Genesis January 2019

To truly capture the moment

realising time owns me

my master – enemy – friend

a paradoxical illusion

framework of dreams

mankind’s pathway to hope…

 

Reaching inwards

pulling apart ribs

to offer my heart

sacrifice to the universe

which deluded men pay no mind…

 

Building walls around their souls

constructing edifices to self

guided by pride, by fear

knowing not their fortresses are prisons,

prisms in reverse

 

Religion offering solace, order, comfort

ritualistic acts of piety

to a God who rends his cloak daily

at the futility of those

that are trying to earn salvation

through abstinence and deeds

 

Enlightenment obtained by grace

which brings change – shows mercy 

beyond comprehension dimension

even beyond time

yet in this moment

never beyond God’s transcendental love…

 

 

door to antiquity

Poetry by ©M.C. Bolton, January 2019

 

Art: Door to Antiquity by Ikram Awaale (instagram: ikram_awaale6)

 

 

Legion of the Damned

Forbidden to vocalise

what I see

state-controlled reality

usurping individual freedom

 

Plastic offended, weak minded

rising up in the pecking order

of those that wish to destroy civilisation

bully boys once bullied

using the state to bludgeon…

 

Shout loud – be heard

control the word

step out of line

phobe-isms thrown like hand grenades

into pronoun verbose bunkers of scholars

 

Your verisimilitude world

will crumble like stale cake

in the hands of a beggar

who sits on a heap of dung

manufactured by beetle-like scurriers

safe only in their own detritus

 

No humour or irony allowed

in your cowardly new world

where weak insipid men rule

legions of the damned

like Goths at the gates of Rome

 

Be aware of true freedom’s voice

slowly arising from the dust

destroying all in its path

as the worm of truth

released by God

devours all that is false

in both doctrine and policy

leaving naked those

that built upon sand

 

Arms raised, I leap into the sun

adding fuel to a fire

that will burn both bright and hot

forever more…

like an eagle i soar

 

Poetry by M.C. Bolton 2019

Art: Like an Eagle I Soar by Ikram Awaale (instagram.com/ikram_awaale6)

Boxing Clever

I just want to be a righteous man

bring love ‘n’ peace to where I can

cannot live by your twisted rules

made by those I see as fools

 

no matter your race, faith or creed,

accent, class, LGBT…

whatever you are is fine with me

Yer, we’re all being played

like a cheap violin

Same old tune – same old din!

 

Identity politics

fed by emotion

told what to think

deluded devotion

accusation – the new weapon of war

Thought Police now coming

to kick down your door

 

Utopia creators

mind mutilators

shifting sands of ideology

must control new technology

left-wing fascists? How sad

Political fashionistas chasing a fad

 

Into the sunset – slowly I ride

away from madness – brains that are fried!

This much I know – this much I’ve learned

lonely are the brave – respect is hard earned

 

I know my enemies – they come with a knife

know where I stand – they want my life!

You come as a friend – offer your hand

take away our freedom

give away our land

My faith in my God

will always be true

whatever my journey – it will carry me through

so all aboard this final last train

full of men and women

who’ve learned to live with their pain!

 

Like Lenny I see rabbits

running round inside my head

yesterday’s dreams, as George shoots him dead!

Like an Autumn leaf

crushed inside a small child’s hand

Nothing but dust – blown away like sand

My time is over – my time is done

this shy peaceful man – forever on the run…

 

 

©M.C. Bolton, November 2018

 

Armistice for the Soul

Flanders

Emptying the toy box of my heart

Old soldiers without limbs

Cars without wheels

Airplanes missing wings…

Such distant boyhood memories…

Wars fought – won – lost

What have I become?

My complex mind

Forever computing

the daily input of knowledge

as I seek truth

deep inside my core

refusing to be caught up

in this phony war…

 

A masquerade of lies

of conflicting ideologies, faith, values…

Peace pursued with aggression!

As I make my stand

in no man’s land

Shelled by both sides…

 

This war to end all wars

Vietnam – Troops wearing peace badges

Playing hippy music – smoking weed

Destroying with napalm…

All who oppose…

 

Fighting for each other

Brave men – Good men

Now the army of the disillusioned…

Like us all shuffling along

blinded by the fumes

of the meat grinding media machine…

My only agenda – to survive

Stay alive – not get stuck in the wire

dragged down – to drown in the mire

The last post a distant soundtrack

as I weep, tired, weary

understanding nothing

except my love for Indiana

my daughter – my bub!

Unconditional – strong

Unlike my faith in God

Whose love I doubt

Inverted pride mixed with fear…

 

Oh! to be set free

from such insanity

that grips – rages in my head…

Forever tormenting my mind

A prisoner of shame and guilt…

Wash me in your precious

blood, my saviour

Bind our wounds

Heal this broken land….

 

©M.C. Bolton, November 2018

RAT

I won’t be herded

Only to be murdered

By the feudal rules

Bootprints on my head

Leaving me for dead

 

Could turn any man to drink!

To stop the over-think

Of swimming against the tide

Universal truths denied

 

Left drowning in this madness

Hiding from the sadness

That futility brings

Like a never-ending Autumn

Where everything’s decaying – dying

Those of us who have stopped trying

Picking plastic flowers

Fighting against dark powers

This the eleventh hour

Such terror it will bring

 

Yet deep within my soul

A constant song I sing

Of hope, of love, of freedom

New life – forever Spring…

 

 

20180613_090140_HDR

©M.C. Bolton, October 2018

 

Photo by Angel Lewis, All Saints Road, October 2018

Autumn Nights

Staring through the flames

of my inner fire

smoke filling the dark echo chamber of my soul

where whispered words

emerge as a desperate scream

 

What is truth?

This eerie place

without birdsong or dew

what is truth?

 

Slowly the heavens open

like a giant peach bursting

exposing a new dimension

torn apart like a repentant saint

rending his garments

frustrated in defeat to God’s grace

 

This pitiful last stand

of self-righteousness

vanquished, destroyed

Falsehood – like dross

burnt into a fine powder

blown away

by that eternal whirlwind

of revolving dust

 

A sandstorm to the masses

blinding what little vision they possess

deluded – beyond hope

For they did not reach in or reach out

to the almighty creator

who will cut my silk thread

where I will float above the trees

like a lost child’s baloon

looking down upon my body

Finally free – finally home…

 

IMG_20180907_144957271_HDR

M.C. Bolton, September 2018

Part Two

Dark Stars

I fly into the dark star

at the edge of the Universe

falling into my constant dreams

matter cascading over the edge

like a forgotten run bath

 

Taps gushing light – energy

Just bending my mind

stretching my thoughts

beyond the sun…

 

spinning internally

a prisoner to the law of time

Dimension’s diamonds pushing me to the limit

of comprehension, of understanding

 

My soul, my spirit

fizzing like a treacle stick grenade

exploding my conscience into being

to what? for what?

a purpose? a reason?

 

I know nothing

I mean nothing

Just a fading mist

upon a hill of beans….

 

Poem ©M.C. Bolton, June 2018

Drawing ©Tom Charles @tomhcharles