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The first three poems, Paradigm, Final Days and Footsteps of Gaia are from the 'ARC OF THE ANCIENTS SERIES' of ten poems which were written from June 2000 to June 2001 and were a warning of what was to come. The next two poems Miracle in the Darkness and The Crucible of Changes are the first two poems in the 'The 911 Aftermath Poems' Trilogy.
PARADIGM Chaos pattern evolving true form, In the depths where atoms decide, To challenge the status quo of the tired. Flowing new strength into inspirational, Hologrammatical matter in human expression. The cosmic fire that is an undulation, Of rippling colourful oscillating blooms. Juxtaposing soul to molecules of life, Vibrating to make the invitation, Of the changing season upon them all. Lifting eyes from the dark loam, To gaze in awe at what they are. To see how truly magical a soul, Can be when attention is given, Freely to life’s glorious pattern. Tasting heaven when all is dark, Within the silence the music Of kindness to those that can’t find. The heart to love those that hate, A world that is reshaping us all. by Martin Enticknap FINAL DAYS Withdrawing behind concrete walls, The legions of the lost depart to stand. While the flesh of the innocent are burnt away, The land is closed to all who would dare to wonder. Shut behind the noise of infinite TV screens, Listening to the lies that are wrapped as truth for that day. While the blood sacrifice is made to bring power, To the one who would be the final Caesar in their desiccated play. The sky fills with wonders that no eyes will ever see, While the third age of Rome struggles not to fade. When the might is paid by dirty coin to plunder, The mouths that gape like silent thunder. To speak a word that makes their walls tremble, Will find you bound by chains for the new arena. Sacrificed for the desires that wish to see blood in your eyes, Even as you see them stain their snow of winter. New legions are being fortified so glory, Can be claimed against those they armed. Like push button toy soldiers to me melted, In the fires of their children's future. Like fools in many coloured cloaks, There are ten heads of the Hydra that wish to be. The one to bring a new standard held aloft to proclaim, They're right to be Caesar in the coming final days. by Martin A.Enticknap ======== This one is from Arc of The Ancients Invocation of the Paradigm FOOTSTEPS OF GAIA There can be no more time for tears, No more mopping the brow and wringing hands for the dead. In her footsteps you can see the potential, The power that is yours to wield in the making of a new thread. Allow the call that is seeping up from the earth, To bathe your hands in the soil and feel the wisdom that she demands. That you become the footsteps that she has shown you, To stand tall against those coming to turn the fields blood red. The silence is only the beginning in the debt you owe, No more idle hands but the threads that you are ordained to be. In the weave that is your strength to be the banner, That will fly in the face of the walking dead. Your life is bound to every footstep she takes, When she bleeds you shall bleed. Her wounds are your wounds, When she dies you die too. So it is written, so it shall be done. So the steps begin… Martin Enticknap TWO OF THE 911 AFTERMATH POEMS -1- MIRACLE IN THE DARKNESS We know that the sky fell, That sunshine was swallowed by the clouds, That kissed the ground. We know that tens of thousands didn't die on that day, Yet we wait to bury the thousands who did. The story of survival is the hope in the time that waits, For those that hunger to see the face, To come home and share their miracle in the darkness. We know that no matter how many times, We run in this tortuous circle, Not all can be brought safely home. But there is magic to be found in that day, In all the dusty tear streaked faces that returned. We walk among them in our dreams, Those that can never turn the page, But their lives are our miracle waiting to be, That the tears of loss don't become the reason, We choose to make the sky fall on those, Who will have to live in hope to survive once again? Rather than building a stone cenotaph for a war, That is declared let us build a peace. Where we can say its time to unlock the shackles, Of fear to open our hearts to the possibilities. To understand why we make landscapes, That others would choose to fall in fear upon. No matter how it is told it was and never will be, About one man who mirrors the fear in the eyes, Of those that wish to have dominion. But about the fear that hides in the darker places, In all our hearts. For those that died and those that survived, In their name can it not be the day we chose differently. And not stain their memory by declaring that, This day was the first day in a 21st century war. But rather the day we all took responsibility, For what was, what is, and what is to come. Time to choose a different way and make a true Miracle from the light that is the hope, That lies waiting to