The Delta Collection

Living in the Niger Delta offers one a vast wealth of experiences from pure survival to pure love. This collection has been inspired from the many people who have touched my life in ways unimaginable. The poetry does not even begin to illustrate the experiences life in the Delta has offered me. If only I could draw a picture, it's beauty would leave you speechless. It would tell you about the courage and strength of the communities living with very little, it would tell you about the humble nature of those trying to improve the lives of those living with very little, and finally it would tell you about the simple life, which is far too often taken for granted in countries where choice and capitalism rule making people demanding and greedy. A simple life is one where love can truly blossom. And without love life cannot exist. You choose.

Love Is

Love is shared
Love is kept
Love is treasured
Love is dared

Love is beyond
Love is close
Love is feeling
Love is fond

Love is silent
Love is orchestrated
Love is experienced
Love is sent

Love is boundless
Love is small
Love is round
Love is forceless

Love is flowers
Love is food
Love is rain
Love is birds

Love is pure
Love is colour
Love is truth
Love is sure

Love is life
Love is beauty
Love is love
Love just is

Rush O River Rush!*

Rush O River rush
Flow O River flow
Your blessed gates are open
Our land demands your lotion

Rush O River rush
Flow O River flow
Your dance exudes an air of grace
Your people praise and congregate

O River when you rush and flow
You deliver to your land a glow
Such luscious green and fruits do grow
Feeding those the soil does sow

Flow and rush and spread your wings
Your spirit fills the land it sings
The song a verse of harmony
For natural waves they flow so free

Rush O River rush
Flow O River flow
Let no man stop your gushing stream
For God did sew the river seam

Go Forth O River
Be our guide
Impart your wisdom with your stride
And fill our hearts with praise and pride

Rush O River rush!

*This poem was shortlisted in the top ten poems at Carnival 2011, Nigeria

The Power of One

Unity, beginning, the power of one
Creation, new birth, the force of the sun
Initiate, ignite, the explosion begins
The planets they rotate, the axis it spins

From darkness to light a wondrous transition
The mind it opens a widening incision
For one is a number of infinite expansion
Indivisible and constant a powerful delusion

Numbers increase though power remains
The higher you go the lower it holds
A fan on high speed is set to one
The higher the number the slower the run

From one do we travel to nine is our faith
Duality the conflict to three we illuminate
Nature and love the motion accumulates
Sixes and sevens the balance it stimulates

Success and wealth eight is infinity
Attainment achieved astounding ability
For spiritual growth reaches its peak
And fate is upon us these words they do speak

The power of one a cycle it combats
From creation to faith the journey it rotates
The power of one all good things do start
And life commences never to part.

For Steve

Love is a Battlefield

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt
Love is a battlefield played in the dirt
Two people emerging from different places
Matters of the heart creating conflicting spaces

Is love and conflict not the same
Can one exist without the other’s fame
To know love one must feel hate
Or is that a concept of primitive fate

What is love anyway
For it is not something we can say
Only something felt by heart
Feelings that can tear us apart

Love is a battlefield
Take up our swords
Love is a battlefield
But close not your doors

The battle commences with vice and sin
Love is the truth and will show all has been
The battle ends when love is revealed
No longer denying all that is concealed

Love and war sit hand in hand
Together united forever they stand
Two people create a new entity
Fusing emotions losing all clarity

But love need not fuse in such a way
If the circles remain so they can play
For love has no boundaries unlimited scope
Open the door and fly with all hope

The battle need not shed tears and blood
The river can flow free no flood
Nature can blossom free from fight
Two people can love with such insight

Lay down your swords and surrender to love
The battle no more love travels far
To conquer love is to conquer yourself
The circle is unleashed and true love is felt

For James

So Close

So Close
Another brush with destiny
Another disappointing felony
Why do I deserve such punishment
Will this curse ever leave my element

Can my feeling be so off the mark
Our eyes connected an intensely spark
He looked into my soul within
Yet not to know it would be a sin

A chance meeting or mathematical equation
The streets of Calabar another spark explosion
The Metropolitan is the only word I heard
My breath he took away unable to speak a word

Each time we meet our souls do greet
Past life connection or just something sweet
We gravitate to consecrate
The union which brings us to our fate

So close yet not close enough
The curse it plays out this kind of stuff
To keep me from experiencing the joy
That love could only ever bring to me

Even as I write my heart is closed
I can’t scribe the pain today I chose
I want to release the disease inside
But the poison gushes not to subside

The tears they roll and frustrate
My inability to let go to faith
I constantly meet one I cannot attain
I really don’t know if I can take the pain

