Top 10 of 2025

This was a year with potentially my performing high (getting to support Harry Baker!), and also a year I got more poems accepted and published than I have before :)

I also started making decorated versions of a lot more of my poems, something I'm going to try to continue going forward as I explore different ways I can tell stories (maybe once a month?). 

Despite that, it feels like I took a step back this year. A combination of work, Ultimate, and injuring my ankle meant I didn't perform anywhere near as regularly as in 2024. Sometimes you just need to keep yourself going, ready to peak if the opportunity arises. That might be where I have to hold myself, for now. I think I'm in for a bus 2026 too.

I did write some cool poems though! Just writing weekly means you tend to write something your proud of, even if it's accidentally. Here's some of my favourites.

Favourite Poem

Time isn't money - This poem starts with a simple premise: what are all the ways that time *isn't* the same as money (counter to the popular phrase). It led to a good amount of deep thinking, as well as leading to some very fun flowing lines and rhythms.  

Poems about my life

As I've started reflecting on my old poems more, I've really started appreciating poems directly inspired by moments in my life - poems that no one else could have written!

Rosie in Lidl - I started the year in Cheltenham with my brother and his family, including my young niece Rosie. This poem is basically a little photograph of a real moment - shopping in Lidl with my brother and alternating between finding the food and distracting the children. This is very different to my natural hip-hop style, but I think it's a lot stronger because of its simplicity.   

Home, but new - Moving to Bristol was definitely a bit of a stress. There's always so much to manage when moving, and for the first time in a long time I also had to sort out everything, from bills to building a new bed. Realising that your time and energy is limited (and also you should respect your neighbours by not hammering a desk in the early hours), you realise what you need to prioritise. I also didn't have a car, so I couldn't get everything in a single shop! I'm quite happy I now have a poem to capture these days.

For Will and Laura - A wedding poem, and one I was particularly proud of. There's always a sense of "is this going to be too generic" when I'm writing these. I've written a few now, but given it's the couple's special day I'll only write one if I actually think there's a unique angle I can take. With this one, I leant into the fact Will and I both love Hadestown by borrowing the theme of "melody", and the fact we were childhood friends by imagining being his friend as akin to witnessing a melody which has turned into a harmony. It's also my first poem (to my knowledge) for which I have a full translation into another language!

Poems about Christianity

I manged to find myself at two different churches this year - Holy Apostles in Cheltenham, and Redland in Bristol. As a result of being exposed to a lot of different Christians and different ways of thinking, I ended up writing and thinking a lot about Christianity this year.

Christian Hate - My most thoroughly peer-reviewed poem this year. I'm always nervous writing about theology, because unlike with regular poetry it is very much possible to get things wrong. I started with the question "When, if ever, is it right for a Christian to hate?" and went from there. It's one of those really interesting poems where I ended up discovering my own philosophy while I'm writing and reflecting.

Imagining Heaven - There will always be a part of my brain that thinks about death, and what might come under. It is the great question I will never answer. As such, it was tough to think of what angle to approach this from. I was somewhat inspired by a conversation in church where an older friend told me they attend more funerals than weddings these days. It very much sent me down a route of thinking, and I'm glad I had poetry as an outlet for those thoughts.



Poems of self-reflection

In some ways, all poems I write will always be reflections of myself. Some are a little bit deeper though, really delving into the way I'm feeling and how I'm thinking. I try not to write too many of these, but I do think the ones I do write end up being my most powerful.

Dear Harry - It's not the first poem I've written directly to myself, and it wont be the last. A long term goal of mine has been to allow myself to be more vulnerable. It's often a balance between making sure I'm allowing myself to be open and making sure I'm also not leaning too much into the poetry to make things seem worse than they are (especially as I know some people very close to me read this blog, and I don't want them worrying unnecessarily!). 

DOOMed philosophy - When I was back in York, I managed to pop along to my old poetry night. Someone there said he recognised me from many months ago - and that he remembered my old poem inspired by MF DOOM. It inspired me to write another - as these types of poems are very dense and I worry no one will understand them. So finding someone who loves this style of flow as much as I do was very heartening. I also really enjoy the poem I ended up writing - about acknowledging the hypocrisy we all carry.

Poems about a fragile Earth

The world is changing - quite quickly in some ways. It's interesting then, to have some poems in this transition period. Poems which might later prove to be foolish or prescient.

Art Instantly - It's interesting being someone creative who also works with AI - but keeping those two aspects of myself completely separate. I feel very rich for learning how to create in the way I have, but I've spent a fair bit of time trying to figure out the best way that society should interact with AI. It's a very powerful tool, but it has its limitations - certainly in its current state. 

The arts exist until they don't - Whenever I end up regularly attending an open mic night, I always become very attached to it. I've seen many nights start and stop. I've seen behind the curtain. There's no guarantee of a world in which artists can make a living and ply their trade. In Cheltenham, there was no regular night, and I couldn't find a poetry community. As such, this poem is both a direct tribute to Mike's Open Mic nights, and a reflection on the value of arts within a community.

From the brink of extinction - Sometimes, I write poems along with other people. We both get a theme, and then try to create something on that theme. A good friend of mine - Polly - did a lot of drawings of near-extinct animals. So I gave her a twist on her usual style: "back from extinction". It led to two very interesting creations that came from very different directions.

