What good do nation states really achieve
On this all too small ball floating in space
That I now travel, though hard to believe,
At the speed of light when I see your face
On my computer screen? Between my place
And yours is half a world. What’s the difference
Between us and our lands? Let’s not replace
Ethnic, linguistic, cultural variance
With global homogeneity. Once
That’s done then life is poorer. Would we leave
Only one type of bird or fish, no trace
Of lost diversity? But what earth wants,
And peace, is that, together, we unweave
Our borders and our economic race.
Sun 9 Sep 2007
Wednesday 29 September 2010
369 - My wife lost a child, so has been transfixed
My wife lost a child, so has been transfixed
By the seemingly endless sad drama
Transpiring in Portugal, where a mixed-
Up and messy missing child case is a
Regular read in papers, and on the
TV each night. Madeleine, nearly four,
Vanished in early May. The Policia
Now think her parents may have planned it, for
The dreaded DNA tests, using poor
Quality samples, suggest that they switched
Her body from the apartment by car,
The one they hired. We have faith in the law,
But occasionally it’s knocked for six.
Let’s hope they find her, not her murderer.
Sat 8 Sep 2007
By the seemingly endless sad drama
Transpiring in Portugal, where a mixed-
Up and messy missing child case is a
Regular read in papers, and on the
TV each night. Madeleine, nearly four,
Vanished in early May. The Policia
Now think her parents may have planned it, for
The dreaded DNA tests, using poor
Quality samples, suggest that they switched
Her body from the apartment by car,
The one they hired. We have faith in the law,
But occasionally it’s knocked for six.
Let’s hope they find her, not her murderer.
Sat 8 Sep 2007
368 - Here are some groups that I have listened to
Here are some groups that I have listened to,
And still do, now and then, for old times’ sake:
Slade, Sweet, Roxy Music, Sparks, Status Quo,
Yes, Genesis, Led Zeppelin. Mistake!
I thought, switching to punk, a complete break.
Then Siouxsie and the Banshees, Magazine,
Buzzcocks and Joy Division. Then the fake
Bands came, so I checked out the 60s scene:
The Doors of course, the Byrds I heard; has-been
Beatles, Velvets and Love sounded as new,
And reggae, dance and soul iced this great cake,
While rap, house and electro shook my spleen.
Britpop, it stopped the boredom, hip hop too;
Indie ain’t dying; jazz makes my sax shake.
Fri 7 Sep 2007
And still do, now and then, for old times’ sake:
Slade, Sweet, Roxy Music, Sparks, Status Quo,
Yes, Genesis, Led Zeppelin. Mistake!
I thought, switching to punk, a complete break.
Then Siouxsie and the Banshees, Magazine,
Buzzcocks and Joy Division. Then the fake
Bands came, so I checked out the 60s scene:
The Doors of course, the Byrds I heard; has-been
Beatles, Velvets and Love sounded as new,
And reggae, dance and soul iced this great cake,
While rap, house and electro shook my spleen.
Britpop, it stopped the boredom, hip hop too;
Indie ain’t dying; jazz makes my sax shake.
Fri 7 Sep 2007
367 - The British system? It's just not cricket
The British system? It’s just not cricket.
It’s not fair play. It’s still I’m alright, Jack.
We’re not gregarious, so we closet
Ourselves away in small castles while rack
And ruin lie outside. We all stay back
Behind net-curtained battlements, see kids
On the loose, drug addicts, a giant crack
Through which the failures fall, tyre marks and skids
And flowers by lamp posts. Our rich land rids
Itself of guilt for poor death. Soldiers hit
And maim in distant lands. Shareholders crack
Open bubbly to sounds of coffin lids.
Where is our conscience, our empathy? It
Seems there are things our leaders always lack.
Thur 6 Sep 2007
It’s not fair play. It’s still I’m alright, Jack.
We’re not gregarious, so we closet
Ourselves away in small castles while rack
And ruin lie outside. We all stay back
Behind net-curtained battlements, see kids
On the loose, drug addicts, a giant crack
Through which the failures fall, tyre marks and skids
And flowers by lamp posts. Our rich land rids
Itself of guilt for poor death. Soldiers hit
And maim in distant lands. Shareholders crack
Open bubbly to sounds of coffin lids.
Where is our conscience, our empathy? It
Seems there are things our leaders always lack.
Thur 6 Sep 2007
366 - A year seems such a short unit of time
A year seems such a short unit of time
When filtered through the sieve of memory:
365 days of rhyme
And reason, four seasons, as seen through me.
But we’ll only see seventy, eighty,
And the first few of those beyond recall,
Hidden from sight in clouded infancy,
Repressed perhaps, waters too rough to trawl,
And by old age the mind is apt to crawl.
And so these years belonging to our prime
Are long and rich and of high quality,
Each day another deep red rose petal.
I hope, therefore, that my daily words chime
With your love of life’s finite mystery.
Wed 5 Sep 2007
When filtered through the sieve of memory:
365 days of rhyme
And reason, four seasons, as seen through me.
But we’ll only see seventy, eighty,
And the first few of those beyond recall,
Hidden from sight in clouded infancy,
Repressed perhaps, waters too rough to trawl,
And by old age the mind is apt to crawl.
And so these years belonging to our prime
Are long and rich and of high quality,
Each day another deep red rose petal.
I hope, therefore, that my daily words chime
With your love of life’s finite mystery.
Wed 5 Sep 2007
365 - My youngest daughter started school today
My youngest daughter started school today,
So nice and smart in uniform and all,
Looking like Cinderella on the way
To the excitement of the prince’s ball.
At this happy / sad hour I now recall
My older children’s first days at their school,
Hoping that mine or their tears wouldn’t fall,
As each little drop drips into the pool
Of his or her peers. At that point, your rule
Over dear Jane or Johnny melts away,
For other influences to install
Themselves in their heads that don’t seem so cool.
They’re out of your control, and you must pray
That they can cope and thrive and stand up tall.
Thur 4 Sep 2007
So nice and smart in uniform and all,
Looking like Cinderella on the way
To the excitement of the prince’s ball.
At this happy / sad hour I now recall
My older children’s first days at their school,
Hoping that mine or their tears wouldn’t fall,
As each little drop drips into the pool
Of his or her peers. At that point, your rule
Over dear Jane or Johnny melts away,
For other influences to install
Themselves in their heads that don’t seem so cool.
They’re out of your control, and you must pray
That they can cope and thrive and stand up tall.
Thur 4 Sep 2007
364 - Money has bought us comfort, bought us ease
Money has bought us comfort, bought us ease,
It’s bought us many things that we don’t need,
It’s bought long life and freedom from disease,
Our independence, insatiable greed.
The trough tastes good, so stick snout in and feed,
And make sure that your snout keeps others out,
Or else it might be them, not you, who’ll breed,
And you wouldn’t want that, so get real stout.
We’re programmed to be selfish, there’s no doubt,
But are the strongest still on the increase?
Selfish by nature, nature’s law they heed,
But condoms kill their seeds before they sprout.
Meanwhile, the poor propagate our species,
Though treated by the gardeners as weed.
Mon 3 Sep 2007
It’s bought us many things that we don’t need,
It’s bought long life and freedom from disease,
Our independence, insatiable greed.
The trough tastes good, so stick snout in and feed,
And make sure that your snout keeps others out,
Or else it might be them, not you, who’ll breed,
And you wouldn’t want that, so get real stout.
We’re programmed to be selfish, there’s no doubt,
But are the strongest still on the increase?
Selfish by nature, nature’s law they heed,
But condoms kill their seeds before they sprout.
Meanwhile, the poor propagate our species,
Though treated by the gardeners as weed.
Mon 3 Sep 2007
363 - Second September sonnet, sing your song
Second September sonnet, sing your song
Of golden autumn days. Wistful praise sung
As we look back from days that are less long
To recent summer, memories that stung
Like bees while humming, now turning to dung,
Or maybe thumbing through albums of mind,
Or strumming these autumnal strings once strung
In summer’s blue beyond, now left behind.
Blue skies chase blues away; they are consigned
To background slumming; shunning them’s not wrong.
But coming back to Monday, work gear slung
Over my shoulder, older, cold-resigned,
I find the blues accuse me, sound the gong,
And so it seems September sonnet’s sung.
Sun 2 Sep 2007
Of golden autumn days. Wistful praise sung
As we look back from days that are less long
To recent summer, memories that stung
Like bees while humming, now turning to dung,
Or maybe thumbing through albums of mind,
Or strumming these autumnal strings once strung
In summer’s blue beyond, now left behind.
Blue skies chase blues away; they are consigned
To background slumming; shunning them’s not wrong.
But coming back to Monday, work gear slung
Over my shoulder, older, cold-resigned,
I find the blues accuse me, sound the gong,
And so it seems September sonnet’s sung.
Sun 2 Sep 2007
362 - Back up the highway to reality
Back up the highway to reality,
Away from ease and lots of sleep and fun
And sunny seas, people on holiday;
Pack up! My way’s over, theirs has begun
Again. My desk awaits that weighs a ton,
My ankle chained to it from morn till tea,
Conserving energy, a marathon
Runner’s usual strategy when he
Intends to be there at the end, entry
Into arena, last bend, victory.
Still early stages yet, real test to come:
The hardest part is not the poetry.
Holiday’s end, of course, means self-pity,
So come on, love, let’s have another one.
Sun 1 Sep 2007
Away from ease and lots of sleep and fun
And sunny seas, people on holiday;
Pack up! My way’s over, theirs has begun
Again. My desk awaits that weighs a ton,
My ankle chained to it from morn till tea,
Conserving energy, a marathon
Runner’s usual strategy when he
Intends to be there at the end, entry
Into arena, last bend, victory.
Still early stages yet, real test to come:
The hardest part is not the poetry.
Holiday’s end, of course, means self-pity,
So come on, love, let’s have another one.
Sun 1 Sep 2007
361 - The last sea-swim of summer's short season
The last sea-swim of summer’s short season
I swim in Sheringham, over the rocks
Too sharp to stand on, arcing hands upon
The shiny shifting surface as it knocks
And rocks and lifts and drops, pushes or blocks.
Cloud cover covers all but this corner
Near Cromer; over here the water looks
Clear, warmer; I ought to say lukewarmer.
I fought the spray to delay the drama
Of calmer summer becoming freezing
Winter water, as autumn winds the clocks
And cocks its ear towards that dark mourner
Who storms in unerringly, the breeze gone;
From shore’s safety see Neptune shake his locks.
Fri 31 Aug 2007
I swim in Sheringham, over the rocks
Too sharp to stand on, arcing hands upon
The shiny shifting surface as it knocks
And rocks and lifts and drops, pushes or blocks.
Cloud cover covers all but this corner
Near Cromer; over here the water looks
Clear, warmer; I ought to say lukewarmer.
I fought the spray to delay the drama
Of calmer summer becoming freezing
Winter water, as autumn winds the clocks
And cocks its ear towards that dark mourner
Who storms in unerringly, the breeze gone;
From shore’s safety see Neptune shake his locks.
Fri 31 Aug 2007
360 - Cruising past the flat lands lower than sea
Cruising past the flat lands lower than sea-
Level, which the sea one day may swallow
Again; sailing down the River Waveney,
We wave at other boats that come and go.
Will future generations ever know
This gentle fusion of toil and leisure,
As diggers unearth soil and cattle grow
Fat, in fine fettle, a land of pleasure.
A boat called ‘Endless Summer’ leaves the shore,
Chugging along all optimistically,
Though winds are whipping and the clouds are low,
And change is written by autumn’s author.
Meanwhile, men sit and fish along the quay,
And, for the time being, things still move slow.
Thur 30 Aug 2007
Level, which the sea one day may swallow
Again; sailing down the River Waveney,
We wave at other boats that come and go.
Will future generations ever know
This gentle fusion of toil and leisure,
As diggers unearth soil and cattle grow
Fat, in fine fettle, a land of pleasure.
A boat called ‘Endless Summer’ leaves the shore,
Chugging along all optimistically,
Though winds are whipping and the clouds are low,
And change is written by autumn’s author.
Meanwhile, men sit and fish along the quay,
And, for the time being, things still move slow.
Thur 30 Aug 2007
359 - The ostrich and giraffe both have long necks
The ostrich and giraffe both have long necks
Because they enjoy swallowing their food;
The rhino, and possibly the ibex
Have horns when they’re in a musical mood.
The cheetah runs so fast because he’s rude,
And steals things from the bear who can’t bear that,
And bares his teeth in scary attitude,
But the cheetah’s fleeter than a mere cat.
The eye test results weren’t good when the bat
Went for a check-up, so his cave complex
Had bright lights fitted for him and his brood.
The champion chimpanzee said ‘Fancy that!’
The snake’s shedding his skin and choosing checks:
This python’s such a right-on real cool dude.
Wed 29 Aug 2007
Because they enjoy swallowing their food;
The rhino, and possibly the ibex
Have horns when they’re in a musical mood.
The cheetah runs so fast because he’s rude,
And steals things from the bear who can’t bear that,
And bares his teeth in scary attitude,
But the cheetah’s fleeter than a mere cat.
The eye test results weren’t good when the bat
Went for a check-up, so his cave complex
Had bright lights fitted for him and his brood.
The champion chimpanzee said ‘Fancy that!’
The snake’s shedding his skin and choosing checks:
This python’s such a right-on real cool dude.
Wed 29 Aug 2007
358 - Another hot day: lucky holiday!
Another hot day: lucky holiday!
It’s not been a good summer, not at all;
We’ve had rain and floods, with more on the way,
But in East Anglia we’ve had a ball.
