Tinnitus

I like noise

I like my ears to be busy

I like my mind to be occupied by the cascade;

The Thousands of sounds that they draw in.

I have set my ears like a trap for noise

Frequency and tone

Volume and vibration

Buzz, rattle and moan

Piercing cries

Breathy sighs

Notes and voices

Harmonies and melodies

Bass and treble and a trembling

I can listen to preachers for hours

A conversation is utter salvation

The alarm is sounding 

I'm awake

The Kettle is boiling

The tap is running

The shower is humming and drumming

The music's more often than not playing in the background

Before I leave I pray out loud,

God likes the sound of my voice,

Almost as much as I do

I'm in the car,

And the radio is on,

I'm at work and for every moment I am not talking with colleagues,

My headphones are on, 

More music and podcasts

I'm in the car now to go home,

And the radio's on,

Then home and the telly, the X-box and the bluetooth speaker

More music and podcasts,

Sometimes I combine 

On my better days

I might pray out loud before bed

God likes the sound of my voice, I tell myself,

Almost as much as I do

And when I finally lay down

I play episodes from a TV period drama on my phone whilst it is charging,

I am not watching the pictures,

I am listening,

Always listening

As the familiar words of Elizabeth

Cue my mind for the sleep

Waiting in the wings,

I do this all week long

With one or two exceptions.

I like noise

I like my ears to be busy

I like my mind to be occupied by the cascade;

The Thousands of sounds that they draw in.

I have set my ears like a trap for noise

Because I have had tinnitus for the last 30 years,

I like noise,

Because it drowns the drone,

And gives me respite from what would otherwise fill every moment of my life with it's relentlessness

It is always there

At any given moment, even within the loudest sounds 

I can tune in if I choose

Tuning out however, requites absorption


In the same way, I like to be busy

Not to be still 

Nor Spiritually silent.

When I sit before the Lord

The silence can be terrifying

Because I don't want to think about the reality

AND SO I PRAY OUT LOUD

Not knowing the silence is a gift,

The opposite of tinnitus

The things I find in the silence

With grace and time I can change

If I choose to tune in

Truth-Holder

When all about you lose their way

And your voice is lost in all the fray,

When your argument holds no sway, 

Hold on to the truth and say,

I hold to the truth in all I do,

But remember it's the truth that's holding you,

When the truth is all the battle ground

When lines are blurred, and scarcely found

And when they're found they're rarely sound,

Know that trends go round and round,

But truth's eternal, through and through

Though you hold the truth,

In truth, 

The truth is holding you,

Hold on to truth as best you can

When nothing seems to go to plan

And though you question, know this man,

The truth is Jesus said 'I am'

The truth, the way and life too,

And though you hold to truth,

The truth is, The truth is holding you,

In The Beginning

 

In the beginning was a girl

In the beginning she had modest hopes

She didn't want to rule the world

In the beginning,

In the beginning was a man

In the beginning he had expectations

He had a marriage plan

In the beginning,

In the beginning was the clan

In the beginning was the land

The land that was promised to that clan,

The land and the clan of Israel

In the beginning,

In the beginning were the tribes,

In the beginning, being governed and 

Ruled by priests and scribes,

And of course, the Romans,

Don't forget the Romans,

In The beginning,

In the beginning there was begging,

In the beginning, crying from the street,

Pleading with their God

To be released from beneath the feet 

Of the Romans,

In the beginning,

In the beginning there was Sinning

In the beginning from day one,

The laws were being broken, before the law had even begun,

In the beginning,


In the beginning there was turmoil, 

Turmoil being unfurled,

In the beginning, an alienation,

The estrangement of the world,

From its creator,

In the beginning,

In the beginning hope was going

Hope was going, going, gone,

In the beginning dead and buried

Be it Rome or Babylon,

It was buried.

In the beginning,

In the beginning the old promise was dead, or so it seemed,

Ur of the Chaldeans, through to Egypt,

How long to redeem this dream? 

We've been waiting

Since the beginning,

In the beginning there was darkness, a darkness beyond the night.

