Dear Individual

This may stand contrary to all you’ve heard in your life thus far

But if people like you, they like you for who you are

And in my case, that means I like you as someone different to me

As someone with a whole different life philosophy

And as long as you’re ok that we won’t always see eye to eye

That you might shout a fervent nay when I say aye

Realise that I in fact do want to hear your present and past

Where we intertwine and where we contrast

And we will bond, please don’t get me wrong

When we sing the same notes of the same song

When we share a tune not many others know

Oh what a blissful place we could go!

But that doesn’t mean you should be embarrassed to say

Where your tune and mine flow a separate way

That that’s just how it is. And then we’ll depart.

You’ll go on your way, and follow your heart.

Though I may disagree with your choice, I’ll always confess

That it never means I love you any less.

Punk

I've always adored punk.

I've adored the way it took no one's word for granted
The way it looked at authority and asked 'why?'
The way anger was encoded in each raw pluck of a guitar string
The way it became much, much more than just the sounds on a record

They did what so many before them have tried to do in vain.
They took disatisfaction at the world and turned it into something.
They turned it into art. They turned it into movements.
They turned it into hairstyles. Into culture, into identity.

Now, the sound of punk isn't for everyone. But the message should be.
The message of DIY - that if something needs to be done you can Do It Yourself
The realisation that even if the world is against you, you shouldn't let the fight be one sided

Now rise.

Rise if you feel that there is injustice.

If you feel that something must be done.

Take to the streets. Take to the internet.

Take your passion and make something.

Harness the power the punk has unveiled.

Make Art. Make Music. Make Noise.

Make Something.

Two Cells

 I was once two cells. Then one.

From the moment, I became someone.
I would grow and grow and get real tall

Now I can’t remember being one cell at all.

And I. Have really. Tried.

I started off easy. I can remember being very nervous 5 minutes ago

Before I had any sort of idea where this poem would likely go

It’s a very clear memory. Although one I’ll probably forget

Ah well. We’ve got more difficult challenges to try yet

I can remember, quite a while ago now

The first time I did poetry in front of a crowd

I was 19 and proud of this thing I had wrote

As the sound went from my mind to my lungs to my throat

Let’s push back way more. I can remember (I think)

My first day of school. Dressed in blue and not pink

Still learning about how to play games and have fun

And how I was still learning how to be someone

I can push back further, and I’m sure you can too

I think I just about remember when I was two

I remember being in a playground, in a giant wooden horse

Scrambling around and getting all dirty (of course)

Past then. I really struggle. My parents fill gaps in my memory

I’ve seen photos of people that I’m told are in fact me

How this mind of mine once fit in a body much smaller

How I was so energetic – a climber and a crawler

That I was once so fragile. That those photos weren’t my limit

Honestly, it makes me shiver. Makes me want to forget it.

I really struggle to understand sometimes that that. Was. Me.

This shell I once fit in to oh so easily

Though my imagination struggles. I still know it to be true.

That going back before I was someone, I was one cell. Then two.

This stone

In this hand I call my own

I hold a pale, speckled stone

It’s smooth and hard. I feel its weight.

And I begin to contemplate.

See, with the stone that’s in my hand

There’s many futures I have planned

The potential power that lies within

The futures paths I could begin

This stone could break windows,

This stone could break trees

And where this stone goes

It goes because of me

This stone could be flint

It could turn monkey into man

Be the spark and the glint

To make fire as my plan

This stone could tumble and fall

So quickly down a hill

Strike another stone, then them all

An avalanche, from my will

This stone could be ground down

Into the finest of sand

Make a glass to my renown

And the things I have planned

It could be made to a computer

To do my thinking when I need

Though I’ll naturally dispute the

Origin of such mis-deeds

It could cause great catastrophe

Cause such immense destruction

This stone you now see?

It simply awaits my instruction…

Ledbury

Lord, here in this moment I'm praising You
          here in this moment I'm praising You

I could pray for hours and days right through

            pray for the Spirit I know to be true

I will go from here. I will falter. I'm not perfect.

Yet I know right now in my heart You are worth it

When I'm reminded of Your miraculous death and birth it

Inspires me to throw up my hands and worship

I want to sing

                      to dance

                                    to praise Your name!

Yet if I'm honest - I must admit with shame

I will struggle. And then I need You more.

I need Your love. I need Your law.

I need Your help to go to my core.

Remind me of Your name. Inspire me with awe.

Bring me back to the memory of right here. Right now.

As I shout your name as loud as everyone around me will allow.

Fill me with Your spirit. Build me anew.

LORD.

           Here in this moment I'm praising You

Written for Ledbury 2017. I don't write much religious poetry. This is certainly one of the first I've ever performed. Given how much it forms a central part of my philosophy, it's something I'm trying to address.

Beach

I take the beach as the border
In its place in the order
Of Land. Beach. Sea.

It separates the earth
Twixt the water and the turf
The sand boundary.

The water it fights
Through the day and the night
To steal the land back inside

But each time before
It has had to withdraw
The moon pulls back the tide

With sand seaweed and stone
The beach stands alone
In holding back the waves

So castles, they fall
Yet all through it all
The beach never quite caves

Matter

Am I just matter?
Or Do I matter?