Different weathermen made a different call,
But optimistic ones have won the prize,
For though sea-breezes blew their gentle squall,
The sun dried up the clouds quite from the skies.
To say abroad is best, while not quite lies,
Is therefore not always quite true to say,
Especially when Greece is a fireball,
Planes plainly playing their part in the rise
Of greenhouse conditions. Maybe we’ll stay
In our own countries more, until the fall.
Tue 28 Aug 2007
It’s not been a good summer, not at all;
We’ve had rain and floods, with more on the way,
But in East Anglia we’ve had a ball.
Different weathermen made a different call,
But optimistic ones have won the prize,
For though sea-breezes blew their gentle squall,
The sun dried up the clouds quite from the skies.
To say abroad is best, while not quite lies,
Is therefore not always quite true to say,
Especially when Greece is a fireball,
Planes plainly playing their part in the rise
Of greenhouse conditions. Maybe we’ll stay
In our own countries more, until the fall.
Tue 28 Aug 2007
357 - So many stones upon the beach. Who owns
So many stones upon the beach. Who owns
The stones? Who moans when winds blow like cold souls
Upon the lonely beach? Who is it loans
The stony moany lonely land that rolls
From new-mown lawns to foamy seas, and holes
Dug only by sandworms. And the term’s gone
When children roamed. The dawn’s born: now eve tolls
As clouds crowd out the moon, and winds moan on.
Do the stones feel alone or feel as one?
Do the winds own their moany growing groans?
As moody brooding cloud moon-shroud unfolds,
Is morning’s moon allowed, or has she shone
And gone below the lonely foam-filled stones,
Like some old soul’s return to burning coals.
Mon 27 Aug 2007
The stones? Who moans when winds blow like cold souls
Upon the lonely beach? Who is it loans
The stony moany lonely land that rolls
From new-mown lawns to foamy seas, and holes
Dug only by sandworms. And the term’s gone
When children roamed. The dawn’s born: now eve tolls
As clouds crowd out the moon, and winds moan on.
Do the stones feel alone or feel as one?
Do the winds own their moany growing groans?
As moody brooding cloud moon-shroud unfolds,
Is morning’s moon allowed, or has she shone
And gone below the lonely foam-filled stones,
Like some old soul’s return to burning coals.
Mon 27 Aug 2007
356 - I tried swimming against the tide but failed
I tried swimming against the tide but failed,
Finding that I was swimming on the spot;
I tired swimming against the tide, and sailed
With ease through these blue seas as sun shone hot.
People, people, everywhere, drink a lot,
Filling the seaside cafes, nursing beer;
At the foot of the lighthouse they all squat
Like thirsty ants around a matchstick tower.
From Southwold’s busy shops, under the pier,
I swam against the tide, and my arms flailed
And tasted bitter salt, not from the pot,
But from the top of the sea’s giant tear.
The pier by dead carpenters’ hands was nailed,
And waves of time combine to make wood rot.
Sun 26 Aug 2007
Finding that I was swimming on the spot;
I tired swimming against the tide, and sailed
With ease through these blue seas as sun shone hot.
People, people, everywhere, drink a lot,
Filling the seaside cafes, nursing beer;
At the foot of the lighthouse they all squat
Like thirsty ants around a matchstick tower.
From Southwold’s busy shops, under the pier,
I swam against the tide, and my arms flailed
And tasted bitter salt, not from the pot,
But from the top of the sea’s giant tear.
The pier by dead carpenters’ hands was nailed,
And waves of time combine to make wood rot.
Sun 26 Aug 2007
355 - The holiday's begun, the sun has shone
The holiday’s begun, the sun has shone,
We drove down the M6 - what fun - and the
Boring old A14 that’s so humdrum,
Past Kettering and Cambridge, past Bury
St Edmunds, where flat land is all you see,
Then further towards Diss, Bungay, Beccles,
And at, long last, to Carlton near the sea-
Side port and beach of Lowestoft. Hotels
Don’t come much better than this, though the spell’s
Broken a little by the thump, thump, thump
From that well-attended wedding party
In the big room just yards away - the fools!
An early night, so I must get this done
And join my wife in bed, or she’ll hate me!
Sat 25 Aug 2007
We drove down the M6 - what fun - and the
Boring old A14 that’s so humdrum,
Past Kettering and Cambridge, past Bury
St Edmunds, where flat land is all you see,
Then further towards Diss, Bungay, Beccles,
And at, long last, to Carlton near the sea-
Side port and beach of Lowestoft. Hotels
Don’t come much better than this, though the spell’s
Broken a little by the thump, thump, thump
From that well-attended wedding party
In the big room just yards away - the fools!
An early night, so I must get this done
And join my wife in bed, or she’ll hate me!
Sat 25 Aug 2007
354 - The dinner's cooking and the heat is on
The dinner’s cooking and the heat is on,
And I am rushing to complete these lines
So I can eat my pie and peas and one
Jacket potato, but no Beanz Meanz Heinz.
I’ll print a map, ready to follow signs
When driving south tomorrow to the sea,
So I can find the hotel. The sun shines
Tomorrow down there, say the BBC.
Beach visiting will be priority,
Because one thing we can’t depend upon
Is the good weather lasting, when one finds
That, all too often, it’s not summery.
And that’s MY summary. I may be on-
Line or not this week, but I’ll be on wines!
Fri 24 Aug 2007
And I am rushing to complete these lines
So I can eat my pie and peas and one
Jacket potato, but no Beanz Meanz Heinz.
I’ll print a map, ready to follow signs
When driving south tomorrow to the sea,
So I can find the hotel. The sun shines
Tomorrow down there, say the BBC.
Beach visiting will be priority,
Because one thing we can’t depend upon
Is the good weather lasting, when one finds
That, all too often, it’s not summery.
And that’s MY summary. I may be on-
Line or not this week, but I’ll be on wines!
Fri 24 Aug 2007
353 - I keep on thinking that today's Friday
I keep on thinking that today’s Friday
I keep on hoping that I’ll soon get rich
I keep on thinking tomorrow’s my day
I fantasise I won’t die in a ditch.
Don’t wish your life away, you know a stitch
In time saves nine and mine must be stitched soon,
Because your life blood, so precious, so rich,
Is leaking from age’s enlarging wound.
My diagnosis done, let’s hear a tune;
The prognosis improves with beer, so hey,
The cool fourpack of Stella’s in the fridge,
And strict old sun replaced by looney moon.
Soon I won’t care, and care I can’t bear. They
All live for the weekend. The five day itch.
Thur 23 Aug 2007
I keep on hoping that I’ll soon get rich
I keep on thinking tomorrow’s my day
I fantasise I won’t die in a ditch.
Don’t wish your life away, you know a stitch
In time saves nine and mine must be stitched soon,
Because your life blood, so precious, so rich,
Is leaking from age’s enlarging wound.
My diagnosis done, let’s hear a tune;
The prognosis improves with beer, so hey,
The cool fourpack of Stella’s in the fridge,
And strict old sun replaced by looney moon.
Soon I won’t care, and care I can’t bear. They
All live for the weekend. The five day itch.
Thur 23 Aug 2007
352 - Addictions grow when we cannot manage
Addictions grow when we cannot manage
Ourselves and our desires efficiently,
And when we just cannot find the courage
To try again or face obscurity.
When we can’t get our way, when we’re not free,
When we want time out from this rotten race
We’re forced into by leaders on TV
Who sell us dreams and kick sand in our face;
When we’re too scared to own up or embrace,
Or work for what we want, save our marriage,
All the important stuff; when fantasy
Becomes easier, cheaper, in our case:
When we’ve thrown our lives into the garbage,
We can crawl out again, if our eyes see.
Wed 22 Aug 2007
Ourselves and our desires efficiently,
And when we just cannot find the courage
To try again or face obscurity.
When we can’t get our way, when we’re not free,
When we want time out from this rotten race
We’re forced into by leaders on TV
Who sell us dreams and kick sand in our face;
When we’re too scared to own up or embrace,
Or work for what we want, save our marriage,
All the important stuff; when fantasy
Becomes easier, cheaper, in our case:
When we’ve thrown our lives into the garbage,
We can crawl out again, if our eyes see.
Wed 22 Aug 2007
351 - Things that have vanished into history
Things that have vanished into history:
The old typewriter that you had to hit,
Its inky ribbon twisting easily;
Whole roomfuls of typists - remember it?
Those queues for public telephones have bit
The dust. Remember standing in the rain?
Your call was urgent? Too few coins? Tough shit.
Now money’s monarchy has ceased to reign;
Now all’s electric, virtual; in vain
We hunt for coins for beggars. Nor do we
Write real letters with ink pens, nor permit
Our parents to live with us, nor remain
Together as couples. Authority
Of parents, teachers, police. Mums who knit.
Tue 21 Aug 2010
The old typewriter that you had to hit,
Its inky ribbon twisting easily;
Whole roomfuls of typists - remember it?
Those queues for public telephones have bit
The dust. Remember standing in the rain?
Your call was urgent? Too few coins? Tough shit.
Now money’s monarchy has ceased to reign;
Now all’s electric, virtual; in vain
We hunt for coins for beggars. Nor do we
Write real letters with ink pens, nor permit
Our parents to live with us, nor remain
Together as couples. Authority
Of parents, teachers, police. Mums who knit.
Tue 21 Aug 2010
350 - Horrible Horace has a hate-filled head
Horrible Horace has a hate-filled head
That’s hid a hundred hurtful happenings,
But here he heads, happy, hoping instead
To have and hold old Harriet Hawkins.
Her heavy-hearted husband had few sins:
He’d never hit his Harriet, ever,
But hadn’t a whole head’s intelligence,
While Horace, however, was how clever!
Here’s Horrid Horace hoping he’ll sever
Her from her husband; he’s hunting him dead,
Holding a heavy holdall heaped with things
He’s honed: hacksaws to hack husband’s liver.
Happily, helpers hear of his hatred,
And Horace is hanging. Hey, how he swings!
Mon 2o Aug 2007
That’s hid a hundred hurtful happenings,
But here he heads, happy, hoping instead
To have and hold old Harriet Hawkins.
Her heavy-hearted husband had few sins:
He’d never hit his Harriet, ever,
But hadn’t a whole head’s intelligence,
While Horace, however, was how clever!
Here’s Horrid Horace hoping he’ll sever
Her from her husband; he’s hunting him dead,
Holding a heavy holdall heaped with things
He’s honed: hacksaws to hack husband’s liver.
Happily, helpers hear of his hatred,
And Horace is hanging. Hey, how he swings!
Mon 2o Aug 2007
349 - This book was reasonably readable
This book was reasonably readable,
And I’ve finally finalised its read,
So before I forget what’s memorable,
I’ll briefly mention it at length - agreed?
Bill Bryson will wisen you with this screed:
‘Short History of Nearly Everything’
With ‘A’ absent through syllables decreed
In sonnetary rules that I’m keeping.
It’s beducational: before sleeping,
Tuck yourself (don’t misread!) in … comfortable?
Then you’ll begin to end your day in need
Of fascinating facts he’s revealing.
Those writers I believe incredible
Pen prose that flows like blood in time of need.
Sun 19 Aug 2007
And I’ve finally finalised its read,
So before I forget what’s memorable,
I’ll briefly mention it at length - agreed?
Bill Bryson will wisen you with this screed:
‘Short History of Nearly Everything’
With ‘A’ absent through syllables decreed
In sonnetary rules that I’m keeping.
It’s beducational: before sleeping,
Tuck yourself (don’t misread!) in … comfortable?
Then you’ll begin to end your day in need
Of fascinating facts he’s revealing.
Those writers I believe incredible
Pen prose that flows like blood in time of need.
Sun 19 Aug 2007
348 - Last night some wine and music, but the sleep
Last night some wine and music, but the sleep
Was in such short supply: why, I don’t know;
I think a drink does help me sink and keep
Asleep for a while; it disturbs the flow
After a few hours, though: I wake for no
Apparent reason, frustrated and tired.
Today I’ve been busy down in Wilmslow,
In the library, and getting attired
For next week’s holiday, and then perspired
In my wife’s overheated home. This steep
Temperature rise is hard to undergo;
For cooler climes I think I must be wired.
I’m writing this with my shirt off, and deep
Desire to get it done and hit pillow.
Sat 18 Aug 2007
Was in such short supply: why, I don’t know;
I think a drink does help me sink and keep
Asleep for a while; it disturbs the flow
After a few hours, though: I wake for no
Apparent reason, frustrated and tired.
Today I’ve been busy down in Wilmslow,
In the library, and getting attired
For next week’s holiday, and then perspired
In my wife’s overheated home. This steep
Temperature rise is hard to undergo;
For cooler climes I think I must be wired.
I’m writing this with my shirt off, and deep
Desire to get it done and hit pillow.
Sat 18 Aug 2007
347 - On Friday Freddie Freud the fraud fried food
On Friday Freddie Freud the fraud fried food
For Frank the fat friar in the frayed attire,
But Freddie made Frank frantic, frankly rude,
From friend to foe, when Frank’s front fence caught fire.
The liar fooled the frail and ailing friar,
For, fully fearing he’d made Frank incensed,
He fuelled the fire further, flinging the fryer
Far higher, and the flaming fat, dispensed,
Flagrantly frazzled Frank’s fantastic fenced
French-style front porch, torched, scorched. Frenziedly crude,
Frank frowned, pounding ex-friend Fred’s head by a
Firm fist of five fingers; Fred was unsensed.
For future Fridays, Fred’s fry-ups eschewed,
Frank tried fresh fruit. Fred said he’d be the buyer.