In night-time you have stars, but this darkness knows no light;

It knows not its creator

Nor the Father of mankind,

It feels neither his warmth nor love,

It is spiritually blind

From the beginning,

In the beginning, there was longing,

Long, long, long ago

A yearning for love and meaning,

From a source we could not know,

Unknowable, unattainable, in holiness enshrined,

Unreachable, unassailable: God, the potentate of time,

In the beginning,

In the beginning, we were just beginning

But never could become,

Unbecoming in the beginning, 

Something missing from the sum,

The sum total of our righteousness

Like filthy rags we present,

In the beginning sin was winning,

We were bankrupt, broken, spent,

In the beginning, 


In the beginning, in the land of Israel,

In the beginning was a girl,

She had modest ambitions, 

She was not trying to rule the world

It was her beginning,

For the scriptures had ordained from mouths of prophets

The virgin shall be with child,

The word that was spoken by Gabriel,

The word to the exiled,

In the beginning there had been silence

Nothing sounded, nothing heard,

When then, in the beginning,

In the beginning was the word,

The living breathing word.

In the beginning he was God, 

He was God and with God too,

And he spoke into the darkness

To let the light shine through

And to the people walking in darkness,

A great and awesome light,

The invisible God

Now bursts into sight,

The unknowable God

Now all flesh and blood,

The perfect and accessible

Human Son of God,


In the beginning,

There came a new beginning,

A never ending beginning,

The Lord Jesus Christ

The Last of The Light

 

I came up here

To this Northern corner

This ring of bright water

To let the last of the light in

I came up here 

To this land on the borders

As a dreamscape hoarder

To let the last of the sight shine in

I came up here

On feet thrust forward by fear

That you'd fast disappear

A refusal at last to let the fright climb in

I came up here

Where the wind blows clear

And the salt licks your ear

Till all I can hear

Is the oceanic lyric, 

With the sound of the last of the life-lines in

I came up here

My proposed purpose sincere

To gather the distance near

Before the soul's windows are closed

To let the last of the light in

I came up here

To drink it in

The sand of my fathers

The sea-foam and lathers

Drink deep son,

Soon the ask of the night want's in

He's rather polite,

But unmistakably not asking.

I came up here

On the wheels of the gulls

The resistance of hulls,

The surf and the storm

As the boat floats in

It's as open as the sky

The remains of my eye

On this dune I cry

For the life passed by.

While I had the chance,

I never let the light shine in

Not in the Thunder

 For all your light shows

And all the right showings

For your crowds of baying, praising enthusiasts

For your stadium shaking thunderous bass

And ethereal wailings

Your many harmonies 

And the thudding of the drums

Mirroring heartbeat syncopations

And a noise that would wake nations

From their slumber

There is the figure of one

within your number

Who stands with arms folded


He wasn't in the Thunder

Nor the earthquake

Nor was he any less in them

Whatever turf you take,


There is a man

In a bedroom somewhere

Who realises for the first time,

That The Son of God himself

Knew what it was 

To fear God

For all the thunder

And what goes on under

For absence of the quake

His shoulders start to shake

Even to know him in perfect love

Is still to fear him.

Even the most intimate son

Revered him.

And this is the love 

He has bestowed.

Now make some noise.

Fourteen One

The Fatherless Children of Chance

Born of good luck and happenstance

Alone in the wide universe

Alone and alive without blessing or curse

To do and be done as they might

Without a reason or wrong or a right

And reason's alright as it goes

And for all that I do, I've got one of those

But there's no reason for reason at all

It's dog eating dog or the last one to fall

In the end were all the dust that we came from

And meanings mean nothing without explanation

And there's no judge who can cast judgement on me

I proclaim him a myth and I find him unworthy

Go give account to the sand

Go return your body back to the land

You can take this down as verbatim

There's no God, but Oh, do I hate him

Doorkeep

Rather than a selfish life,

Filled with every luxury,

Preferable to poverty and porcine envy,

I said I'd be a doorkeeper,

A hired servant.

