Changing the World

The more beautiful world our hearts know is possible,

Manifests energy to heal the wounds of oppression,

Planting rose bushes and smelling the flowers,

Can be a retreat from the world intent on destruction;


Progressive apple pies swallow up egos whole,

Signposting virtue when signalling a good person,

When pretence is conceptualised to stand our ground,

Change is dangerous if it’s too radical,

White faces line the benches of ‘progress’,

Getting accredited to train ourselves in wisdom,

Learning from textbooks that reproduce knowledge,

Capturing intelligence as if it only lives in our heads;


Shamanic priests expel evil spirits from the body,

The doctors who heal also pass on trauma,

Without a whole understanding of contextual frames,

We replicate power-over games to imagine system change,

Forgetting to embody liberation in our interpersonal connections;


Generate morphic fields of resonance externally,

Sending vibrations out by not joining the forces to be,

Complicity is key in keeping us guarded from collectivism,

Losing hope every day as the plastic piles up,

Building relationships compassionately is our way out.

Doing the Work

Racialised trauma, healing from the raw wounds,

Of intra-oppression, shaming and sideways glances,

Walking into an English village pub without being violated,

For invalidation comes from turning our backs on white supremacy,

Cultures precipitate wrongdoing to be slowly undone,

By liberating our biases from cloaked states of mind;


We stand far from prejudiced spaces not naming privilege,

Invisibilising our beings in favour of protecting interests,

Completing EDI trainings for the sake of passing tests,

And looking good on paper, a faux pas for inclusion,

Leading to no responsibility taken for historical harm’s violence.

Land Stewards

solidarity with peasant farmers to hold onto land,

bought off by royalty and stolen by greed,

we ache to find new ground in the midst of the old,

sacred sanctuary protects the space untold;

my mind sharpens like a bull finch snarling,

goshawk moving between nests of delicate air,

every movement expresses time to be called upon,

in the twinkling summer, we shimmer like streams;

agribusiness buying off farms and destroying the biodiversity,

putting monocultures and poison cartels before preservation,

every seed germinates mechanically like tapeworms in stomachs,

eating us from the insides as we struggle to harvest,

the fruits of our labour or the toil of our struggles,

rarefied birds swimming in red potholes of money,

dispossession nor colonisation entered the jewelled frame,

foresaken mysteries clambering for redemption;

landworkers in alliance forming protective rings of love,

to rewild, regenerate and rediscover the meanings

to simple, humble lives that serve the interests of all,

raising up marginalised voices and shielding from the storm,

cartwheel jubilance like hover flies on cow dung,

wishing consumate reflection to broker legitimate fun.

Rebalancing the Scales

Within a heart-to-heart connection,

Is love in a bouquet staggered with intention;


Money is a currency that flows energetically,

Redistribute incomes to the Global South,

To create some equity by tipping the balance,

In favour of those most impacted by systemic crises;


Lily pads floating to steams of consciousness,

Exchanges of sunshine fills the heart’s centre,

Creating a river of memories to waltz in,

Moving beyond extractive practices and feigned resources,

Mulching in straw for fruit trees to prosper;


Sage is fire to the belly that speaks volumes,

Of intuitive energy that instils a feeling of wholly communion.

Freedom

freedom is liberation of the spirit

a warm feeling that makes you feel light

an abstract idea we reach for

we curdle it to feel a limitless expanse

as if nothing would get in the way of it

a moreish thing that we crave every day

if we aim for it, do we claim it to be true

lullaby sung at night so i can sleep well

an unconditioned state to be in

freedom is a word we often preach

not knowing what it means really


a clairvoyant mountain with distant peaks

ancient practices restored beneath crevices

a loving feeling releasing energy

biochemical rearrangement of the soul

freestyle that sears high into the night

sex that connects up bodies


how can this be?

dreams manifest into reality

every step frames the next one

intuiting time and space through destined eyes

the lack of determinism is a self-determining prophecy

green stars shine illuminated to white saviours

a complex that runs deep as premeditated fiction

seeds into flower, ingest the food of the gods in one take

revelations abound when free from dogma’s shackles

a boxed in label to wriggle out of whenever accused of something

sliding in a cycle, waking up to narrate the fruity undertones shaking out the energy to light the touch-paper

Live performance with friends at Green Gathering

ensemble performance with friends on stage at @greengathering_ this month as part of the radical wales #openmic campaigns area, was a beautiful creation captured by @jammmer89, some of my #poetry set to the dulcet tones of @rowantherelentless‘s wind instrument and the heartbeat of jaime’s djembe- it was fun to co-create with loved ones!