Honourable Mentions:

Words Wax - I love the wordplay here, but this is a poem that's only a week old at time of writing and it needs to be performed a couple of times before I can know if it's actually any good...

Because the world is not static - A poem accepted for forge press on the theme of migration - I do like this one, but it's also very recent and so I need a little longer for it to sit with me.
good things in bad days - A poem about how even a bad day can contain nice things. 
In place of listening - I really like the structure of this poem about listening, it might be one I need to do a full graphic of to let it fully breath.
Scientific Poetry - The idea of mathematics and science being a separate language which cannot be fully translated is one I've been dwelling on. I actually think it's been really useful for communication - acknowledging there are elements lost in translation is better than pretending nothing is.

A letter to people who feel awkward about themselves

Dear people who are still searching for themselves,

Conforming is great, sometimes
Fitting in with a crowd when your allowed
Nicely matching to societal rhymes
Making the people around you proud

It requires far less effort, far less thought
To simply try to fit into the image they depict
You'll gain the recognition you have sought
And managed to avoid all conflict

It feels, well, it feels good.
But that doesn't mean all is acting as it should.

Don't confuse people liking you for fitting in
With people liking you for being you
You don't have to purposely be different about everything
But you shouldn't always try to be the same too

Society is not neutral.
It is still a set combination of aesthetic and philosophy.
And it also changes.
So ask yourself, is this current arbitrary set of everything, well, me?

You will feel richer, if not at first
From learning when it's right to not conform
Because when you get through the worst
You will take some of your first steps since being born

So do not confuse ease-of-living with contentment
Do not let others taking a stand make you feel resentment
And heed the whole purpose of this simple letter
Conforming is great, but non-conforming can be even better

Love, your older selves.

Anger

Anger should get you out of bed and through the front door
Anger should make you dissatisfied, asking for more
It should be a short, sharp burst right to the heart
It's the energy needed to make you shout and play your part

It cannot be the thing that powers you through the years
It can compliment grief, but should not hold back tears
Anger has a role, but it wants to play the lead
And wants to dictate the list of all that you need

Anger is only righteous when it's second to grace
Do not vanish, Anger, but know your place

Words wax

What words wax when you're wondering wildly?
What matters the most when you're not muttering mildly?
A perfectionist poet who pops in their prime
The dopest delivery to be dropping a dime 

High score! 

Nah g, thats not gonna be how it goes
No glitz no glammer, you're just practicing prose 
Stringing some syllables so you see how they slide
Hoping for heaven for a hint that won't hide

A line from a list that won't leave you alone
The best of a batch that bites to the bone
A fantastic phrase that finds your fancy
Some sort of sound that surrounds all you can see

It is only wondering wildly that winds into such words
An absolute essential if you indulge in the absurd 
Go forth, hunter poet, better the beasts you don't know
Find fierce phrases you can thread into your flow

And don't be caught slacking and accepting your worst
Lest you be ensnared forever in conventional verse

Because the world is not static

Growing up, other countries were foreign to me
I didn't jet across the Earth on a yearly trip to ski
It wasn't the most diverse experience, growing up in York
In this sort of place, there's a shared way you tend to think and talk

And now, I am the sum of nations I've never lived in
Due to my friends who don't even realise what they're gifting
Sharing themselves in a way which now fill my memory banks
In fact, let me borrow from my American friends and give thanks

Let me start off this little exercise of a thankful ode
With my academic colleagues from all over the globe
We all learned in different classes and now come together
Making stronger ideas which are more likely to weather

Growing up, I never really had spice in any form
Truly, I was a product of where I was born
But recipes and dishes of many a wonderful taste
Have migrated worldwide right into my waist

Music and movies now no longer stop at the border
They stream into our lives and help us find order
Then there's idioms, philosophies, everything in between
So much is different for each <insert country>'s dream

The world turns. And it carries people and all their history.
For that, I am thankful. For the many things it has given to me.
Maybe, one day, I too will live outside of my birth nation.
And share a bit of all I have learned from the global migration.

The arts exist until they don't

The arts exist until they don't 
They live on open mic nights in dingy bars
In the tired hosts who have been doing it for years
In the salesman needing an escape from selling cars

The singer who is a builder in her spare time
The soloist who is trying to do art full time and figure out the finances
The venue trying to bring people out of their homes to a world of rhyme 
The arts exist until they don't

So treasure those places where art lives still 
Carry it in your hearts 
Be the echo if you will
Find places for it to start

Because we are richer with art in our lives
With the beat that can persist
It is effort needed by those who strive
My friend, let's help the arts exist

Christian Hate

To my fellow Christians, with whom I find kindship and share my fate
Did Paul write to the Corinthians "And now these three remain: faith, hope and hate. But the greatest of these is hate"?
Did Jesus tell us us that one of the greatest commandments is to "hate thy neighbour?"
No, they instead preached of love for others in all of its labour

Of love.

It is hard, sometimes, to interpret a book from thousands of years ago
It is hard, sometimes, to work out what it wanted us to know
But where it comes to love, the words echo clearly in scripture through the years
It is love, always, that must be what perseveres

Hatred starts conflict, but love covers over all wrongs
It infects our worship and bleeds through our songs
Love Christians. Love non-Christians. Even if you don't love all that they do.
Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you

You cannot love God without loving your sister and brother
You are not full of love if you can't feel love for the "other"
Who do you think, right now, the Samaritan in the room would be?
And who is stirring your hatred against an enemy you rarely see? 

Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses
Love is what makes us come to our senses
So to my fellow Christians, and anyone else still here
If you hate too easily, then how can your love be sincere?

It is hard to love so completely as Jesus did when he died for all our sins
It is easy to hate when it seems to come so naturally from within
But you shall remain in darkness if you hate your brother, even if you claim to be in light
You are not called to do the easy thing, but to try to do what is right 

So love. Unconditionally. Sincerely. And without hate.
As long as you manage that, I shall be glad to share your fate.

Luke 6:27-28 (NIV): "But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who mistreat you".

1 John 4:20 (NIV): "Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen

Matthew 5:44: "But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you

 Proverbs 10:12 (ESV): "Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses"
Proverbs 10:12 (GW): "Hate starts quarrels, but love covers every wrong."
Proverbs 10:12 (NIV): "Hatred stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs."

1 John 2:9 ESV (NIV): Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness

Proverbs 26:24-26 (ESV): Whoever hates disguises himself with his lips and harbors deceit in his heart; when he speaks graciously, believe him not, for there are seven abominations in his heart; though his hatred be covered with deception, his wickedness will be exposed in the assembly

1 Peter 4:8 (EASY) Continue to love each other very much. That is more important than anything else. If you love people, you will forgive them for any wrong things that they have done.

For those who worship

For those who really worship during worship
Who really listen when they praise
Who are not grounded in this earthly ship
Who seem like they could go for days 

How? How do you manage to do this
Without glancing around at the congregation
Or accidentally constructing your shopping list 
But letting sounds fill you with bliss and revelation 

I'm jealous. It's not healthy. But it's the imposter in us all.
It's the cause of insecurity, the echoes of the fall
A feeling that I can't focus which leads to more inaction
So lord, help me, to worship without distraction

Decorative words

Have some pretty words
To decorate your wall
Put the best ones forward
Repeat them, one and all 

The words that aren’t so shiny

You’d better hide away

Those words I keep behind me

So they don’t destroy my day

When we admit that words have power

We must also learn respect

Lest we one day sit and cower

About some words that we regret

But though words can lead to violence

If not said with proper care

You should also fear silence

For the words that other will place there

It is time to make a choice

About what you think has worth 

It is your words, with your voice 

That you must speak onto this earth 

Survival

I'm dropping off slightly
But still hanging on
I'm saying I'm mighty
Though I'm feeling gone

There's a disconnect
Starting to infect
Deactivating my synapse
Causing a relapse

Feeling like fading
Shadows around
Darkness invading
Until there's ground

And I'm standing. Standing still.
The absent whispers elicit a thrill.
It doesn't matter how or in what way.
I'm here. And I'm doing ok.

***

Been a bit under the weather recently and fancied being a bit overdramatic

good things in bad days

bad days suck
days when things aren't going well
when you have stress hanging over you
when you haven't seen your friends in a while

bad days... suck 

so, the day is bad
the whole day
but, well, maybe not the whole day
maybe not every moment

it's nice to remember
the good things that happen in bad days
the moments you maybe didn't expect
a clean breath of air while swimming

going for a walk even when the days are getting darker
catching up over a hot drink with someone you haven't seen in a while
a new episode of that TV show you love
remembering that people love you

so make a candle that gives a little light
search for some joy when things are tough
remember, bad days may happen
but good moments happen too

How we speak

When people speak with violence
You are forced to listen
Pain and fear
Do tend to focus the mind 

If people hear only violence
They often reply with it too 

When people speak with peace 
With energy and passion, but still with peace
We can choose to listen
But we have to make the choice

There are many people speaking
If ignored, they may grow restless

How would you speak,
On something the world needs to hear?
And how do you listen
To those who demand your time?

In place of listening

When I speak, you listen
When I pause, the listening stops

What takes the place of listening? 

Stresses of a busy life 
a day that hasn't given enough pauses now provides one
a chance for the brain to deal with inertia
before reality snaps back into place

Distractions of the room
maybe I'm wearing an outfit that's cute or odd
I have a hair or 500 out of place
there's something, somewhere, to investigate

Thoughts and reflections
thinking of your place in the words 
what could have been said differently
how you might reply

or maybe, 

The listening remains
anticipation through the pause
waiting for the next word
hearing the silence unspoken

How we pause in life 
Is often beyond our control 
Not always though
Hey hey, I've got something to say

Listen
  To 
    This 
      :

Lying is fun

It's fun to lie and exaggerate, especially when it seems romantic
And if you're a poet then the lies seem to come quick and frantic

Quick, let me show my passion by climbing the highest mountain
Using just strength of will and a decent pair of trainers on my feet
I'll just run there, no need to plan or take a plain
After all, it surely couldn't take more than a week

I will find you diamonds that were formed upon the moon
I will make you breakfast every day instead of laying in past noon
I will travel down to Hades and fight the Lord of Death
I will lie. Again and again. With each and every breath 

It's fun to lie. To carve a pretty tale.
To pretend I can control each deceptive detail.
But sometimes, well sometimes I need to make sure
I'm being honest. Telling the truth and not a bit more.

