Poetry Lyrics by John Dickinson

Photo from pixabay

This is the Earth speaking

No, my spirit is not broken
but it has been sorely tried
you have camped upon my skin
and lit larger and larger fires
no, my spirit is not broken
but you have caused me pain
you have poured shit into my seas
and caused acid
in my rain

No, my spirit is not broken
is that what you require?
how many Chernobyls do you want
for your funeral pyre?
no, my spirit is not broken
I can live through all your mess
I just will not look so nice
and I will bite
and not caress

No, my spirit is not broken
but it swings from light to dark
that is the price you pay
because you had to make your mark
no, my spirit is not broken
but can you say the same?
my fire will stay alight
but there’s a flicker
in your flame

No, my spirit is not broken
but you have spoilt my gift
my bounty was for everyone
once you were all rich
no, my spirit is not broken
I still hold out my hands
to those who would live with me
and who would love
all my lands


“Look,” said Cinderella
“sisters that was me
I was the stranger at the ball
don’t laugh, oh please
you must believe
this is important for us all     
I know we are enemies
fighting for our lives
and all is fair in love at war
but what are we fighting for
but the prince up on his hill
and the grapes of wrath that dangle there”  
 “Who is the fairest of the fair?  
till twelve last night it was me
but it was all illusion
I was no different from before
just that my body was done up
like a department store
I know we are competitors
fighting for the prince
but the prince is not worth fighting for
he is illusion too
he is not what he seems
he really is a beggar
pretending to be king”            

“The state is in disrepair
the ship is sinking fast
the prince spends cash on baubles
while many people starve
last night pumpkins turned to coaches
and rags to silk and lace
and because of that I could see
and I saw the other face
our world is not beautiful
and sisters nor are we
we are but dreamers all at sea
we cannot be beautiful
if that’s our only aim
we must be bold and brave
and refuse to play the game.

What did Cinderella see?  
Why did she run away?  
She nearly got what every woman is supposed to want!

Mr Christ

Mr. Christ was a man
and he had a hard time
He travelled through rough country
just to ease
his mind

He gathered lots of followers
and they all leaned on him
he gathered lots of enemies
and they all leaned
on him

He gathered in his harvest
and there were lots of thorns
Mr. Christ
his harvest
was not so very

Now what I hear of Mr. Christ
is very strange indeed
I hear he is alive and well
that the last laugh was his
that all the blood he shed
was to make me free
I don’t believe that’s what he said
I don’t see how
that could be

All alone
yes, all alone
all alone was he
all alone
yes, all alone
he tried to change man’s destiny
did he fail
oh, did he fail
did he win or lose?
well I think that’s up to me
and it’s up
to you

What Did I know?

I tried to be quiet
to stay out of sight           
I’d melt into the background
to hide my light
it was not what I wanted
but it was all I could do
because I never thought I could do anything

So I was surprised when I stepped out of line      
but what did I know?  
how could I tell?
because I’d never bothered
to get to know myself

I tried to learn
what was going on           
so much was said
could I believe?
could I be brave?
could I belong?
for I never thought there was space
for me

So I was surprised when I stepped into the light   
but what did I know?  
how could I tell?
because I’d never bothered
to get to know myself

My me was buried under dos and don’ts    
musts and mustn’ts
duties and rules
but somehow my me
kept breaking through
despite my efforts my head didn’t know
what to do

So I was surprised when I listened to my me          
my me knew
and my me could tell
I was finally getting to know myself
So what do I know?         
after surprise
this seems a good way
to live my life

Whatever I do
I try to be true                
for I believe
if I can be true to me
I can also
be true
to you


I am a slave
but who do I serve?
who owns me and brands me?
who decides on my worth?
It’s hard to rebel
when the master has gone
for without my chains
I feel I’m no-one

I am an innocent
I have done no wrong
I am a victim
my life it is cursed
I follow my orders
I do what I’m told
my only reward
is to keep my head low

Now you come and tell me
to raise up my head
that the master is gone
that the master is dead
you tell me to look
for the answer within
to open my eyes
and to spread my wings

A bird may live
in a cage all its life
but still
in its heart
is the whole
of the sky

Bio from John Dickinson:  When I found myself on a foundation course at an art school I was also fortunate enough to experience my first serious relationship.  And it was this girlfriend who suggested that I should attempt poetry and I followed her advice even though I knew very little about poems.  But the words flowed forth, thanks to Rachel, written down in my sketchbooks which were shown to my fellow students.  One of whom, Tony, who I am pleased to say is still a friend of mine today, asked me if he could make songs of some of my efforts.

I continued to write and a little over ten years later, having progressed sufficiently in playing the guitar and singing, I began to write my own songs.  And, I believe, that some of them work as poetry.  I hope you agree.

I have recently moved to Ceredigion in Wales with my partner and continue to work on my writing, sculpting and drawing.

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1


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