A life alone is what lies ahead
My empty sheets no person in bed
This heart now heavy like black led
For faith leaves my heart it is now dead

FAITH IN HUMANITY

I have decided to title this collection 'Faith In Humanity'. An idea I have been exploring for some time now. Only today I had a phone call from a friend of mine who is also traveling through India and she recalled her experiences of how her faith in humanity has been restored. Traveling teaches us to have faith in humanity, as well as it showing itself to us in so many unexpected ways, usually when we let go of all control. And when we travel we are often forced to let go, so we have little choice but to trust humanity. And what a great joy it is to let the universe provide for you. These poems are from my time in India and you will notice that it is a much shorter collection. That is because my time in India was not spent talking and writing or using my mind in that way. It was spent contemplating, meditating, observing, all things great and divine. It was spent being in every moment and breathing. And it was through each breath, and staying present, that faith in humanity was possible. From the times when I thought I had nowhere to stay in cold Dharamsala, to getting my mobile phone stolen, at all times I tried to not react and trust in myself that everything would be ok. And it was, more so than if I had tried to control what lay ahead of me or react to fear. Because lets face it, everything is ok until we make it not.

The Sweetness of Love

Will I ever experience the sweetness that only love can provide?
A ride filled with infinite joy beyond the great depths of the earth which we walk,
Too great, for love is greater than all things,
And thus I fear I may never reap the wondrous rewards which only love can bring.

The love of self holds itself in great esteem,
For no love can be greater,
And yet its heights seem beyond human reach,
Beseech me for I wish I could attain such love.

For what must I do to experience,
The free flow of lightness of love,
To let go of such heaviness which sits deep below,
Unable to undo the knot of tension.

My landscape of love is yet to be refined,
But I will not lose hope,
For hope may bring me the eternal happiness,
For which my heart desires.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB

The Intrepid Traveler of India

What does a girl do when she loses her mobile phone in a big Indian city after having just achieved a great feat like driving a vehicle in peak hour without smashing the car to bits? Well, she initially reacts by having unnecessary negative thoughts, she gets a lump in her throat wanting to cry, scream, yell, blame someone for such an injustice.

But stop. The girl reminds herself that the phone is an object worth nothing. Yes it contains all her contacts but hey doesn’t she have people’s emails and doesn’t this mean she can get these numbers back? Of course it does. The girl then reminds herself that in life one must take the good with the bad and most importantly she reminds herself that bad things happen everywhere in the world, restoring her faith and love of India.

She takes a deep breath pushing the lump in her throat downwards so that her feet remain on the ground withstanding any further negativity so she can smile once again remembering that objects serve only the purpose an object serves, very little.

For life has a much greater purpose than a mobile phone. The purpose to love. For to lose a phone means loss of nothing except the attachment we carry. But to stop loving means a loss of life and that is worth more than one can imagine.

The girl takes another breath and with that breath she reminds herself that for every person who steals, cheats and lies, there are millions of Indian people whose generosity and hospitality is the best in the world.

The girls smiles and in her mind reflects on all the people who have helped her during her trip in India. From the reservations counter in Mumbai CST Train Station, to the couple from Pune who rescue her from a poisonous snake bite, to the Ayurvedic doctors and their family from Latur who show such kindness. These people are living saints whose energy will eradicate the energy of the desperate people who must steal to survive.

So the girl resolves herself, her unnecessary pain and grief for her materialistic object that has been lost. The girl has one final message to the people who have her phone. ‘Please remember when you use my SIM card it will cost you lots of money as it is from the UK. Best you buy an Indian SIM card, AIRTEL works for me, and happy phoning!’

And the girl has a message to India. ‘India, I love you, thanks for being such a wonderful country full of life, full of love and full of learning. May you develop in a way which benefits the whole human race remembering your spiritual values so deeply engrained in your society giving your land a unique richness that only India can sustain.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB

Arba Mistika

A place which stands on the top of a hill,
A place which offers people peace and much good will,
A place of serenity and mystic,
A place of pleasure you can seek.

A place called Arba Mistika,
A place of fortune no weaker,
A place with palm tress and rice paddies,
A place of love and sweet green trees.

A place a sandy road it reaches,
A place of magnificent sunsets it teases,
A place of blessed and sacred magic,
A place where time sits still and static.

A place of great and far reaching wonderment,
A place which leaves the heart with fulfilment,
A place to take your breath away,
A place which transcends night and day.

A place for all faces,
A place for all places,
A place you must visit and stay,
A place which will bring happiness all day.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB

Lover

We make love like the perfect harmony,
Orchestrating the natural sounds so blissfully,
Skin to skin, lips to lips, such sweet caress,
The rhythmic movement two bodies collide so blessed.

