Posts Tagged ‘liberation’



June 21, 2010

The Furious G appeared at Spice of Life in Soho for Shabby Rogue’s last gig before their hiatus … also there were the hilarious Blabbermouth.

GPW read from upcoming release Tiger Poetry – including Other People’s Poetry, My Ex-Girlfriend Is Smoking, The recurring conundrum of a spiritual minded drug user, plus staples You Are What You Eat and O.A.Ps.

Afterwards, he rocked over to 84 Great Eastern Street to the former FOundry to join the open mic night being held there by the new residents of the squatted social centre.

He gave a reading from Howard Zinn’s People’s History of the United States, and then tore the place up with Civil Disobedience and O.A.Ps.

It felt good to be with a home crowd.


Poems Written Whilst Obviously Under The Influence, (part 3)

January 29, 2010


What words to speak to consecrate transformation

The bread into Christ is the mundane into the supreme

In mind only

What we believe to be we are

There is no reality only perception

So discipline that perception

Conception dream awakening frenzy amok in mind body and soul

I have torn a tempest across my life

These blinding screens have warped me

I have involuted

Seize power of the mind through complete gnosis and abandonment

Realise there is no mind to grip

Only filters that can be unleashed

We are the microcosm and the macrocosm

Our perceptions of depth are false


There is no in and out up down

There is emptiness.

Let it flow.

Seek old lands with new eyes, do not seek new lands

Did Proust say it, or was it invented for my needs


The drug is strong is tearing at my

My shamanic ways are developing

Technofage delirium

Yet within without my transformation is inescapable.

I believe all religions are true

I am a Muslim. A Buddhist. A Christian. A Pagan. A Jew. A Satanist.

I am a Nihilist.

I am left and right wing. I believe everything is true.

But I live not by what I believe.

But what I feel to be of most benefit.


Poems Written Whilst Obviously Under The Influence, Part 2

January 29, 2010

Everything is going to be alright forever.

I wrote that underlined

Because that’s important

It’s important to remember

Death is not the end

Death is a wonderful thing

To be anticipated with excitement

When we die

We shall be ready

When our planet consumes us

It will be because

We have served our purpose

We will have progressed forward

Do not slow evolution

Do not fear the end

Do not seek anything other

Than evolution of the self

Which is everybody

Together the ants will conquer the elephant.


Poems Written Whilst Obviously Under The Influence

January 29, 2010

The recurring conundrum of a spiritual minded drug user.

It would have answered the question

It would have squeegeed the third eye blind

It would have folded reality up into a corcertina and played Balkan gypsy love with your heart and soul

It would have illumined too soon

It would have graced us, emancipated, coagulated us

Into one awesome body of light

The poem I wrote last night.

It would have extrapolated your mind baggage and conveyored it right through Heathrow to your awaiting plane to Salvador, Bahia

It would have sprouted Malagasy baobab tress in your quantum mechanics

Backed-rubbed you Bangkok style in the alley

Hot rocked your clit-cock on the tick-tock

If I hadn’t been so stoned

I would have saved the poem

That I wrote whilst really high last night.

The recurring conundrum of a spiritual minded drug user

Is how to hold on

To revelation

To live eternally

In the opening of one’s mind’s eye

To remember

To press save

When you write a poem that could have changed everything.

Just one more then.

Just one more poem

Just one more line

Just one more word

Just one.

Feed me. Clothe me. House me. Love me.

Be my vent my gateway my portal

Through this consciousness




To give birth to myself

First I have to disappear up my own arse

If I can appear in just one more magazine

One more photo

One more movie

Then I know

I’ll know I exist

I’ll no that when I look into the cold


Eyes on my own photograph

I’ll see the glimmer of a soul I can’t find inside me


Punkrock Dreadlock

February 24, 2008


I don’t believe Bob Marley died of cancer

The CIA made him pay

They knew he had the answer

Now all your hatred is directed at each other

When it should be at the state, economy and Big Brother


Your apathy merely keeps you in line

Pointless hatred only wasting too much precious time

We need some new revolutionaries of rap/rock/rhyme

Teach all y’all peace and unity

Is no crime.


I’m getting down like a new de la Rocha

With my fist in the air and a finger for the motherfucker

Keeping us in fear of our sisters and brothers

We should be fightin the power

Not turning on each other.


So be a fighter with a true cause

Give a fuck about the truth of new terrorism laws

Give a fuck about Guantanamo Bay

Innocent men and women deprived of their fair say


Cause this democracy a true sham

We could take it back

If you only gave a damn

But you too busy getting drunk, fucking bitches, chasing money

You won’t realize that it’s wrong till all the rebels are gone.


The Lion-I

February 24, 2008

The Lion I 

I am the embodiment

Of all-conquering Lion of Judah

Servant of Righteousness

Prince of Purity Buddha

About I head is I crown

I blessing from Jah

I music man prayer sayer

My song is my roar.


I is the Lion, the Lion I.


People stop and ask me

Eh, natty Rastaman

Where is it you are going to?

Where is it you are from?

I exist continually

In all people, all places, all time

For God exist in all beauty

And the devil in all crime.


I is the Lion, the Lion I.


All my brothers and sisters

Conquer I fear with Jah-love

Exodus through emptiness

All blessings from above

I am just a man, sitting on street corner

But in my heart roar a lion

With a foot upon each shore.


This Is Liberation

February 24, 2008

This Is Liberation 


My mind blocked like constipation

When posed with the question

“How do we correct the state of the nation?”

Because I’d learned from a young age that any vocation

Be it in a food court, shopping mall or gas station

Was preferable to time spent in thoughtful oration

And certainly better than interpersonal communication

Or acknowledging our mutual quiet desperation

As if a little human honesty would be met with




So when this question’s put about

I feel the need to speak out

To let my balls hang out

Ready to receive a knock-back clout

Because I’ve realized beyond any shadow of a doubt

We’re all caught on a hook, like cod or trout

We’re all trained to accept, like young boy scout

That you can never break the rule

The rules you can never flout.



I’ve got independent thought and I’ll use it

Like police have authority and abuse it

Like politicians have power and misuse it

Like fundamentalists take faith and confuse it

Like media take truth and misconstrue it

I’m through with it

Looking outwards for answers


Like looking for loot after a natural disaster


Like healing a severed limb with a sticking plaster

It’s never going to make you happy




Only achievable from within

If you refuse to give in

Everyday you get up and you keep striving

The journey to change the world it begin from within

The journey to change the world it begin from within

Try to change your mind, not what’s happening

Battling what’s happening’s a battle you can never win

But your mind you own through a little training

Our mind creating the world we live in

Our mind deciding our definition of sin

So therefore is the source of all our dissatisfaction

So stop your crying, and whining, and lying, and fussing and fighting

Our everyday reality

Is of our own conceiving.



A weapon against hostility

Running out of me and direct into thee

Growing from fallen leaves like a seed into a tree

Cleansing the mind of all impurity

Through perfecting intentions achieving clarity

Understand the relationship of temporal causality

Through compassion and wisdom, achieve that unity

An understanding of universal beauty

Through meditation to peace and harmony

Remembering always the imperfect beauty of you and me

And you and you and you.


This is liberation

Not war against states or rebuilding nations

This is revolution

Not violent insurgency, but militant mind poetry

This is inspiration

Not art in galleries but the heart that’s in me

This is freedom, o freedom

Simple as birds, singing in trees

Reaching out to touch people

Opening up gladly

Unafraid that they might be horrified

And flee

Why would you flee?

Would you flee?


Only we have the keys to set ourselves free.