Fri 17 Aug 2007
For Frank the fat friar in the frayed attire,
But Freddie made Frank frantic, frankly rude,
From friend to foe, when Frank’s front fence caught fire.
The liar fooled the frail and ailing friar,
For, fully fearing he’d made Frank incensed,
He fuelled the fire further, flinging the fryer
Far higher, and the flaming fat, dispensed,
Flagrantly frazzled Frank’s fantastic fenced
French-style front porch, torched, scorched. Frenziedly crude,
Frank frowned, pounding ex-friend Fred’s head by a
Firm fist of five fingers; Fred was unsensed.
For future Fridays, Fred’s fry-ups eschewed,
Frank tried fresh fruit. Fred said he’d be the buyer.
Fri 17 Aug 2007
346 - Well, it's one for the money, Colonel Tom
Well, it’s one for the money, Colonel Tom,
And if you’re in Vegas, two for the show,
Three burgers to get ready, and then some,
Put on the white suit, and now go man go.
It’s now, to the day, thirty years ago
He shuffled off this mortal toilet bowl,
And while he was alive, he’d never know
Just why he had been chosen for this role.
A young show-off, and yet still a shy soul,
By chance he found out how to make girls come:
They wouldn’t miss his hippy shaking show,
And neither could Missouri fail to roll.
This man soon rocked the world, just like a bomb
Exploding outwards from old Tupelo.
Thur 16 Aug 2007
And if you’re in Vegas, two for the show,
Three burgers to get ready, and then some,
Put on the white suit, and now go man go.
It’s now, to the day, thirty years ago
He shuffled off this mortal toilet bowl,
And while he was alive, he’d never know
Just why he had been chosen for this role.
A young show-off, and yet still a shy soul,
By chance he found out how to make girls come:
They wouldn’t miss his hippy shaking show,
And neither could Missouri fail to roll.
This man soon rocked the world, just like a bomb
Exploding outwards from old Tupelo.
Thur 16 Aug 2007
345 - Take care if you walk home in the evening
Take care if you walk home in the evening,
And watch out for those drunken teenagers
Whose parents seem to be happy leaving
It to somebody else to protect us
From misbehaviour and misdemeanours
Like violent assault and robbery,
And vandalism and disturbances
That mark the streets as their territory.
And so, in English towns, the old story
Of beer and fists goes on, continuing
Like fish and chips, and slips, and officers,
Loud crowds in no hurry to buy curry.
No, I’m afraid it’s just not the done thing
To risk a late night walk. Too dangerous.
Wed 15 Aug 2007
And watch out for those drunken teenagers
Whose parents seem to be happy leaving
It to somebody else to protect us
From misbehaviour and misdemeanours
Like violent assault and robbery,
And vandalism and disturbances
That mark the streets as their territory.
And so, in English towns, the old story
Of beer and fists goes on, continuing
Like fish and chips, and slips, and officers,
Loud crowds in no hurry to buy curry.
No, I’m afraid it’s just not the done thing
To risk a late night walk. Too dangerous.
Wed 15 Aug 2007
344 - What's on my desk today? Some DVDs
What’s on my desk today? Some DVDs
I rented from Blockbuster: first, ‘The Queen’
(Love Tony Blair in that!); then, memories
Of the eighties in ‘Wall Street,’ Charlie Sheen
Learning that greed is good. One that I’ve been
Waiting to see is here: ‘The History Boys;’
‘The Last King of Scotland’ (Idi Amin);
‘Thank You For Smoking,’ which no doubt annoys
Some, and ‘Tideland’ - again, a drug destroys.
Also, there’s a pile of new-bought CDs:
Richard & Linda Thompson, Bruce Springsteen,
McCormack and Tauber both in fine voice.
A coffee mug, on which the name Tony’s
Displayed in gold letters … and this machine.
Tue 14 Aug 2007
I rented from Blockbuster: first, ‘The Queen’
(Love Tony Blair in that!); then, memories
Of the eighties in ‘Wall Street,’ Charlie Sheen
Learning that greed is good. One that I’ve been
Waiting to see is here: ‘The History Boys;’
‘The Last King of Scotland’ (Idi Amin);
‘Thank You For Smoking,’ which no doubt annoys
Some, and ‘Tideland’ - again, a drug destroys.
Also, there’s a pile of new-bought CDs:
Richard & Linda Thompson, Bruce Springsteen,
McCormack and Tauber both in fine voice.
A coffee mug, on which the name Tony’s
Displayed in gold letters … and this machine.
Tue 14 Aug 2007
343 - Those tiny little bugs get everywhere
Those tiny little bugs get everywhere:
They get inside your gut, they’re in your skin;
They know your nose and they’re there in your hair;
They crawl over your eyeball - slurp - drinkin’…
And when they’ve drained us to point of sleepin,’
That’s when the bed bugs and the pillow mites
Come out to party, heartily feastin’
On skin flakes, takin’ swigs of sweat on nights
When the heat soars and bed sores hit the heights,
And lovers lick each others’ bugs and swear
As passion passes past its returnin,’
And juices flow that make mites high as kites.
But don’t let it bug you, coz, to be fair,
These small guests are the best at digestin’!
Mon 13 Aug 2007
They get inside your gut, they’re in your skin;
They know your nose and they’re there in your hair;
They crawl over your eyeball - slurp - drinkin’…
And when they’ve drained us to point of sleepin,’
That’s when the bed bugs and the pillow mites
Come out to party, heartily feastin’
On skin flakes, takin’ swigs of sweat on nights
When the heat soars and bed sores hit the heights,
And lovers lick each others’ bugs and swear
As passion passes past its returnin,’
And juices flow that make mites high as kites.
But don’t let it bug you, coz, to be fair,
These small guests are the best at digestin’!
Mon 13 Aug 2007
342 - I like a cup of coffee or green tea
I like a cup of coffee or green tea,
Or proper beer or Chilean red wine,
But if Rioja’s offered, I’ll agree:
You see, I’m really not the sort to whine.
I’m unsophisticated, got no spine
When I see fancy foodstuffs I despise:
I don’t like fruit much, such as apple-pine,
Or even vegetables; give me pies.
Despite this, my intestines win a prize
For quick digestion with efficiency
And very little wind, which is a sign
That stuff called roughage is where my heart lies.
A jacket potato, the humble pea,
Some breakfast cereal, and it’s all fine.
Sun 12 Aug 2007
Or proper beer or Chilean red wine,
But if Rioja’s offered, I’ll agree:
You see, I’m really not the sort to whine.
I’m unsophisticated, got no spine
When I see fancy foodstuffs I despise:
I don’t like fruit much, such as apple-pine,
Or even vegetables; give me pies.
Despite this, my intestines win a prize
For quick digestion with efficiency
And very little wind, which is a sign
That stuff called roughage is where my heart lies.
A jacket potato, the humble pea,
Some breakfast cereal, and it’s all fine.
Sun 12 Aug 2007
341 - The football season starts again today
The football season starts again today:
Another chance to go all round England
Visiting different towns to see teams play;
All teams, not just my own, you understand,
Because me and my son, years ago, planned
To visit all the stadiums, yes all,
North, south, east, west, middle, even Scotland,
Wales, Europe, anywhere they kick a ball.
So where is it today? I hear you call.
Today’s trip is to Morecambe, with its bay
Of deadly rapid tides that cover sand
And sometimes people, if they’re not careful.
So we’ll stay clear of the beach, and we’ll pray
Our players do as their coaches command!
Sat 11 Aug 2007
Another chance to go all round England
Visiting different towns to see teams play;
All teams, not just my own, you understand,
Because me and my son, years ago, planned
To visit all the stadiums, yes all,
North, south, east, west, middle, even Scotland,
Wales, Europe, anywhere they kick a ball.
So where is it today? I hear you call.
Today’s trip is to Morecambe, with its bay
Of deadly rapid tides that cover sand
And sometimes people, if they’re not careful.
So we’ll stay clear of the beach, and we’ll pray
Our players do as their coaches command!
Sat 11 Aug 2007
Monday 27 September 2010
340 - If you look back, it's so miraculous
If you look back, it’s so miraculous
How all the elements worked out just right,
That this ain’t a collapsing universe,
That our sun’s not too dull and not too bright.
Our ancestors survived more than one blight
From timely, almost God-sent meteor
That altered evolution overnight,
Eliminating mammal’s predator.
Now safely grown in size and brain, we’re more
Advanced than life on other planets worse-
Supplied with water, atmosphere and light,
But our advancement makes our defence poor:
If earth were hit again, records of us
Would lie buried, read by mole and termite.
Fri 10 Aug 2007
How all the elements worked out just right,
That this ain’t a collapsing universe,
That our sun’s not too dull and not too bright.
Our ancestors survived more than one blight
From timely, almost God-sent meteor
That altered evolution overnight,
Eliminating mammal’s predator.
Now safely grown in size and brain, we’re more
Advanced than life on other planets worse-
Supplied with water, atmosphere and light,
But our advancement makes our defence poor:
If earth were hit again, records of us
Would lie buried, read by mole and termite.
Fri 10 Aug 2007
339 - She was unlike any I'd ever seen
She was unlike any I’d ever seen,
And though, unlike her masters, she was dead,
I realised then you could love a machine
(By prejudice we are too often led).
Her oily eyes glistened; somehow they fed
Not only my desire, but knowledge too,
And, as our glances locked, into my head
Was transmitted knowledge of what to do.
“Captors, oh my captors,” I cried, “I’ll sue
If you don’t take me back to where I’ve been
In one hour, at full power, unmolested!”
“He knows the Alien Rights Act!” cried the crew.
They acted nice, sent me thoughts from their queen,
And dropped me home, from my love’s arms wrested.
Thur 9 Aug 2007
And though, unlike her masters, she was dead,
I realised then you could love a machine
(By prejudice we are too often led).
Her oily eyes glistened; somehow they fed
Not only my desire, but knowledge too,
And, as our glances locked, into my head
Was transmitted knowledge of what to do.
“Captors, oh my captors,” I cried, “I’ll sue
If you don’t take me back to where I’ve been
In one hour, at full power, unmolested!”
“He knows the Alien Rights Act!” cried the crew.
They acted nice, sent me thoughts from their queen,
And dropped me home, from my love’s arms wrested.
Thur 9 Aug 2007
338 - "Dear alien, we kidnap you in peace,"
“Dear alien, we kidnap you in peace,”
They smiled, as the dear earth became a dot;
“We’re researching inferior species:
If you’re good, you’ll die in a zoo. If not…”
“Oh my God,” I repeated quite a lot,
Feeling abandoned, lost out in the stars,
When the chief asked me, “Which god have you got?
When I last heard, your species worshipped Mars.”
“We’ve changed to God,” I answered, “or Allah’s
His name sometimes.” “Oh yes,” said the chief, “he’s
A good friend of our own deity, but
When I was a lad they often fought wars.”
Illusions gone, despair on the increase,
I spotted a quite cute female robot.
Wed 8 Aug 2007
They smiled, as the dear earth became a dot;
“We’re researching inferior species:
If you’re good, you’ll die in a zoo. If not…”
“Oh my God,” I repeated quite a lot,
Feeling abandoned, lost out in the stars,
When the chief asked me, “Which god have you got?
When I last heard, your species worshipped Mars.”
“We’ve changed to God,” I answered, “or Allah’s
His name sometimes.” “Oh yes,” said the chief, “he’s
A good friend of our own deity, but
When I was a lad they often fought wars.”
Illusions gone, despair on the increase,
I spotted a quite cute female robot.
Wed 8 Aug 2007
337 - Some aliens abducted me today
Some aliens abducted me today
Because they caught me drawing crop circles.
“Alien! That’s our job!” I heard one say
To me, sounding like I’d raised his hackles.
I waved a grey rag riddled with wrinkles
That used to be a clean white handkerchief,
Praying to God for some new miracles,
In desperate need of physical relief.
“He’s ugly,” said the son of their big chief.
“Son, don’t be rude to natives, coz one day
Some aliens might ring on our doorbells.”
“But Dad, I’ve been brought up with the belief
That we’re the only species that can stray
To other planets. Us and no-one else…”
Tue 7 Aug 2007
Because they caught me drawing crop circles.
“Alien! That’s our job!” I heard one say
To me, sounding like I’d raised his hackles.
I waved a grey rag riddled with wrinkles
That used to be a clean white handkerchief,
Praying to God for some new miracles,
In desperate need of physical relief.
“He’s ugly,” said the son of their big chief.
“Son, don’t be rude to natives, coz one day
Some aliens might ring on our doorbells.”
“But Dad, I’ve been brought up with the belief
That we’re the only species that can stray
To other planets. Us and no-one else…”
Tue 7 Aug 2007
336 - What are we made of? Guess what? No-one knows
What are we made of? Guess what? No-one knows,
Though they’ve come up with things, just theories
About the atom, molecules, and those
Daft ideas about superstrings: oh, please!
Black holes, worm holes, time travel, it’s a wheeze;
Dark energy, dark matter, Darth Vader.
The crazy boffin loves to joke and tease,
Like some good-humoured nerdish creator.
Less funny is the meteor crater:
There’s one in Iowa, and Mexico’s
Got a bloody huge one that boiled the seas
And killed the dinosaurs just weeks later.
Unlike comets, a dark meteor glows
Only when it hits: till then, no-one sees.
Mon 6 Aug 2007
Though they’ve come up with things, just theories
About the atom, molecules, and those
Daft ideas about superstrings: oh, please!
Black holes, worm holes, time travel, it’s a wheeze;
Dark energy, dark matter, Darth Vader.
