Of mice and demons

Whistle down lane,

Welcome the caged insane,

Spare no words for the lame,

Never the same again.

Quivering in their beds,

All the things she said,

Pied Piper who lead,

Into mind valley dead.

Hotel California,

We’re coming for you,

Part of the formula,

Last of few who knew that,

Demons have made their pacts,

And,

This is the madhouse …

… For you to be used like a lab mouse.

D March 2017

Mind Control

I broke the speed of light, sorry it was an accident, do you have insurance?

On the same day I stopped time, but that’s fine, I don’t need any reassurance.

The day after you locked me up but I’m not sure why. I could smash these walls with nothing but a word.

So then you pinned me to floor and ran in a tube, but I had seen the gods heads and listening I heard.

That you may control this body, strapped, drugged and lay down your laws.

But … You’ll never understand the symbols I wrote on these floors and how I, accidentally, slipped your security doors

Now I’m controlling history, peace in my victory.

D March 2017

Psyche Bullets

Fox one, fire in the hole, bury those gun shots deeply in your soul. Release now we have you under our control.

Fox run, the hunters in pursuit, killing all the ‘low hanging fruits’, gone now? Here’s a gag across your mouth to keep you mute.

Fox down, to much incoming, can’t be stopped, but if I survive those volley of psyche bullets you shot, it will never be forgot.

Fox escaped, slipped through the nights cracks, running half naked in empty fields, knowledge lent, me a chance to break your seals.

Fox sleeps, in forest embrace, soft moss and dirty ditch, what a fraught battle we pitch, as my wounds I begin to stitch.

One bullet, two … Three … … Four and all the more. Licking my scars forever more.

D March 2017

Memories

weirdSo what to do with a shiny new URL, well how about some of my memories before I upload some more poetry.

My oldest memory is being pushed in my buggy through a field with fighter aircraft either side of me, my mum possibly thought it may be an airshow we went to. Coincidentally my oldest nightmare is being in a aircraft hanger with a British Vulcan bomber as the nuclear payload malfunctions and I wake up with a jolt as the fire burns. This leads to some time spent in the Air Training Corps 285 Squadron much later in life, but I did not stay long. I wanted to fly and my eyesight was to poor so I was relegated to engineering. Obvious a big gap between those two memories but for some reason the shadow of the military has always hung over my life. Even in my civilian life as a motorcycle courier I had to sign the OSA (Official Secrets Act) because of some of the sites I had to visit. I have a memory of my Uncles funeral and the priest mentioning his time in the Korean war. Another of my Grandfathers position in the Air-force during WW2, which we weren’t really allowed to talk about until a few years ago. Memories of books on firearms as a teenager on my book shelf. Shadows of the unsaid and ‘Mums the word!’ attitude. All before my mental health went nuclear in 1998. For some reason this past year I have been gluing together the tapestry of my life with the help of my Councillor. Amazingly what was blocked from my minds eye just a few years ago, I now seem to have fallen into a period of total recall. Including what went down during my 5 admissions to Royal Bethlem Hospital under section.

Why do I mention all this, well throw hyper-manic paranoia and memory like this and it can get very messy. What’s real, what’s a ghost and what’s just a maybe?

So I tuck it all away in corner of my mind. Heavy memory compression in a tight corner of mind and what seeps out around the edges I put into my arts. Really I’m kinda OK with it all but sometimes I just want to disappear, disown my life.

Well I’ll stop boring you for now and get on with living.

Peace D

Spies For The Dark

aphyxShe turned to me and said,
were not out of heads,
in this place, the special place,
make love not haste.

I know their secret she said,
they think were out of heads,
its not what you think,
its not in the drink.

I don’t get you I said,
you say I’m not dead.
I feel so morbid so unreal,
how do I know your deal?

You don’t need to get it she said,
it’s as easy as catching bullets of lead.
Its hidden in the geography,
its hidden in the what we don’t see,

Its hidden in sight she plead,
keep this in your head,
its out bright spark,
we are the spies for the dark.

D 2013

(About a girl I met in hospital while under section. I always wonder what happened to her)

I Remember,

When you pinned me to the floor and injected me,

When I woke three days later you had nothing to say to me.

When you sat in your doctors throne and said I would never work again,

That my life would be nothing but pain.

But here I am twenty years later,

Looking at the life I created, nothing could be greater.

She dozes quietly on the sofa unware of everything you did to her father.

For her I’ll seal away the flames of lava,

That still simmer for what you did,

She’ll never have to know,

What I hid.

D Nov 2016