Monday, April 02, 2018

Adverse Childhood Experiences are called ACE's

YOU have the ability
to see and care fully about me
spend time to understand
this complex A.B.C
Adversity molding
Belief into Consequence
the build up to
an ace high hand.

It starts with crumbs
jumbled rushing nonsenses of
being unable to breathe
like bees stuck in a bottle
we can hurt anyone.

Some issues are obvious
no-food poverty
lack of personnel put into
the field of our mental healthiness but
others are sticky batons handed down
past pain emerging into view.

Red is our colour to warn you
aggressive people can seem handy
when horror has already hung out here
we know what we need but
your help could be easier to get
where is our transport or
people freed
to drive us to safety
I stay covered till I’m ready
hoods offer protection
keeping cwl.

Show us what good people do
when they uncover difficulty
form a circle smiling around me
listen as a super skill
ask our advice make us feel tall
If you care to proper help
until you understand
how I'm hungry and
whose job it is to feed me.

Wonder what stirs us up
take a breath from talking down
try trusting me to be responsible
ask 'whats wrong?"
if you open me up to see what’s inside
don’t then walk away
with your insight prize
to let me down again
or start some project kids actually like
then watch the funding leak away
because we can't mix with babies
we need decent mirrors to look in
we are elegant creatures
with a dark side
forget it at your perygl
we are you too.

You want me to socialise
but how can that go well
when I’m bullied and unsupported
lonely drinkin n smoking
sexing to get hugs
going down far too low
don’t you dare patronise me
I’ve been a carer since I was tiny
speak a real language
or listen harder if you want
to hear how to be worthy.

Resilience is
being able to bounce up
from the basement floor
means enough people
around the trampoline
a catch me community
who don’t let me fall
those I can depend on
show up when I call
cheer when I score
my overarching goal.

I need enough of you to
see down the barrel of my gun
and still call me son
care about the real me socially
when I tell you that I hate widely
all authority and bloody revision
but what I really mean is
I need to see my dad when he's away
because of me in prison
can you honestly listen
really hear
I’m silent retreating
not even sure
whose feeding hand I've bitten.

No body left behind
Our kids, our future, every, One.

Saturday, February 03, 2018


Do we belong to our birthdays / planets grooving to choreograph fate

To the women who baked us / diligently discriminating between amino codes

Were we born in a big bang accident / free to jostle and yearn towards superhuman form

Or did we just land lucky/ first on a spot to draw swords to defend our home?

Sunday, January 07, 2018

You Can't Kill The Spirit. by Majikle

From under muddy plastic sheeting
tenting over a sapling tree
Jo Freemantle can see
anxious bailiffs and
their nuclear stiff ballistics’
cynical stare

Like a mountain
she will lay limp to stop them
still they will drag her bodily
shred the women’s peace camp
every single rain or shine day
for the twelve years she is there

‘Greenham common women’ cursed on telly
for leaving their babies at home
disgracing themselves tied to fences
fingers entwined being crazy
choiring antidotes to war
like vital thrushes

With silty firepit sisterkin
even now at 73
Jo changes everything
Indigo-Line Mudgoddess
a rainbow name to refuse
to be her father’s daughter

She says that houses don’t need wives
but the world needs women
to reveal Emperor nudity
old and strong like a mountain
she goes on and on
and on