His hand he did giveth to me,
The beat of his heart racing I did see,
We seek each other out like hunt for the prey,
Our paths crossing leaving our destiny to fate.

What made him come sit by my side,
Drawn to my being like the moon and the tide,
A musician and a fish he swims in the sea,
A scorpion his ascendant feelings so free.

The kiss of perfection a taste so divine,
Flavours created when two bodies intertwine,
My body is full with rich and delicate spices,
Of pure love a virtue no vices.

My body trembles from his touch sensation,
Leaving me content with each vibration,
Is it possible to love someone in an instant,
Our worlds depart our bodies now distant.

Time will pass but this moment will stay,
In my heart forever the feeling I furthermore pray,
That I will experience once more the warm sounds he makes,
To the tune of my heart when it is awake.

Play a beat so my body can dance,
To the rhythm of such a sensual trance,
For today I leave your warm embrace,
And the memory of you in my heart a special place.

This poem I find hard to end,
For meeting such love I did not intend,
And now I must go to travel a vast land,
And I hope that one day I can giveth you my hand.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB

A Bus Ride To Hampi

From Israel a man he does travel,
Unravelling the marvellous delights of India,
We met by the shady shores of Goa,
A bus to Hampi we did ride together.

The boulders, the rice fields, the palm trees,
A place so rich in colour and ancient histories,
Together we breathe in the gentle air,
And feel the serenity of a place that cares.

We share the same bed such strangers,
Yet his eyes remain far from mine,
Perhaps a sign of respect he is showing,
Or his desire for me is simply unwanting.

A chess game he finds intriguing,
He sits with the Nepalese and local people,
Worldly and open his mind remains,
From vices and cravings he does refrain.

To Thailand he will next explore,
New smells his senses will endure,
For now I get to spend time with him,
Such wonderful energy so free from sin.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB

Father And Son

By the lake a father and son they go,
A road together they stroll,
From a race they proudly call their own,
And now they wander the lands of rocks and stone.

The lake its waters have mysteriously emptied,
The son surprised a jump he now fears,
Nature’s rhythms its cycle changes,
And now we sit in awe such strangers.

The father sits alone in contemplation,
Absorbing life’s wonders in quiet anticipation,
His mind seems peaceful a full life he lives,
To travel he loves his wisdom he gives.
The lines his face tell such deep emotion,
His son he shows such sweet devotion.

The lake makes moving patterns and shimmers softly,
To the beat of an echo its sounds so playfully,
The father and son now leave the lakeside,
And together they travel to lands so far and wide.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB

A Couple They Live

A couple they live upstairs,
Three years together is theirs,
For love has crossed their path,
Immense joy to make them laugh.

A beach they travel as two,
Listening to nature’s sounds they do,
Days governed only by sun and moon,
Stood still in true beauty until monsoon.

A sonnet, a ballad, a note to play,
An instrument he acquires a sound he makes,
Brave and courageous he seeks to know,
The secrets of music lie below.

And she her hair flows so enticingly,
The water her friend a feeling so free,
Sweet pleasures she tastes so lovingly,
The menu of life is how it should be.

Together they attain life’s purest emotion,
Two souls they merge human devotion,
Delving the depths of passion and fire,
The flame burns brightly so love will not tire.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB

Sandy Feet

Sandy Feet,
A place to chill out and eat,
Sandy Feet,
The best food cooked by gorgeous Nepalese,
Sandy Feet,
From morning to night,
Sandy Feet,
Its charm will make your day so bright.

Sandy Feet,
Like the colours of a butterfly,
Sandy Feet,
Your wings they stretch so wide and high,
Sandy Feet,
May you attain happiness and success,
Sandy feet,
Accept only the best my friends, no less.

Sandy Feet,
You will remain special in my heart,
Sandy Feet,
The memory of you will never to part,
Sandy Feet,
Thank you for sharing the love you so freely part.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB

Distraction Departs Her

Today her lover leaves her,
A moment distraction departs her,
For time has granted space for her,
To experience the joys so intimate to her.

How conscious was this decision for her?
For the plans she decided now lay behind her,
No sin committed for lust does blind her,
A traveller she striders eyes wide open for her.

A new day beckons now alone for her,
Bringing forth those plans before her,
Creativity and inspiration must now become her,
To complete a cycle so dear to her.

Thy pen so might still unaware to her,
She must seek courage and sing prayers for her,
To lift the hand which has been granted to her,
So powerful words can righteously bestow her.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2008 MCARB