Root Deity Poems.

Streams.

fleas7 — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 16:32:35 +0000

Streams arise from high hill sides
Over spilling
Flowing wild

Whilst others fall back deep ‘neath earth
Journey under
Then re surf

Others still arise ‘tween valleys
Linger pools then cease to tarry

Streams may mingle winding on
Clouds pass over
Blood we’re born

And ever flowing ever on

As ever as the streams sweet song

And grateful may we listen.

Ethos!

fleas7 — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 13:25:21 +0000

Creativity does not belong to me.

Sometimes things just flow, or build up, and like a safety valve fortunately they blow.

Other times and maybe they seem somehow just to grow, or some little spark just makes it happen, or somehow makes things so.

It’s highly self indulgent, yet that’s the way it goes, as something that has blossomed seems often seeks to show.

After all, tis only some expressions felt and tainted by a soul, whilst passing on a moments whim a glimpse that’s seen for all.

And pieces from a hearts belief that all hearts beat as one, whilst everything does nurture seek and seeks to nurture on.

And thoughts are of the making, lead to action Karma’s song.

May we dare to dream of innocence, and may love for all belong.

‘Sorry, But We’re All Sold Out of Focus I’m Afraid!’

fleas7 — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 13:18:31 +0000

A Billion Ghosts.

fleas7 — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 10:03:39 +0000

‘Still Within’ by Fleas. For The Gesar Foundation.

fleas7 — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 20:02:11 +0000

I Bless the Winds of Heaven.

fleas7 — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 19:50:39 +0000

When we are not together the winds of Heaven blow between us, and that they ought.

For you are as you belonging to yourself, and being only you with the winds of Heaven blowing between us.

When we are not together the winds of Heaven blow between us, and that they ought.

For I am but myself belonging to myself, and being only me with the Winds of Heaven blowing between us.

When we are together we are as one with the winds of Heaven blowing all around our togetherness.

For we are as one being, with passion, grace and fire.

With the winds of Heaven healing, feeding and nurturing our desire.

I bless the winds of Heaven.

I Lay There Still.

fleas7 — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 20:12:26 +0000

Upon a beach so far beyond

Where lost the sea though tide high strong

I lay upon my funeral pyre

As yet unlit to linger on

All agonies of grieving loss

Are foundlings ‘midst this dark dream cast

Where pleading screaming whispers quake

As pale as ghosts the breath escapes

To ceasing of the hearts last drum

Whose skin must surely break

With yearning eyes to crisp scythe moon

Wane crescent sharp though full her tune

As hidden most by scant worn cloud

A drawn across her face to shroud

Yet witness turmoil wraith beneath

Glimpse harsh as brittle sound

A glint of hope though first flame flickers

Joined by others nimble fingers

Come host of flames as breeze it quickens

Burn fiercely brightly

Venus risen

I lay there still

Awaiting.

Playground of the Earth.

fleas7 — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 19:20:06 +0000

This folly, this farce, this delight in strife towards contentment that’s set within some longed for future yet not within the now. This task, this game, this false eluding affinity to things, places or people we cling to on the way. Our asspirations cluttered by hype, ego and trend. Fasioned by a fasion, a style to end all ends. That leads us all a merry stray whilst others pay the cost. Of our encouraged rapturedness, ‘at least it’s not our loss!’ With shrugging shoulders what’s it worth the price tag of false wealth? Is it marked down? Reduced to clear? A bargin on the shelf? What next exploit, delude, mislead ‘midst playground of the earth? As the Hungry Ghosts are screaming yet infinity their girth. To choose to be a wall flower pray content as gentle mirth. To endeavour all compassion, to become the only worth. Until falling petals and the seed of love amidst rebirth, may find us as enlightenment upon the playground earth.

A Snowdrop.

fleas7 — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 10:24:09 +0000

Hope is such a tender fragile flower

When all seems lost we nurture every hour

Until the frost of winter covers all

And the petals wither fade to fall

Yet faiths the rising of the sun

Upon the blossom yet to come

Trust is such a blooded thorn held clasp

Yet to the rose we’re drawn to clasp

When left alone the beauty lasts

Upon the moments as they pass

As faiths the rising of the sun

Upon the blossom yet to come

Truth is change as Bluebells gently ring

Bringing memories of how its always been

I hear them softly on the wind

As Spring eternal calls again

And loves a Snowdrop in the dawn

That grows for you and I as one

And faiths the rising of the sun

Upon the blossom yet to come.