The crazy boffin loves to joke and tease,
Like some good-humoured nerdish creator.
Less funny is the meteor crater:
There’s one in Iowa, and Mexico’s
Got a bloody huge one that boiled the seas
And killed the dinosaurs just weeks later.
Unlike comets, a dark meteor glows
Only when it hits: till then, no-one sees.
Mon 6 Aug 2007
335 - Democracy allows the rich free hand
Democracy allows the rich free hand
To set the rules and grab all of the cream.
The poor support this thanks to underhand
Techniques of dangling an unlikely dream.
Pure communism’s a depressing theme,
Suppressing greed, ambition, selfishness.
Mild socialism’s not quite as extreme,
And is therefore seen as more dangerous.
No government means inhuman chaos,
Where money’s might is right is all that’s planned.
Some folk are cracking; you can see the steam
Hiss from their ears like smoking volcanoes.
Democracy’s not fair, we understand,
But we don’t care, for we are not a team.
Sun 5 Aug 2007
To set the rules and grab all of the cream.
The poor support this thanks to underhand
Techniques of dangling an unlikely dream.
Pure communism’s a depressing theme,
Suppressing greed, ambition, selfishness.
Mild socialism’s not quite as extreme,
And is therefore seen as more dangerous.
No government means inhuman chaos,
Where money’s might is right is all that’s planned.
Some folk are cracking; you can see the steam
Hiss from their ears like smoking volcanoes.
Democracy’s not fair, we understand,
But we don’t care, for we are not a team.
Sun 5 Aug 2007
334 - Where shall we go a-travelling this year
Where shall we go a-travelling this year
My love, my sweet love, oh where shall we go
A ride to Paris on the Eurostar
From Waterloo Station at sunset? No.
Where shall we go a-travelling this year
My love, my sweet love, oh where shall we go
Ride on my pretty barge to Panama
Where can we see a canal like it? No.
Where shall we go a-travelling this year
My love, my sweet love, oh where shall we go
I’ll take you to the moon and back, I swear
I know that you love cheese, please say so. No.
Kind sir, there’s no a-travelling this year
Our travelling hopes have melted like the snow.
Sat 4 Aug 2007
My love, my sweet love, oh where shall we go
A ride to Paris on the Eurostar
From Waterloo Station at sunset? No.
Where shall we go a-travelling this year
My love, my sweet love, oh where shall we go
Ride on my pretty barge to Panama
Where can we see a canal like it? No.
Where shall we go a-travelling this year
My love, my sweet love, oh where shall we go
I’ll take you to the moon and back, I swear
I know that you love cheese, please say so. No.
Kind sir, there’s no a-travelling this year
Our travelling hopes have melted like the snow.
Sat 4 Aug 2007
333 - Three threes make three hundred and thirty three
Three threes make three hundred and thirty three,
Or you can add three threes up and get nine;
Three threes, trinity of a trinity;
Three quatrains, three rhyme sounds to end a line.
Three strains of “Oh my darling” Clementine;
In the year 333 St Helen died,
Constantinople named by Constantine;
It’s half the number of the beast John spied;
Two little fleas plus one, bingo man cried.
A third of telephone emergency;
A third of thrice-repeated German “nein;”
Three insects each into three parts divide.
The Third Reich began 1933;
To Dante, three times thirty-three’s divine.
Fr1 3 Aug 2007
Or you can add three threes up and get nine;
Three threes, trinity of a trinity;
Three quatrains, three rhyme sounds to end a line.
Three strains of “Oh my darling” Clementine;
In the year 333 St Helen died,
Constantinople named by Constantine;
It’s half the number of the beast John spied;
Two little fleas plus one, bingo man cried.
A third of telephone emergency;
A third of thrice-repeated German “nein;”
Three insects each into three parts divide.
The Third Reich began 1933;
To Dante, three times thirty-three’s divine.
Fr1 3 Aug 2007
332 - Aching with sleeplessness, I type this now
Aching with sleeplessness, I type this now
Before having to go to work, meetings
Already arranged which I won’t allow,
And they wouldn’t like, me to miss. The things
We have to do for money. The phone rings
For the second day at seven thirty:
Who keeps ringing me in early mornings
Like this? Last night somebody annoyed me
By walking round the bedroom below; she
Had high heels on. By half one the old cow
Annoyed me so much that my old bed springs
Sprung me out of bed; no sleep - too angry.
I read Bill Bryson till four. At eight, how
Loud these builders, shouts and machine engines.
Thur 2 Aug 2007
Before having to go to work, meetings
Already arranged which I won’t allow,
And they wouldn’t like, me to miss. The things
We have to do for money. The phone rings
For the second day at seven thirty:
Who keeps ringing me in early mornings
Like this? Last night somebody annoyed me
By walking round the bedroom below; she
Had high heels on. By half one the old cow
Annoyed me so much that my old bed springs
Sprung me out of bed; no sleep - too angry.
I read Bill Bryson till four. At eight, how
Loud these builders, shouts and machine engines.
Thur 2 Aug 2007
331 - A day in the life goes something like this:
A day in the life goes something like this:
I’m woken up by some noisy bastard
From all too little sleep, go for a piss
(Dark yellow if the drinking has been hard),
Then walk to work, leaving no carbon card,
To sit all day facing computer screen.
I chat and email, perceived a dullard
By those dullards and bastards who have been
Promoted and paid more: fortune’s been mean.
After my two teas and four sandwiches,
And long afternoons, my hard-earned reward
For staying awake’s to buy margarine
And beans and milk and stuff at Sainsbury’s,
Then back to flat, brew up, and become bard.
Wed 1 Aug 2007
I’m woken up by some noisy bastard
From all too little sleep, go for a piss
(Dark yellow if the drinking has been hard),
Then walk to work, leaving no carbon card,
To sit all day facing computer screen.
I chat and email, perceived a dullard
By those dullards and bastards who have been
Promoted and paid more: fortune’s been mean.
After my two teas and four sandwiches,
And long afternoons, my hard-earned reward
For staying awake’s to buy margarine
And beans and milk and stuff at Sainsbury’s,
Then back to flat, brew up, and become bard.
Wed 1 Aug 2007
330 - Death's not eternal, but a moment's change
Death’s not eternal, but a moment’s change
Effected by the turning of a screw
Internally, as old cells rearrange
Into interminable new issue,
Dissolving temporary old tissue,
Exemplary in use of recycling,
Returning from distemper to brand new,
Now reassembled to nature’s liking,
Resembling naturally our training.
Sustainable reuse is not so strange
To the external brain that we all view
While throughout simultaneously straining
To overturn, confuse, and to derange
The ancient order, and to break on through.
Tue 31 July 2007
Effected by the turning of a screw
Internally, as old cells rearrange
Into interminable new issue,
Dissolving temporary old tissue,
Exemplary in use of recycling,
Returning from distemper to brand new,
Now reassembled to nature’s liking,
Resembling naturally our training.
Sustainable reuse is not so strange
To the external brain that we all view
While throughout simultaneously straining
To overturn, confuse, and to derange
The ancient order, and to break on through.
Tue 31 July 2007
329 - The seventh trumpet sounds its dreadful peal
The seventh trumpet sounds its dreadful peal,
And nevermore above ground steal the dead:
Life’s renowned torment has lost its appeal;
By dark-gowned dancing master we are led.
Unfaithfulness surrounds the marriage bed
As we counter each other, move by move,
Surmounting, smothering, together, fled
Apart, then starting over, rebound love.
Dark town of childhood, silent nights approve
The preacher’s practice of making us feel
Demonic, undeserving to be fed,
Thinking all feeling to be risen above.
All seals lie open, only to reveal
An unknowing and meaningless charade.
Mon 30 July 2007
And nevermore above ground steal the dead:
Life’s renowned torment has lost its appeal;
By dark-gowned dancing master we are led.
Unfaithfulness surrounds the marriage bed
As we counter each other, move by move,
Surmounting, smothering, together, fled
Apart, then starting over, rebound love.
Dark town of childhood, silent nights approve
The preacher’s practice of making us feel
Demonic, undeserving to be fed,
Thinking all feeling to be risen above.
All seals lie open, only to reveal
An unknowing and meaningless charade.
Mon 30 July 2007
328 - Old Lion felt his time was drawing near
Old Lion felt his time was drawing near:
No longer fast enough to catch his kill,
Though strong and brave before, he now felt fear,
Humility, deference, catching a chill,
Unable to continue to fulfil
His lifelong leader’s role. Once the main mane,
Stood tall, now lying more, but truth’s not still.
Proud of his pride, but preyed on by the strain
Of reigning power that no beast can maintain,
Low in tall grass, the law that all revere
Sure to lay paws on him against his will,
When fierce young roars force old snores from the plain:
Old Lion’s dignity did not lie here.
Gold crown hung down, he veered towards the hill.
Sun 29 July 2007
No longer fast enough to catch his kill,
Though strong and brave before, he now felt fear,
Humility, deference, catching a chill,
Unable to continue to fulfil
His lifelong leader’s role. Once the main mane,
Stood tall, now lying more, but truth’s not still.
Proud of his pride, but preyed on by the strain
Of reigning power that no beast can maintain,
Low in tall grass, the law that all revere
Sure to lay paws on him against his will,
When fierce young roars force old snores from the plain:
Old Lion’s dignity did not lie here.
Gold crown hung down, he veered towards the hill.
Sun 29 July 2007
327 - Today we're going to the library
Today we’re going to the library -
That good old-fashioned place for borrowing
That good old-fashioned thing, the book - and we
Will take some back and take out some new thing.
Last week I borrowed a CD by King
(Plural) of an old Spanish town, and one
With pics of inflatable pig on wing,
And one female harpist, American.
My daughter met a friend in there; they ran
Around the quiet bookshelves, a banshee
And a bat out of hell, not impressing
The staid readers who stood, or those sat on
Chairs at the computers, trying to see
Quickly what used to take a life’s reading.
Sat 28 July 2007
That good old-fashioned place for borrowing
That good old-fashioned thing, the book - and we
Will take some back and take out some new thing.
Last week I borrowed a CD by King
(Plural) of an old Spanish town, and one
With pics of inflatable pig on wing,
And one female harpist, American.
My daughter met a friend in there; they ran
Around the quiet bookshelves, a banshee
And a bat out of hell, not impressing
The staid readers who stood, or those sat on
Chairs at the computers, trying to see
Quickly what used to take a life’s reading.
Sat 28 July 2007
326 - Remember the blue skies of innocence?
Remember the blue skies of innocence?
The sunny street showered with golden rays?
Now behind old blue eyes the clouds condense,
Once running feet slower in older days.
But was everything right? Let’s reappraise.
When I was a boy, I still hid my head
When the rain came on summer holidays,
Still spent a hard night crying in my bed.
I don’t wish those days could come back: the red
Knees and red face, silly superstitions.
Yes, me and you, and all our yesterdays
Have found a higher ground, and since we fled,
We’ve rung bells, sung, sprung into bed; visions
You see in the sky come true nowadays.
Fri 27 July 2007
The sunny street showered with golden rays?
Now behind old blue eyes the clouds condense,
Once running feet slower in older days.
But was everything right? Let’s reappraise.
When I was a boy, I still hid my head
When the rain came on summer holidays,
Still spent a hard night crying in my bed.
I don’t wish those days could come back: the red
Knees and red face, silly superstitions.
Yes, me and you, and all our yesterdays
Have found a higher ground, and since we fled,
We’ve rung bells, sung, sprung into bed; visions
You see in the sky come true nowadays.
Fri 27 July 2007
325 - Is this world real, or is it in my head?
Is this world real, or is it in my head?
Readers, do you exist, or has my mind,
Without my knowing, fathered you instead,
And, if so, am I God, but somehow blind
To my own creation? I am inclined
To think not. Think of what happens each day
When we lose keys or umbrella, then find
Them once again in a strange place where they
Don’t normally belong. Our minds are prey
To amnesia, but the world’s larger head,
Like an old elephant’s, has rich stores, mined
By all creation, each second, each day.
So your minds mine mine, as this work is read,
And we find keys to all mysteries combined.
Thur 26 July 2007
Readers, do you exist, or has my mind,
Without my knowing, fathered you instead,
And, if so, am I God, but somehow blind
To my own creation? I am inclined
To think not. Think of what happens each day
When we lose keys or umbrella, then find
Them once again in a strange place where they
Don’t normally belong. Our minds are prey
To amnesia, but the world’s larger head,
Like an old elephant’s, has rich stores, mined
By all creation, each second, each day.
So your minds mine mine, as this work is read,
And we find keys to all mysteries combined.
Thur 26 July 2007
324 - Whenever I hurt you it makes me cry
Whenever I hurt you it makes me cry,
But still I cannot stop myself: although
I love your smell, your taste, to gratify
Myself, I need this knife to cut you so
You open up, but as you do, a flow
Of water starts within my smarting eye,
Regretting that same appetite you grow,
Wetting my fingers, previously dry.
Now deep inside you, with my blade I pry
Among your secret layers, and apply
More strength, more speed, determined now to go
All the way into the pan where you fry.
Now to confess it: this was all a lie.
I never chopped a single onion, no.
Wed 25 July 2007
But still I cannot stop myself: although
I love your smell, your taste, to gratify
Myself, I need this knife to cut you so
You open up, but as you do, a flow
Of water starts within my smarting eye,
Regretting that same appetite you grow,
Wetting my fingers, previously dry.
Now deep inside you, with my blade I pry
Among your secret layers, and apply
More strength, more speed, determined now to go
All the way into the pan where you fry.
