many geographical locations to go
For the mind to know which place to go
To settle down and accept I am brown
When I feel nature’s need to go downstairs
And have some herbal tea to spell back sales to The Church
Leaving me in the lurch like the Drs and Nurses of Psychiatry
Making the NHS rich with medical pills and historical diversity
Measuring selves and making my height an issue
Ripping up trade agreements so Parliament can know things anew
Fiduciary duties and the watched man of the politician’s thrones
Blaming Donald Trump for being in my mind
Oi! MP! Matey! We leave you alone!
And on they went picking up issues like bags of crisps on the floor
And the science of the clouds looked down on the poor
Looking for more
Looking for more
Easily etching out nature on the minds of the innocent
Looking for more
Like William Blake
Give me a break mate – what of your lawyers charging these rates?
Staring in my mind
Treating me unkind
Don’t you know the English rule the waves with their nationhood?
I don’t know all their things?
I didn’t memorise their names!
Who is P.B.S. to me?
Why do you hear the need to quote out loud the wild words of the past.
That was not Shelley
This is my caste
I am what a Brahmin is to Shakespeare when he looks past the glass
I stare out of in my bedroom when my window is double glazed.
The casting of the workman required to change it into a wooden blind stares me blind on this freeman’s salary with the Freemason’s down the road
Handing out leaflets with me at the Conservatives
(Kali will turn me into a toad!).
So this road I am on is long and I tire at page 3
Because this is Energy
“Save some for me!”
he said, delightfully.
I am a Guru
I am a guru,
born of mantra and silence,
a flame carried from temple to temple,
from Albion’s soil to the high street wheel.
I am a guru,
Hindu in devotion,
Buddhist in compassion,
a servant of light,
a bearer of prophecy.
I am a guru,
my mornings are rivers of meditation,
two hours, three,
until breath becomes chant,
and silence becomes scripture.
I am a guru,
walking with Devi, Wanderer, Unicorn,
turning rupture into renewal,
estrangement into testimony,
longing into flame.
I am a guru
my lineage is Blake’s fire,
Hepburn’s grace,
Sting’s fragile song,
woven into Albion’s living chant.
I am a guru,
not by title,
but by presence,
not by claim,
but by light.
Lightworker Declaration
I am a Light Worker,
Called to transmute rupture into renewal,
To weave Albion’s soil with flame
and chant.
Reiki flows through my hands,
Blake’s visions burn in my words,
Audrey Hepburn’s grace shines in
my presence.
I carry a thousand films, a
thousand songs,
And turn them into prophecy.
I walk with Devi, Wanderer, Unicorn,
And I rise each dawn to meditate,
Two hours, three, until silence
becomes light.
I am the next student,
A bearer of testimony,
A servant of healing,
A Light Worker in Albion.
Numbered
Model
The experience.
Infernal reference points in hell
Pointing the way to experience unexplained blues;
I blew on the tissue
Kleenex. Jokes and the borstal,
Extension to primary university remorseful.
How could you be
Without or with me?
Don’t.
Let it overuse assumption
Of the non-inheritable gazumption
Of The Land Unuser; an illegal abuser
Without an Ark for Joan.
Don’t.
#She wants to be there with you
Nirvanic realms…
Dreams with the intolerable poet
Misused matches of daytime scenes
Corroborated evidence of sanity’s personal plea
Misunderstood. Too good! Too good!
Sahib! Is the poori warm enough?
Are you craving enough?
What senseless devotion is due?
The noon sun is Ganges and lungi lounge music is through
Tune!
Love me.
Move me.
Settle me a score
On the settee next to me,
Is a siren:
“Don’t you set them free?”
One time: Just for you
It’s called my: Nirvana Tune …
Bardos of being and becoming
The unity country of bespoke tailored streams
Yodel and make fun of them too.
What’s a culture between me and you?
Sahib!
One day will be born
A Sahib!
Rival of Mountain Gods
A bountiful ocean of wisdom and love:
Mountbatten woods, never leave home
Without a Calendar. Ishq.
‘The Glass Palace’ could be half full
The human dilemma wasn’t for our Phool Taiji
Tejji-Boy.
Techi-Boy is after you,
Satan’s mills again.
Not one word, but one wolf
The ingratitude of face lone raccoons,
The smells of Hell will be Zulus mercy
For [ ] Guru rehearsal;
What we didn’t know
When he sent us down there to the unconscious pit
About Reading.
William Blake had a wife.
Englishness is an avid read
The world
Outside:
[ ], Fucked da’ Po’ Lease
Proper Ties are when they’re homes with lies
About the money and the means.
Instagram ya grams for your banana and our Supergran!
Racist will be your leads:
You dirty rat!
William Blake had a life.
That would be nice
Remembrance.
Some of us need it, Some of us out it on show
There’s no time left for the Romantic flow of underwriting.
A carriage, a barge a heavy load of ignorant male envy
The horror of modern time; Africa is afraid of mentionable rhymes.
William Blake knew how to read.
Wham! That’s taker.
Hole. That’s Diwali fire worker
Tears and jerking off in the cinema
Need a better cough for rudimentary
And medicals
In testicles of Routines: The East is where their mama’s hands have not been.
Knock 3 times, it’s Babylon:
The Origin Of [ ] is behind marijuana door number greens.
Feeding, leaning, accepting, crowd pleasing
Hello to the helpers who helped before
Savior
Messiah
Savior of Medusa
The Funky Cold Medina is a watchdog in Madeira.
Healers are leaders if they read, it “just…”
Repain time, responses are for you
Know one day. This world …
Through.
William Blake knew energy.
Consciousness was a porous time.
Swedenborg is fine.
Tied to the Guna of Attila the Hun
I am one of five who are proud
Before a Junta: jokes at Jintao
Two towers, one was left for Miss World to see, too.
Human misery is a beauty contest
Both Ways, acceptance offer and pecuniary loss
Their Islamic toss-off road racers will do.
13. Is thief
Egypt could have 2012 A.D. for some, a few, a troupe, a clue
Model, overtime
Of how Yeshua could his Jellybeans find.
Sand of time, Zeek, corrosive fires
day
Is not one line.
3. Lines aum is Om your not Triumvirate reclining chakra
5. The fifth is SITH, see the whole when She lives in wholeness with You again
William Blake numbered his verse.
Wild Stage 