love

Callum Featherstone

Death & Taxes

Death and taxes

are for certain –

you spend your life

for the final curtain.

So, what does it matter –

what is the point?

Tiny feet?

The pitter patter?

Success? Career?

Trophy wife?

Or, is there more

than meets the eye?

Burnt candle wax is

time passed by.

And passers by

you learn their faces

on commutes

littered with

sojourned strangers.

Just like the streets

you learn to tread,

learn to steer clear

of some instead.

A forever question

of take and give

of peace and war

of love and hate

of is there more?

Wipe the slate.

Clean the floor.

Swallow a hard pill

for indigestion.

Make your mind

up what you want!

They cannot find

the knowledge fount.

When all is said

and all is done,

when blue is red

and cruel is kind,

you’ll search the times

⁃ a memorial quest

and smile sublime

(once taxed to death)

at not need or want

fulfilled at behest.

But, of those you loved

and those who loved

loving you the best.

Callum Featherstone

Under Covers

It just might

be undercover;

human dust-mites.

Disapproving mother

makes

forbidden lovers

play more like animals

in the heat

under their collars.

Our symbiotic

shapes

feeling – just right.

The feeling smothers

you uptight

– breathing in –

water fountains and lakes

within bed covers.

Horizontally upright.

No bearing grudges

or bearing down upon

the breaks

when the love’s right.

There’s no trust like

it with anyone

else or any others;

this is our

glorious mistake

and this is what

love

really looks like.

We are always

shining bright together,

shining love’s light.

Even into old age,

our last chapter

and our

intertwined fates

remain forever…

We were right

to be undercover;

even after…

human dust-bites.

Callum Featherstone

Full House

Nostalgic

About being lovesick

That treacle poured, sticky toffee pud-sick

A poker hand that ends up in a golden band

And even when the cards are flipped

The hand you’re dealt, you would stick

No matter how much wealth was stripped

You’d maintain the tightest of grips

Because it’s a good fit.

And in time that initial arousal

Becomes a loving house; full.

Callum Featherstone

Remember the Peace

On Armistice Day I’ll ask of you this

With the poppy you’ll wear

To commemorate the long list

Of young men dead – with care.

Of those we have mourned

Yearly, since nineteen-forty-five

Other pieces of Peace we have scorned

Saving countless peoples lives.

War in proximity that always relates

Is that Troubled area over the strait.

What else could we do? Celebrate?

A peace process since nineteen-ninety-eight.

And there is a list over there

Long and left without.

No clover? Nor poppy? Or something altogether more fair.

Still, Peace worth remembering without a doubt.

So when you wear a poppy.

To remember.

Or choose not to.

To remember.

Try to remember.

Those slain and lost.

In the bitterness of November.

Remember the Peace and what it cost.

Callum Featherstone

Icarus

Do not bank on a lifesaver

Coming second, first or third

As tall and looming cabers

Scrape skies – hurried and absurd.

Tossed alongside shining sabre

Toothed-Tiger looking herds

They are timid after taming.

And self-righteous bees and birds

Practice surreptitious-slut-shaming

In a world of wizened words

Reduced fruitfully like raisins.

The acorn may be small

But it’s endeavour grows so mighty

From it’s branches to it’s trunk.

And the flock’s morning call

Along with wings so fit and flighty

Launch from their wooden bunk.

Just as Icarus looked down on all

Mankind’s eyes are blinded brightly

By a couping Parliament; whose ship has sunk

To a depth that Devils dare to fall

Which constricts forever tightly.

And makes – a fake of the monk.

Callum Featherstone

Dove of Peace

From a room inside your mind

Never mind the lack of room

As the room you hope to find

On the inside of your head.

Because outside that vital place

Is without you, no longer vital

Because within yourself is grace

And outwardly your wings to spread.

Misunderstood so lately

And often only by yourself

But to others matters greatly

Through your justness dearly held.

You put your trust in others

And they only let you down

But you rode the lonely buffers

Without a grimace or a frown.

And you stand before the world

Knowing your true self post-defame

And you tamed the downward spiral, swirl

Understood your self and name.

Callum – dove of peace

Peaceful dove that hopes to give

Enough at least to teach

How understanding helps us live.

Callum Featherstone

Masquerade

You look in the mirror

And see

See too much

See their mistreatment

See your failures

See it all but don’t want to.

You look in the mirror

You like it for once

And then you feel

Shame for being vain

Shame for thinking about you

Shame for even thinking. Just

Shame.

When smashing the mirror –

the smithereens –

make a realisation –

all of it was a façade =

a masquerade in glass.

Because the broken pieces

Make a broken person and

Broken people can only dream of being whole.

Callum Featherstone

Blue sky thinking

Cool breeze

Eases the heat

Smiling sunshine’s

Caress is sublime

From head to feet.

Hopeful faces

Content, courageous

Sweet chitter chatter

Feet pitter patter

On pavement, in places.

A new beginning

Each day is bringing

Future plans

Are grasped in hands

And seized for winning.

Spirit grows not shrinking

Heart blooms not sinking

Exhilarating azure

Makes a dark mind pure

By it’s blue sky thinking.

Callum Featherstone

Build bridges not walls

A wall is made for breaking down

A brickyard’s tears, a stony frown

Ventless, relentless, in the past

America, Berlin, Belfast

Partition found on world renown.

A bridge is made to bring together

A culture crossing, a road for better

Far-reaching, for teaching

The human condition’s seeking

Each step across is a capped feather.

The walls you put up within your heart

Deny a chance for love to start

Foreboding, eroding

Bitterness, self-loathing

Constant reminder – landing marks.

The bridge you build will bolster new

Strengthens souls and spirits too

Co-operation, exaltation

Meeting in the middle; combination

Helps humanity by uniting you.

Callum Featherstone

True Grit

The only way is up when rock bottom’s been hit

After your mind has been smeared from a fan full of shit

When life didn’t pan out quite exquisite

And you’re chewing real dirt tasting your own true grit.

It’s hard to be wholesome in a world so broken

Surrounded by sleeping minds afraid to be woken

Fractured leg-acies left bereft and unspoken

Whilst taken and took as a novelty token.

The denial of free thought and free speech through laws

Show the fights of the future won’t be physical wars

True freedom lives between those ears of yours

In the mind of a rebel who trebles their cause.