Tribal Prayer at The White Spring – For Sun Bird 21/08/15

We stand at a gateway now.
One which all of us must step through when the time comes.

A wizard always arrives right on time.

Sun Bird, you have stepped through this gateway already.
Many of us feel that you left us too soon, but that’s our stuff;
You are bang on time my friend, and you walk side by side with
your ancestors who came before you.

GREAT MOTHER – Welcome him back into your grace!
GREAT FATHER – Welcome him back into your divine instruction!

Let him come into your embrace
and let him know he has left behind a tribe!
He has left a life of legacy.

Let him know that he shall be remembered!

Welcome him home!
Let him speak to the ancient ones and learn of the greater mysteries beyond the veil.
Give him the strength to take these final steps.
Give us the strength to let him go, to allow him to rest with peace and dignity.

Oh, those of us left behind grieve his death,
Yet we know he has come home to love.
We may cry …. We may scream ….
We may laugh …. We may holler!
For we shall celebrate the life of Sun Bird!

Chai Spirit

Chai Spirit

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Don’t Write a Poem About Love

If you are going to write a poem, don’t write it about love – or snow. Thousands of poets have said all there is to say. Is there any way left to make it make more sense without a tense of pretentiousness? These things have been written. My fingers, though bidden, have little to add to the page upon ages of poets’ images. Sage proposals to carve a meaning out of myth. To fit more words on a paper monolith! So don’t write about how exquisitely it drifts through shifting memories, lifting expectations. Don’t write about how it blankets the dark with a cover of clean that cloaks remembering. The cold night drifting on dreams of maybe and might have been. Even when feeling bleeds through inky muscles aching with restraint of holding words back from the page! Don’t write of these things! Show me – don’t tell. Show me the swell of heart in every beat. Hold me, melting, hearts on ice, red on white. I want to feel the cold of you, burning. I want to know the heat of you, yearning. Show me.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

  I’m New Here

I want to move to Glastonbury!

I’d climb up the Tor every day.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
To live my life in an ‘Oh so spiritual way.’

I want to move to Glastonbury,
I would get up with the dawn;
Do yoga in the morning before
I get a chance to yawn.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
I could move in near an Ashram,
I want to move to Glastonbury
Start every day with bhajans

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Open a self-help book emporium.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
Be a famous Avalonian,
Be a pseudo-historian,
A sustainable, ethical
Business-woman,
Make eco-friendly,
Lotions and potions.
I will deal with my demons.
I’ll handle my emotions.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
To hang out with the hippies,
Meet the Druids, be a Bard;
Write poems and folkish ditties.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Wear purple velvet dresses,
Put flowers in my hair;
Be really abundant and totally blessed.

I want to be a priestess.
The Goddess loves the bestest,
I want to be enlightened ,
Like all the rest …. is.

I want to move to Glastonbury.
Oh … you’ve heard it all before?

But I want to move to Glastonbury,
To fix that problem under the Tor.
I’ll change my name to Crystal Clear
Be reborn, reborn, Reborn!

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Have tea with new age gurus,
I want to open a raw food deli,
Study cabala, practice voodoo,
Hoodoo, voodoo, you do,
I could teach the healing that you do,
Talk noo noo, do woo woo,
I want to have colonic irrigation,
And deal with all the doo doo.

I want to move to Glastonbury
Be a Wiccan Hindu Buddhist
I want to be very, very, very
rooted in Avalon’s muddy mist.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
But everybody knows,
She won’t open up to anyone.
Only the chosen get to go.

And then it happened,

I got to move to Glastonbury.
I’m a lucky lucky thing!
To sip the golden chalice,
And sit by holy springs.

I got to move to Glastonbury.
Oh, it made my heart sing
And here my friends,
Is where the story begins.

I got to move to Glastonbury,
It was a … tricky start,
Yet, there I found community,
To really warm your heart,

I was free to be me,
I could dress how I please.
I could fill my bucket,
With a truckle of cheese.
I could love and get loved up,
Do rituals for the bees,
I could step into my power,
And everyone could see!

Then the mill began to turn,
And so the rumours started,
Someone said I summoned demons,
every time I farted.

Next thing I’m a witch.
(I’m supposed to feel offended?)
Which is pretty kitsch,
So I wasn’t upended.

“An uber rich vampire,”
“I said, Sir, you’re a fool

Oh, I tried to keep my patience.
But I fear I lost my cool,
and I wasn’t feeling so spiritual.
I got to move to Glastonbury,

Now I’m screaming on the High Street,
Cos some nutter’s pissed me off,
And I couldn’t give a hundred monkey’s
What anybody thinks!

I got to move to Glastonbury
And so started the gnosis.
I got to have a soiree
And a dance with my psychosis.

