Scents Sand Censor Billy Tea

By KJ Halliday







   scents whiterefrainPeople are still rushing round
Unaware of what has come down
From the heavens up above
God has sent His only son
Leader of Angels he will be
Sovereign King of land and sea

crosses

morningrises

The morning rises everyday to greet the sun at dawn
Tired of being sick?
Sick of being tired?
Sorrow is a friend of mine
Happy helpful misread signs

Clickety clack clickety clack
Wishing the trains still sounded like that
Now most things are whitewashed
So no one has to view the shame
Strange and angry messages
Etched on window pain
The mourning rises everyday to greet a son at dawn
Though so many of them don’t go that way anymore
Please always remember
The shape of the Phillip’s head
Because it put together
Parts of your brand new bed
anychurch
The church is more than beautiful
Made from wood and stone.
The congregation gathered there
Before a shadow of God’s throne.
A simple pew to sit on.
Mosaic on the floor.
Hard yielded stained glass windows
And an organ by the door.
Something is surely missing here…
What has been forgotten?
The simple love and blood of Christ
From Holy top to Holy bottom.
openheart
marksandangles
Shout the loudest
Rule the world
Defend the power
Sweet and sour
Manage taxes
Universities
Simple text book visions
Progress! Diversity!
A cheerful economic zone
Everyone is free
Aim to gain your very own
Footnote in history
What about the silent?

No longer existing
Their budget is minimal
Their voice unprofitable
Unimportant
Controlled and subdued

The dreaming interrupted by the repeditive
A seditive

Recession, recession, recession!
Depression, depression, depression!

A razzed Putin and a curious George Bush
Using the fundamentals of Blues Clues
To Catch a Thief
Howard’s End
Just a marketing tool
Smothered in Chairman Mao BBQ Sauce

If the people want it then it must be good
Corporate Christ save us money
Let us buy shares in your faith!
Guaranteed returns?

twofigures
Two figures stand next to three rocks
In protective stance
With single modern lance
The historical slow dance
dolleye
Happily an idol on the sand is washed away.
As the branches softly sway
A running short breathed confession in a broken verse
To realise simply that none were ever cursed
Judging inwardly
Because of honesty
Poor yet supposedly possessing a richness
Yet to be fathomed
Friends, still friends, despite never talking
This number could not be reached
Understanding waiting
Pondering a prayerful
Progressive rusted saying
Realising nothing
Ignoring the flashing lights, bells and whistles
Mesmerising yet changing and pointless
Ever so softly to tame and make your own
Understanding worship
Amounting to silence
Ay, eh, oh you!
A never repetitive truth
Understanding for a moment
Then gone yet always present
An omni present reverberation!I AM
Delivered by ignorance
Understood by patience
Made in Spirit
graceful
numbnumbered
Numb numbered people
Numb numbered world
Numb numbered buildings
Numb numbered girls
Numb numbered shadows
Numb numbered depths
Numb numbered numbers
Numb numbered breath
chainletters
sevenaftersix
Some may desire
To build with sticks and stones
Other smiling people
Bow down to plastic thrones
Another group together
Humbled in pure faith
Gently guide their flocks
Away from strange disgrace
For myself I’m never peddling
Though thoroughly I am lost
There is nothing I can nail
To the sacrifice of the cross
pointed
fleas
Silence filled with colour rings
War on prime time slots
Crowds that used to laugh and sing
Can not figure out the plot
Hip hop of smiley music
Artistic trains of thought
Thank God that latest shipment
Has just sailed into port
A hundred million dildos
They have arrived at last
Now the starving people
Can finally break their fast
carryon
Tell them, tell them, tell them how
Napoleon and holy shrouds
Air bubbles, prayer and faith refused
I love your super magic shoes
Just to twirl and twirl and twirl
Happy story, sad faced girl
Words analysed for posterity
A beautiful soulless prosperity
So very helpful
Gods blessing Gods
Upon the perspex altar
Still thank you
Still water
MutedstickfarewellyarnsAs they judge the broken dreams
On the bookcases
Not realising the reflections
Of hopes and achievements
Unbroken
They are distracted and miss
Jesus riding a white bicycle
Towards a broken line
As Saint Michael intercedesAn urgent call on the radio
From Gabriel
Telling Ariel
To get off the roofA beautiful song
For those that are wronged
Judged without cause
No grace merely haste
Still the flowers of the field
Continue
Upwards

As the measured steps of the selfless
Become the footprints of untold Saints

steps

 

detourJacob playing jump rope with angels
Grass looking on nonchalantly
Rooted to the ground

Nodding at something

The rabbit from Alice’s hole?

Both wary of each other

While occupied lizard sunbakes
On the rock of opinion

Unmoved and warm

lizard

littlepoints

Writing about writing should bore the writer
The writing bears the writer
What does the writer bear?

Bear intolerance
Tolerate the intolerable

Bear roams free
Holy tree
Holy three
Holy trinity
Holy infinity
Holy, holy, holy, holy?
Me know Saint?
Saint generic name?

A three tree question
Branching where it will

Always remember to

punctuate

overt
A street
A town
A city
Nations possibility
The easy way to cover suffering
With false peace and prosperity
A child’s view of ‘why?’
Ignored
Drowned out by pessimism
Tiny scrawled words more noticeable
Than giant flashing billboards
As days and calendars become obsolete
The grass still grows
Becomes tall, healthy, strong
Then at the appointed time dies

The dead grass feeding the new
Fragile sprouts of green under brown

The wall that it is next to remembers
Scratches covered in barely legible writing
Meaning and purpose for the one who wrote it
Nonsense to others

As the next day a bucket of white paint
A stiff brush and an honest working man
Erase the memories on the wall

silent

The M.A.D rush to build a new Babylon
Bigger and better with more straight edged
corners
Never any love there
Positions to be filled
Filled in different positions
Sense of money
The forgotten scents of wild honey
A devourer and destroyer
Has itself a top flight lawyer
Stretched tightly over
The spirit of the world
Starving. Gasping for air.
Water… water… water! Thirsty filthy water
An unquenchable feeding
With food locked behind
Tiny black and white bars
Red eyed flights, red eyed reading
All that was soft and peaceful
Is bleeding…

blindlycrying

dots

Wandering stars go where they will
Those flowers on your window sill
Are where they are supposed to be
You’re so far away across the sea
A sitting soul lost all alone
Never smiling, lying prone
Spotting angels in the ether
Unaware the saddened sleeper

Just to travel here and there
Flying gently past somewhere
Lost forever on a journey
Never knowing
Sweet home yearning
Stay among the lovely things
Hope one day the phone will ring
When the soft haired woman sings
‘I will take your golden ring’

A sleeper woken
Yoke is broken
Was the nightmare so unspoken?

When the soft haired woman sings
‘I will take your golden ring’

The dry, the wet, the silent night
Love travelled far from parched earth’s sight
To seek the flowing greener places
Far away from one most gracious

Still your heart and clear your mind
Incense burning for some time
The love you have has overcome
All things that walk under the sun

release

fragments

A land to love in secret
Broken bottles through the trees
Watching water levels fall
Only slightly free

An obvious reaction
The long seasons stay in place
The rain rolls over all of us
In a patient ancient race

Perhaps all of these places
Cared for in different ways
Will be carefully and gently
Washed clean once again

 

Series written and copyright to KJ Halliday.




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