This page hosts poetry for people to immerse themselves into the depths of the words as we dive into the nuance between the line to define the divine time that is now.

The nine poems below are taken from a collection of thirty-three poems found in my book, The Evolution of a Soul that is soon to be published. Each of these poems are available to print-yourself. All I ask is that you can be kind enough to offer some sort of remuneration through the payment option.

The illustrations are by Stella

The Regeneration of Humanity

This one’s for the youth!
Hear my truth.
I am going to make the people of this planet
move.
For you.
I do not want to hand down a broken planet,
so I offer my hands and head to help
and my heart to heal
as I want you to feel
love and grace.
I want you to walk in nature’s bounty,
through food forests in sovereignty.
Abundant in seeds to nourish souls as you
engage in a conversation so old we can hear
our ancestor’s whisper
knowledge and wisdom
about the beauty of the blister
that comes with working the land.
So, I take my stand, in solidarity
for the next generation
I sacrifice superficial temptation
and work towards
the regeneration of humanity.

Empathising

I feel alone, all
misunderstood, surrounded
by people that’s where I’m
stood.
I understand and I
empathise. This is your pain
You see in my eyes.
Stand in my shoes and feel
my blue

Light Bearers

I read this story about those who prayed in
Auschwitz. Amidst bleakness there were, and
are now, those in the darkest times who shone
a light of hope.
Barring their own scars, they still
courageously offered a warm embrace
wrapped up in faith, of a better world when it
was undeniably collapsing amongst the
terror of war.
As these light bearers were present then,
they were present in troubled times before
and are still present today. It is the light
bearer’s presence that is the present on this
present day,
as they
restlessly rest in the middle of conflict,
remain faithful and inspire hope, on the
ground making people smile and feel loved as
the bullets sound around them.
To those who have faced war in a way, I pray,
I may never know, yet still stand with
humility. It is because of you, love prevails
and lights the way.

Prayer for All

May the divine light shine, and the
divine rain fall on the land to feed us
all.

May the seeds be sown, and the
greed be blown into the wind and
dispersed like the dark cloud
destined to be no more.

May the blue skies tantalise eyes
and hearts and the corrupted
restored so the situation is no longer
ignored, and we can stand united.

May the gracious land produce
food that nourishes the souls of the
world, may it provide refuge for the
weary and comfort the dreary,

That’s my prayer.
Hear me.

The Greatest Expression of Me

The threshold of the unknown,
once feared like the dark abyss.
Stood at the doorway,
no longer avoiding my potential,
but embracing it
as the tectonic plates shift beneath my feet
and the earth around me quakes.
The quantum field vibrates,
waves oscillate
as my mind without the capacity to vacillate,
as I now, believe in myself in a way I never
have.
Able to rest in the promise of life,
as I know to access the kingdom.
Forever before me.
Nowhere else. Here.
Only ever here. Only ever me.
Separation, no longer the identification.
I believe, so you will receive.
The greatest expression of me.

Slow Down

This journey will always see us place
one foot in front of the other.
Conscious,
or not
moving, in motion through space.
Did we leave a trace?
Did we share an embrace,
with another?
Fully feeling the vastness of creation,
overwhelmed in joy of the good, and the bad, the
happy and sad.
Where did you place your feet?
Where did you lay your body,
to sleep?
How fast do we move here?
Slow down.
Slow down.
Slow down.
How do we see, or not see, where we are heading?
Blinded by separation, as if six degrees isn’t
enough
to see through the cracks in the rough and
tough.
The hands move on the face,
faster than before,
weighted down,
like a grandfather clocking out of war.
The pendulum swings, back and forth,
will it ever stop.
JUST STOP.
Be still.
Be still.
Be still.
Stillness is temporary, as we race our
thoughts around the racetrack painted grey as
if it mattered.
Where do we step,
and
how do we tread here with dead fear?
Presence is the key.
Be present.
Be present.
Be present.

A Goddess is Born

The lady of light,
Filled with thoughts
of
compassion, love and peace.
Misunderstood in a sea of conformists,
feeling forced to ride the waves.
Like everyone of us,
wanting to belong,
even when the tides are rough.
Feeling alone in this
lost town,
with its weathered streets,
made of bones and blood,
of the underclasses and
the middle-classes.
It sets the stage for the puppets.
For she knows there are puppeteers,
pulling the strings in order to keep the gears grinding.
For she has forever been at war,
with the puppets, the puppeteers and herself.
Now she stands, a battle hardened warrior of the
world.
Her skin is now a shield.
Weighted down by a scarred heart,
although she is
as light as an angels feather,
and she moves
like a spirit in the wind.
She now towers over the town,
and the world,
as the goddess
she was born to
be.

Masks

I hide behind this mask of mine,
a character
I become
to appear fine.
I don’t wish for others
to see
all that is me
for I don’t want
thee to be
worried.
For behind this smile,
deep inside my cranium
there is a never ending war
with words of justification
that move
like bullets.
They rip and tear
as I stare
into the air,
and wonder how easy it would be
to just not care.
It’s easy to feel that
I go through it on my own
However, I know deep down,
I do not fight this war alone,
there are others out there,
wearing their masks
to hide the daily pain

of what it is like
to feel
insane
in a world that is seemingly,
out of reach.
So what use is it to preach and
Who am I to teach?
If my mask has not yet been
fully cast aside,
and I fakely smile wide
and entertain
old habits
with a serious lack
of pride.
The bullets fly
as I
justify
my
actions
with a ready written script
that I rip
from the crypt
of the archetypal
forms
that surface
and hide behind the masks
I so stupidly wear.

Dark Mirrors

The levels of consciousness to be
experienced; do they need to be?
Tempted to indulge again.
The reintroduction of forgotten foreign
poisons
altering the sound awareness of space and
time that a sober mind carries with it.
The unwelcome arrival of paranoid thought,
when I thought
I had moved passed
the past.
The immobilising choke hold placed upon me
as the intoxication deepens and smothers me
like thick smoke.
The ruthless bottle empties as the last drop
drips through my lips.
Hazy vision deters me from seeing them fully
whole and fully friendly.
Blinded by the questioning voices in my head.
The resurfacing of thoughts from a time long ago,
a time where all faith seemed to vanish into
blackness,
a time where abandonment was my experience.
Although the sense of abandonment is not present,
the whispered words, do not trust, can be heard
again.
Closing down and retreating into my own sanctum is
my only response.
Eyes closed, deep breaths.
Forgetting that I am in the moment as the spotlight is
purely focused on mind, the star of the show.
Alas, the decision to pollute my temple has not been
in vain, although undesirable.
An opportunity to submerge further into oneself is
presented at all times, and the darker the mirror, the
easier it is to see the reflection of light.