Now to confess it: this was all a lie.
I never chopped a single onion, no.
Wed 25 July 2007
323 - The earth's a rotten apple, and maggots
The earth’s a rotten apple, and maggots
Crawl ceaselessly both outside and within,
Devouring, covering with slick black spots
And dry patches its once moist tempting skin.
Old Adam ’ad ’em, as did Eve, even
Though conscience told ’em, hold on, eat pizza
Or anything else that you want: this sin
Will weigh you down, at least until Easter.
Big Apple, un-Newtonian vista
That only goes up, even downtown: what’s
Happ’nin’ my man? Got flood defences in
Times Square? Beware of this hard rain, mister;
The climes they are a-changin.’ It’s sunspots!
It’s carbon! Where’s the sense in arguin’?
Tue 24 July 2007
Crawl ceaselessly both outside and within,
Devouring, covering with slick black spots
And dry patches its once moist tempting skin.
Old Adam ’ad ’em, as did Eve, even
Though conscience told ’em, hold on, eat pizza
Or anything else that you want: this sin
Will weigh you down, at least until Easter.
Big Apple, un-Newtonian vista
That only goes up, even downtown: what’s
Happ’nin’ my man? Got flood defences in
Times Square? Beware of this hard rain, mister;
The climes they are a-changin.’ It’s sunspots!
It’s carbon! Where’s the sense in arguin’?
Tue 24 July 2007
322 - The naughty astronaut went for a walk
The naughty astronaut went for a walk
In space, but on his sortie he forgot
To take his rope; he thought he had, the dork,
But ended up a mortified white dot.
The portly puffin often ate a lot
Of muffins: he caught fish only rarely;
Too short he was of energy to trot
To port or quay because of his belly.
My daughter watches far too much telly:
It ought to keep her quiet but she’ll still talk
Till fraught mummy and daddy lose the plot
A quarter of the time, quite unfairly.
The wine I bought did not taste good in Cork
But I’m taught that to waste things I should not.
Mon 23 July 2007
In space, but on his sortie he forgot
To take his rope; he thought he had, the dork,
But ended up a mortified white dot.
The portly puffin often ate a lot
Of muffins: he caught fish only rarely;
Too short he was of energy to trot
To port or quay because of his belly.
My daughter watches far too much telly:
It ought to keep her quiet but she’ll still talk
Till fraught mummy and daddy lose the plot
A quarter of the time, quite unfairly.
The wine I bought did not taste good in Cork
But I’m taught that to waste things I should not.
Mon 23 July 2007
321 - They had a hell of a fight in heaven
They had a hell of a fight in heaven
The day the devil tried a coup d’etat
He got thrown out, now twenty four seven
His pad’s well-heated and real popular.
Last time it rained like this, good old Noah
Grabbed two of everything, even woodworm
And woodpeckers, making the ark slower
Would it’ve been better if he’d wet ’em?
Another strange affair was Abraham
Who, if he introduced circumcision
And slept with both Hagar and then Sarah
Would be the father of Jew and Moslem.
Just goes to show there’s fun in religion
The kids love it and so does my mother.
Sun 22 July 2007
The day the devil tried a coup d’etat
He got thrown out, now twenty four seven
His pad’s well-heated and real popular.
Last time it rained like this, good old Noah
Grabbed two of everything, even woodworm
And woodpeckers, making the ark slower
Would it’ve been better if he’d wet ’em?
Another strange affair was Abraham
Who, if he introduced circumcision
And slept with both Hagar and then Sarah
Would be the father of Jew and Moslem.
Just goes to show there’s fun in religion
The kids love it and so does my mother.
Sun 22 July 2007
320 - Taste is such a strange thing: each to their own
Taste is such a strange thing: each to their own;
I like orange juice but can’t eat the fruit,
And as for tomatoes, they are unknown
To my plate and palate, despite repute.
And then there’s women: those I think are cute,
Other women laugh at, though men agree
Sometimes with me; their clothing may not suit,
But that’s not always important to me.
And we’ve not mentioned art, philosophy,
Religion, politics (forbidden zone?)
Or what in friends is the best attribute,
Or where to go on next year’s holiday.
But vive la difference: to be a clone
Of peers or parents would make interest mute.
Sat 21 July 2007
I like orange juice but can’t eat the fruit,
And as for tomatoes, they are unknown
To my plate and palate, despite repute.
And then there’s women: those I think are cute,
Other women laugh at, though men agree
Sometimes with me; their clothing may not suit,
But that’s not always important to me.
And we’ve not mentioned art, philosophy,
Religion, politics (forbidden zone?)
Or what in friends is the best attribute,
Or where to go on next year’s holiday.
But vive la difference: to be a clone
Of peers or parents would make interest mute.
Sat 21 July 2007
319 - I think I'll set up in business and sell
I think I’ll set up in business and sell
Those tiny concealed cameras, sometimes used
By undercover TV men to tell
Their tale of criminals later accused,
Thanks to that evidence. If you’re confused,
Just think of the YouTube generation,
All furtively filming! But… How abused
Our privacy would be: a whole nation
Of perverts, global communication
At its fingertips! Cracked Liberty Bell,
How far does freedom ring? Your chime’s infused
With insult, ridicule, exploitation.
But hell, by now we all know, all too well:
In free markets, mere morals are misused.
Fri 20 July 2007
Those tiny concealed cameras, sometimes used
By undercover TV men to tell
Their tale of criminals later accused,
Thanks to that evidence. If you’re confused,
Just think of the YouTube generation,
All furtively filming! But… How abused
Our privacy would be: a whole nation
Of perverts, global communication
At its fingertips! Cracked Liberty Bell,
How far does freedom ring? Your chime’s infused
With insult, ridicule, exploitation.
But hell, by now we all know, all too well:
In free markets, mere morals are misused.
Fri 20 July 2007
318 - I hear the march of time, a distant drum
I hear the march of time, a distant drum
Beat, coming from a nearby house or flat;
A young lad with energy, and then some,
Strikes hard against the stoic skin - rat tat!
The clock, the drum, the pulse, dividing that
Which wasn’t there before, immeasurable;
How long’s infinity? When I am sat
On a park bench, I don’t count the people,
Or leaves on trees, or stone-produced ripple.
I know we count our lovers as they come
And go, but not the booze or chocolate.
After a while, the interest grows feeble,
And the boy stops, or is lost in the hum
Of traffic and lawnmower opiate.
Thur 19 July 2007
Beat, coming from a nearby house or flat;
A young lad with energy, and then some,
Strikes hard against the stoic skin - rat tat!
The clock, the drum, the pulse, dividing that
Which wasn’t there before, immeasurable;
How long’s infinity? When I am sat
On a park bench, I don’t count the people,
Or leaves on trees, or stone-produced ripple.
I know we count our lovers as they come
And go, but not the booze or chocolate.
After a while, the interest grows feeble,
And the boy stops, or is lost in the hum
Of traffic and lawnmower opiate.
Thur 19 July 2007
317 - The sun is blinding when I turn to right
The sun is blinding when I turn to right;
Illuminating, warming, from deep space
Through my window, and so I turn to write,
Unable quite to look it in the face.
The golden dust then truly found its place
On white computer screen and black keyboard,
Spotlit briefly, but shadows now replace
Those glorious dying beams; time to applaud
The end of one more show, its memory stored
In human mind and computer tonight,
Perhaps uselessly, in this crazy race
To gather it all in, for what reward?
Who knows? - but sure as dark replaces light,
Like alchemists, we make pure gold from base.
Wed 18 July 2007
Illuminating, warming, from deep space
Through my window, and so I turn to write,
Unable quite to look it in the face.
The golden dust then truly found its place
On white computer screen and black keyboard,
Spotlit briefly, but shadows now replace
Those glorious dying beams; time to applaud
The end of one more show, its memory stored
In human mind and computer tonight,
Perhaps uselessly, in this crazy race
To gather it all in, for what reward?
Who knows? - but sure as dark replaces light,
Like alchemists, we make pure gold from base.
Wed 18 July 2007
316 - I knew what I was going to write about
I knew what I was going to write about
A few hours back, but then I dyed my hair,
Made coffee, and spent some time finding out
About hotels in Suffolk. There’s a fair
Chance that me and the family may go there
On holiday, the last week in August.
There’s plenty of beaches, and the sea air,
And quaint cottages, and boats; yes, we must
Try to get away, for Josephine’s just
Impossible stuck in the house. She’ll shout
And jump and flop, and say that it’s not fair,
At home all through the last week of August.
I’ve still not recalled my idea. I doubt
There’s time and space now. Oh, I remember…
Tue 17 July 2007
A few hours back, but then I dyed my hair,
Made coffee, and spent some time finding out
About hotels in Suffolk. There’s a fair
Chance that me and the family may go there
On holiday, the last week in August.
There’s plenty of beaches, and the sea air,
And quaint cottages, and boats; yes, we must
Try to get away, for Josephine’s just
Impossible stuck in the house. She’ll shout
And jump and flop, and say that it’s not fair,
At home all through the last week of August.
I’ve still not recalled my idea. I doubt
There’s time and space now. Oh, I remember…
Tue 17 July 2007
315 - Before I start, I must open the door
Before I start, I must open the door:
There, that’s better! I was starting to sweat!
It’s humid because it’s about to pour
With yet more rain again, with yet more wet!
This heat reminds me: oh, I can’t forget
How hot it was that summer in New York
When the humidity just wouldn’t let
Me do much at all; certainly no work.
We detest a siesta; we don’t talk
Of slackening or sleeping! We call for
Cool air-conditioning, and then we get
Back down to it like mad dogs. We don’t shirk!
(Inspired by ironing a shirt or four
To Noel Coward tunes in summer’s heat.)
Mon 16 July 2007
There, that’s better! I was starting to sweat!
It’s humid because it’s about to pour
With yet more rain again, with yet more wet!
This heat reminds me: oh, I can’t forget
How hot it was that summer in New York
When the humidity just wouldn’t let
Me do much at all; certainly no work.
We detest a siesta; we don’t talk
Of slackening or sleeping! We call for
Cool air-conditioning, and then we get
Back down to it like mad dogs. We don’t shirk!
(Inspired by ironing a shirt or four
To Noel Coward tunes in summer’s heat.)
Mon 16 July 2007
314 - When I sit down to write, I don't know what
When I sit down to write, I don’t know what
I’m going to write about, and those readers
Familiar with my work perhaps will not
Be surprised I write whatever occurs.
For it is such a big old universe
That there is no excuse for writer’s block,
Although all of us sometimes feel its curse,
And then feel we belong under a rock!
There’s our own past, people we know, a shock
We had today, a joke, maybe a hot
News topic, or a song that inspires us,
Or someone or something we want to mock.
Poetry’s strength is that there’s not a lot
Of forethought needed: just write what occurs!
Sun 15 July 2007
I’m going to write about, and those readers
Familiar with my work perhaps will not
Be surprised I write whatever occurs.
For it is such a big old universe
That there is no excuse for writer’s block,
Although all of us sometimes feel its curse,
And then feel we belong under a rock!
There’s our own past, people we know, a shock
We had today, a joke, maybe a hot
News topic, or a song that inspires us,
Or someone or something we want to mock.
Poetry’s strength is that there’s not a lot
Of forethought needed: just write what occurs!
Sun 15 July 2007
313 - To a beautiful woman, La Belle France
To a beautiful woman, La Belle France,
And to her noisy, sweet children, Bonjour!
Though we are years apart, you still entrance,
Singing, Que reste-t-ils de nos amours?
A Paris honeymoon, and old book stores
On the Rive Gauche, the bridges and the Seine,
The Notre Dame gargoyles who, without pause,
Frown down on centuries of loss and gain.
The old lady of Normandie, her rain,
The cliffs in all their stone-faced resistance,
Old Caen that is no more (shelled in the war),
Each little village, vast rural terrain,
Each old bell-tower, towers of La Dé fense:
Quatorze juillet, Bastille Day, alors!
Sat 14 July 2007
And to her noisy, sweet children, Bonjour!
Though we are years apart, you still entrance,
Singing, Que reste-t-ils de nos amours?
A Paris honeymoon, and old book stores
On the Rive Gauche, the bridges and the Seine,
The Notre Dame gargoyles who, without pause,
Frown down on centuries of loss and gain.
The old lady of Normandie, her rain,
The cliffs in all their stone-faced resistance,
Old Caen that is no more (shelled in the war),
Each little village, vast rural terrain,
Each old bell-tower, towers of La Dé fense:
Quatorze juillet, Bastille Day, alors!
Sat 14 July 2007
312 - It's Friday the thirteenth, unlucky, or
It’s Friday the thirteenth, unlucky, or
Is it no more than just another day?
It’s early evening, and I only saw
The date just now, and so far, it’s okay.
It rained, but it’s been like that all the way
From May to July, so I can’t complain
Of bad luck today, or, when I replay
Past Friday the thirteenths; there’s been no pain.
Enough about the date; does fate contain
A thing called luck, that like some old see-saw,
Is up, then down, and sometimes just halfway,
Or is it not that easy to explain?
Luck used to be a lady, or a whore,
But sexism’s no more: luck’s gone away.
Fri 13 July 2007
Is it no more than just another day?
It’s early evening, and I only saw
The date just now, and so far, it’s okay.
It rained, but it’s been like that all the way
From May to July, so I can’t complain
Of bad luck today, or, when I replay
Past Friday the thirteenths; there’s been no pain.
Enough about the date; does fate contain
A thing called luck, that like some old see-saw,
Is up, then down, and sometimes just halfway,
Or is it not that easy to explain?