I will not always be there for you. 
Even though I wish that wasn't true
There are times when I will happen to be many miles away
Or when I happen to be going through my own terrible very bad day

But, poetry aside, I can say with certainty that I will try
To listen to what you say and to join you when you cry
To schedule in a time as soon as I possibly can
That I can be there for you properly, a physical human

I would love to say more, and to swear upon the sky
To try to comfort you with the most beautiful possible lie
Not here. Not in those moments when you are struggling to be you.
In those moments, I will try. And I promise you, I'm speaking true.

Romans 12:9

In the book of Romans, chapter 12, Verse nine
It is written simply: love must be sincere
As much as I'd like to pretend this quote is one of mine
I feel it's origin must be acknowledged here

See it's not just good advice
More of a call to action
It's not just being nice

Love is not just part of a fraction 

You must love, deeply
If you want to love at all
Feeling "compassion is be beneath me"
Will surely make you fall

In a world which wants to doubt 
It is the answer to all fear 
For those you want to care about
Your love must be sincere

Undercurrent voices

The voices are always there
For those who care to hear
Discontent with in the air
A rising sense of fear

It's in poetry and punk shows
It's in leaflets on the street
The undercurrent always flows
A hard thing to defeat

So listen, listen, listen all ye
Who think there's no passion anymore
Because all I see before me
Is emotion overflowing from the core

We are all tuned in when we're young
Some tune out with age
But the song is still being sung
Even to those who want to turn the page

Bad cities

I grew up making fun of cities
That were not far down the road
Ours was better, ours was nicer
Ours is worthy of an ode

Now rivalry is one thing
But punching down is another
Some folk just want to be classist
With only a thin veil as cover

But as I've travelled more in life
Even to places I mocked with indignation
I've found people I respect everywhere
And no place without some admiration

There are folks who love every street
Every cobble, every stone
Who will let the houses build them
Right up to the bone

Look, I'm still going to make fun of cities
It's just a fun thing to do
But maybe a little less harshly
With an occasional compliment too

online arguements

I'm tired of hearing "it's just an opinion"
When it considers people as less than human
As if opinions don't firm the basis of actions
That impact the world and forms into factions 

Yes, perspective in debates is often sorely needed
We can be overly intense when our side is seeded
We should leave space for hearing what others have to say
But we still need a line for what we consider ok 

Imagining Heaven

Do you wonder? What exists beyond the dark?
The ending of the great adventure on which we all embark?
Do you fear death, or is it just one step in your journey?
As much as I try to rise above I find the worries just concerns me

See I want to believe in Heaven, and I do so with my heart
I try to believe in God and to show it in my art
But when it comes to imagining God's perfect kingdom
I don't think such a skill exists anywhere in creation

I can picture things being better than they currently are on Earth
We fight for such a world and in such a fight we find our worth
It is struggle and it is challenge that help forms our fragile souls
Would a perfect world not include such a battle with our goals?

Would you get to live eternal, at just the age you died?
Would you experience the relief you only feel when you have cried?
Most of all I wonder, if I get to live way up above
What it is to feel unfiltered, that feeling of God's love

I have many dreams and questions about the world beyond the dead
Yet I will settle for the echoes of Heaven I witness in this world instead

On the stage

I'm not done with the stage, and neither are you
not if you've got some thing still to say
                    and some thing still to do

you are worth amplifying
please don't be denying
the story you are trying to tell
the parts you say so well

we want to hear you, we really do
we're not lying, even if you want us to
we're here for you, so please, don't delay
get on this stage, and play

New arts

There are parts of this world I struggle to appreciate  
And that is fully on me
If I don't make an active effort to investigate
I will think there is no beauty 

I grew up in one place
Through a single passage of time
Mostly, people were one race
And didn't worry about crime

I have deeply loved learning through friends
The many ways it is possible to live
All the means that can reach their ends
The bounty each culture has to give

Every time, it is effort to start
Being a novice amongst scholars
Slowly, it enrichens the heart
The beats echo with each holla

And you appreciate something you didn't before
You see more beauty in a world which is already overflowing
Because it wont be long until you see one thing more
That people seem to love but you don't get where it's going

And then, each time, the choice is up to you
So that, eventually, you may follow it too

Scientific Poetry

There is a beauty in science that I struggle to translate
There are numbers that don't turn neatly into words
I can understand, fluently, I just can't integrate
These two different languages and what they've inferred

It's not just the terms within each equation
It is, I guess, their etymology
The fact each solution came from a question
The puzzle that helped it come to be

I see the years of struggle behind the headline
The rigour from which a model was spawned
The peer review and pained corrections you find
Before the science can truly be performed

I would love to write more poems on science, to make it a little less dry
But it can only be a translation. Even still, I will try.

Lost art

This is a poem for all the lost masterpieces
Visual lyrical musical theses
Left out in aether where we'll never see them
Until now, somehow. Join me in the unrealised museum

Past a warm reception just to struggle down corridors
Knowing you'll get there you just have to work some more
To an exhibition dedicated only to what could have been
All the ideas abandoned before what they were meant to mean

Now, hark! Pay attention! Bare witness!
Four and a half bars of an unfinished symphony the could have brought bliss
The starting brushstrokes not abstract enough on the canvas
A character with an arc but no world to explore
Some stone with rough chisel showing a shape at the core
All of them, desperately, needing a little bit more

Not every unfinished idea may be worth the time
Not every couplet has a good matching rhyme
But within this hall of unrealised potential
Is art that could have been so darn consequential

Couldn't figure out the puzzle? Life got in the way?
Boom, another lost work is put on display
Let it live in the real world, so it doesn't end up here
You can't choose to finish everything, just how much to persevere

Causation

Are we all just part of the chain?
The endless sequence of cause and effect
Bound by the gears in our brain?
To have always caused the action to lead to regret?

