disinherited but not disinterested
many golden doorways in which i've invested
misinterpreted this heart in my chest: it still beats its tattoo to war
i'm impressed
it still beats
its tattoo to war

inspired but so tired
every moment, such effort
each day, a little play
at the knot by which i'm tethered
so speak to me in no wrong tongues
you and i together
blatantly on the same side
an army for our pleasures

there is no real truth
only absence of bullshit
here we have conclusive proof
each of us are culprits
so what do you believe? what do you believe?
which modality to seize? you create
placebo days or invent new ways
i seek asylum for the sane


the bloodshot yellow kissed eyes of the pisshead
roam the pub for the life they missed
half a guitar came to life in the right wrist
half of it died in a flask on the left hip
there's nothing to be found, no bounty from this store
door hanging on its hinges, notes on the floor
still is the silhouette, a back light to forget
worn in, worn in
like a jacket of regret

as colossal ruined monoliths still jabbing at the sky
we build temples of our bodies, knowing bodies die
i see clear the peering knowing from your hooded eyes:
it's us, it's you, it's time, there's fear
a challenge and such a prize

I want to live a simple life
After I've conquered the world and spent my drive
After magnificent mayhem's splattered all down the sides
After I've wrung it all clean and feel near to redeemed
Then I want to live a simple life

More of a simple life
Than I presently enjoy
All the decoy pretty boys put back like someone else's toys
All the stolen grins and mischievous messy things
Handed over to the next small queen
Then I want a simple life

A life of vegetables
A life with dogs
A long wise phase of open skied days
Where we slog the earth to show what we've made

And the children may come from the other planes
Not of my flesh, not of my veins
Not of my doing, not of my womb
By bringing them in, make them my own

And how they'll complain
At the blistering pain
Of digging for days
In the seasons' blank face

How they'll protest
Contest house arrest
How deprived they will feel
For living something real

At first

I want to live a simple life
And pass on something sublime
To strays I find, of a world that's not mine
Of insights and giddy heights
Of steering the ride
Of rebuilding identity
When it's shattered and fried
Of constructing from the bottom up
When the deepest heart has died, or tried

All I desire is the circle's completion
Sense of the reveries, some final cohesion
Something to burn because sacrifice is meant
To elevate and articulate the highest intent

At last I'll lie in the long grass weft
And love in the sun while I've some beauty left
Grow old at my pace in my own hand-built place
And know I've served with dignity and grace

"Both Cd's have been have been sailing out in the warm air of the old Medina. Emma your voice could turn the Taliban to tears. Love George."

i so love it here, wish i truly belonged
To the eldritch, dripping, dryad's wood
and her feral, fertile throng
push soft ripped feet
to the quietest perch i can find
thirsty thistle, holly and thorn
tax the humanness i leave behind

so sexy, the slippery skin of the beech
cooled in showers, autumnal and sleek
it beckons a suitor, i sit at its feet
it looms like a lover with a dominant greeting

darker here beneath this green and lush and verdant roof
the canopy is keeping me in love with wing and fur and hoof
i wish i could abandon skin and haunt this place as mine
but human is my motive
human is my smell
human is my action
human is my mind

humans inspire panic, pan inspires peace
in the harshest survival reality
in his grip i am released
gently on the earth, if you're still the wild things speak
from peaks and beaks where old branches creak

i'd give my self, my earthly life to protect and keep old ways
but useless is such passion, impotent is such rage
the people's minds are sealed and blind, i can't relate to either side
the magic lives and so they know but still they kill and die inside

are we truly born of Earth? so useless in our place?
fear and ignorance and brutality spell our permanent disgrace
therefore lucky i am to have these moments alone in root and shade
to bury parts of me in the loam and lie in dappled glade

come to the woods my baleful friends
you i love yet can't extend
real meaning to whilst sitting here
in chattering leaves
dampness everywhere
where would you sit?!
you perceive dirt
i love the mud
keep your chemically clean shirt

the ground is as soft as woman's breast
relentless and generous in its life-giving fest
it gives and it feeds i can rest comfy here
and wish for the life that's becoming clear

So I come and go
the world just turns i know
i'll always feel family in fae and pungent undergrowth
to sit naked in the sun
or happy in the rain
betrayed to the woods by boots and breath and human pain

my salve, my ease, the great green please, the ticks, the bees, the fallen trees, the choking grasp of vine and ivys, gossamer ghost of spider's messages, hedges and spaces for scrambling life, the crack of dead wood, distant growl of the hive, woodpigeon and starling, thrush and the howl of deepening darkness and night-bound white owl, no people, no people, nothing to fear, the rare flash of the hare, merest sniff of the deer, gone is my spear and the hog and the bear, gone is the wolf to hunt or to fear, but belladonna and laurel bough and elder wood, not burned, not now, so far from tradition, my soul aches for a 'then' that may not've existed, but i craft with my pen and a love of the herbs and growing of them to furnish ourselves, be well and whole humans.