Luck used to be a lady, or a whore,
But sexism’s no more: luck’s gone away.
Fri 13 July 2007
311 - When I think of my love, it's not of her
When I think of my love, it’s not of her,
But of my love itself I’m thinking of,
Because I hardly ever consider
Her aspects less conducive to that love.
And love is what I want, not what my love
Wants, for they’re separate things altogether,
Like our two bodies when I think of love,
And what we do when we’re back together.
And whether I’m even thinking of her
At that moment when I look down on her,
When we are joined as one, as hand in glove,
Is not as certain as I would prefer.
Despite that, I love so much about her
That she is often in my thoughts of love.
Thur 11 July 2007
But of my love itself I’m thinking of,
Because I hardly ever consider
Her aspects less conducive to that love.
And love is what I want, not what my love
Wants, for they’re separate things altogether,
Like our two bodies when I think of love,
And what we do when we’re back together.
And whether I’m even thinking of her
At that moment when I look down on her,
When we are joined as one, as hand in glove,
Is not as certain as I would prefer.
Despite that, I love so much about her
That she is often in my thoughts of love.
Thur 11 July 2007
310 - I cannot serenade you from the street
I cannot serenade you from the street,
My love, with my guitar and my flat tone
Of voice, because it wouldn’t be discreet,
For we’d not be romantically alone.
I’d have to dodge the joggers, and your phone
Might ring, and you’d be arguing with ma,
And my singing might cause the dogs to moan,
And would be drowned out by each passing car.
You wouldn’t open your window that far
So I could see your long blonde hair, your sweet
Smile, and your twinkling eyes that once had shown
Me silent songs not sung to a guitar.
And so the evening once more is complete
Without your neighbours having cause to groan.
Wed 11 July 2007
My love, with my guitar and my flat tone
Of voice, because it wouldn’t be discreet,
For we’d not be romantically alone.
I’d have to dodge the joggers, and your phone
Might ring, and you’d be arguing with ma,
And my singing might cause the dogs to moan,
And would be drowned out by each passing car.
You wouldn’t open your window that far
So I could see your long blonde hair, your sweet
Smile, and your twinkling eyes that once had shown
Me silent songs not sung to a guitar.
And so the evening once more is complete
Without your neighbours having cause to groan.
Wed 11 July 2007
309 - Like Johnny Cash, I'm on the 309
Like Johnny Cash, I’m on the 309,
But still breathing okay, fortunately,
Because my train set off somewhat behind
The man in black, who’s far ahead of me.
Are his eyes good again? What can he see,
As he stands beside Orbison and Charles,
Dark glasses even more necessary,
Perhaps, as they stand in great golden halls?
Good rockin’ tonight! Hear it as it falls
Through clouds of dancing angels, looking fine,
Though they should behave with more dignity,
And not be party to such devilish balls.
Meanwhile, down here, when will I get the time
To strum my guitar along to those three?
Tue 10 July 2007
But still breathing okay, fortunately,
Because my train set off somewhat behind
The man in black, who’s far ahead of me.
Are his eyes good again? What can he see,
As he stands beside Orbison and Charles,
Dark glasses even more necessary,
Perhaps, as they stand in great golden halls?
Good rockin’ tonight! Hear it as it falls
Through clouds of dancing angels, looking fine,
Though they should behave with more dignity,
And not be party to such devilish balls.
Meanwhile, down here, when will I get the time
To strum my guitar along to those three?
Tue 10 July 2007
308 - We left my sister's home in Trebanos
We left my sister’s home in Trebanos
And headed for the wild Brecon Beacons,
Stopping to see some caves and dinosaurs
(A little scary, perhaps, for young ’uns).
The dinosaurs were just reconstructions,
Of course, but those dark, dripping caves were real
Enough to hush your loud daughters and sons,
And many children had come, with their school.
Leaving former domains of Celtic rule,
We drove back into neater Englishness,
All well-trimmed hedges and rhododendrons,
And Shropshire farmland, Shrewsbury’s appeal
To unspoiled pre-war architecture; pause
For eating, and then home to watch re-runs.
Mon 9 July 2007
And headed for the wild Brecon Beacons,
Stopping to see some caves and dinosaurs
(A little scary, perhaps, for young ’uns).
The dinosaurs were just reconstructions,
Of course, but those dark, dripping caves were real
Enough to hush your loud daughters and sons,
And many children had come, with their school.
Leaving former domains of Celtic rule,
We drove back into neater Englishness,
All well-trimmed hedges and rhododendrons,
And Shropshire farmland, Shrewsbury’s appeal
To unspoiled pre-war architecture; pause
For eating, and then home to watch re-runs.
Mon 9 July 2007
307 - Who'd have believed it? I'm all sunburnt - see!
Who’d have believed it? I’m all sunburnt - see!
I’ve turned into Tomato Man - look out! -
Although I don’t eat pizza usually,
I look all red now, both inside and out!
We went to two beaches, kept a lookout
For Josephine, who ran off down one beach,
And then ran back up it again, tired out;
Then hid in the café, out of rain’s reach.
With bare feet on stones I climbed: that’ll teach
Me to wear sandals when I’m by the sea,
And not jeans, shoes and socks: I came without
My shorts and swimming trunks too! Now I preach
That taking hours to pack is not silly:
If you rush, there’s something you’ll go without!
Sun 8 July 2007
I’ve turned into Tomato Man - look out! -
Although I don’t eat pizza usually,
I look all red now, both inside and out!
We went to two beaches, kept a lookout
For Josephine, who ran off down one beach,
And then ran back up it again, tired out;
Then hid in the café, out of rain’s reach.
With bare feet on stones I climbed: that’ll teach
Me to wear sandals when I’m by the sea,
And not jeans, shoes and socks: I came without
My shorts and swimming trunks too! Now I preach
That taking hours to pack is not silly:
If you rush, there’s something you’ll go without!
Sun 8 July 2007
306 - A good night's sleep, broken by aughter's cries
A good night’s sleep, broken by daughter’s cries
(But nothing serious) at sister’s place;
The energy a good night’s sleep supplies
Is such a welcome gift in every case.
The South Wales sun showed its shy morning face
As we drove the wrong way into the hills,
Then turned around and sped westward, disgrace
Of poor map-reading added to my ills.
Maybe it was the numerous refills
Of beer the night before that slowed my eyes?
We drove all around South West Wales at pace,
To Tenby, Caldey Island, two castles.
Discovering new places is the prize;
Renewing childhood’s world-loving embrace.
Sat 7 July 2007
(But nothing serious) at sister’s place;
The energy a good night’s sleep supplies
Is such a welcome gift in every case.
The South Wales sun showed its shy morning face
As we drove the wrong way into the hills,
Then turned around and sped westward, disgrace
Of poor map-reading added to my ills.
Maybe it was the numerous refills
Of beer the night before that slowed my eyes?
We drove all around South West Wales at pace,
To Tenby, Caldey Island, two castles.
Discovering new places is the prize;
Renewing childhood’s world-loving embrace.
Sat 7 July 2007
305 - Today was spent just driving down through Wales
Today was spent just driving down through Wales,
From Manchester to a town near Swansea,
Escaping endless days of rain and gales
And peering through the car windows to see
Patches of blue sky shining hopefully,
And smiling, welcoming us to the coast;
At long last, fitting weather for July,
Now that Wimbledon’s over - well, almost.
A hearty meal at midday: beans, no toast,
But fried bread, mushrooms, the works. How the scales
Would groan, stomach distended grotesquely!
Next, following the road map’s my next boast.
This is the land of song and dragon’s tails,
The land of hills and clouds and poetry.
Fri 6 July 2007
From Manchester to a town near Swansea,
Escaping endless days of rain and gales
And peering through the car windows to see
Patches of blue sky shining hopefully,
And smiling, welcoming us to the coast;
At long last, fitting weather for July,
Now that Wimbledon’s over - well, almost.
A hearty meal at midday: beans, no toast,
But fried bread, mushrooms, the works. How the scales
Would groan, stomach distended grotesquely!
Next, following the road map’s my next boast.
This is the land of song and dragon’s tails,
The land of hills and clouds and poetry.
Fri 6 July 2007
304 - The system - or life - punishes the good
The system - or life - punishes the good,
Rewarding selfishness and rule-breaking
By those who smile, but then trample, in mud,
Dreams of the poor folk whose hands they’re shaking.
Though lips praise God, their minds are forsaking
His message of love, not covetousness,
Completely focused on what they’re taking,
Quoting scripture, so folk dare argue less.
Blow this smokescreen away, make them confess
Their guilt, measured in heart attacks and blood,
In people placed beneath money-making,
Indoctrinating, leaving us this mess.
We won’t complain because we’re all so good,
Or could it be we’re scared? Now who’s faking?
Thur 5 July 2007
Rewarding selfishness and rule-breaking
By those who smile, but then trample, in mud,
Dreams of the poor folk whose hands they’re shaking.
Though lips praise God, their minds are forsaking
His message of love, not covetousness,
Completely focused on what they’re taking,
Quoting scripture, so folk dare argue less.
Blow this smokescreen away, make them confess
Their guilt, measured in heart attacks and blood,
In people placed beneath money-making,
Indoctrinating, leaving us this mess.
We won’t complain because we’re all so good,
Or could it be we’re scared? Now who’s faking?
Thur 5 July 2007
303 - Hail to Americans, not to the chief
Hail to Americans, not to the chief,
Nor to abusers of democracy
Who vote according to selfish belief,
And not for the good of society.
Just how richer should corporations be,
And if they don’t pay tax, what good are they?
No: all they do is fight aggressively
For market share, both near and far away.
While the eagle holds economic sway,
Its airborne shadow falls on rock, on leaf,
On city and on child, over the sea,
Over the hills, both near and far away.
There’s no getting away, there’s no relief,
Except for today: so let’s be happy!
Wed 4 July 2007
Nor to abusers of democracy
Who vote according to selfish belief,
And not for the good of society.
Just how richer should corporations be,
And if they don’t pay tax, what good are they?
No: all they do is fight aggressively
For market share, both near and far away.
While the eagle holds economic sway,
Its airborne shadow falls on rock, on leaf,
On city and on child, over the sea,
Over the hills, both near and far away.
There’s no getting away, there’s no relief,
Except for today: so let’s be happy!
Wed 4 July 2007
302 - Year after year, the time when it rains most
Year after year, the time when it rains most
Seems to be these two weeks of Wimbledon,
Our inland lashed and splashed as on the coast,
And dreams of watching tennis dashed and done.
The weather forecast is a shameful one
For my family holiday in Wales:
Whether it’s overcast or rains, no sun
Will warm us, so they say in nightly tales.
No: frightful storms, fearfully flapping sails,
Shivering surfers, cups of tea and toast;
Sheltering safely - oh what utmost fun! -
Is what we’ll have to do, if all else fails.
Soon my young daughter could have met the ghost
Of my own childhood stays in wet Weston.
Tue 3 July 2007
Seems to be these two weeks of Wimbledon,
Our inland lashed and splashed as on the coast,
And dreams of watching tennis dashed and done.
The weather forecast is a shameful one
For my family holiday in Wales:
Whether it’s overcast or rains, no sun
Will warm us, so they say in nightly tales.
No: frightful storms, fearfully flapping sails,
Shivering surfers, cups of tea and toast;
Sheltering safely - oh what utmost fun! -
Is what we’ll have to do, if all else fails.
Soon my young daughter could have met the ghost
Of my own childhood stays in wet Weston.
Tue 3 July 2007
301 - Perfection is absence of mark or flaw
Perfection is absence of mark or flaw,
Perhaps a blank white page or field of snow,
Pale skin so smooth, not partially burned raw,
Proud nature, untamed by man’s axe or hoe.
Eden was an idea designed to show
Even God’s own creature was now in sin,
Ending natural balance, made to go
Ever further from happiness within.
Religion, art, mathematics, even,
Regret the expulsion and struggle for
Return to harmony, although we know
Realistically, that it has never been.
For to see worldly chaos, eyes abhor;
False shapes, cave shadows, once seen by Plato.
Mon 2 July 2007
Perhaps a blank white page or field of snow,
Pale skin so smooth, not partially burned raw,
Proud nature, untamed by man’s axe or hoe.
Eden was an idea designed to show
Even God’s own creature was now in sin,
Ending natural balance, made to go
Ever further from happiness within.
Religion, art, mathematics, even,
Regret the expulsion and struggle for
Return to harmony, although we know
Realistically, that it has never been.
For to see worldly chaos, eyes abhor;
False shapes, cave shadows, once seen by Plato.
Mon 2 July 2007
300 - Perfection is the blank page, virgin white
Perfection is the blank page, virgin white,
Not the completed poem, full of flaws,
Revealing prejudice and background, quite
Embarrassing, and flouting good taste’s laws.
Talking of taste, I’ve had a two-night pause
From alcohol, but now I’m drinking beer,
And I find that, as each mouthful restores
Sweet calm, all of a sudden, bedtime’s here.
For what can be achieved when you kill fear,
And conscience, consciousness, and clear insight,
Escaping to these alcoholic shores
Where harsh reality is never near?
This white page, stained with black, cannot be right,
Yet here it is, expecting some applause.
Sun 1 July 2007
Not the completed poem, full of flaws,
Revealing prejudice and background, quite
Embarrassing, and flouting good taste’s laws.
Talking of taste, I’ve had a two-night pause
From alcohol, but now I’m drinking beer,
And I find that, as each mouthful restores
Sweet calm, all of a sudden, bedtime’s here.