Past Reflection

Eldership visits youth from Sweden,

Generational trauma handed down in wisdom,

Soul searchers scratch their ears by a rock,

Learning about past mistakes with eyes open;


Shaded seat under an oak tree,

Boys walking down bloated, hand in mouth,

Talking about video games and basketball,

In grief’s tender-stricken image, we relax our heads,

The wind brushing razor skin, touch evoking mystery,

Adaptation hits a brick wall;


Spearmint sweets flavour the insides of cavities,

A lonely tent houses regrets beyond ages,

Asking for the heart to beat silent,

Winnowing salvation form the premise of death.

Review of the Year 2021

January

Crisp winter mornings

Feel the new job changing

Laugh at political mistakes

Making a joke out of misery

Thousands of deaths


February

An unexpected change of course

I hoped to retain what I gained

Looking outside for wistful memories

Stepping into the green


March

Often when authority is challenged

Flowers grow by the bedside

And a new eternity is noticed

Feeling into my strength

Writing new poems in a workshop


April

Sunnier times ahead

It takes courage to listen deeply

Sensual pleasure explored

Planning trips to go abroad


May

Silence beats still

A head clamouring for rest

I loved her to the moment

Where we sat in the Peaks

Walking on water, floating like a stream


June

Summer days, warm weather

Breathing new life in

Season of growth, gardening all day to pluck

Wondered listlessly around protests and spaces


July

Ancient ways restored in practice

Picking up where I left off

Happy to breathe, write and recite

Nakedness explored by touching every part


August

30th birthday, a jubilee celebration

Bringing community together

Grateful for loved ones

A stirring abundance of connection


September

New full-time job keeps future dreams alive

I realised death and Nirvana

A change seems calmer, inviting presence


October

Falling out of love to break up

Rain dripping, leaves feeling

The cold brushes my toes

Explained premises re-written

Tantamount to pleasure


November

A job secured, feeling positive about change

Learnt to forgive, open up my heart after a retreat

Focus on making a difference


December

Every wave is acknowledged

A break to regenerate

Wish to step outside, the cold bites in a harsh fervour

Letters of Fire

Fire crackling under red stars and yellow moon

An open canopy lets emotions run through

Meditation opens eyes to what’s happening inside

Cushioning lilies that peer wide into contact lenses;


An arms trade robs humanity of those who listen

Breaking laws to set free those imprisoned

Plotting strands of green trees next to emerald lakes

That reflect crystal clear consciousness at an ephemeral rate;


Recede to flipping over dead legs in the morning

To swing in Lila, singing joy out of the window

Lucid dream solves equations of disconnection

By looking in the eye and practicing our goodbyes.

Mouth Open

Mouth open, saliva dripping
She nudged me by the side
Hand holding, dry eyes
Peeling oranges sweet
To turn my heart sour.

Mouth open, saliva dripping
He nudged me by the ear
“Mind holding this carton?”
Peeling oranges sweet
To turn my heart sour

Mouth open, saliva dripping
They nudged me by the back
Hand holding, wet eyes
Peeling back memories
To swirl an empty teacup.

Mouth open, saliva dripping
I nudged myself awake
Hand holding, hard erection
Letting the weight settle
Of dreams lived out in bed.

Written in a workshop after Rachel Long’s series of Open poems.

In the land of Permaculture and Poetry

“Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

A rotary application of oneself to a dedicated practice sheds lights and illuminates the heart in accordance with one’s values. Through centuries of oppression and exploitation of nature and ourselves, we have seen how the climate and ecological crisis has taken root; the mirroring of our iniquity presents a challenge to change the course of a destructive fate that leaves little to desire. When the country which claims brazenly to be ‘the land of the free’ sees an insurrection of its holier than thou democratic institution after a supposedly democratic election won by a Democrat, the irony is lost on many. Colonialism has festered in the muddy waters of privilege, asking for forgiveness to erode the guilt that has stained the affable and illustrious. Viewed in this political and historical context, our relationship with nature has run its course dry and the impact has taken its toll; mass migration and persistent natural disasters are on the horizon, let alone the wave of pandemics that has engulfed our planet since last year. A radical change has to be envisioned for us to not repeat the mistakes of old and learn from history to forfeit the eternal recurrence.