i think it's a dream
i treasure it dear
and i feel it and live it when i'm wrapped in out here
in the musk of the rain on the soil and calm green
in the mushrooming mysteries of pixie Unseen
i feel very, very lucky
to be welcome in these woods
i bring my love and joy and pleasure
the old place does me good
ALIVE ALIVE!! here in death all survives
so i wish to lie here when i at last close my eyes

There's a weakness sapping my focus today

Sheets of dialogue slap the skies the wind's way

I am more than one person wearing more than one suit

An uncanny persona captured one of my boots

And I'm grasping for reasons, being the reasonable sort

Coming up with nothing, stalemate, but not bored

Perplexed at reflections, with flecks of white spittle

Where I've spluttered my prattle while the war heart still whittles

Scrapes at excuses with ingenuine surprise

Its weapons are addiction in two childlike eyes

And I snort my derision but the weakness is sure

I will not be brought down in this way I assure

But the late-night throat-tight half-light invites

And the frost-bite gripped-white lost-fight's not quite

Finished with me or my upright self-righteous

Cold cold demeanour clutched and kept precious

 

It would be such a relief to finally let go

Throw up these arms and shout OK, SO I DON'T KNOW!

 

The neurons are full on, still firing, the rain pours on

And I fight with the fucker who calls me a moron

The Captain of Crashing inside my own head

Who beats a tattoo of defiance to down-tread

It's the old familiar pattern, the old familiar sting

The ratio of harmony slings wide arcs to bring

The great fall, full demise, arcane death of the part

Surrendered, good grief, what a fight and dark heart

So finally the sun reaches this vast ghastly face

The ghost of acquisition who has huddled in a brace

Of thieves and liars to protect its gaudy hoard

It's another self still trying to let itself aboard

If only the belief in that own self would hold on

Get a better footing, let the bitter battle be done

If only the will was stronger, if only the wings were raised

If only the staff was longer, just right words formed in praise

 

Then it would be such a relief to let go

Throw up these arms, happy to know what I know

If you have ever enjoyed any of the entertainment in Covent Garden Market, if you have ever tried to make a living as a performer, or even if you just hate to see the little guy get bullied by a faceless multinational, please sign our petition. The new owners of Covent Garden Market, London are implementing changes which will mean the death of street performance in and around the Market. The tradition of street performance in this venue is hundreds of years old, and unique in the world. Many artists will lose their livelihood, and a great historical and cultural institution will die if these changes are allowed to happen.

 
Here is the online petition. Please sign it and send the link to AS MANY PEOPLE AS YOU KNOW!
 
 http://www.PetitionOnline.com /cov2008/petition.html

positivity
comes and goes
bipolar rose
whitens as it grows
till someone who Knows
says something impressive
and you start to see why
elitists were possessive
obsessively protective
it rocket-fuels your wings
how could i have missed
the enormity of such things?

so much to do
all to become
days are filled easy
future wefts spun

i drink my fill
as and when i choose
i truly feel blessed
lover of every Muse

most at home up in the branches
from where i can hardly see my feet
left tapping somewhere on the earth
where, bidden, all directions meet

as dimensional apprentice
i'm well fed and lent this
mighty old book of records
opportunity is relentless

so grateful for the map
access to tools and keys
it's crazy but i forget
in work, in talk and duties

the crows beat wings about my head
to keep me singing and thinking in tune
strangers whisper from the eildon tree
ancient choruses croon, it's you

every stone in every wall
every echo of every footfall
nudges to keep tired souls awake
live in gratitude and recall

you're blessed, you're blessed
your mission and our vision
are simultaneous, climactic
so have your intermission
because just around the corner
madnesses are waiting
and you must keep your faith
with experience accelerating
no foothold or stronghold
just fool's gold and your bold
behaviour being saviour
it all looks kind of fucked
but it's more than just luck
this lifelong deal we struck

you're blessed, you're blessed,
you're loved, you're at the crux
you're blessed, you're blessed
you're loved, now just rest

strange and curled up
hybrid bastard child
long time watch you sleeping
you have what i want
for gods you are keeping
me out of your privacy
you have what i'll never see
and all of your beatings
so far came to nought

