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 Cinderella “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 good 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 right 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 well 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 well 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 well So what do I know? surprise 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 Slave 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.