Dressing Prayer

 4 Hengate, Beverley, Sept 1999

I put on my underwear and think of Christ close to my skin.
I put on my trousers and stand free within His grace.
I put on my T-shirt and grow up into a child.
I put on my jumper and feel snug in His embrace.
I put on my socks and think of Father and the Spirit.
I put on my shoes and see two angels either side.
I put on my coat and am safe under His cover.
I walk into the world, hand in hand with my Lover.

Where is me?

Fiunary, Scotland, July 1999

Where is me?

Did I wander off somewhere

And get caught

In a far off world

Where I was never meant

To be?

Where has this

Hard, contorted stranger

Come from?

So serious. So sad.

So not me.

Where can I find me?

Must I go back

And search

Every hidden world

Recasting nets

On endless seas?

Should I confront

The imposter?

Get mad. Get mean.

Force liberty?

Or should I wait?

Rest awhile.

Stop.

Unfold from fretting.

Be.

Prepare the way

For the bruised, confused me

To sniff the safe world

And come home.

Free.

Homeless Man

Whitechapel, London, E1, April 1997

Homeless man outside Safeways.

Young, handsome, useful man,

Sitting outside Safeways

In a heap.

It’s not the clothes that’s the pity

Or the hair, all knotted and frayed.

It’s not even the waste of productivity

Seen in his sad, tired eyes.

But it’s the slow subtle stabs at the Spirit

The eclipsing of a life yet to be lived.

The Twins Poem

Stepney, London, E1, November 1996

From the beginning I was with someone

Together we explored the marshmallow wall

And bobbed about in the great expanse

Like two tethered tadpoles

Learning and yearning to live.

As the hours passed by

So the molecules multiplied

And soon you and I were

Developing limbs and things.

But then you, you left me one day.

One day we were hanging around together,

Dangling on our foodpipes

And squabbling for space

And the next, you were gone.

And it was just me.

Me and the great expanse

And the marshmallow walls

And not you, anymore.

Words

 East London, July 1995

This constant need for words

Makes life so noisy

We can hardly hear each other.

Words justify us.

Words get us off the hook.

Words fill in the moments

When silence seems unbearable.

You talk to me

I talk back

We acknowledge each other’s words

But are rarely moved

By what they really try to say.

The Glory Train

Hackney, E5, November 1994

We’re all aboard the glory train

Waving our flags and banners,

Trying our best to manifest

All our nicest manners.

We’re pressing on through the wind and the rain

But acting like it’s sunny.

Our faces are wet and covered with sweat

But still we try to be funny.

We sing our songs with joy and zest

And tambourines a-bashing,

The words are pure, part of the cure,

To keep our souls from crashing.

“There’s danger ahead!” the watchman says

But still we don’t slow down,

“We can’t lose pace, it’ll be a disgrace

And make our pastor frown.”

So away we go through blizzard and snow

Proclaiming God’s deliverance,

“He will protect so we reject

The faithless words you’ve given us.

We’re do our pastor proud for sure

For we will never quit!

Oh no, what’s that, the track’s collapsed…

Oh God, we’re in the……”

(CRASH, bang, crack etc)

Manifesto of the “liberated"

Bethnal Green, E2, October 1993

Come on board for the jamboree!

Bring your own plectrum and a cup of tea.

Smile inanely and greet with a hug

(Save the carpeted pews for the really smug).

Join in the dancing, swing with the beat,

Wave your arms wildly, lose control of your feet.

One step to the left, three steps to the right,

Gather them in and hold on tight.

                           

Cos we’re on a journey to the Kingdom Come!

(Just don’t ask questions cos our will be done).

Bury yourself in a cosy cocoon.

Don’t let the world touch you (pretend you’re immune).

Cos this is ideal, the way it should be;

Each one of us happy and perfectly free.

Our music, our culture, are really unique,

Come separate yourself and join in the clique.