If the remains of my life were to last only a day, in your presence,

It would outweigh all the wanting,

Of a thousand filled with every indulgence,

But

I have to be honest boss,

I have to be straight with you, Dad,

I'd take that,

I would.

I'd take it and be grateful,

It's more than I deserve or could ever ask for,

But I' can't help but hope for something more, 


It's not the robes or the ring

It's not the fatted calf, or any other thing,

It's the bit where you fall on me,

And welcome me in 

To your house,

Forever,

It's the bit where I get to spend forever as your son,

Daddy, I'll take the Doorkeep's job. 

I'd bite your arm of for it,

But, forgive me,

I want so much more

Wordless

 It is here

In my wordless prayer

I still my soul

To meet you there

My words betray

My anxious thought

And so I kneel before you

As I ought

My inner longings

Long have taught

That my outward strivings 

Will come to naught

So wordless I 

Let my heart be caught

Adopt the posture

Let hands be raised

Let life be rendered

In ceaseless praise

Let all I am,

Without a noise,

Lift my life 

As my loving voice

That all my deeds

Proclaim your love

Hearts and hands

And head above

Lost in praise

And wordless love

Extremities

Hands held by nails

Feet impaled
You always go to extremities

To show us your love

Hands healed
Feet heeled
You walked a thousand miles
To show us your love

Feet held,

While hands washed, 
You took the towel.
Before the power,

You always go to such extremities,

To show us your love,

Feet Scarred,
Hands holed,
Forever you will bear the mark,
Of the extremities you will go to,
To show us your love

We Sang

 

We sang 'Holy Spirit come',

And then we went home,

Did he turn up later on,

Alone in that room?

Did he brood over the face,

Of the kick drum and snares?

Did he pour out his love

Over our empty chairs?

Did his still presence

Descend on the keys?

Did the microphone stand,

In still silence and peace?

Did the power point suddenly

Splutter into life,

To point out that power

Can exist in the strife?

Did he linger then,

Eliciting praise,

But no voices nor heads,

Nor hands could be raised,

Because we'd departed,

And gone on our ways?

Come Jesus, we said,

Come Spirit we'd state,

And turn on our heels,

And make for the gate,

If the Spirit will,

Why then won't we wait?

Skullduggery

Golgotha,

The place of the skull,

where the lamb and the scapegoat

Were dragged for the cull,

Splayed and stretched out ,

Side by side,

 Innocence,

Guilt and pride,

Matryoshka,

In The Inside,

They crucified a lamb,

But a Lion would rise,

You thought this was a criminal,

Convicted and tried,

You thought this was a saviour,

But save your eyes,

The greatest heist,

Job done from the inside,

Stole back life,

To give to his bride,

The hero died,

But he also survived

And those driving the death,

Were merely along for the ride

In all of their pride and their thuggery,

This plain-hiding scheme could have seemed,

Like Skulduggery,

It was 'probably a robbery' 

Eloi, Eloi,

Lama sabachthani

You forsook, what it took,

But now you've come back to me,

Hosanna

Maranatha,

Hallelujah,

Golgotha,

August

 For the whole month of August I did not write a poem,

When September came I said, it is time to get goin',

For when the summer came, I gave up in disgust,

"It's too hot to write", said I,  "in the month of August"

To commemorate this dry and barren wasteland

I purposed to make good,  snatching keyboard to hand,

Though it's over and gone I feel that I must

Commemorate, that my memory ate, 

The Month of August

For heat haze and blur of the mind

And time too, the thief, had been too unkind

And though I swore I would never go bust,

I look back and lament

The month of August

Mothlike the month eats away at me like rust,

Leaving holes in my memory,

Of the month of August

Juxtapositions (of various aspects of my health and mental wellness)

A limp is developed to spare a limb and/or joint that is in pain 

And I limp on both legs for that reason, 

Accordingly neither limb is spared.

I cannot  simply accept the pain and resume a normal walk.

My legs talk one to another in harsh tones,

Recoiling and advancing in returning turns,

My knees scream at each other like a warring couple.