If you built an algorithm with enough terms
Would it be predictable in each part?
With the same freewill as the birds and the worms
Do we simply count to the last beat of our heart?

I've been studying causation
And where it all leads
Isn't a perfect equation
With all it needs

It's guessing. Because we don't know everything.
We're just doing our best, which at this point ain't nothing!
But it's assumptions and trying to grow where we can.
For better or worse, we're not more mathematics than man.

Gender

Maybe it's just me
But I've no problem with kindness and colour being masculine
I do love the enby
It's just not a category I think I find myself in

I know scholars of gender who are living the theory
Tackling the quandaries that come from each query
And I love to listen and glisten some insight
They were in darkness but now glow in moonlight

Yet I've always been one to be honest
I'm not permanent I'm just trying my best
And right now, despite the softness I like to live in
I also feel comfortable being a simple he/him

DOOMed philosophy

No joke I float with a broken ideology
But passionately with no fashionable apology
See I'm invested in besting with that which is broken
Silent sometimes but insisting when I need to be outspoken

Fine lines which are mined to reveal and/or
Allowing me flowers to cheer no callow candour
There's nuances fluently flaunted a-plenty
Tailoring this sail flowing me where I'm meant to be

Bend or break? No fake I'm just trying to make it real
Worldly pressures efficiently fissuring at what I feel
I am the sum total of every punch that fate ever landed
Standing as a man who can calmly come off heavy-handed

If I fit into a mould, I'd boldly be exactly like the rest
But I'm living with what I'm given, so hand me the test
All A stars, I'm an asterisk to every sign you expect
I'm not perfect but please perceive I'm not done practicing yet

That's that, that's all that I'm every actually trying to be
I'm not a living philosophy outside of the fact that I'm me!

***

Inspiration tunes - That's that by MF Doom

Talents

Some talents are easier to share
To let others gain from a skill
Singers, musician, knitters
All can easily give you a thrill

For others, you need to learn
To appreciate the depth of difficulty
The painters, dancers, woodworkers
It can take time to appreciate properly

For me? I deal in truths
Both scientific and poetic
I'm good at learning stories
Seeing how the world is kinetic

And I'm learning communication
To try to get the ideas across
The issue with translation
Is there often occurs some loss

Mere words often struggle
To capture truth in all its beauty
But a practicing rhythm and mathematics
So I can fulfill my duty

Because I love to see the dancers dance
I love to hear the singers sing
The only exchange I have
Is to try to offer up this...thing

This talent I received raw
That I've developed over time
So let me seize at its essence
And capture it in rhyme

Family History

Every once in a while as I write these pages
I get a rush in my soul connected to the ages
That the craft of carving out a tale
Echoes with history in every detail

Within my blood, there is some writing
There's also some teaching, a bit of acting
We don't tend to do family professions these days
But sometimes it emerges in curious ways

Some small little bit of DNA code
Some neurons meeting to form a node
Passed on through genetics and time
Helping me as I form my rhyme

Tracing my fingers and filling my heart
Giving me help to make my art

Puzzle

The puzzle starts blank
Without a single mark
Just a few stray clues
To lead you from the dark

It seems impossible
But also almost freeing
Each step is progress
A solution that's revealing

And then you hit the wall
You can't progress at all
An intimidating page
That tries to give you rage
The challenge is right here
Can you persevere?

Sometimes it's all at once
Sometimes step by gruelling step
But eventually you''re past
And you feel a little pep

At this point, it's just energy
To fill in every space
You can take it slowly
You can try to race

But eventually, you stop
And the dopamine will come
The once blank puzzle
Is finally, now, done

Authentic

it's hard to be authentic
it's hard to be really you
so when you start to write your tale
you wonder what is true

your first idea?
it could be gold
or simply the sum
of all society has tried to mould

I want to improve
I want to get better
but that means changing
adapting my letter

be authentic
even if it means you're wrong
be yourself
even if it's not a pretty song

find the story on you can tell
and the way only you can tell it
if you can, you have to try
it's the challenge in being authentic

wrong words

your words in life don't always come across how you want them too 
this is one of life's sad facts you're just going to have to battle through

all you can do, is try to make up for where you went wrong
you can't take away words that were put where they don't belong

but you can try your best at setting things right
even if real forgiveness feels far out of sight

apologise, earnestly. try not to reason your way out
you've said those words and now they're roaming about 

and you can't go back to how things were before
all you can do is learn to not say those words any more

Dear Harry

Dear Harry,

You've been being hard on him again, haven't you?
On that self you often try to dissociate from
So that you can try to justify the pressure

Be kind to him, please
You know he's more fragile than he likes to admit
He's strong, but only in certain ways

If you do this enough he'll think he's a burden
Then he'll become anxious and overthink things
And not in the way he's supposed to overthink things

Give him time. Or a deadline if you have to
Set him goals and encourage his ambitions
Let him figure out how to fail correctly

