The Poetry of Michel St John

From your deepest diving roots, to your highest leaves, I feel the forces of nature, of which you are a part, welling up inside you. Invigorating. Liberating. The vitality, and evolutionary currents, which have been flowing for millennia, building throughout the universe Undulating, coruscating kaleidoscopes of colour, pulsating within you. Vibrating elements building, all things, all the time. Flowing in, nurturing, flowing out. A million lines, of texture on your trunk. A million tunnels, to transfer fluids, flowing out, flowing in, bringing life giving nutrition. The original interdependence. Living, breathing, essential components, of our world. A million microorganisms, unfurled, hurled towards infinity. Trying, jostling, struggling, to be, but not thee, humble tree, by becoming, you grow tall, lofty enough to see, the whole horizon, stretch, towards infinity. ~MStJ  

   For forty years, as Man and Boy, you've walked these corridors with Joy, upon your face, and in your heart. Though time it tries to tear apart,  community; your roughened hands, like well worn leather, have held this humble block together. Many are the tribulations, trials hard, and storms we've weathered. Pride in work, your quiet honour. Character the only measure, of your worth, not worldly wealth, nor rank or title, keep you tethered, in your place. You found a far more sacred treasure, the happy, smiling child's face, watching you work with loving grace. ~MStJ

Golden light warmed my body, beckoned my eyes to open. Open themselves, to Sol's penetrating sight. Forcing his way through the smallest cracks, in my curtains. Golden showers, from his big beaming face, nurturing Honeysuckle, Jasmine and Rose. Fragrant aromas floating, through my windows, blown by gentle breeze, into my nose, teasing me to leave, my comfortable repose. I deeply breath, put on my hemp underclothes, sourced responsibly, assume half lotus pose, then transition to tree. Opening my heart wide, to receive energy, and divine inspiration, I descend to my knees. Meditating until, my mind's in a trance, the world becomes a stage, and my routine a dance, that my body flows through, like a channel of love, aligned to higher powers, directed from above. ~MStJ

Fragments, so many, emerging, glittering points of light, interrupt the calm, of night-time reflection. Each bright point connected by, vast gleaming webs of spit. Saliva coruscates and drips, trickles into shallow pools of meaning. Formless begetting form, vapours hovering, over dark waters, from which emerge, the hunched backs of bodies, dividing from abyssal deep. Mouths agape, swallowing, thick viscous fluids. Fattened they fall, piled in foul heaps, of decay, to sleep. To dream. Centuries of History, displayed like strategic points, on a map, encapsulated, joined like dots. Haphazardly overlap. Borders stringently defined, guarded. They grow, wane, flicker and fall. A tattered picture, of it all, shaped by time's ravages. Crushed by the hands, in which it's been held, torn, between opposite demands, in opposite directions. To rest in foreign lands. Altered, falsified, purged of all imperfections. Given form, content, a purpose. Put in alignement, with the origi

I see them there, out in the World. Out, in the World, mired in confusion, stuck within the confines, of their uncontrolled, consciousness creation. Or cut into pieces to fit in little boxes. Who pays the piper? Are you the hammer, or the nail? Nothing runs cleaner than the mountain stream, for the dreamer. Who scales high peaks, who hears Her nature speak? Beyond mere words, and all verbs subsumed within, the application of love, making love in life, to everything. What is sin? What do you bring to the table? What song does your soul sing? ~MStJ  

Don't hide the wealth behind your eyes, step outside into the lights. Ride the waves, feel the currents, taste delight. What is saved by your deference? What is spared, by your indifference? What's more rare than independence? A universe of pure coherence, vibrates alone, while your transcendence, leads you into corridors of stone. Sees you freeze upon your knees, before the worldly throne, of those most apt to recreate, the warmth and comforts of one's home. But whither home now? A fleeting fixture in my memory, grows weaker, of something like a family, something dear to me. Simplicity gave back, what infinity took from me. The babbling brook of a stream, gave me beauty richer, than the colours of my dreams. Fresh butter cream, was more nourishing, than all works of spirit. The voice of love cries out inside you, if you'd only listen you would hear it. ~MStJ