Native – Poem



I am native.

I am native to metropolis.


South London.

I am native to a stolen land

Under imposed religion.



I am Celt.

I am Heathen.

Man of the heath

Trapped in industrial people farm.



Churning out pints of mal-education.


I am native to second-generation Catholic Irishers in hard-water suburbia.

Irish, indeed.

Catholic, no.

Grandson to an elderly woman

Only now renouncing the guilt of a life-time of priest-worship.

Worth it?

No. I got away with 14 years.

And still feel the scars of the bonds where they tied me.

Tried to tell me

That the monstrous eye-sores obliterating my view of my sacred hills

Are where I am to find my God.

And thinking about it…

Well exactly.

Tried to tell me

That God appointed thinkers for me so I don’t have to

But I do.


I am native to pot-holes and abandoned places,

forgotten high-streets, low-streets and back-streets.


I am native to a forgotten Ireland and an untaught island.

And what did my forebears fight for?

The rights to sell my land to IBM, Microsoft and Walkers crisps.

The revolution’s in my blood but I’m striving for evolution.

Listening to the only God I know.


And my daily bread?





For those of you who don’t know,

DMT is short for


With the N’s standing for Nitrogen

It is a naturally occurring psycho-active compound

Endogenously created by the brain and released

By the pineal gland at the site of the Crown Chakra

Of Buddhist meta-anatomy.

The reason we all perceive similar levels of reality

Is because we all have similar levels of DMT being released into our brains.

Change the levels of DMT in your brain

And you can change your reality tunnel.


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