Now everyone but me can see,
where the bogey on my nose is
while I get lost in the process of,
process, process, process!

Process, surrender, fucking process,
Process, process – what the fuck, process.

Surrender to the process.
I got to move to goldfish bowl,
Where I couldn’t stub my toe,
Wipe my arse or blow my nose
without everybody knowing.

In the open air asylum,
the cracks, they started showing,
Like embracing the siren,
There was no escape, no going.
And before I knew what I was hiding
I discovered what I’m showing.
And thus began the process of growing.

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Peace of Jerusalem

They promised me peace,
Then put a sword in my hand.
They wanted to build Jerusalem,
On this green and pleasant land.

Alpha and Omega building,
Beginnings that end on the shore,
Of shifting sand and satanic mills.
Was the ancient architect flawed?

With chariots of holy fire to,
Reign on dust: a holy blow.
Poisoned arrows of desire,
Need no golden burning bow.

My sovereign debt insures;
I will not cease from mental fight.
A personal inner jihad endures,
Taunts and haunts the waking night.

So who would want Jerusalem,
When it is blighted by greed and fear?
When Zion seeks to swallow it up,
Why would we want to build it here?

No-one can answer Blake’s questions,
To the child with a gun in his hand.
I’d like the hymn to lay down it’s weapons,
And start to unify the holy land.

They wanted to build Jerusalem,
On this green and pleasant land.
So they promised me peace,
And put a sword in my hand.

Lisa Goodwin – 21/09/14

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

The REVOLUTION will be Capitalised

The REVOLUTION will be Capitalised
Cos they want you to stay home, Sister.
You are programmed to plug in, turn on and cop out.
They want you to be satisfied with fags and chips,
Zoned out and stuck in fear during commercials,
Because the REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.
The REVOLUTION will be brought to you by Agenda 21,
In a 4 part plan with constant commercial interruptions.
The REVOLUTION will show you pictures of Jimmy Saville,
blowing a horn and leading a charge by Cyril Smith,
Rolf Harris and Haroon Kasir to eat
long hog stolen from a London children’s home.
The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

The REVOLUTION will be brought to you by
Channel Four News, ISIS, and the European Union.
It will star Russell Brand and Jon Snow,
But not Jill Dando or Peaches.
The REVOLUTION will not make you anonymous,
The REVOLUTION will make a 99% profit.
The REVOLUTION mask will cost you five pounds sterling,
Because the REVOLUTION will be sold and capitalised, Sister.

There will be pictures and slogans on facebook,
Preaching peace and love and sharing prayers,
While pushing tales of war and terror, like memes on a dead run,
Trying to hide behind petitions on social media.
The BBC will reveal the next peado at 9:11,
And report from 23 war torn districts.
The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

There will be pictures of kids shooting down
children in the instant replay.
There will be pictures of kids shooting down
mothers in the instant replay.

There will be pictures of David Cameron being
run out of Whitehall on a whim with a New World Order.
There will be slow motion of Nick Farage strolling through
Westerham in a red, white and blue Britain First jumpsuit
That he had been saving for just the proper occasion.

Emmerdale, Coronation Street and Made in Chelsea
Will no longer be so damned relevant,
And women will not care if Whitney gets it on with
Lee in Eastenders because sick and disabled people
will be in the street looking for a way to make a living.
The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

The theme song will be written by the Lost Prophets,
directed by Danny Boyle, and sung by One Direction.
The REVOLUTION will be capitalised.

The REVOLUTION will be right back with a message about
Black insurgents and white supremacists.
You will have to worry about the terrorist in your street,
the snake in the think tank, and the giant in your I-phone.
The REVOLUTION will be sponsored by Coca Cola,
The REVOLUTION will be right back after this break
With a word from Audi our sponsors.
The REVOLUTION will put you in the driver’s seat.

The REVOLUTION will be capitalised, will be capitalised,
will be capitalised, will be capitalised.
The REVOLUTION will be propaganda Sisters;
The REVOLUTION UK is planned.

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

I’m New Here

I want to move to Glastonbury!
I’d climb up the Tor every day.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
To live my life in an ‘Oh so spiritual way.’

I want to move to Glastonbury,
I would get up with the dawn;
Do yoga in the morning before
I get a chance to yawn.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
I could move in near an Ashram,
I want to move to Glastonbury
Start every day with bhajans

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Open a self-help book emporium.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
Be a famous Avalonian,
Be a pseudo-historian,
A sustainable, ethical
Business-woman,
Hold a conference,
Start a consortium!
Make eco-friendly,
Lotions and potions.
I will deal with my demons.
I’ll handle my emotions.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
To hang out with the hippies,
Meet the Druids, be a Bard;
Write poems and folkish ditties.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Do tarot at the Spring,
Go shopping for incense at Star Child,
Wearing my finest, glitter, fairy wings.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Wear purple velvet dresses,
Put flowers in my hair;
Be really abundant and totally blessed.