be upheld. To unite in humanity, to unite in diversity, To unite our hopes and fears in peace. In Memory of Tuesday 11th of September 2001 -2- THE CRUCIBLE OF CHANGES From East to West, from North to South, The winds roared in with passions aflame. To mark the place that had been chosen to bear, The child whose eyes will witness the crucible of changes. The soul as ancient as the will to know examines the choices, From those who cloak the face of truth in the lies of heritage. In all the layers of secular and religious agendas, The hunger to be recognised as the one is the passion that grows The winds of winter blow across a land of hollows, The night sky lit by the flashes that mark the fear of a world That will decide the fate of a child who can only wonder, In whose name it will have to die for. But in the reflection of fire many faces stare back, Those who have to decide if the fate of the many Will be dictated by the few who have already decided, In the hollow shell of democratic freedom and holy dogma. In the sand a hungry dry finger traces all roads, In the centre they meet and in horror they share the same face. A child sees them as twins sharing one body tearing itself apart, In anger and frustration for how could they be one and the same? In simple faith the child wishes not to die tonight, In hope it wishes that the twins would set aside their blood stained cloaks. Rest their stolen crowns upon the sand and admit the truth, That they do not speak for the world or the God they proclaim. The child is almost forgotten now - resting its cheek upon the sand, Watching the fires burn brighter and brighter and wonders... Just as another child in whose name wondered if it would be safe, Even as the towers fell and the future became a wind swept dust cloud. Unknown…open… isn’t it? by Martin Enticknap |
This trilogy was written when Martin was 21 years old and could be considered a prelude to the Arc of the Ancients series of poems, a small selection of which are shown on this site. EPIC The plains of time go through the circle of light, To find the source to see through the end, We are light sources and dark sources, The event we are about to witness, Shall inflame the lights of all reason, To enlighten ~o the souls of all creation, To this we shall witness. The Epic is about to begin, The stage is set.... For we are about to transform this world. The Editors are to come forward, To tell that they will begin to edit life, How? Why? Two questions - two answers, That make even more questions. As the flames of light and wisdom enlighten, Upon the souls of the people of this world, As they move through their lives, The changes shall become more pronounced to them, Effecting their life patterns. A start and a beginning, The clocks are beginning the Countdown... Written on10/4/85 Aged 21 COUNTDOWN The energy from the stars, Race to the planet Earth, It will bring new sights for us to see, Changing the night sky, A firework display, Like nothing before witnessed by Man, Only at the beginning, Was such an event witnessed, By more comprehending eyes. We gaze in awe - We shall gain and lose, Remember there is always a price to pay, When the vision widens, Thus the great gathering shall begin, From every corner of the world, They shall travel, To meet at the most important place on Earth. This is the place where all energy comes to rest, Where they meet and touch, Mingle and flow and gain new strength, For power is found in new waters, From where it will blossom, Like a flower in spring, Pure white energy that will pulsate, Glowing like a new star. Which has a Destiny... Written on 15/4/85 Aged 21 DESTINY This power which is contained, In the energy of souls, That gathers in many forms, To encircle the light as it becomes known, Changing the structure of particles, Atoms that fuse to bring forth life, In variation in sight and sound, This will have a name that it will be known, The reason it comes to pass. The process begins to slow, Actively reducing the pulsating light, Which begins to understand, As changes from the purity of white light, Bring it into the spectrum of itself, In all the glory of colour, That shapes the imagination. This Epic that continues to its Destiny, That exist as a new life form, Is but a prelude to a greater event, For mankind this ultimate change, From the most restricted form of life, To the free most of them all, When minds loosen from their bonds, The gift they shall receive, Will let mind speak to mind. Its name will be known, For what it is, The truth of all, As Man knows and all he doesn't. An interlude to consider, The nature of this truth. Its time, The pulsating colour becomes mobile, It gathers its strength to depart, To fly to its goal, They look on in sadness, As it gracefully ascends to the heavens, To kiss the stars, They have given and thus been changed, No longer a lost whisper, But with one voice they do speak, A thought that can be heard, Through out the World, The destination of truth is a journey, Of finding new worlds, Of souls who do not have the truth, Of life to be born, Then when the heavens of a new earth, Sees the fireball light their sky, Then they will have a Destiny. .... For Destiny bequeaths Destiny. Written on 17/4/85 Aged 21 |
