Iliterate Poet

A dumping ground for my works in progress.

23 Apr 2011

Defensive Stance - Art/ Poetry/ Music (Collaboration)

I am pleased to share with you; my most recent collaboration with abstract Artist: Sophia.
Sophia is a fine Arts graduate, independent studies in Florence, Italy. Awarded student in Literature and Drama. Art shows in solo expositions, selling Art in America and overseas. Speaks English, French, Italian, and working on German. Sophia is also a great friend and one with whom, I have enjoyed many in-depth conversations on topics such as: Art; Quantum Physics; AI Technologies and many other interesting and varied subjects. Take a look at Sophia's other work here:

I have used Sophia's painting (below), as inspiration to write the poem. I have also decided to use Eva Cassidy's song: True colours, as I think, it fits very well with both the painting and the poem. Performing his beautiful rendition of the song on Keyboard/Piano is: Simon from Malaysia. Simon shows such grace and refinement when he plays, he is a joy to watch, as well as, to listen too. I believe that Simon has a tutorial about how to play this magnificent Song - Here's his Channel:

 Press play; scroll down to the Painting and Poem - Read; view; listen and enjoy!

Title: Defensive Stance
Hidden depths trying to surface
Intention resides, always a purpose
Feelings outed, become surplus
So we take the stance: Guarded safe
Hidden colours, for a defensive sake.
Bright deep hue, as colours seep through
A thin wash of white, keeps it all inside;
But no matter, how hard you try
True colours will always rise;
Through a thin white guise.
Defensive stance, but truth never lies.
True colours mark the cries
bleeding through: veneered white eyes.
Passion, fear, love and hate
All enclosed, within a pearly state.
As we contemplate: "defensive stances"
Able now, to give others chances;
Beyond that, which we might;
If we don't see past, the initial sight!
Hidden depths, brought into the light.
Defensive stance: examined; released;
Sitting now, in attitudes of peace.

20 Apr 2011

To Forgive Or Not To Forgive? That Is The Question.

Hear them shudder; see them shake, as they contemplate their fate; on long lonely moonlit nights.

Blackened Stone begets blackened stone; hearts set to roam alone; thine self fulfilling and forlorn prophecy.

Demand life's coloured claret, in vengeful hate and thine own certain peril is marked in graves.

Debt and fines, created in minds; purposefully executed warrants; besieged thine quacking enemy; relieved of breath!

Instantaneously, a dark wish fulfilled; a slaughtered enemy lays down killed, payment forced upon their soul.

No redemption came; no offer to change; no mercy to give; no compassion shown - love flown.

Family scribed with tears on tomb, friends pay respect and life is missing an important part.

Fallout: families crumble from the pain, killed more than one heart, when the enemy was slain.

Now, we reach the latter part, I'll endeavour to show you; Hell, on a round rock:

To swim In a sea of vengeance; without getting wet; can never be a sure bet!

Bathed in thine charge of honour; Splashed with waves of thine bitterness,  undercurrents dragging; washed up!

Karmic harmonics align; manifests thoughout lifetime; dreams ceased, plans awry, blackened hearts bound to die, sigh!

Forgiveness and forget is your only debt, hard to manage, but mastered; will leave no regret!

Forsake: to take a pink stone and make it black, for the sake of striking back.

For your own redemption, your own peace of mind, refuse to live in shadowy moonlit nights.

Understand these words if none other: Forgiveness is a selfless act; forgiveness is a selfish act.

11 Apr 2011

In A Heart Beat

A blip; A beat; A gust of wind
Come and gone in rapid haste
Life starts its end, when it began
So quickly stopped, a heart's clock
A blip; A beat; A gust of wind
A shallow grave, in sands of time
A pointless dream? or a ride sublime?
The blip, beat and gust are mine!
Choosing fun as my guide
If only for the shortest of time
A blip; A beat; A gust of wind.

8 Apr 2011

Yaz The Doghead

6 Apr 2011


I write about the light, in our world
the troubles too, I find
and out of my mind, they sometimes slip
The negative viewpoint, that no good
I vowed that light should win the day.
Darkness there, but hidden away.
There's too much darkness having its say
I'll not let my demons out
like Bukowski so often did.
The pain lives on eternally.
So make a choice and set yourself free
I'll face the journey with joyess gratitude,
my choice being mine
choice not allowed to control my mind.
If i were to spue, from my mouth ,
that which i really knew.
Hank would down a bottle or two.
Half a dozen or more than a few.
Because, yeah . . . . . . . . . .
It can get really dark at times.
So what do you have left?
Just an empty bottle, baccy: empty sack?
Or did you journey on,
through all the pointless pain?
With a smile in your heart
and a careless regard.
You'll have left, this fulfilling Facade.
And that, is what you'll have left
instead of a dry bottle, baccy: empty sack.

Hast Thou?

Souls dancing against the din
Hast thou seen them in the night?
Cast out demons with a howling fright
Souls trampling, minds scrambling
Hast thou seen them crying in the night?
and in the day walking tall,
all lion like their looks and proud growls
Souls doing the jive just to stay alive
Hast thou seen them never feared.
Hast thou seen them and seen their tears
Alone, in a mind they are still dancing
Dancing on and dancing with death
Hast thou seen them on a lonely road?
Will you see them? will you choose to see them
They are there and waiting to be seen.
Hast thou seen them, art thee one of them?
Souls dancing against the din.

5 Apr 2011

Artless World

How Deeply black that World without Art
How truly awful that beating Heart
Minds exploding voluntarily to escape
The war of Monotony taking place
on landscapes of level and plain fields
No relief from the pains and strains
No fleeting moment, nor respite, at ones door
No escaping that persistent condition
No remedy in grasp or in vision
No beauty in the cell, grey matter
Where grey only does dwell
Dark and dank, miserable and Hostile
Broken souls with no will, of their own.
We couldn't endure, survive, live-on
With a vacuous primary there can be no other.
Desperately clinging to any form with potential
And hoping just hoping that it might
One day shine bright in this World without Art.
I'd smuggle some in, if it were possible
And damn the consequences, for a worthwhile cause.
I'd import a small part of art into this rotting core
Then I'd stand back in Macroscopic view
And watch that tiny piece spread and grow
I'd watch the faces nurture smiles wider and wider
As art engulfs, rather than passes them by
Journeying throughout this blank palette:  the planet.
Art, into a big black hole, and the new World is filled
With abundance, radiating, reverberating, throughout the globe.
 The old primary removed and reform taken place
Art replaced, that outdated game, once standing so high.
Now that old primary, makes no more and does die.
Art for the masses, art for the few, Art in the World, it's for me and for you.