I want to be a priestess.
The Goddess loves the bestest,
I want to be enlightened ,
Like all the rest …. is.

I want to move to Glastonbury.
Oh … you’ve heard it all before?

But I want to move to Glastonbury,
To fix that problem under the Tor.
I want to move to Glastonbury,
To heal the Holy Thorn.
I’ll change my name to Mama Rishi,
Be reborn, reborn, Reborn!

I want to move to Glastonbury,
Have tea with new age gurus,
I want to open a raw food deli,
Study cabala, practice voodoo,
Hoodoo, voodoo, you do,
Teach the healing that you do,
Talk noo noo, do woo woo,
I want to have colonic irrigation,
And deal with all the doo doo.

I want to move to Glastonbury
Be a Wiccan Hindu Buddhist
I want to be very, very, very
rooted in Avalon’s muddy mist.

I want to move to Glastonbury,
But everybody knows,
She won’t open up to anyone.
Only the chosen get to go.

And then it happened,

I got to move to Glastonbury.
I’m a lucky lucky thing!
To sip the golden chalice,
And sit by holy springs.

I got to move to Glastonbury.
Oh, it made my heart sing
And here my friends,
Is where the story begins.

I got to move to Glastonbury,
It was a … tricky start,
Yet, there I found community,
To really warm your heart,

I was free to be me,
I could dress how I please.
I could fill my bucket,
With a truckle of cheese.
I could love and get loved up,
Do rituals for the bees,
I could step into my power,
And everyone could see!

Then the mill began to turn,
And so the rumours started,
Someone said I summoned demons,
every time I farted.

Next thing I’m a witch.
(I’m supposed to feel offended?)
Which is pretty kitsch,
So I wasn’t upended.

“An uber rich vampire,”
“Wow, that would be so cool!
But I havent tasted blood,
Since that fight I had at school.”

Oh, I tried to keep my patience.
But I fear I lost my cool,
and I wasn’t feeling so spiritual.
I got to move to Glastonbury,

Now I’m screaming on the High Street,
Cos some nutter’s pissed me off,
And I couldn’t give a hundred monkey’s shits
What anybody thinks!

I got to move to Glastonbury
And so started the gnosis.
I got to have a soiree
And a dance with my psychosis.

And everyone but me can see,
Where the bogey on my nose is
While I get lost in the process of,
Process, process, process!

Process, surrender, fucking process,
Process, process – what the fuck!

Process. 

Surrender to the process.

Process, surrender, process ….


I got to move to goldfish bowl,
Where I couldn’t stub my toe,
Wipe my arse or blow my nose
without everybody knowing.

In the open air asylum,
the cracks, they started showing,
Like embracing the siren,
There was no escape, no going.


And before I knew what I was hiding
I discovered what I’m showing.
And thus began the process of growing.

Hi, I’m new here.

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Results Day

A star!
A chance to
B clever enough to
C the way to
D fine a worth
E person
F Distinction.
U made it.
Congratulations
Kid, you got your results!

I hope you got what you needed
from whatever the State provided;
That replication of information
they decided to call education.
Whether you shone or you hid
amid the limitations,
however you didn’t do or did
despite the expectations.

Whatever the A,B,C’s
of he or she is better than me.
The sum of all those years
of coping with acute fears
of emotional equations
and complications at school
and trying to follow the rules
while suffering fools;
gladly or badly.
Trying to sit still
while keeping your cool.
However they scored you;
that mark on the paper
to specify whether
you are stupid or clever….

You passed!
Oh Yes! You passed.
All the shoulder barges,
all the knocks and hardships,
the name calling,
and uniform rules,
the blisters you got from
new school shoes.
All the expectations,
and unfounded limitations.

You passed!

Through silent inner breakdowns,
staged assembly breakthroughs,
all the lies and the truths and the
not being heard ‘cos your only a youth

You passed! You made it!
Please know this.
You made it! You Aced it!
Even if you didn’t stick around to face it.

Those forced to choose
to find another way through
and learn in a way that suits you.
Yeah, you Aced it too.
Those mindful of the Peace,
of avoiding the Queues,
Those who crossed the Eyes,
and spotted the Tease.

You see;
Your genius isn’t in a GCSE;
You are fabulous and unique,
A Level of brilliance that no one can see,
from looking at your A,B, and C’s
defined in a score on a sheet.
So whatever the score, whatever the letter,
despite the contradiction,
you did so much better!
That is a worthy Distinction.

Lisa Goodwin – August 2014

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized