The Bees

Where's that little poet gone,
Where is that little bastard?
Who'd speak before you spoke to him,
And wrote, he thought, as bards would.

He had no taste for theatre
And he never wrote a sonnet
But his ink at least laid out a feast
Of bees from in his bonnet

These bees he thought could feed an army
Marching on their stomachs
Empty but for promises
Of promised lands and honey

Alas this banquet stuck in throats
And stung and left them swollen
Left them closed to any more ideas
Of taking back the stolen

Yet with wet black hospitality
And words he lays his table
Every day in distant hope that
Someday maybe he'll be able

To set a place for reason
Serve his bitter dish just right
Feeding the hearts and minds of those
With means to swallow truth and fight

With crossed quills etched on paper sheilds
And silent words gestating
In the wombs of stolen argos pens
Held high and circulating

Drawing rings around the hives
Stirring honey in to sweeten
Mugs of tea to tease the throats
Of those who said "No thanks, I've eaten".


The ocean is deep in places
But not bottomless
Leading me to the
Following hypothesis:
That every land
Stands interconnected
Everyone and everything
Equally affected
By the same woes and worries
The same wants, desires
Seeking shelter from rain
And refuge from liers. 

The Serpent

The serpent circles the tree of knowledge
Forbidden fruit's gone rotten.
Apples fall
And teach us all
What Newton has forgotten. 

The Birds & Bees

I dreamed that you were someone else,
And longed to see you be yourself.
Illusion stripped and truth revealed,
Sober eyes blinded by what's real.
No one asks how, when or why,
Bees learned to sting and birds to fly.
But hearts do sting, folk fly and fall,
And I try to remember....
That I'm lucky to know you at all. 

 Untitled  The first 8 lines of this were something I found in an old notebook. I added the rest after typing up those first 8 lines and thinking it seemed incomplete. It went a bit stream of consciousness and the abstract surrealism got a bit out of hand, so I apologise for the ridiculous ending!

Black lungs,
Black heart.
Death, birth,
Rose bud,
Sweet smell.
Wont tell. 
Black lungs,
Black heart.
Dark thoughts,
Dark art. 
Cry a river
Drown in salt
If you can't swim
That's not my fault
Dry your eyes
And we'll build a boat
Ourselves from wood
And hope it floats
We'll get two of every animal
Carnivore and cannibal
And we'll just fucking leave 'em to it
Let the pandas pay per view it
But they'll pay us in bamboo it
Isn't currency
Not currently
But when we've built a new world
Just wait and see 
'cause if money's made of paper
Then it seems to just make sense
To stop cutting down the trees
And let a panda pay your rent. 

The Solipsistic Ovary Another strange one found in an old notebook

A solipsistic ovary
Once proclaimed
What he believed
"Nothing can exist but me!"
I have no eyes so cannot see
Can't prove this uterus to be 
Existing in reality
Perception isn't seeing see
Deception is believing
I don't have sense receptors
Never thinking just conceiving.



Thoughts run through me like a stream of water through a colander
Each as good as each other
But each one more important than the last
I grab for them all but grasp only a few
And the fisherman is disappointed with his catch
From the stream of thoughts.

How futile to fish here where the fish arise just once
And die and fade to dust?

Why do we cling so desperately to these...
Most impermanent and inconsistent of mutterings behind our ears?
Hoping for a breakthrough 
A moment of clarity that cuts deep through the fog
A means to an end when the stream can stop
Because we understand everything.

For now we can only turn off the tap,
Dry the colander,
And keep fishing.

Some of my best work never made it to paper.

Wise up, Rise up!

'Workers of the world unite,
You've nothing to lose but your chains'.
Together we will stand up and fight
And when we get knocked down 
We'll help each other up to fight again

We'll sing
"Wise up, rise up Hoi polloi,
There's more of us than them."
And they'll be out of bullets
Long before we're out of men.

And the revolution will be
Upon us once again.

Your heart beats rhythmically ,
Like a drum -
In time with what the Vedic mystics called Ohm

It goes....Ohm!

The harmony in the vibration
Carries a tranquil relaxation
That transports you to an oasis of peace.
The inner kingdom.
The centre of everything.
In the universe that revolves around you.

It goes round and round,
Up and down like a roller-coaster or a yo-yo

And I for one dream 
Of the ultimate melody
Of every voice included
In a harmony

"Wise up, rise up Hoi polloi, 
There's more of us than them".
And they'll be out of bullets
Long before we're out of men.

And the revolution will be
Upon us once again

You see creation and destruction 
Are the same thing really
When you look at things objectively
Then you are seeing clearly
That destruction makes a space
To make something new
And to make something better
Creation destroys what it replaces
Without grudge or vendetta
It's just the natural cycle
That's ingrained in the cosmos
And the human psyche and my
Sense of what's true and right

And your heart spins in your chest just going

Shits 'n' Giggles E.P on my SoundCloud
+ Spoken word poetry (First Thought Best Thought, At Sea, Dogs & Diamonds and Pony Express.

Holocaust Denier

Will you deny that you have died,
When I commit my genocide.
When I kill every fascist’s ideas dead?

Try to deny the truth of history,
When you’re looking down the barrel of a pistol
See how real it all becomes when they come for you instead.

Pony Express 

I like to think
That to have strong views
I should stay up to date
I should read the news

But sometimes
I go online
And feel a mix of relief
And disgust to find

That in addition
To the murder rates and rapes
The government scandals
And terrorist prison escapes

There's a story
Being told to the nation
About a man taking his pony
To a train station

Well a kid got shot
Outside a shop
And on trial is a vile
And racist cop
And a man who took a pony
On to a train

Well a man took a pony onto a train
He seemed to think it would be fine
But the staff complained
So the man walked his pony
Away from the train
Got two tickets for them both
And walked back again

He thought it would be fine
To travel by railway line
Accompanied by a small equine
He didn't see a "no horses" sign

Well maybe I shouldn't
Be complaining
It's not really news
But it's kind of entertaining

There's a priest who's in trouble
'cause he's been accused
Of the probably under frowned upon Sin of child abuse
But the BBC never fail to mention
A story that will really
Grab my attention

It's not depressing
It's like old fairy tales
The man and pony pictured
In a pub in Wales

Well the man walked the pony
To the top of a hill
Where the hospital was
And said his horse was ill!

A prominent figure in
British politics has been asked
To resign after having said
Some questionable things
About rape.
But never mind that.

There's a man who's a fireman
In a Dorset Town
Who had to wrestle a wallaby
To the ground

He took a wallaby down and won
And that's celebrated rather than being frowned upon

Well there's a war being fought
An earthquake in Japan
Bin Laden in a house in Pakistan
A GBH trial for an Elvis fan
But best of all
There's a pony and a wallaby man.



Medicated Meditation

I'm a little microcosm,
Of a bigger place.
In every cell a universe,
Another human race.

My body's not a temple,
No. My body is the earth.
And every solar system,
In my body every Birth.

Now I've been meditating,
Medicated by a man,
Who said that "Money is just a concept".
And to "Get out while you can".
He said "I'll take that £10 you've got
And here are some magic greens,
To plant a beanstalk in your forehead,
And see things you couldn't dream.


Delicate Essence

The delicatessen's
Delicate essence
Of death is killing

Eloquent lessons
Of my possessions
My breath is choking me

I'm choking
While I'm smoking
Hoping someone's here for me

The delicatessen's
Delicate essence
Of death
Takes my breath away

Eloquent lessons
Of losing possessions
What's left
Shows the error of my ways


Our heroes have 
No sacred valleys
But walk bravely
Through unlit alleys
And the legends of our age
Must brave the cold

No deep faith
Or divine direction
No altruists
No good intention
These false prophets and sages
Won't save our souls

What's the meaning?
Where's our Holy quest?
Falling fledgling fighters,
Flying our nests
And our wars are fought inside
Inside ourselves.

The answer to our cosmic code
Has long been lost as the wise foretold.

We're purposeless now
But we've found romance
And nobly try
To dance love's dance
And we have no journey now
Because we're there.


Bullet Wounds

Bullet wounds and cluster bombs,
What the fuck is going on?
Children dying,
Crying shame.
Death's a blessing, 
End the pain.

Sweatshop clothes and corporate greed
Feed our wants, deny their needs
Unfair prices,
Theft not trade
Starving farmers,
It's wrong to kill,
It’s wrong to fight.
It's wrong to spill blood,
For what's right - 
But right wing's fly to the east tonight,
And fill the sky with fiery light.


Oh my God...doesn't tell me how to dress
Oh my God...doesn't tell me how to impress him
I am him and he is me
And you are too
And we are the trinity
We are infinite we
Are holy
Who are you praying to?
It's all around and inside us.
Do we really need a teacher
With a book to remind us
To respect our fellow man
And treat our brothers with kindness?
To live as if our judgement day is gone and behind us

I preach no dogmatic doctrine
No commandments, just mind
And a pantheist faith
In the divine that's inside us all
And every room wall to wall

So when you're feeling like
It's planet of the apes
And you are Charlton Heston
Or a lone ranger
Riding Through spaghetti westerns
Try hard to remember
My attempt
To extend my membership
To the biggest inclusive
In-group that there is

It's a club with many names
But they all mean the same
And it's a shame
That different names
Give the impression
Of duality
Because concepts of division
Only hinder spirituality
In reality
It’s fallacy
That we were thrown out of Eden
In our infancy
You see
Heaven really is a place on earth
Belinda Carlisle was right
Rick Nowels and Ellen Shipley
Were insightful
In there writing
How exciting!

But like this
It's only words
And although we're here together
I don't know how much you've heard
Maybe you don't believe
A single word that I have said
And see life as nothing more
Than scoring points
For when you're dead
But it is now and only now
That you can end your suffering
And there might be something after
But who knows?
There might be nothing
And there's one thing I don't want to say
Under my final breath
And that's the thought that I might have to
Live again after my death.

A Word is Worth
1/1000th of a Picture

Paint me a picture
With your words in Brail
Caress my ears with a fragrant whisper
And a silky veil,
Damp with widow’s tears
Taste the spectrum
Of dead septums
And let me ladle lies
Into your ears.

Crematorium Necropolis*

Gathered in remembrance,
Of a body never seen.
Stood amongst descendants,
In a place you've never been.
Twisted agonising pain, 
Carved into flesh and stone.
Clocks count down as life is drained,
Departeth Earth alone.

No tear is seen in your eye now,
Can't claim the loss as "mine".
Both eyes are dry as old men try,
To prompt you on hymn lines. 
But sadness spreads like sickness,
And it comes as some surprise -
To realise that all alive you love,
Will also fade and die. 

*Title comes from an engraving on a stone wall outside a crematorium and large cemetery somewhere near Glasgow. I think it was in Falkirk or Kirkintilloch. 


Head cocked sideways,
Boss eyed blinded,
By the site 
Of one true light.

Chewing lips,
And contemplating,
What it is
That's so frustrating,

Into space the boss eyes stare,
An empty head for all to share.

Who is the light?
Where is the light?
Eyes are sore and skin is tight.

Who is the light?
Where is the light?
Darkness rules for now is night.

 Stepping Stones

One by one we grace the stepping stones,
Feet of children aching as they grow.
Feel the water lapping at our feet,
Like ice cold hands grasping for heat  

One by one we pull the petals off,
Flowers sacrificed to love me nots.
Sullied grass blades laying spoiled in mud,
Like perfect corpses drowned in blood.

Day by day we count the paving the slabs,
Heads hang watching feet avoid the cracks.
Through imperfect circle eye hole soul windows,
Poking fault with broken fingers.                  

 The Spirit

The heavy bodies litter misused space,
While minds are trapped in time.
A people the heart tries hard to love,
Compassion hard to find.

Keep looking within yourself,
Soul searching has no end.
In poverty we'll find a wealth,
That most can't comprehend. 

In sleep the pains of self are gone,
And mind is free to fly among the birds and clouds.
Limitless, no lines should not be crossed,
Free nothingness flies proud.

They laugh at me

Blood from the wounds from this world's me,
Slowly seeps from the ear to my pillow.
As body sleeps the spirit is awakened,
And in this light the inner war can mellow.

 Brick-Dust Unrequited Lust

I am you and you are me,
We connect it's plain to see.
But one with one is never three,
You're a lock and I'm a key.
I am me and you are you,
With minds as walls we can't see through.
A red brick wall and mortar view,
Of beauty in the hearts of two.


If death is not the end,
Then when will I be free?
Drowned in my liquid friend,
I drink to harmony.
If I could do it all again,
Could stand and fall back down...
I wouldn't

 The Fish & The Scorpion

Like most stories this starts,
With an "In the beginning"
With tales told of the time,
Before worlds were set spinning,
When the books of creation,
And scientists say-
“Pervading darkness filled a void,
Of infinite night with no day.”
Until a bang and a flash,
And a blinding explosion,
Kick started a "something" from nothing.
A notion,
A motion -
Life blood,

The corrosion,
Of the dense emptiness
And dark void so eternal
Filled by the Goddess
Of care, love - maternal

The morning dawns as day,
Follows behind her,
Chasing her.
Embracing her is daylight.
With glistening glory she shines,
Radiating soft and gentle light,
That caresses away,
The dark skies of night,
To summon the day.

And come then what may.
They say that life requires sunlight,
For more than just sight or vision.
That energy is so essential,
For every aspect of living.
Like the fish that's swimming away,
From the man who is fishing.
And wishing the dish of the day,
Was as big as the one that got away.

It's much better to be licking
The delicious luscious lips
Of the one voice that listens.
The mouth that blows all bruises
Breathes the bliss in
With her kissing

She'll talk of fish and scorpions
Tell tales of constellations
Make me formulate a story
That provides me consolation
In which I am him
And she be she
And I’m on an island
In the sea

And she'll be swimming
Saying things of how
I'm such a Scorpio
And then we'll have a conversation
And the story then will go...

“She said she was a water sign,
But he didn't know what it means.
He said "I'm not a big believer,
In things I cannot see”

But she
Took off his sunglasses
She said they didn't look right
When it's getting so late in the day
That people see by street lights

And he saw the sight
Of gold twighlight
Smelled perfect perfume
Felt just right

Said "How'd you like to build some bridges,
Build a life with me?
And if you burn our bridges
I'll be stuck and lost at sea"

But she said 
"Don't feel down my sweet heart
You can swim, you will not sink
And you'll never be lost at sea
Contrary to what you think

When you're wet with worry in the water
You’ll be alright, you'll be fine
I won't let you get lost at sea
Because I'm a water sign."

The story swims in my stream of thoughts
Imagining her so Piscean
Fluidity ruling her movement so soothing
In my dreams, my reason for being.

I'd say she was my Cynthia
To quote a poet's epic
If I were Keats' Endymion
If I were so poetic.

A Song of Self-Acceptance

Listen up and I'll tell you a story of something that happened to me,
There came a time in my life that I had a crisis of identity.
I felt alone and so confused I didn't know who I was any more,
Until I realised I could choose and I picked myself back up of the floor.

I made a choice and I found the voice to be open with my decision,
Sounds strange but I made a change in the lifestyle that I was living.
I gathered my friends said to them "I've something to confess to you"
And I expect I'll lose some friends but I hope I'll keep the best of you.

I said -
"I think I might be a woman trapped in a man's body,
And I'm sorry I'm not person that you thought".
"I think I might be a woman trapped in a man's body,
And I hope I can rely on the support...
of my friends."

Let my hair down, bought a dress and my Sunday best was a nice frock,
Some were accepting but others rejected me as I had rejected my cock.
I carried high heels in my hand bag and wore lipstick and eyeliner,
Pulled my dick back between my legs and pretended I had a vagina.

I looked buff in my lady stuff but it wasn't enough to placate me,
Got my friends to gather again in the hope that it wont make them all hate me.
Some folk have a sense of self and that's fine if you define in the binary,
But I announced that I want to renounce yet another trait that doesn't define me.

"I'm an Asian woman trapped in a white woman trapped in a white man's body,
And I'm sorry I'm not the man, I mean woman you thought you'd come to know.
I'm an Asian woman trapped in a white woman trapped in a white man's body,
And I hope you won't mind being seen with me wearing my kimono
Oh no no....."

So call me Lu-Chow now...

So I spoke and dressed in a way that some seemed to find offensive,
But when they questioned me about it I got quite defensive, saying -
"Who are you to question my right to be who I want to be?
If people can have sex changes then why not their ethnicity?"

I really tried to be satisfied with what my new life had to offer me,
But in my soul there was still a hole and if I'm doing this I should do it properly.
I'm Japanese in my hopes and dreams but I still haven't answered my question,
Silk is nice but I wish my life could just be somewhat more equestrian.

I'm a pantomime horse in an Asian woman trapped in a white woman in a white man's body,
This time I'll tell my friends with a text message.
I'm a pantomime horse in Asian woman trapped in a white woman in a white man's body,
Sounds mental but I love Oriental cuisine and horse sports like dressage

They're calling me Dobbin now....

But in a pantomime horse costume there's room for not just one but two,
I put an ad in my local rag saying "trans-special lady-man seeks similar, could it be you?"
I breathed a sigh at the lack of replies and I had a little word with my self,
I wondered if it was time to put the horse costume and kimono back on the shelf.

Maybe people aren't so different, maybe everybody wants the same,
And maybe animals should have more rights because horses look sad and I think that's a shame.
And even people who just dress like horses in a theatre or pantomime should take the time,
To celebrate just being themselves at a costume party I'm having round mine....

I'm just a person .....
I desire to aspire to an ideal just like everybody else.
You want to live the kind of life in which you're happy and stop striving,
So to be who you want to be first accept yourself.


Sort Your Fucking Life Out

She's been living with her hands out borrowing,
Living for the day and never planing for tomorrow and,
She was raised on a strict diet of convenience.

He's been lacking motivation and adrenalin,
Coughing up blood because he can't afford Benilyn,
And everybody telling him the answer just gets tedious.

They're like
"Don't you think it might be time now,
Time to sort your fucking life out?
'Cause time is a ticking by and your wasting your life.

I've been talking to my parents they've been telling me,
All of the same things that they've been saying since I was a teen,
Like "When are you going to live up to your full potential son?"

Though I've been telling them that yelling isn't helping me,
Recently I'm listening and struggling to disagree,
And asking myself if I'm really proud of the man that I've become.

And I think it might be time to,
Try to fix my broken life soon,
'Cause life is a slipping by and I'm wasting my time.


Plenty of Fish

I don't go out anymore....
Just sit about and wait for someone I knew before

To come back in to my life
And say
"I'm sorry I weren't nice
I'm sorry I didn't listen
Before I tried to give advice".

And wrap me up in rapture
Wrap me up in cotton wool
Have none of it when I'm talking shit
Tell me I've been a fool

But don't forget to say
That you love me anyway
And tell me what you want
Because I'm shit at guessing games...

And of course you're right and the rules are wrong
But it seems like you make it up as you go along
And a song from a long long time ago
Just happens to be playing through the crackle of the radio

We tried to deny and define the soul
And you came back to fill a Caroline shaped hole
And we both went seeking something never to find
But it was nice on the nights you laid your body with mine

And I'd be lying if I said those times
Weren't chiseled in the middle of my heart and mind
But I've got to draw a line underneath all the hassle and the grief
We're both vegetarian so why you bringing beef?

To my table, no green label
You want your voice heard but you're not able
To set a place for mine at the table where we dine
Not what I had in mind a two finger V sign

I thought you were different but you're not you're just the same
Another silly little girl playing a silly little game
And I wasn't gonna love you just to leave you on a shelf
But I'll tell myself that I never loved you - I just hate everyone else

There's a hole in my heart and it's shaped like you
An hour glass figure that's counting down to

A tick and a boom elephant in the room
Will explode and all over's our journey too soon

And I scour my mind to find when it went wrong
But the fat lady's already finished her song

A part of me wants to call out for more
But she's already on to her third encore

And this ship has already sailed
Already failed it's mission to be
We crashed into your wall of ice
But there's plenty more fish in the sea...

And I don't smile anymore
Just moping around the town
With my eyes down on the floor
And I thought we'd make a life
Thought you might like to be my wife
Well the first cut was the deepest and your twisting the knife

All poems written by Joe Ferris, at various times, in no particular order.




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