For what can be achieved when you kill fear,
And conscience, consciousness, and clear insight,
Escaping to these alcoholic shores
Where harsh reality is never near?
This white page, stained with black, cannot be right,
Yet here it is, expecting some applause.
Sun 1 July 2007
299 - What Harriet Heart loved about Brian Brain
What Harriet Heart loved about Brian Brain
Was not his brain, nor did he love her heart,
Though to Mia Ear this sounded quite insane,
But somehow, nonetheless, romance did start.
Old Brian loved to read and look at art,
While Harriet liked to go out every night
And party, since she was a hearty sort,
But this, to Brian, didn’t feel quite right.
As time went on they did little but fight,
And even went to counselling in vain,
Till finally the two felt they should part,
A pair of fools in everybody’s sight.
Let Lily Liver end this sad refrain:
She says, “In love you use both brain and heart!”
Sat 30 June 2007
Was not his brain, nor did he love her heart,
Though to Mia Ear this sounded quite insane,
But somehow, nonetheless, romance did start.
Old Brian loved to read and look at art,
While Harriet liked to go out every night
And party, since she was a hearty sort,
But this, to Brian, didn’t feel quite right.
As time went on they did little but fight,
And even went to counselling in vain,
Till finally the two felt they should part,
A pair of fools in everybody’s sight.
Let Lily Liver end this sad refrain:
She says, “In love you use both brain and heart!”
Sat 30 June 2007
298 - The morning after didn't go too bad
The morning after didn’t go too bad:
I woke up slightly drunk, no hangover
At all, as usual, and also glad
At sleeping so long (through being unsober!).
With difficulty, I threw legs over
The side of the bed and, feet on the floor,
Unsteady, ready to head for soap or
Maybe the fridge, to find some juice to pour.
Those first refreshing gulps I so adore,
When dehydrated from the booze I’ve had;
Had mother known, well, it would have drove her
Quite mad; she doesn’t drink much (the old bore!).
If I say sorry for being a lad,
Then she won’t make me sleep on the sofa.
Fri 29 June 2007
I woke up slightly drunk, no hangover
At all, as usual, and also glad
At sleeping so long (through being unsober!).
With difficulty, I threw legs over
The side of the bed and, feet on the floor,
Unsteady, ready to head for soap or
Maybe the fridge, to find some juice to pour.
Those first refreshing gulps I so adore,
When dehydrated from the booze I’ve had;
Had mother known, well, it would have drove her
Quite mad; she doesn’t drink much (the old bore!).
If I say sorry for being a lad,
Then she won’t make me sleep on the sofa.
Fri 29 June 2007
297 - I'm tired and drunk and desperate for my bed
I’m tired and drunk and desperate for my bed,
And so I’ll write this sonnet and retire,
And in the morning won’t care what I said,
As long as something’s written (what a liar!)
Of course I should try hard, I should perspire
To write the truth, but frankly, do you care
If I say anything, or walk the wire
Between fact and fiction, dream and nightmare?
To be meaningful’s more than I can bear
In my current state, with my screwed up head,
With Bacchus lewdly strumming his old lyre
And fixing me with his old red-eyed stare.
Tonight with Spanish food I am well fed,
And so to bed, and its surreal empire.
thur 28 June 2007
And so I’ll write this sonnet and retire,
And in the morning won’t care what I said,
As long as something’s written (what a liar!)
Of course I should try hard, I should perspire
To write the truth, but frankly, do you care
If I say anything, or walk the wire
Between fact and fiction, dream and nightmare?
To be meaningful’s more than I can bear
In my current state, with my screwed up head,
With Bacchus lewdly strumming his old lyre
And fixing me with his old red-eyed stare.
Tonight with Spanish food I am well fed,
And so to bed, and its surreal empire.
thur 28 June 2007
296 - If we hate to pay taxes, then we hate
If we hate to pay taxes, then we hate
To give to others or share worldly wealth
With the less comfortable, less fortunate,
Preferring just to keep it for ourself.
Perhaps we should leave poor kids on the shelf
To sit in brutish ignorance or roam
In packs, a danger to the national health,
The unwashed streets their chosen lawless home.
If your house catches fire, find your own foam
Or water, and if sick, expect your mate
To stop working and tend to you themself,
In which case, to pay bills, they’ll need a loan.
It’s easy to attack the welfare state,
But do so and disease will grow by stealth.
Wed 27 June 2007
To give to others or share worldly wealth
With the less comfortable, less fortunate,
Preferring just to keep it for ourself.
Perhaps we should leave poor kids on the shelf
To sit in brutish ignorance or roam
In packs, a danger to the national health,
The unwashed streets their chosen lawless home.
If your house catches fire, find your own foam
Or water, and if sick, expect your mate
To stop working and tend to you themself,
In which case, to pay bills, they’ll need a loan.
It’s easy to attack the welfare state,
But do so and disease will grow by stealth.
Wed 27 June 2007
295 - A rest from the rain, a trip to the Lakes
A rest from the rain, a trip to the Lakes,
Where, though it seems strange, the sun shone today
In the place that streams with water, that breaks
Records for rainfall, but we did not stay.
A sortie up the M6, and a play
Of Scott Walker and Jacques Brel, and a talk
With my daughter; so good to hear her say
That things are sorted; at last, we could walk.
At Pooley Bridge we fooled with knife and fork,
Sailed on Ullswater, full of life; the snakes
Of Kirkstone Pass were driven past till they
Gave way to Grasmere, with its Wordsworth hawk.
To Castlerigg and Keswick in two shakes;
It has all gone quick, like any good day.
Tue 26 June 2007
Where, though it seems strange, the sun shone today
In the place that streams with water, that breaks
Records for rainfall, but we did not stay.
A sortie up the M6, and a play
Of Scott Walker and Jacques Brel, and a talk
With my daughter; so good to hear her say
That things are sorted; at last, we could walk.
At Pooley Bridge we fooled with knife and fork,
Sailed on Ullswater, full of life; the snakes
Of Kirkstone Pass were driven past till they
Gave way to Grasmere, with its Wordsworth hawk.
To Castlerigg and Keswick in two shakes;
It has all gone quick, like any good day.
Tue 26 June 2007
294 - The rain falls down from skies as dark as night
The rain falls down from skies as dark as night,
Turning the streets into muddy rivers
In which hippo-cars desperately fight
To scramble out and save their soul drivers.
Brown overflowing streams, the receivers
Of driftwood and branches, branch out all ways
Across the fields and houses, now givers,
Depositing in playgrounds and hallways.
The ground beneath the bridges and railways
Is saturated sponge, where failure might
Swallow a train, separating livers
From their angelic lovers for always.
I fear these freaky flash floods are now quite
A frequent fruit of mass misbehaviours.
Mon 25 June 2007
Turning the streets into muddy rivers
In which hippo-cars desperately fight
To scramble out and save their soul drivers.
Brown overflowing streams, the receivers
Of driftwood and branches, branch out all ways
Across the fields and houses, now givers,
Depositing in playgrounds and hallways.
The ground beneath the bridges and railways
Is saturated sponge, where failure might
Swallow a train, separating livers
From their angelic lovers for always.
I fear these freaky flash floods are now quite
A frequent fruit of mass misbehaviours.
Mon 25 June 2007
293 - Why are we all so damn competitive?
Why are we all so damn competitive?
Because we’re all nature’s machines, that’s why,
With written instructions that say, ‘Survive,
Do well, find a great mate, and multiply!’
Even those people who find this a lie,
And don’t want kids, still fight to obey three
Of those commands, and when at last they die,
They know they’ve helped progress society.
The contest isn’t between you and me,
But, like ants in a nest, bees in a hive,
We’re fighting against wind and rain and sky,
And working hard’s good for our colony.
It’s true we take, but also true we give
Our strength to others, as we wave goodbye.
Sun 24 June 2007
Because we’re all nature’s machines, that’s why,
With written instructions that say, ‘Survive,
Do well, find a great mate, and multiply!’
Even those people who find this a lie,
And don’t want kids, still fight to obey three
Of those commands, and when at last they die,
They know they’ve helped progress society.
The contest isn’t between you and me,
But, like ants in a nest, bees in a hive,
We’re fighting against wind and rain and sky,
And working hard’s good for our colony.
It’s true we take, but also true we give
Our strength to others, as we wave goodbye.
Sun 24 June 2007
Friday 24 September 2010
292 - The sixties had iconic images
The sixties had iconic images
Like miniskirts, Mini cars and long hair,
Protests against the final vestiges
Of corporate society - oh yeah!
The seventies had trousers with wide flare,
And bright colours, and more sex than before,
And by then even oldies had long hair,
And Nixon burgled and ended a war.
When punk and disco came to stay, we saw
An end to rapid change, and the riches
That those rich sixties kids said we should share
Are kept by the few, like they were before.
The rest have overspent, and the hitch is
The economy’s crashing to the floor.
Sat 23 June 2007
Like miniskirts, Mini cars and long hair,
Protests against the final vestiges
Of corporate society - oh yeah!
The seventies had trousers with wide flare,
And bright colours, and more sex than before,
And by then even oldies had long hair,
And Nixon burgled and ended a war.
When punk and disco came to stay, we saw
An end to rapid change, and the riches
That those rich sixties kids said we should share
Are kept by the few, like they were before.
The rest have overspent, and the hitch is
The economy’s crashing to the floor.
Sat 23 June 2007
291 - I'm turning into a vegetable
I’m turning into a vegetable,
And this ain’t a good metamorphosis;
I’ve lost all thought, sat here at the table,
Brain and computer equally useless.
My toes are roots, my hair’s a leaf-green mess,
My limbs are gnarled, sprouting limbs of their own,
On which some feathered friends have found, I guess,
A new home, safe from rain’s lash and wind’s moan.
Now that it seems I’m permanently sown
Into the floor, it won’t be possible
To do much more, apart from reminisce
About her kiss; she won’t like how I’ve grown.
This stress-free existence may enable
Me to think more, and solve life’s mysteries.
Fri 22 June 2007
And this ain’t a good metamorphosis;
I’ve lost all thought, sat here at the table,
Brain and computer equally useless.
My toes are roots, my hair’s a leaf-green mess,
My limbs are gnarled, sprouting limbs of their own,
On which some feathered friends have found, I guess,
A new home, safe from rain’s lash and wind’s moan.
Now that it seems I’m permanently sown
Into the floor, it won’t be possible
To do much more, apart from reminisce
About her kiss; she won’t like how I’ve grown.
This stress-free existence may enable
Me to think more, and solve life’s mysteries.
Fri 22 June 2007
290 - I woke up early, so I thought I'd write
I woke up early, so I thought I’d write
This sonnet now, coz I’ll be too sleepy
To do it later or to do it right;
Why did I have to wake up so early?
Because today’s the longest day, maybe,
When descendants of druids all gather
At Stonehenge in the darkness just to see
The sun rise at the zenith of Cancer.
No work today: I’m fetching my daughter
From Oxford, with boxes of things, despite
My car’s small size, armed with a big CD
Collection that we’ll play while we blather.
Rain’s forecast in the north, but it just might
Be okay further south, more summery.
Thur 21 June 2007
This sonnet now, coz I’ll be too sleepy
To do it later or to do it right;
Why did I have to wake up so early?
Because today’s the longest day, maybe,
When descendants of druids all gather
At Stonehenge in the darkness just to see
The sun rise at the zenith of Cancer.
No work today: I’m fetching my daughter
From Oxford, with boxes of things, despite
My car’s small size, armed with a big CD
Collection that we’ll play while we blather.
Rain’s forecast in the north, but it just might
Be okay further south, more summery.
Thur 21 June 2007
289 - My name is Antonionioni
My name is Antonionioni,
Although onions are not my favourite food;
I do, however, like macaroni,
Spaghetti, Pavarotti, sculptured nude.
I ain’t Italian, in no gangster feud,
But like John Bunyan, I wanna progress
Uphill, though it’s hard, though people are rude,
Not wallow in the mud, not make a mess.
I couldn’t follow the sun, I confess,
But laid low, hibernated, and only
Emerged now and then, when I felt the mood,
And read and listened hard for happiness.
My smiling skeleton’s oh so bony;
He stays thin despite all that I’ve accrued.
Wed 20 June 2007
Although onions are not my favourite food;
I do, however, like macaroni,
Spaghetti, Pavarotti, sculptured nude.
I ain’t Italian, in no gangster feud,
But like John Bunyan, I wanna progress
Uphill, though it’s hard, though people are rude,
Not wallow in the mud, not make a mess.
I couldn’t follow the sun, I confess,
But laid low, hibernated, and only
Emerged now and then, when I felt the mood,
And read and listened hard for happiness.
My smiling skeleton’s oh so bony;
He stays thin despite all that I’ve accrued.
Wed 20 June 2007
288 - Most of my thought's been thought and thought before
Most of my thought’s been thought and thought before,
By chimps, Neanderthals and cavemen too,
For millions of years, not just through the door
Of time, but beyond far horizon’s view.
It’s being thought right now in Timbuktu
By somebody who can be quite a bore,
Content to look and listen, mull and chew,
To wonder, ponder, include and ignore.
It will be thought again, of that I’m sure,
By later models of the brain I wore,
Who, like Columbus, think they are first to
Discover some, in fact, well-trodden shore.
I’m neither first nor last in this great queue
Of creatures wondering what they’re here for.
Tue 19 June 2007
By chimps, Neanderthals and cavemen too,
For millions of years, not just through the door
Of time, but beyond far horizon’s view.
It’s being thought right now in Timbuktu
By somebody who can be quite a bore,
Content to look and listen, mull and chew,
To wonder, ponder, include and ignore.