Remember that he doesn't know his potential, nor do you
That good things come from unplanned places
That life is not a race, but an adventure

Do things with love
Including, but not limited to
Helping him through the rough patches in life

He needs your help
It's good to reflect
But remember the reflection can only see so far

So, don't be too hard on him
Please
For Us

Love,
Harry

Run down

When I'm run down, I feel the cold more easily
When I'm run down, I tend to get ill
When I'm run down, I overthink things more
When I'm run down, the world seems against me

But sleep doesn't solve it
I never have any issue sleeping
But it's the misalignment with the world
The sense that I'm clashing in my tempo

I'm used to playing my own rhythm
But then it's as a harmony
Whereas now I'm in a dance
Where everyone but me knows the steps

Sometimes I can fix it be being hydrated
Or by taking some true rest
Most times though, I'm a human and not an algorithm
And there's no quick fix - just gradual healing over time

For Will and Laura

It is a great pleasure to have childhood friends
To have shared so many years in places that now seem so small
Friend's homes, old classrooms, even older football pitches
And the paths we walked (or cycled) together that connected them all

If you get to know someone when they are young
It is as if you are witnessing the start of a melody
The opening strings of a crescendo to that will one day come
Lyrics, that now sadly, echo only in memory

But then, you get to be a witness
To their life, their music, and their journey
Until one day the song sounds even more beautiful
As you realise it's turned into a harmony

Will, you were already playing an incredible tune
I felt so lucky to get to listen along
But Laura, you add to him, and he adds to you
And I think everyone here can attest, you both make such a wonderful song

So, I ask you both, do not be silent with your chorus
Be uniquely yourselves when you stand before us
It's time to play your parts together, and play them true
Are you ready? I'll count you in. One, two...

***

(Many thanks to the person who wished to go uncredited for translating this poem into Spanish for some of the Wedding guests, this was really cool to see!)

Es un enorme placer tener amigos de la infancia
Haber compartido años en lugares que ahora parecen tan pequeños
Las casas, las aulas, los campos de fútbol
Y los caminos que caminamos juntos (o en bicicleta) y que los unían a todos 

Si conoces a alguien de joven
Es como si presenciaras el comienzo de una melodía
Las primeras cuerdas de un crescendo que está por llegar.
Letras que ahora sólo resuenan en la memoria.

Más en adelante en la vida, se llega a ser testigo
De lo que sólo puede considerarse un viaje increíble
Hasta que te das cuenta de que la música cantada
Es mucho más hermosa como una armonía

Will, tú ya tocabas una melodía increíble.
Me sentí muy afortunado de poder escucharla.
Pero Laura, tú le añades a él, y él te añade a ti.
Juntos, hacéis una canción maravillosa.

Así que, os lo pido a los dos, no os quedéis callados con vuestro canto.
Sed vosotros mismos cuando estéis ante nosotros.
Haced vuestro papel, y hacedlo de verdad.
¿Están listos? Uno, dos...

how you view the future

the future is a strange place
they do things differently there
do you find it fills you with fear?
it is it too far away for you to care

it can depend on the scale of time
what tasks lay right before you
in general, when I was younger
the future was something to look forward to

but then I met some folk
for whom the future was full of doubt
the present is a tricky place
and they weren't sure they'd make it out

I realised that approaching time
can't just be taken as given
that life will pass you by
if you forget it's somewhere to live in

the future seems more uncertain
and it's getting closer all the time
I'll deal with it the only day I know
... I'll try to capture it in rhyme 

Delete Key

How much do you rely on your delete key
To be able to construct your thoughts completely
Knowing you can go back, change a letter
Rewrite your words so that they seem better

What if, for a while, you took it away?
Went full typewriter for an hour each day?
So you had to commit to every new line
Even if it irked and didn't seem fine

I think you'd go slow,
Take a little more care
Even in your flow,
You'd be a lot more aware
About the value inherent,
Of each word you chose
Of the decisions present,
In forming your prose

Don't let your mistakes fill you with shame
Embrace your successes and failures the same
Life is cleaner, but a little less complete
When we rely too heavily on what we delete

Jesus in Palestine

What if Jesus were born again, but He was born in Palestine?
He was born among the bombs, He was born among the mines?
He was born in the rubble where a hospital used to stand?
What then would become of the second son of Man? 

Would He be baptised in a river filled with lead
Would He grow malnourished until he learned to break the bread
Would He grow up with His parents or have surrogates instead
Would He grow up knowing death until he learned to revive the dead 

And what if He still said:

"What you do to the least of my brother's you also do to Me"
What would He think of how we treat the land that does not stretch to sea
What of all the other babies still born there every year
Who face all these problems and grow up filled with fear

All of this to wonder, in this most pressing time
What would Jesus do if he came again to Palestine

The forge

A working forge is a sight to behold
It blazes with a heat hot enough to mould
Take the material, and with enough skill
It can bend to form the forgemaster's will

What then, of a forge that's gone cold?
No more mastery or feats to behold
Ashen memories of what used to be
Scuff marks and battles and old cups of tea

It's not too much work to keep a forge going
Add in some fuel if you see the fire slowing
But an empty forge that's heated no more?
It's just a record of what has come before

Unless, unless, with great effort and fight
A master returns, along with a light

Politely Burnt Out

I don't have a way
To politely say
I'd love to
But then I'll struggle to get out of bed tomorrow

Right now
I know not how
My battery
Only goes between zero and around thirty

If you request
When I'm my best
I would do it
And I could shift around my plans if needed

But today
Is not that day
All I can do
Is just enough

Second memories

You only get so many seconds
And from those seconds
You only get so many memories

If you don't hold on
A precious one might slip away
Never to be recalled

If you stop using your seconds
Let them flutter by
You'll never make any more

Memories.
They are our history.
Our currency of experience.