From the Bus.

fleas7 — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 10:07:45 +0000

From the bus I saw…

A lone pine tree

The gentle rise and fall of the prehistoric land

Mole hills in a modern cemetry

And a vacant plot

All of which I shall visit.

Muse.

fleas7 — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 10:34:44 +0000

I can but follow on the hint of the scent of your blossom the promise of encaptured rapture within your beauty to last. For how could any not give of all that is of all their heart, loyal in spirit yet remain un-claiming and alas un-claimed beneath the twilight stars. I can but moments chance, and dream to meet your glance until your spirit may come to ask and heal me with the grace of passion entwinded as a living dance. My Muse, I can but love thee so.

Epona.

fleas7 — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 10:32:52 +0000

Epona.
As a wounded Otter
Yet cradled in the arms of Epona I can but dream to die
To all but drown within her tender tears
And nurtured gently against her breasts
I pass to ever flow upon the ever tide
Knowing she is always by my side
With the light of the Moon within her eyes.

A Scentless Flower.

fleas7 — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 18:31:15 +0000

Who Walks on the Graves.

Who walks on the graves of the lives I once led?

Who brought to them flowers, who glad I was dead?

And what of tomorrow, to what to return?

This earth as I left it, re suffer this dirth,

Of living a life a soul bound by flesh

Stillborn and silent or first to last breath,

Afflicted the spirit through life unto death.

Who walks on the graves on the lives I once led?

Myself as I shiver and pass overhead.

Matter.

Here’s my matter here’s my shell

Here I dream in here I dwell

Here I shelter Heavens Hell

But why I dream? I may as well

Through lifes eternal guessing game

Dream it real both night and day

Making matter dancing clay

Until as dust just blown away.

A Billion Ghosts.

May all the coins be chocolate coins

All the notes be lovers letters

Wealth forever coined fools gold

And nobody indebted

A billion ghosts who’ve played this shame

Monopoly of life we’ve made

Do scream at me for this to say

It’s time to put the game away.

Debora pt1

The telling silence of ignored

Follows knock upon her door

She won’t come out to sing today

I go to play alone.

On my return to what was wrong

The Coke was chopped the Smack is gone

The door is answered animated

Both are waste annihilated

Share a spliff made for my bother

Deck of Thoth thumbed take these brother

We don’t need no Tarot cards

To see there’s no tomorrow.

Debora pt2

In Thames near Streets I once foretold

Somehow all this I felt before

And days go by I get a call

Brother gone when whoring stalled

I load her world into my Mini

Her in front though she don’t know me

Guiding us to her next fix

I leave her world by Hampton Bridge

Then days again another call

Asylum caught her latest fall.

Debora pt3

I face a fear and visit Debora

Marc or Spacey Tracy headster

Romance lust is all reviled

A Condom on the playing field

Talk of marriage talk of love

Talk of ever flying Doves

Yet pulling out from darkened halt

I feel foretelling final jolt

That leaves me squirming shocked and shaken

Bleached like tainted snow.

Debora pt4

A week or two and then a visit

Shattered hearts with splintered missives

Final fling thrown stark and harsh

We’re tangent shard of broken glass

Yet share a minty-circled kiss

That’s left within my mouth.

Debora pt5

Weeks go by I miss a call

A suicide her final fall

I even miss the funeral

The news sends me to grief’s free fall

And life’s a blur before my eyes

Preying for to land and die

Yet tablets just leave me sick

And pissing on the floor.

Debora pt6

Come the flash backs here and there

The Monday band and Tiger beer

Barns humpback bridge her scream of fear

Her ghost at Dylan gig

Her Corkscrew tight torment soul

Her ex who beat her on parole

Miscarriages of justice hall

And Bloody sheets in Richmond

Our U turn crash with Taxicab

Her longing eyes her smile her stab

The dress I bought she thought was fab

The belle of T.Rex ball

Debora pt7

Years go by and still free falling

Silent phone that’s screaming calling

Ever bells for ever tolling

I still Fucking answer

The Last Straw.