Am I just matter or do I matter?

Am I just matter, do I matter?

Am I matter, do I matter?

Am I matter do I matter

What's the matter with me?

Lately I've been living life laterally

It's hard to progress when my mind is under duress

About a question I must take mind to address

And keeping it internal has seemed an infernal mission

Quizzing all content concerning the eternal decision

No, this is not a manner to be contained within thought

I present to you, right now, my cerebral court

Two trusted personas to debate the matter at hand

The case for "just matter", please take the stand

Let me be clear. Let me precise.

You are all just physical objects, like ice.

You live in a world with rational rules and laws.

This is as observable as human flaws.

You have to breathe. You have to feed.

Within your genes are the means to proceed.

Here is the junction which governs this mess:

You are just functions, very complicated yes,

But processes. Predictable if you had the power.

Limited by thought, by space, by the hour.

Ticking away until your final day.

When the clockwork stops.

And you drop.

This is neither nice nor cruel - just the default case.

Take my advice and accept this approach's embrace.

If we are "just matter", then that's all we are.

To claim anything else would just be bizarre.

How entitled. How arrogant. How sweet. How droll.

That you could still believe in such a thing as a soul.

Am I matter do I matter
Am I matter do I matter

Am I matter do I matter

What's the matter with me?

Let me speak up, I'm meant to represent argument number 2

All I can do is speak honestly of what I believe to be true

I wont try to force the manner, nor deny much of what was said

You are right now living. You will one day be dead.

But let's stop looking at the scale we live at each day

Think instead of the time with no yesterday

There was an origin to how this universe came to be

It continues slowly, following entropy

Until it reaches the present, until it reaches you

As for what is before and after? We have no clue.

Quantum, that most curious of current conclusions

Would have once been laughed at, just like fission and fusion

We are still learning but our knowledge has gaps
If it didn't then maybe our world would collapse!

If we knew of an afterlife, few would remain on this Earth

We know as little after death as where we come from at birth

Because beyond 'just matter', there really does seem to be more

Beyond physical beings, there's something in our core

Sentience is a very rare trait, and one unique so far in galaxies

So if we can move beyond fate, we can say you matter to me

Am I matter do I matter

Am I matter do I matter

Am I matter do I matter

What's the matter with me?

Hold up there, I'm the third such position,

I beg of you, give me some time and listen,

I can't hold a torch to either the first two cases,

I'm afraid my conclusion wont seem so persuasive,

But here it is, pretty much my case is just this:

Whether or not you matter, if you face an afterlife or abyss,

You must still go forward, seize each second,

Make life take you as a force with which to be reckoned,

The debate you just heard - it's by no means trivial,

Don't discard it as absurd - or even discard it at all,

But acknowledge that while the debate will rage on a while,

You must still go out and face the World with a smile,

In an Earth of just matter, then provide others some lift,

And if you matter to the Earth then be a most welcome gift,
Just no that this philosophy can eat you up inside,
And you still matter to the world in which you reside.

Am I matter do I matter

Does it matter to me?


I had some debate as to whether to put this poem up. I don't suffer with anxiety. I don't suffer with depression. And yet I do have existential crises from time to time. And they pass. One of the few things poetry allows me to do though, is to try to capture moments as they pass. So this is me, trying to be really honest with an internal debate. The hope is that others can see it, and realise that if they've felt such things too then they aren't alone. This isn't a cry for help, or anything close. Instead, it's an attempt at a very honest reflection. In my head, I see this being performed by 4 separate people. The core line (Am I matter...with me) would be repeated throughout by the central person.

Trains

Across the country, on the rails.

Sometimes late, sometimes fails.

No longer followed by billows of smoke.

Reduced often to simple joke.

Yet I'm still a romantic for trains

For all their messes, all their pains

Despite the changes and privitization

They'll always appear in my ideal nation

Maybe it's growing up in York

Maybe it's due to stories, despite all the talk

I love the idea of the Hogwarts express

Streaming through fields showing no duress

The great equalizer, the reason many could see the sea

Suddenly we were closer that we ever thought we could be

Travelling the same route each and every day

"We'll get you this far, now make your own way"

I've travelled so many miles, but never lost track

Always knowing the path is open return back

Yes it's flawed, but for all their pains

I still have a certain fondness for trains

One of the odder effects of growing up in York, I feel. While I'll never be a train watcher I do still have more affection than I probably should for what is a mode of transport...

Threads

How long is a piece of string?

Sometimes, I feel as a piece of thread.
Containing turns and knots.
A frayed string.
Never truly aware what is happening.

Most often in life, enjoying the journey
Weaving amongst others with great accord
Every path is an adventure!
So come, see who we get tangled up with

Having twisted myself a good many places
I have taut myself in the struggle
Should I slack off my progress?
Is it good? Or does the tension help me grow?

I am vaguely aware I had a beginning
And that this tapestry is much greater than I
I, a single thread among millions and billions
Creating a picture that can only be glimpsed

I am scared. Scared of being lost,
Scared of my time in telling the story being done.
That one day my thread will tie off neatly
Never to see what the image will become

So it goes.
For now, I just have to be weave
Take my journey as it goes
For as long as it will take me