Love what you have already made.
Keep your mind rich.
Use your seconds well.

Home, but new

Welcome to your new world!

Please leave your free time at the door for a short while
Because you will have admin and organisation
Staring you
In the face
Every time you walk in
For at least the next week.

You can't do it all at once.

So, what do you value?
What are your real priorities?

What bills do you sort first?
What groceries do you carry on your first shop?
Which furniture do your arrange your room around?
Which bags and boxes do you leave unpacked for the first few days?

It's a real jolt to the veins
Realising that you need this but can do some days without that
Honestly, it might be healthy to not have internet a short while
But one day of sleeping on a ground mattress will motivate you to build a bed

For me? I needed cereal, milk, bread, and bovril
Electricity and water - anything else is a luxury
I made sure the desk stayed in the corner of the room
To not become my whole life, please.

Each task done is another bit of my brain that's now free
Free to plan cleaning or explore living in a new city
To adjust to new working and relaxing conditions
And figure out if I'm comfortable with visitors yet

Then, one day, you'll look up
Realise there's nothing urgent to do
And finally
Call this new world
Home

From the brink of extinction

I've been known to talk of sadness
About darkness humans hold inside
We can often share in madness
A mania believed far and wide

We humans do despicable deeds
And honestly, I don't know why
We can sew destructive seeds
Which later blot out the sky

It's....a lot, sometimes

But I wish to talk of hope
Of great effort over time
Provide a little soap
To wash away the grime

Humans can do despicable things
But also great things too
There's a power that persistence brings
A power that also belongs to you

It takes a lifetime of trying
And hard study of conservation
But we can stop people dying
Or save animals through preservation

I've known many educators
Passing knowledge through generations
Others who are innovators
Preserving cultures across nations

Nothing is gone until we stop trying
There is a world between dead and dying
And some humans may wonder why we're crying
About the "bright future" we insist on defying

It's because, well, there is more to Earth than the present
We share this planet with the future and the past
There is beauty to witness beyond what mere humans can invent
And it would be a shame if we were the last

Universal Chargers

Maybe, just maybe, technology has spoiled us
And, no, not in the way you may have thought
I’m thinking of when we all hopped on the USB bus
And managed to successfully get a standard port

This was great, well, for technology
A single thing to charge every device
But I think we owe an apology
For every human that tried to take this advice

Humans are weird
Our batteries are not replaceable triple A
We tend to make odd connections
And recharge in a very different way

Some recharge in nature
Others need the bustle of a city
A few can only ever charge alone
But don’t consider it a pity

Music is common to many
But even then, it’s a different tune
I know some who don’t have any
Still searching every mountain and dune

Exercise, food, even construction
Can build up the energy to recover
Yet too many now face an obstruction
Because they rejuvenate unlike any other

Convenience is great, but comes at a cost
Yet as life grows larger and larger
I think we are a richer society
If we make space for each type of charger 

Advice

I enjoy when friends ask me for advice
That they look at all my years
All my screws up and success
And feel, on balance, I might say something to help

It feels nice to be trusted in that way
Even if I feel it can be unearned
Sure, failure is the key to success
But I'm still a few failures away myself

I'll embrace it though
Give a caveat of "check with someone else too"
But I'll treasure their confidence
I'll do the best I can

What is my best? It's simply this.
It is just an ear to listen
A shoulder to lean on
And a reassurance that their hardship is real

Often it's not the words you say
It's that there is someone else to say things to them

Tales of the past

Let me tell you a tale we've all told in the past
Let me sing of a sail with a sign on the mast
I used to venture out into uncharted water
But I feel like I never got as far as I oughta

I used to love adventure, until I lost my energy
I used to love making friends until I found an enemy
We record our epics in empty white pages
More concerned with safety and 9-to-5 wages

We ain't bored of the bard we're just stuck in one place
We're not mourning our past we've just run out our race
Yet the itch to explore is still burning inside
The need to proceed in a world which is wide

Let me tell you a tale that I want to be true
That it's never too late to set sail someplace new
That the strength in our bones will remain through the years
That we're stronger than fright and we're stronger than fears

And it might be folly or foolish for folk in their fall
To have hope for a rope to re-find a new call
So before we all end telling tales in a bar
Let us take one more step to find out who we are

Not just roots

One thing I think we often forget, is that roots are not there to keep us in place
They’re there to help us grow.