Doomed jaded cursed and old

Future only loss does hold

Expected carry last straws load

When dead end reached upon the road

All onward sight as memory flashback

Lightning stark

No rose tint

Sky cracked

Pearls of wisdom broken stones

Five storms past where nowhere’s home

Foetal fallen struck down clutching curling to the knees

Rising somehow staggering to cliff edge balance tease

Catch twenty two a ticking

Broken roads walked in between

Fall tears amidst the government buildings rusting the machine

Exist on edge existing

A nightmare from a dream

The moment frozen paralysed releasing silent screams

And fifty seven proof percent as breakfast for the day

Relentless comes the sun rise

Death cruelly stays away.

Church Hill.

Neither up nor down Church Hill I stray

‘Tween playground and the graves

Upon this road I pass again

A moment on the way

Where stripped of faith and hope lost raw

‘Neath weather harsh blown rain

Fall skinned alive with insides out

Flesh slithers down the drain

Mix crimson red black deep vein blood

Away wash my remains

Upon Church Hill I stand awhile

‘Tween playground and the graves.

Eleven Angels.

As I wandered on the broken road

I found a lady on the way

She called to me upon a hill side

The sweetest sound I ever heard

And she gave me eleven angels

A silver ring and then she flew

And turquoise where her loving eyes

They showed the pain but kindness only came

We shared the deepest darkest water

And heart to heart extinguished every flame

And she gave me eleven angels

A silver ring and then she flew

As I still walk upon the hill side

I listen for her soft voice on the wind

And I miss her hand by my side

But know the heavens gave her wings

As she gave me eleven angels

A silver ring and then she flew.

Blossom of the Heart.

I clasp my torn and blooded hand

To barbed and thorny stem

Watch blood run thickly down my arm

Returned here once again

To hold the purest white of blossom

Raise the bloom of trust

Yet fear my blood shall taint it red

And this shall come to pass

The petals curl fall wither dead

My doubt loosen my grasp

Leave thorns within here once again

Embedded memories harsh

And leave me clutching rotted stem

And this shall be my last

Remaining shred of flesh torn hope

And blossom of the heart.

The Dharma Wheel.

The Dharma wheel turns

The karma unfurls

Bringing only the things we have hurled

Planted or sown

Said done or shown

Ultimate thought unto action has grown

Habit encircled all things to re learn

Re live to remember sorrows concern

Yet you are the centre

The jewel in the now

As one with the everything

Shine through your clouds

Never a they or an I only us

Everything suffers this matter bound dust

Truth is but change of better and worse

Ultimate love and compassion our worth

Endure and endeavour

Incite gentle mirth

Tenderness turning the whole of the earth

The moon and the planets

Even the sun

The billions of stars vastly far flung

Infinite void

Empty yet full

We are but thought in the midst of our all

Awakening blossom

Enlightened bright star

Shine with a smile that comes from the heart.

Still Within.

I am still within

The Dharma wheel

Held by hope desire

Of you to know

Lessons for to learn

Before to let go

Sorrow only known

I am still without

Love to tender flow

To hold through the night

Together yet alone

To wax and to grow

To shine the full moon glow

Together for to know

The waning darken woe

I am still within

The Dharma wheel

Sorrow only known

The Dharma wheel

Enlighten me

The Dharma wheel

Enlightening

As I a scentless flower.

Who Walks on the Graves.

fleas7 — Thu, 08 May 2008 11:16:36 +0000

Who walks on the graves of the lives I once led?

Who brought to them flowers, who glad I was dead?

And what of tomorrow, to what to return?

This earth as I left it, re suffer this dirth,

Of living a life a soul bound by flesh

Stillborn and silent or first to last breath,

Afflicted the spirit through life unto death.

Who walks on the graves on the lives I once led?

Myself as I shiver and pass over head.

A Hedgewytch Tree

fleas7 — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 18:37:44 +0000

A tightly twisted knot of darkness

Hides the reason deep by earth

Roots that feed from tearful seasons

Overflowing Well of dirth

Moonrise draws the sap of sorrow

Moon ebb wanes yet sorrow grows

Habitually the tree remains

A Hedgewytch of the old hedgerow

Bitter sweet to fruit from blossom

Better left to rot unknown

On branches thrown in poise of torment

Shadows cast its tale of woe.