“You are not Atlas carrying the world on your shoulder. It is good to remember that the planet is carrying you.” Vandana Shiva

Learning to live with nature in a just and sustainable way is something that indigenous tribes and those historically marginalised in the global south have been doing for their lifetimes. Abetting the scientific and monetary advancements of the global north, these peoples have been able to survive through cultivation and preservation of their ecosystems and natural habitats. One particular system which speaks to this way of life is Permaculture, which was developed by two Australians in the 1970s after being in close contact with the Aborigines who lived in a simple and humble way with their environment. Permaculture encapsulated three primary ethics with twelve principles focusing on the regeneration of the Earth, a sense of community and reciprocal practice with the land and people. I am currently involved in a land project looking to set up in Wales which is attempting to manifest these practices into a space where we can live and thrive as one. Furthermore, I have just completed an online Permaculture course by the name of ‘Designing for Resilience’; this title is representative of the pressing need to carry out our daily activities from travelling to eating to working in a way that is future-proof in a world of few certainties.

“”Focus in permaculture on learning from indigenous tribal cultures is based on the evidence that these cultures have existed in relative balance with their environment and survived far longer than any of our more recent experiments in civilisation.” David Holmgrem

An integrated system of being to be realised is closer to a religion than a design framework for gardening, but Permaculture straddles beyond these mere defined boundaries and makes us question what is it that we need in order to live healthier and happier lives in accordance with the biosphere. When I was designing a garden plot for the course, many variables were taken into account such as the direction of the wind, where the Sun would be at midday, elements of shade and light, companion planting and where to place plants in a way that feeds the micro-bacteria in the soil. Engineering a precise interaction of natural systems, spotting patterns and being careful to enrich the biodiversity rather than reduce it are all key characteristics of Permaculture. In this careful methodical practice of applying reasoning to something abstract, it links generatively to poetry. Knowing where our edges and margins lie so that we utilise it through zones of mediated interaction is key to presenting something as a whole rather than a sum of its parts. Rooting ourselves in radical self-love makes the journey to understanding ourselves lighter in the context of a society built on exploitation and harm. Systems of oppression have determined our trajectory, however unpicking these and bringing them to the surface through practices like Permaculture and Poetry makes it relatable and provides a strong foundation to build from.

“Systems do not maintain themselves; even our lack of intervention is an act of maintenance. Every structure in every society is upheld by the active and passive assistance of other human beings.” Sonya Renee Taylor

Capturing the ineffable and translating it into heartbeats of rhythm, metre and figurative language is something that poets have been doing ever since its inception. Working within the confines of structured verses, the mode of language being transmitted at the time, and a coherence that borrows from the integration found within Permaculture principles is something poets have to confide in and rebel against. After years of writing poetry and seeing how the form has changes over time to reflect the collective unconscious, I have noticed that nature-based poetry from the English Romantics of Blake and Shelley to Japanese Zen poets like Ryokan and Basho have fine-tuned my awareness of the landscapes within and around me. Building a fortitude of observations that are meditations on the state of being can enlist tremendous impacts on the sense of self; journeying with Shelley to Mont Blanc was a patriarchal conquest of nature on one hand as much as it was a humble reminder of the tumults that we are subject to on a daily basis. The perceptive resonances that poetry can feed and nurture in many souls is true to its art form: learning to love one another for who we are requires as much letting go as it does quiet attention to its purpose. Taking out the roots of belonging and planting new seeds that harbour dreams of a new vision are what we can be transported to when we harvest the fruits of being in the land of permaculture and poetry.

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Take Out the Roots

Green weeds populating walkways

Let their hairs grow tangled and knotted

Eyebrows taciturn in dietary consumption

Floorboards walked on, clean and used

A recycled toothbrush put to greener use

Cleaning bristles that store dirt well


Planting wallflowers by a bedside

Taking out grass to rake in woodchip

An ancient restorative process heals

Mixing cartons with jelly and pie

Dark tunnels, for as far as you can see

The rabbit hole drowns out sound at large

Making us deaf to applause all around


The moon begs a question to be asked

Tilling the land, watching the birds grow

To Mercury’s relative orbit of its moon

Setting dead presidents alight by day

Candle wax dripping to spawn memory

A jugular creation patched up in seams

Bends a hand to accepting revolt involuntarily


Desiccate salt through porous fingers

Take out what’s unneeded,

And put in some of that good stuff!