WINTER’S WATER-TIME We are those that see the final wave, A mighty ocean roar. From grey to white, The sea can speak to followers of an ocean's warmth. For awoken are the great spirits to follow the song, To share the food for all that come. It will be the mighty that choose to witness, The final call. These are the generations, From old to young to return to the beginning shore. A curve of sand, a shallow reach of land that speaks, Of those that tread the lonely walk. So they may know we are here, in peace once more. My song of death, the ripeness of an age, For the rest I shall take upon that wind swept shore. Those of family to come to stay, To share my fluid sounds of joy as the stream, Of my new ocean spills forth. An echo of the one who knows, I see as my brothers come to follow my eternal sleep. She may only be a grey shadow to my winter's eye, But my sound of wisdom finds the colour and flame, Of her burning mind. That song was sung as you danced amongst us, So small and meek. Fear not cousin, sister of time. The joy is upon us as we reach, To find the communion upon that beach. For though you, as all on a winter's night, Only know the world that doesn't sing. Of one life, one love, one hope. You dared to allow the fluid touch, As we all lay waiting, watching as it flows, From us to you our hope, our love, our eternal lives. You will hear our final song, You will wonder why we stay ? You will witness the youngest return to sing, Of our final winter's day. As I sing the fallen tone, So that those that chose freely can follow. To show the picture of our naked faith, That now lie waiting within your reach. From our place among the stars, We watch the last flicker of life cease, And wait awhile as the dawn now breaks, Upon the dark winter beach, The burden of the mighty are now at peace. Shed no tear, bear no pain, For the eleven songs that came, So those that can be our witness, That love from us to you, Is the song you now can sing. When those that come in winter's days, To follow, show them how to watch, How to wait, listen, then to find, Then your help will open, Our communion of a winter's water time. by Martin Enticknap This poem was written for the 11 sperm whales that died on Sanday on the 8th December 1994 DOLPHIN KIND We all dream of another voice in the darkness, To feel no longer alone in the playground of space. To know that we can reach out to a heart, That knows that we too want to dance The call of our hearts among the stars in daring grace. They are here beside us waiting, For us to acknowledge that they breathe The same colours that we deny. To conceive that they are already here, That we can share in the waters of their time. With their song is a promise of glory, A melody of sound to cross the distance. To bring joy that is more than just a plea, That no distance will divide a dolphin`s Call to live in our oceans heart in peace. They are a rhythm of a future, A transparency of colour in every wave. That belongs to every soul who hears their call, With love to turn cold hearts to warmth So all can sing with one soul that never falls. Through time and stars they came, But will we awake to share this gift Making a home which is more than bliss. To feel their hope that we can face, The truth of a race we know as dolphin kind. by Martin Enticknap Expansion of the introduction poem in the novel Exodus: The Dolph/in Saga ATHENA Sacred circle of crystal stone torch lit with many watchers, From the shadow I walk cowled to the center As I look up to the star lit sky I await the kiss of fire. Thus within a moment the shaft of blue descends like quicksilver, Engulfed and aflame I ascend to hear her. No moment can be like this as I wait in the void, Then I see her tall like a willow darkest night is her hair Fire burns deep inside as she glides to my side. With a shimmer two oak stools appear and we sit facing each other, There is laughter in every movement and grace beyond compare. She is the voice of the sword and balm of the heart, The scales of her justice embrace me. Her breath sweeter than heaven, As she opens me to see the brevity of this night To feel the flames that teaches that this was my beginning. Like a bird taking its first flight she opened my eyes, To know that our whispers can reach the silent time. Like two conspirators we laughed with joy as all can be manifest, Then within the blink of an eye she held my hands in hers Filling my heart with a breathless promise........ by Martin Enticknap JUST MAD Falling in a tumble through a gate, To a land most bizarre I could almost wish I was late. Where trees wore faces so strange, When they smiled they looked quite deranged. A gingerbread cat fell from the sky, Bounced twice and landed in a pie Splashing a penguin who couldn`t die. Until the mushrooms had finished playing, With a big green baboon who said slay em. Bees flew with chocolate elephant ears, So peculiar that honey tasted really odd. When covered in great big bunnies, That hopped upside down wearing Yellow pinafores over their tummies. I had a dance with a kangaroo, So big that stars fell out of its ears Making a frightful hubbaloo. Scaring mice who were driving, Gazelle so untidy that hamsters Arrested them for speeding! by Martin Enticknap FAITH Faith is when your soul, Tells your heart that you don`t mind. A commitment that will carry you, On wings to the other side Of any yawning chasm that you find. A time of conviction in a field of doubt, Scattered with the mines of evasion. That flutters in your heart, Trembling your stride until the silence calls And you know the faith in which you walk. Faith is when your palpitation, Is a harmony that the universe replies Bringing a wave of light. That will shine and keep you warm, In the cold frost of those that fear and fawn. To bear witness for those who search, Grey shadows to entomb fear and antipathy And become the light that can be. A portent that they deliberate, On pathways to a faith unseen. by Martin Enticknap |
BETWEEN HEART BEATS The silence of a rock bearing down squeezing the space, Existing to tear muscle from bone creating the Final flower to arch its stem to breathe of heaven. Until the crush of petals stain aching flesh until emotions Breach the ocean like a whale in hunted throes of pain. No gentle tears falling but those armed with flamethrowers, That scorch and blaze their way to scar the landscape so even Mighty oaks whimper as they crackle, burn and fall to ash. With colours bleeding away to pale tones of empty grey, Making the pendulum wait for the sound of the next heartbeat. In the silence pictures of faces, of times, and of hope Falling to smash into pieces against the brick wall, When the world is caught on a crimson wave. Flying into the sun where there is no place to run, To hide, but to be the torch that will burn and burn. No more air just a purple dream to stoke the fear, In a grotesque grin frozen on clowns in red hats choking Babies with dummies until you are fit to burst and scream! Not the cold sweaty fish with glazing eyes waiting for The knife to descend and chop and chop, So you know your heart is beating again. The temperature drops and you fall into the arms of Walking flowers, with petals that caress slivers of ice. Bringing winter to the places that ache for the warmth Of summer instead of this new world of purple and blue, Waiting for lightning to strike and shatter this crystal tomb. In the silence no more pain, no more heavy earth bound flesh, Only the lifting of all the laws until you are free to rise and fly. Slowly ascending until like a rocket you become more than Thought, more than light, beyond feeling but a concept, An idea greater than a dream and more real than reality. Then you see… Wrapped in joy… Cascading in Love… The - To never know because your heart chose that moment to beat. Returned to lay in sorrow and weep… Yearning to return to the place between heart beats. by Martin Enticknap "IT'S ALMOST TIME TO GO HOME" Did I hear it right? Did you say what I thought you said? Can I believe the picture you describe? Can I believe that you are killing my time? Why is everything frozen? Why do I feel so cold? Why are you really here? Why did you have to say its time? Your words have become a mantra, They slip from my lips as I close my eyes Will this be for the very last time? The pillow is soft but your words are a neon sign. I know my sleep becomes longer every day, Time slipping away to materialize as a dark cloak. Even as the light fades I see the glint of a scythe, Even as you say soon it will be that time. So do I rush around and scream that I know? Or do I hasten to finish the work that I have begun? So do I walk talk and just breathe one day at a time? Turning your words into a dreamtime darkened sun. I shiver as everything is held, Can I tremble a little? Shake and stomp and just cry, Until I stop - closing my eyes. To observe where I started and recognize where I had begun. I hold onto the memories that are paintings, Hanging in my gallery under a wreath of smiles. Even as it begun with a cry and a journey of tears, When I prayed for my summer time under a joyful sun. I live in hope like the chalice cup that I know, Exists in every heart and I do my best to share. The song of a dream that brings a light, To the lips to quench a little thirst that says I care. It's like any day but my fingers grow numb, The song has only a little time to be sung. But the hope grows deeper in the feeling, In the love that is waiting for me On the other side of a mirror warped sun. Clarity is when you know that you a hold a key, To the gateway that is waiting In the right hand corner of a field Magically laid out upon a tartan cloth. Under the purple sky with molten silver of three moons, At the dusk of a strangely familiar orange and red alien sun. My first memory slams back into me, Wrapping