Overcoming the age of anxiety and depression through philosophy and poetry.
The mouth that never shuts
Its voice is an endless rattle
Its speech denotes nothing.
A mouth connected to eyes
But eyes which reach no mind
Nought to temper time into words.
A mouth without a mind
A voice that should be powerless
But rattles on until breathing its last.
A mouth that issues commands
To jumble the world around it
The chaos of a losing soul.
A mouth that never shuts
That of a woman’s, a mother’s
As clueless as the day it could speak.
Seven hundred thousand refugee
Sail across the distant sea
I want dem come for company
For my own land, me refugee
No passport many years
No job twenty years
No home a lifetime
Come and join me refugee
In my own country.
Dis your country too
What done to you, by colony
Accept dis apology
Come settle, make me glad with glee
My new friend, no more a refugee.
London you have torn me in two
An abusive lover, indifferent to my pain
But I still want you.
I hate the pace you set on life
The rushing, anonymous crowds
But I want their recognition.
You lock me out of your plazas
And price me out of the culture I helped create
But I still come knockin’.
What are you promising, exactly?
Anything at all? Or nothing.
For I never found my way
Along your busy streets
You never sheltered me or held me
In your deep bosom.
Our traumatic bond, London
It is all I have known, London
I am afraid to go, London
But I am more afraid to stay.
So fuck you, London. We’re finished!
(But you’ll take me back if I wanna come home right?)
To the depths I went
Always brand in fist
To find what made these paths
I thought I freely trod
What illusions waited there
To upturn the ship of tranquillity
What machine within worked
To hide the shadows
What lies came in dreams
To veil the truth
And the soul’s guardian, to protect me
Stayed loyal to false master
When it should to my ambition alone cleave
And my song venerate
An ocean lays at my heart
It is still or stormy
Of its own wild freedom
But now I can sail it
For I am bound
To the friends of true depth
Who understand what I truly am
The illusions in me, games of the mind
Shocked for years, shaken in fear
Of harsh words, of the street, of night
The evidence now piles against it
I have earned my honours
In the heart of the woods
And was always of bliss
And was always of bliss
Gentleness is I, peace is I
Merriness is I, truthseeker am I
We all ran away to the verdant dreamland
To put the grey juggernaut to our backs
And pitched up our yurts in the pleasant spring wind
Away from the sick sea of cars and people.
We gathered in unity around the may-pole
To forget the days trapped in comfortable boxes
And spoke of the future we would forge
Away from the dreamless, cynical, money machine
Something followed us along the path of our quest
Walking with slow, deliberate strides
Many months, weeks and days behind
Faceless and without beauty it came.
One night, as we slept, it slipped beside us
Like a terrible incubus, and when we woke
It was rattling there again, inside.
We all ran away to the verdant dreamland
But the concrete blocks followed us there
And the howls of abuse followed us there
And the scars in our souls followed us there.
