Abide

Ink blot skin.
I was wondering
How long might Time
Require my death
By sweltering.

The sweating stars,
The killing Sun,
Don’t know how far
You must have come
Just to do their bidding.

Manifesto Poem

I am going to write
From my veins
Until paramedics
And care assistants
And teachers
And anyone
And everyone
Who lives
With goodness within
And compassion,
And moral compasses,
Are paid the same
As politicians
And financiers,
As celebrities
And over-inflated
Sportspeople who
Warm their hands
At the braziers
Where merchants burn
The souls of nations.
We will puncture those
Inflated bladder-balls,
For life is filled
With a natural appetite
To reach for ways
Beyond their devices,
Beyond the doctrines
Designed by desire
And ego, beyond
You and I as two
Distinct entities,
For if politics
And those other
Primacies are
Institutions for Lies,
Institutionalised
By their own nightmares,
Then I am the vein,
And I am the peace
To undo deceit,
I am the pen
To re-write
The contracts
And promises failed
By self-serving men.