you and i are synonymous
but pity is erroneous
your face, it is my looking glass
i can't explain the hate
your breaking would not heal this soul
that just aches to be left alone
but wears the social yoke and role
for it's all it's ever known

you are my little spike
your innocence, your spite
your whining small existence
reminds too much of knuckles white

this day of winning back the cynic
locked out of kennels, admit to clinics
force-fed formalities, find a future, bring it
to share with the group with cold vomit in it

shush don't be nasty! those eyes mustn't squint
they were beautiful when spangled with their mischievous glint
you've made them all glazed with your blazing blunt blame
and speeches decreeing us insane with naked shame

i hate this calendrical killing of the days
can conjur a madrigal hymn for lost ways
so soaked in the lies that the truth has lost all meaning
so wake up little girl and give me all your screaming

i will bottle it and batter it later when i'm bored
with knots in it i'll rattle it to see if you're still sore
empty now and silent, your prattling deceased
on this day of days my love, wonders never cease

it's a pity no-one told you you're a twat
our viscous meetings are risible at that
you slime down my windscreen, persisting to preen
i nauseate politely behind my opera hat

mercenary, i could be called
be-shawled, be-costumed junkies at balls
you play a part, impart flames to my hearth
apologetically i gag on my gall

ah, you general public
cough it up, you know it's rubbish
generally pubic, transparent and grubby
your eyes are your traitors
and your fingers are stubby
i remark on your is-ness
wish your departure
i am none of your business
yet interlock at your garter

guttersnipe
i know the type
gibbously bloated
regarding the ripe
rump of the wench
she turns from your stench
from you and the millions
astride the bar bench

what a play for my days
this glistering gaze
may fail the raising
of the bar, of my ways
you do what you know
and love what you do
the gods are not able
to single out the few;
their admin is weak
and their power is ailing
this century's harsh
and their eyesight is failing

humble, we fumble
for the lock in the dark
embarrassed we stumble
into strangers in the park
ghost of our decades
past in retreat
stick to the path
let the fat bastards eat

as long as there's warmth before we awake
a dream for the fooling, the lies we will take
into our being like food for our souls
our bellies are hollow but tomorrow'll be gold

everything is worn out and dirty
i swear i can't wear any more of these shoes
they carry me places of impurity
the intricacies bite and leave me with bruises

there are no subtleties here
we're all clear on our roles guarding the rear
with a sheer face of impenetrable cold
so we must be when the act's getting old

go in, consider gin, protect winnings and climb
up beyond the city, rooftops, church chimes
and perch, precarious, voluble, vicarious
vampiric cleric, it's all for your own good

how i wish for the innocence again
a taste of the wonder before blunders befriend
before judgement bludgeoned consciousness awake
still i think we make more than the passing years take

from up here the townsfolk seem peaceful
they've greased wagon wheels, fall into their easels
some self-congratulate, others flock to flagellate
i watch them all with baited breath
check my pulse for signs of death
for surely there's been some kind of mistake
i'm an androgyne oddball with no official stake
i've antennae and gills, love an amphibious lark
i wake up after dark and argue with sharks
will not be bent but am cracked down the middle
for the cold we huddle and whisper in riddles...

how nice, they croon. how nice.
i mustn't admit to having it twice
the extent of my gluttony, avarice and lust
has made heroes out of make-believe
and real heroes into dust
but they're peaceful so just let them rest
i'm not counted among them, no sleep does me best

ahhh, i need to discover something beautiful
a true sonnet, youthful, groomed and new
this life is grime under my cuticles
and i'll grind it all away before i'm taken to you

You who i've felt growing since birth
await awhile knowing, watching my girth
expand and deflate as i learned how to hate
and pulse again with legend's pen
to fill these days with smiles of Zen

constantly shaken in disbelief
the sorry heavy heads of man and his grief
so easy it could be, i lament our lost history
alone in my room in the dark of my dreams
psycho-sematic levelling starts with the screams
that remind shit! come back from journeys behind screens
all these secret adventures
annihilate me

so how the hell does it fit together?
i have here a map and a spirit untethered
a cup and a wand but i often lose my sword
my coins jangle careless behind on the floor

i half-remember stories i know i really need
told to a drunk infant swaying on grandpa's knee
sometimes the wine can take me back to that place
and if i'm quick i can catch a sketched freckled face

then morning-tide's come and the show sickly rolls on
children of other gods naively come on strong
and i sip them and swill them and assess their unique taste
wonder at the time-line, ever giving chase

it does strange things to your head
nostalgia was better then before eons sped
up to this point i'll not tomorrow recall
just as well i've made peace with my long angel-fall