me in the arms that gave me the key. And is waiting for me like an angel with a heart that knows, That its time to let go. Even as I try to hold on, Resisting the call that says "It's almost time to go home - soon my son." by Martin Enticknap SLEEPING AMONG THE STARS Curled around the warmth of a star that dries your tears, No longer running away from demons with familiar faces. Hearing the songs that keep you safe in the echo of a heart, That wanders the universe seeking the lonely cries Of those who only want to be rocked to sleep. There is no place for fear when you feel the touch, Of stardust as you relax being kissed by the kindness Of a universe that has many eyes to see. If only in a dream away from the darkness, Of those painful lonely forlorn days. Even if you feel lost as one note in the harmony of a cosmic song, Remember that you can feel the heart that cares. When you listen touch the vibration that is mirrored, In the innocent smile that a child freely gives. Showing you the face that you know deep down, In that secret place where monsters never reached. When those that feed on the fear of angel's children, Trying to strum the song of decay squeezing your tender heart. Remember that you are the child that burns with the power of a star, With the knowledge that the tone that makes you bright Is part of many who like gentle shadows stand to your left and right. They will dance in moonbeams to make you smile, Tickle the universe to light the heavens when you are down. Make rabbit patterns on the face of the sun, Bring a warm glow to an ocean when they see you grin. Sending you a rainbow that will turn any more tears, Into peals of laughter as you see what is written in the stars. by Martin Enticknap SHY SPIRIT The lights are shining and the demon is on his throne, So you hide in the sparkle so afraid - so alone. No one remembers your name because a fairy story, Can never be real but to you and me. The snow is falling and they are murdering trees, In cities that are dying because the people refused to see. I walk in the grey time between dreams drawn to the sigh, As you melt into the shadow cast by a demon on his throne. I know why you called one last time to see the colour of my tears, To go beyond the pain of grief we shared when they shot all the deers. The snow is stained red but your fingers guide my hand to the book, Far below the gaze of a bored demon on his throne. The sky fell with the comets that came to say goodbye, When the last human could only stand and wonder why. A candle spiked on a toe bone is all the light we need, To paint the picture while a demon laughs on his throne. You showed me that magic is intrinsic to all, That a child's colouring book is misunderstood only by fools. I will always remember your look as we showed, That Man is the only demon now dying on his throne. by Martin Enticknap This is another of Monk's final reflection poems and was also read at his funeral. CHERISH THE FACES Cherish the faces that say hi in the morning, The birds that sing that lullaby and the flowers that are smiling. No matter when the sun doesn't always shine, Cherish the clouds that will bring the rain to kiss your blues away. Cherish the wrinkles on the face of those that also played, In the spring to the magical sparkle of wintertime. In your heart is a guide that will tremble when you hear their name, Cherish the moment when your knees give way. Cherish the innocent face all purple and blue, The child burping milk all over you. No matter that you just dressed for that all important date, Cherish the cries that say they want your face. Cherish those faces that are dying for your time, In the battles not always known but give you freedom all the same. In your heart is the perfect beat when you know how to, Cherish the steps that take you to the doorway of your destiny. Cherish the unknown faces that connect to you, The warmth that is shown in an act of random kindness. No matter that they cannot see the tears or the smiles on your face, Cherish the humanity that made sure on that day you wouldn't be late. Cherish the world for it's more than a home but an idea, In a moment of breathless grace. In your heart you are vulnerable to tempestuous storms, Cherish the lightening for it can illuminate the face before you. Cherish the faces of your memories even the grey, In the days that have grown you into today. No matter that they didn't care to see the damage or their disgrace, Cherish the fact you chose never to grow such a face. Cherish the face that will never know your morning, The souls that would give anything to dance in your shoes. No matter that you can never know all their names, Cherish the chance to go for all your aims. Cherish the love for the face you see, In the mirror or the one you have chosen. In your heart is the passion to share more than you know, Cherish all that can be for soon enough the bell will toll. DEDICATED TO ALL OF YOU Those that shared, those that watched and those that stayed. With Love Martin |
MALKARI’S REQUIEM |