They are not just strands to connect us to our past
They are the base from which we create
They are the nutrients that build new branches
They are foundation

Sometimes, we have to put some roots in bad places
And the root is just telling us not to grow in that direction!
Roots can be twisted and gnarled
And it can be very special when someone shares their hidden roots with us

My friend you are more than your roots
You are your bark and your branch
And your birds and your leaves
And your fruits, which give so much joy to others

Do not let your roots constrain what you can do
Be the grand tree you were always meant to be

***

Thanks to York Lit Review for the prompt of Roots

Recycling

We're recycling our recycling
We're reusing it again
We're pretending when inventing
We have made a new refrain

But you've heard it before
There's an echo in mind
If you search book and law
There's carbon copies to find

And yet, and yet,
There will be detail in the blur
If you really search I bet
There's some uniqueness to infer

Either in the manner of creation
Or in the angle of elevation
If you truly made it, truly you
There's a part that's solely your view

Learn to grow that little speck
Learn to let the "you" infect
And then the thought you profess
Will still be recycled, but a little less

When I pass

I know that one day my time on this Earth will be done.
I will have lived and loved and been someone.
A life will be lived, and maybe lived well.
That aspect, I guess, time will tell.

There will be some things I don't get to choose.
Which family I keep, which friends I lose.
The reason I have to depart this mortal plane.
Whether my athleticism began to wain.

But, well, I can hope for some things.
I hope for strength to fight what fate brings.
I will have regrets. I hope none too severe.
I hope I finally accept my limited time here.

But mostly, on that day when I finally depart
I wish to make sure I am at peace in my heart
That I don't hold hate in too great a place
And that I shall pass, one day, with love on my face

Art Instantly

The thing that's missing from art in a button
Is the sweat that forms on a brow
The bead of salt and stress
That never bled into the canvas
Never quite mixed with the oils
But shaded the tones of the artist
Skewed the perfect vision
And required fortitude to overcome

It makes the next brushstroke
Come out a little crooked

Either destroying the painting
Or, filling the gap

Time Isn't Money

Time isn't money - you can be precious with each penny
But each second that you spend? Well it's simply one of many
Yes with both there is a test to invest your very best
But at the limit there's a lesson that you should stress a little less

If you wish to be frugal with your Ruble you can Google the best way
...but you can't hoard hours away to have them on a rainy day
There are always moments doing nothing yet we never have enough
One thing I've tried to do is to learn to love the fluff

Treasure your time but still spend it. 
Drink too much wine and then regret it.
Be kind to your mind when you're repentant.
Find a way to unwind that means you meant it. 

Time is time for everyone, no matter how much you try to sift
Just remember it's ok to enjoy this curse and gift
Be grateful for the moments you didn't optimise into the aether
You are not above planning, and you're not below it either

Your time is yours to use, in any way you choose
It can't be wrong or right, it's not a game that you can lose
It is life. Stressful as I know that it can be
All of this to say, I'm thankful that you've spent this time with me

Starting Out

I have a mixed relationship with starting something new
It's like, sure, it's fun to have gone through
To be able to do something you didn't before
But getting to that point can be such a chore

The first few lessons are often fine
Learning the balance between question and whine
But slowly, inevitably, the ego will allow
A simple question - "Shouldn't I know this by now?"

"You're learning too slowly, you're being a burden
These steps are too hard, there's no way you'll learn them"
You need a little bit of ego, to help push you along
But sometimes I let my Ego take the full song

So quiet, my Ego. It's ok to not be a natural.
Each journey is unique, that alone is factual.
I will get better over time. It wont be a consistent pace.
I will enjoy it far more if I don't think of it as a race.

Skills come with a cost, and we must all pay our due
Embrace this, and you may even enjoy yourself when starting anew

Rosie in Lidl

You saw yourself on live TV
With personalised security cam feedback
So you jumped and you danced
And you got in the way of the people pushing trolleys

You asked to be lifted up
So you could better see yourself
And also, I guess, so the security people
Could be *really* sure you weren't stealing anything

Who am I to say no?
I lifted you
And we did a little dance together
On live TV

Arcane Forces

The greatest tragedy was not that it was unavoidable
No, the opposite

The greatest tragedy was that on all other worlds it was avoided
That so much had to go wrong for this to happen

Life has happy endings, sometimes
Things do go right
Often, even, you can say we progress

Which is why those moments when things do fall
We like to feel it was inevitable
A punishment, maybe, surely,
No

No, I cannot claim that
Not most of the time
We have lived through so many "perfect storms"
That it is hard to recognise a genuine one

One that is not just due to greed 
Or malice
But life itself
Circumstance
The fates

and the knowledge that it didn't have to be

Snowmen

Snow starts flat
Even, in all places
Then it melts a little more
On slopes the sun faces

Then, more disorder
Cars clean roads to slush
Pavement steps ice out
Clean white to grey mush

The natural day-to-day of folk
Leaves an imprint we don't usually see
But the disorder I appreciate most
Is more deliberate to me

Beyond the snowballs and sledges
Snowmen rise to attention
Raised with joy wand perseverance
Subject to some creator decoration

And then, melted snowmen guard paths
The last bastions of the weather that was
Details eroded, but form still remains
A clinging reminder to what was lost

Chrome Man

He never set in his ways
Except in the way of never setting
Nor would he count his days
Not that he found age unsettling

But simply because there was too much
Too much to learn, to much to do
His patience could be short as such
Yet, if intriguing he found time for you

There was a wiry energy in him
That would stick throughout the years
A restlessness that comes from within
Where lack of purpose is chief of fears

Intolerable to some, yet always himself
Laws were questions that might lead to crime
Enough money that he never sought wealth
I wonder if you've met such a man in your time?

***

Inspired by General Chrome from Iconoclasts, listening to his "Preacher" theme https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zom7tH7yWeI