I often forget about my memory problem

The stress of staying calm so I don’t have a heart attack is giving me heart attack inducing levels of stress,

I can't see the damage to my eyes when I examine them in the mirror

I often forget about my memory problem


My fear of death is resolved only when I die

I often remember my many forgettable problems

I also often forget about my memory problem

Resignation

 The day I resigned 

My resignation ended.

If The Thief Had Lived

 If the thief had lived 

He’d have fucked it up

He’d have fallen down 

He would have sucked 

Every drop of blood

From that forgiveness cup

And his golden efforts 

Brown enough

Only for 

The bowl to flush

And my father once told me 

About a man of homilies 

Who said if you could lose salvation's crown 

It would be better if we held them down

In the baptistery 

And let them drown

Fortunately for himself, the thief died 

And that day was welcomed to paradise. 

I weep for you

 You have the heart 

Of a man who has no heart

 The hardness 

Of someone who has worked too hard 

At a task that no one asked you to perform 

You were formed 

Calloused in the background 

You’ve been doing it so long 

That now you can not back down 

Doubled down on destruction 

In the background it’s been going on 

Like a bike downhill 

You peddle still

But the biting point has gone 

Against and because of your will

You travel still 

I still see you as a young man 

A young man 

With no firm plans 

But a baseless hope 

That all will work out well in the end

Well

It’s now the end 

And I weep for you now my friend 

Where did you get to?

What did you mend 

Is this the terminus 

Or merely a bend in the road you can’t see past?

Fat Man

Oh dear, how bad can this platter be?

I'm a fat man, trapped in a thin boy's mentality

And I don't have a metabolic anatomy 

Anymore to eat all that I care to

The taking the piss then, would now seem like flattery,

I wish some angel would come down and batter me,

Heavily, heavily, that heaven would flatten me,

You know I'll weigh so much less when I'm there

Yes, I know, I've outsourced accountability

And every excuse I make falls right back on me,

And I am deserving of none of your sympathy,

But I got so stuck that I'm scared,

So numb it looks like I don't care

 

Rebel

 A rebel, without a cause,

Without a pause

Without applause

You've heard them all

And what is yours?

I'm feral but without claws 

I'll hiss for milk, but stay outdoors

And who, my dear. and who are you?

A Rebel yes? But without a clue?

Gong

 Gong 

 

The symbolism is all wrong 

Whilst the noise of activity goes on and on, 

And in the heavenlies, there’s a clanging gong 

Summons you, to a tuneless, loveless song 

And to it the misdirected masses flock and throng, 
 
To get a look at what’s going on 

This clashing cymbal  

This clanging gong 

 

How long, how long 

How long has this been going on, 
 

If I surrender all I have, to the flames 
If I do it all, in Jesus’ name 

But have not love, then to my shame, 

I’m reduced to dust, 
For the lust of Cain 

And pity me that I ever came, 

For the beginning and the end’s the same, 

Your bristles rose when the clatter came 

So sound the gong for the latter rain, 
 
 
And yes, we can all prophesy 

Interpret every groan and sigh, 

And dream as the whole world passes by 

But without love, we live a lie, 

And life is a death that we’re doomed to die, 

 

A death cry that we’re doomed to hear, 
The cracking sound of our dry veneer 
The hollow noise: your only Souvenir  

Of all you have achieved down here 
So, take it in, blow it out your rear, 
We’ll all be out upon our ear, 
On a ghost ship with no one to steer, 

Without the love  

We’ll drown in fear 

I speak in tongues 

But still you hear 
I said: 

Without love 

We drown in fear 

 

Without love a worthless all 

A blind stumbling down an endless hallway 

Extended hands to prevent a fall 

As you feel your ways down ceaseless wall 
Your voice is a husk from your all your dry calls 

 

Your calls that have gone on so long 

Like a clashing cymbal 

A clanging gong 

The symbolism is all wrong 
 
You gain the world 

You beat the gong 

You gain the world,

You beat the gong