Commonword Blogs

I saw his face
I looked in his eyes
And discovered a truth
Before me, previously unseen.

He smiled
And said hello
I reciprocated
And he took under his charge
As he prepared to fly
To the summit of success.

This was a man truly unique,
Like a protective older brother
Shielding all from worldly tempests
To preserve the past
And witness a future
Unfolding......

The sun rises
Today is another chance
To put things right
That once were wrong.
He saw the good
In everything and everyone
Possessing the soul of an angel
He was the best

The ground beneath me is dark and unrelenting,
As I fall to my knees, desperate for some answers.

I'm cold and hungry and haven't slept in weeks.
All around I see emptiness and isolation.
All that I knew before has been ripped away from me.

In what seemed like mere milliseconds, I'm totally bereft.
The white cloth on my body now fragile in disaster's wake.

Why did the joy leave?
What price have we paid for our pride?
I look to you, O Divine One, for the relief that I seek.
All of my family and friends have departed and I am lost.

We of no name
Didn’t blow here on no boats
We flew here in aeroplanes
Didn’t march out in chains we walked out
Chasing dreams, following lovers
And yes, we do have our dictators
& some of us were running
But who cares what we sought? They threw us into prisons

When they set us free, we found them seething
Couldn’t understand our speaking
Wouldn’t pronounce our names
So they made up their own calling us leeches.
They placed us in the Cities -
With the fast life, fast women, fast Mercedes
Hardworking men, not steal or cheat men
Fascinated by such liberty

You said we'd be together forever
You said you would never leave me
You said we would be happy
But what was that a lie

You made promises you coulden't keep
And now im left with a broken heart
Crushed in two
Crying myself to sleep
You didn't love me!

You told me what you think I wanted to hear
How dare you pretend to be there!
Has I sit here thinking why me?
God answers he wasen't meant to be

Sat here crying thinking what a creap
they way he lies and cheats
says im the only one but theres otheres to be seen.

He goes out comes back late! saying he has a meeting
you see the lies as he sneaks.
I told myself he woulden't cheat
but he seems to stutter when he speaks
all the hurts just drained out of me now my knees are weak.

I ask myself while he sleeps why im still here?
and i come up with the answer I love him!

As i sit here listening to wythenshawe fm soaking in the tunes that ring in my ear!
gives me that good feeling that feet moving vibe.

When the DJ plays my favourite jam im mezmarized.
dreaming of things that seem unrealistic but the beat makes them real.

Im locking in, in my own world relaxed as i fall soundly asleep.

I wish you was here to see my tears
I wish you was here to hear my fears
but instead your gone i'm all alone!
wishing you was here to listen to me moan

Nothing feels the same since your gone
just this big empty space feels like somethings wrong
God please hear my cry show me things will be alright
take this pain away and give me peace
a moments rest so I can sleep

Time heals people say but why am i still here feeling this way...

As I left I see the Mersey in big letters on the next block of flats continuing to walk along I see the stop sign.

My phone rings my friend is going to be late again which frustrates me then I see a billboard showing a design of new flats to be built.

Looking on the floor I see broken glass wishing I had broken it to vent my frustration.

Finally reach town and look through the window of the arndale seeing the Manchester wheel with the letters of the arndale written in reverse.

I didn’t want to look into my eyes
And see my own fear
Of rejection
I didn’t want to feel
Sometimes I am afraid of the way that I feel
The pain of looking into my own eyes
And seeing something that I would have to give a voice to
When it is not my voice that created the pain but
I allowed someone to make me feel a deep sadness
By taking from me what should have been left
They had the choice to ensure that I was feeling better than when they came
And they chose to take the joy I had shared with them all for themselves
And leave me with nothing

They say, you’re too good to be true
I say I deserve the best
You say I maybe some day

Hi to everyone and I hope all is well? I have not written any blogs or been to any writing classes for a while due to the unforseen changes in my life this year.
My role and significance as a son has taken on a much higher meaning, due to the fact that my beautiful, caring, and blessed mother, is now struggling to cope with life due to severe anguish and pain in her body, that she no longer has the mobility to cope as a strong Blackwoman anymore.

My name is not important.

My life was short, yet I witnessed so much.
I was not a politician, doctor or lawyer, but I still had a voice.

You took that voice away from me.

I was only five when my life ended, yet I was happy.

As I lie here, wrapped in cool, crisp, white cloth, my body is still warm.

My presence can still be felt.

My father's hand comforts me as my existence ebbs away.
You pointed a gun at me and halted my breath.
What right did you have?

This fight wasn't fair. I was a mere child, my life was just beginning.

Dazed, confused, shackled by the epitaphs of existence,
My mind racing with thoughts of lost glories, departed loved ones,
Breaths taken are sharp and laboured,
My hands chained by durable twine,
Strangling the energy of bygone days.

A lone soldier gazes into the distance, hungry for respite.
Yet, none is forthcoming.

Comrades reduced to traitors and turncoats,
We dreamt of something greater, but in our greed and self-indulgence supremacy raged on,
And what we wanted, what we aspired to, gone - in an instant.

Young bodies, slain by the paranoia of battle,

Stumble bitter cold thru darkness
into air thick & warm as cornmeal porridge
Bass line rising
thru blood
binding bone
& sinew
my glasses steam into an opaque mist
blind either way so I take ‘em off
yu haffe
feel yu way
tru dis terrain
dark excitement softly lit by splifflick flares
we chant
‘Non a Jah Jah children a cry’
man an man
hold dem corner
when Klu Klux Klan rode thru the midlands
warm bodies
ebb & flow
lava over bedrock leaving tidemarks
hands reach out
hold on to
waistlines like a drowning man clinging to a life buoy

I think I said something in my last post about starting this series to make sure I posted at least once a week, but I was so overwhelmed by trying to decide what to write about last week I didn't get round to writing anything!

1.

Before there was Photoshop there were snaps that spoke
a thousand words. A deep pleat in crisp, white
cotton, the pockets pressed down, a pre-emptive
pose of a PhD prospector for knowledge that will be
freedom. A well fingered, all thumbed book of philosophy
and vision resting casually against an old Chippendale.
Pumped-up. Pumped-out by the weights that train a body to
become a machine and the weight of a history defining
a mind that is doctored and denied by a majority.

2.

This morning I put on my crisp, white treads creased to perfection,

(Yes I should be more regular on here. Gift told me (if I understand him right) that he wrote an appeal on the blog-site for me to get out of hiding. I have now)

These are my thoughts on the exhibit:

The first image I registered was one of Huey Newton standing torso bared holding the sleeve of Bob Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited.

Dear Hip Hop.

Your journey is overwhelming,
Your message is radical,
You story- never-ending,
You’re a sanction- a sabbatical.

Your people are strong and misunderstood,
Your media misrepresents you,
And fabricates the truth.

Your illustrations are bold,
Your home- a concrete jungle
Your clothes-bright and baggy,
Sometimes you’re proud, sometimes you’re humble.

Your words explain the unexplainable,
Your music captivates the unattainable,
You’re a dichotomy for the streets,
Your message weaves through your beats.

You’re transient, you’re global,

“Is Hip Hop really the catalyst for the low qualifications, high teen pregnancy, psychological and spiritual issues and the emerging ASBO culture of our youth today? Or is Hip Hop and excuse politicians and pre ASBO generations use to avoid facing accusations of bad parenting, poor education systems, neglected mental and health problems by the government and the possibility of the glamorisation of other media forms passed on throughout the years that really contributes to youth crime?”