It will be thought again, of that I’m sure,
By later models of the brain I wore,
Who, like Columbus, think they are first to
Discover some, in fact, well-trodden shore.
I’m neither first nor last in this great queue
Of creatures wondering what they’re here for.
Tue 19 June 2007
287 - The three ages of spirit are as thus
The three ages of spirit are as thus:
The first age is childhood’s unquestioning
Belief in fairies, Santa and Jesus,
The devil, heaven, hell and all that thing.
The second age may be dominating
By early teens, when we often reject
Religion for not easing suffering,
Youth’s arrogance promising we’re correct.
The third age waits for the long-term effect
Of disappointment, illness, loneliness
To crowd our mental soil like some creeping
Weed infestation, and we then reflect:
There must be more than cold dark emptiness;
I’m wondering now if there is something.
Mon 18 June 2007
The first age is childhood’s unquestioning
Belief in fairies, Santa and Jesus,
The devil, heaven, hell and all that thing.
The second age may be dominating
By early teens, when we often reject
Religion for not easing suffering,
Youth’s arrogance promising we’re correct.
The third age waits for the long-term effect
Of disappointment, illness, loneliness
To crowd our mental soil like some creeping
Weed infestation, and we then reflect:
There must be more than cold dark emptiness;
I’m wondering now if there is something.
Mon 18 June 2007
286 - To dye, or not to dye: that's the question
To dye, or not to dye: that’s the question:
Whether ’tis nobler to change hair colour -
The slings and arrows of outrageous fun
At my expense I see - or go greyer?
To dye, to weep no more in the mirror,
To end that heartache with unnatural locks
Of reddish hairdo, consolation for
The drought of youthful kisses: hair dye rocks!
No steep price paid for cream: aye, rub in lots;
For when asleep in bed it will not run,
But shovelled on, will totally foil the
Rust of lived years: hair’s the respect that flocks
To make complimentary song: wife, listen -
For you dye your hair, why can’t I mine, huh?
Sun 17 June 2007
Whether ’tis nobler to change hair colour -
The slings and arrows of outrageous fun
At my expense I see - or go greyer?
To dye, to weep no more in the mirror,
To end that heartache with unnatural locks
Of reddish hairdo, consolation for
The drought of youthful kisses: hair dye rocks!
No steep price paid for cream: aye, rub in lots;
For when asleep in bed it will not run,
But shovelled on, will totally foil the
Rust of lived years: hair’s the respect that flocks
To make complimentary song: wife, listen -
For you dye your hair, why can’t I mine, huh?
Sun 17 June 2007
285 - I work five days a week for government
I work five days a week for government,
For one reason only: to get money
(Although a third is withheld for payment
Of income tax and so on, naturally).
So I pay them and they also pay me,
And then with my two-thirds, I buy the things
I need or want, and also frequently
Waste it, or fall victim to various stings.
And so the money merry-go-round brings
Us in a circle each month, having sent
Us off loaded, returning us lightly
With one coin left to which our finger clings.
But let’s enjoy the ride, for we are meant
To have fun rather than always worry.
Sat 16 June 2007
For one reason only: to get money
(Although a third is withheld for payment
Of income tax and so on, naturally).
So I pay them and they also pay me,
And then with my two-thirds, I buy the things
I need or want, and also frequently
Waste it, or fall victim to various stings.
And so the money merry-go-round brings
Us in a circle each month, having sent
Us off loaded, returning us lightly
With one coin left to which our finger clings.
But let’s enjoy the ride, for we are meant
To have fun rather than always worry.
Sat 16 June 2007
284 - A change of plan: I'm staying put for now
A change of plan: I’m staying put for now,
Because the buyer has withdrawn his deal,
And circumstances therefore won’t allow
A move just yet; my disappointment’s real.
But on the other hand, I also feel
That this is fate at work, and I should turn
It into opportunity, to steal
This time to write and think: brain cells, let’s burn!
Another good thing’s that I can now earn
Enough to have a holiday somehow,
Taking the wife and kid somewhere that we’ll
Remember, though I cannot yet return.
In any event, I shall make this vow:
To work harder, and to kind fate, appeal.
Fri 15 June 2007
Because the buyer has withdrawn his deal,
And circumstances therefore won’t allow
A move just yet; my disappointment’s real.
But on the other hand, I also feel
That this is fate at work, and I should turn
It into opportunity, to steal
This time to write and think: brain cells, let’s burn!
Another good thing’s that I can now earn
Enough to have a holiday somehow,
Taking the wife and kid somewhere that we’ll
Remember, though I cannot yet return.
In any event, I shall make this vow:
To work harder, and to kind fate, appeal.
Fri 15 June 2007
283 - Sometimes I see the strangest images
Sometimes I see the strangest images:
A love with long brown hair I never met,
Running towards me through the unknown trees,
Assuring me I’d never be upset.
Alternatively, I’m struggling to get
Past haunted holy rocks, although I freeze,
Imagining the all-seeing secret
Spirits who may kill or just cause unease.
Though I’ve not lived these lives, these memories
Belonged to others from former ages:
Transmitted, or only owing a debt
To my imagination; one of these.
I love these trips outside my own cages
Into some other joy, other regret.
Thur 14 June 2007
A love with long brown hair I never met,
Running towards me through the unknown trees,
Assuring me I’d never be upset.
Alternatively, I’m struggling to get
Past haunted holy rocks, although I freeze,
Imagining the all-seeing secret
Spirits who may kill or just cause unease.
Though I’ve not lived these lives, these memories
Belonged to others from former ages:
Transmitted, or only owing a debt
To my imagination; one of these.
I love these trips outside my own cages
Into some other joy, other regret.
Thur 14 June 2007
282 - I lay there all alone in bed, thinking
I lay there all alone in bed, thinking
About what love is, and if it is real,
Deciding quickly I wasn’t counting
Self-love as being a part of the deal.
Everyone loves themselves: there’s no appeal
In that issue, I thought, and so I stuck
To lust, romance and partnerships that we’ll
All have experienced, with differing luck.
We trusted, roamed, then parted, with a ‘Fuck
You!’ if selfish, but, if we are caring,
We hope our ex-love’s disappointments heal,
And new love’s found, as fishes find their hook.
Whatever it is, we swim on, seeking
Pleasure and pain at the end of that reel.
Wed 13 June 2007
About what love is, and if it is real,
Deciding quickly I wasn’t counting
Self-love as being a part of the deal.
Everyone loves themselves: there’s no appeal
In that issue, I thought, and so I stuck
To lust, romance and partnerships that we’ll
All have experienced, with differing luck.
We trusted, roamed, then parted, with a ‘Fuck
You!’ if selfish, but, if we are caring,
We hope our ex-love’s disappointments heal,
And new love’s found, as fishes find their hook.
Whatever it is, we swim on, seeking
Pleasure and pain at the end of that reel.
Wed 13 June 2007
281 - We live in the present, not in the past
We live in the present, not in the past:
Well, that’s what we all normally assume,
But looking closer, though light travels fast,
It still takes time for it to cross a room.
The chair alters, meanwhile, but our eyes zoom
Backwards along time’s road, always stuck in
That rear view mode, while, through the vast vacuum
Of space, long dead stars still appear to spin.
We throw yesterday’s papers in the bin,
But still, all that we see is now surpassed
And out of date, like old lovers’ perfume,
When old light, at long last, has dawned within.
The stillness present in this room’s a cast
Of dead actors, filmed raging against doom.
Tue 12 June 2007
Well, that’s what we all normally assume,
But looking closer, though light travels fast,
It still takes time for it to cross a room.
The chair alters, meanwhile, but our eyes zoom
Backwards along time’s road, always stuck in
That rear view mode, while, through the vast vacuum
Of space, long dead stars still appear to spin.
We throw yesterday’s papers in the bin,
But still, all that we see is now surpassed
And out of date, like old lovers’ perfume,
When old light, at long last, has dawned within.
The stillness present in this room’s a cast
Of dead actors, filmed raging against doom.
Tue 12 June 2007
Thursday 23 September 2010
280 - Oh no! Give me an extra hundred years!
Oh no! Give me an extra hundred years!
This book on Shakespeare’s sonnets is so long,
And when that’s done, there’s War and Peace; then there’s
Turning Proust and the Bible into song;
Living in Argentina and Hong Kong;
Perfecting my guitar and keyboard skills;
Having a few more marriages go wrong;
Rewriting ever more lucrative wills.
Or maybe, instead, watching how light fills
The room slowly, then slowly disappears,
And other such inactions that prolong
Days, years, decades that rushing around kills.
But no! I can’t change into lower gears;
Like James Dean, I can’t wait to get along………****!
Mon 11 June 2007
This book on Shakespeare’s sonnets is so long,
And when that’s done, there’s War and Peace; then there’s
Turning Proust and the Bible into song;
Living in Argentina and Hong Kong;
Perfecting my guitar and keyboard skills;
Having a few more marriages go wrong;
Rewriting ever more lucrative wills.
Or maybe, instead, watching how light fills
The room slowly, then slowly disappears,
And other such inactions that prolong
Days, years, decades that rushing around kills.
But no! I can’t change into lower gears;
Like James Dean, I can’t wait to get along………****!
Mon 11 June 2007
279 - Yes, Paul, it's getting better all the time
Yes, Paul, it’s getting better all the time,
As you sang forty years ago today,
For my own aches and pains are gone, and I’m
Getting more sleep at last: hip hip hooray!
My betting’s getting better too, I’d say,
With wins at the French tennis tournament;
Now bring on Wimbledon (rain don’t stop play!)
And help my financial predicament.
It’s fine today: the sort of day that’s meant
For strolling in the park in summer’s prime,
For ice creams melted by distant sunray
That travels all that way and then is spent,
Absorbed by ice cream, earth, and us, sublime,
Healing and cheering us, so far away.
Sun 10 June 2007
As you sang forty years ago today,
For my own aches and pains are gone, and I’m
Getting more sleep at last: hip hip hooray!
My betting’s getting better too, I’d say,
With wins at the French tennis tournament;
Now bring on Wimbledon (rain don’t stop play!)
And help my financial predicament.
It’s fine today: the sort of day that’s meant
For strolling in the park in summer’s prime,
For ice creams melted by distant sunray
That travels all that way and then is spent,
Absorbed by ice cream, earth, and us, sublime,
Healing and cheering us, so far away.
Sun 10 June 2007
278 - And so, with each day, we approach the peak
And so, with each day, we approach the peak
Of that extraordinary six month rise
That starts down in the valleys, dark and bleak,
And ends in light midsummer evening skies.
This is the time when lovers should make eyes,
When teenagers on street corners should kiss,
When great adventures should cause no surprise,
And all enjoy this long bright happiness.
But Sunday turns to Monday nonetheless,
And soon the party’s over, so to speak:
The crowd that the sun seems to tantalise
Hide once more in houses and offices.
The sun’s magnetic force is never weak,
And all obey it without compromise.
Sat 9 June 2007
Of that extraordinary six month rise
That starts down in the valleys, dark and bleak,
And ends in light midsummer evening skies.
This is the time when lovers should make eyes,
When teenagers on street corners should kiss,
When great adventures should cause no surprise,
And all enjoy this long bright happiness.
But Sunday turns to Monday nonetheless,
And soon the party’s over, so to speak:
The crowd that the sun seems to tantalise
Hide once more in houses and offices.
The sun’s magnetic force is never weak,
And all obey it without compromise.
Sat 9 June 2007
277 - We know something when we judge that it's right
We know something when we judge that it’s right
But judgement’s really only a feeling
Our feelings amount to desire for flight
From pain, while to the pleasure gods kneeling.
What gives pleasure or pain starts revealing
Before we’re born, from ancestors passed on
Through moments of pleasure before sealing
Of tombs, those quiet rooms for everyone.
We don’t choose ancestors or what gives fun;
We just discover it, and what gives fright,
And what we hate, and what is appealing,
And hope we fit in with the convention.
And if we do, then we can judge alright,
But if we don’t, they’ll say we need healing.
Fri 8 June 2007
But judgement’s really only a feeling
Our feelings amount to desire for flight
From pain, while to the pleasure gods kneeling.
What gives pleasure or pain starts revealing
Before we’re born, from ancestors passed on
Through moments of pleasure before sealing
Of tombs, those quiet rooms for everyone.
We don’t choose ancestors or what gives fun;
We just discover it, and what gives fright,
And what we hate, and what is appealing,
And hope we fit in with the convention.
And if we do, then we can judge alright,
But if we don’t, they’ll say we need healing.
Fri 8 June 2007
276 - To 'Know thyself' completely, oracle
To ‘Know thyself’ completely, oracle,
Is not so easy, as you know too well,
But ‘Know thyself as much as possible’
Is what I think I know you try to tell.
You counsel care, recounting how fools fell
When flying too high, like the feathered son,
But your pronouncement fails to fully spell
Out rules that, together, say ‘Walk, don’t run!’
However we endeavour, we are spun
By careless scissor sisters with feeble
Thread, but insist that our poor sense of smell
And its four brothers can dispense wisdom.
‘I think I think, therefore it’s plausible
I am,’ is all I know, oh oracle!
Thur 7 June 2007
Is not so easy, as you know too well,
But ‘Know thyself as much as possible’
Is what I think I know you try to tell.
You counsel care, recounting how fools fell
When flying too high, like the feathered son,
But your pronouncement fails to fully spell
Out rules that, together, say ‘Walk, don’t run!’
However we endeavour, we are spun
By careless scissor sisters with feeble
Thread, but insist that our poor sense of smell
And its four brothers can dispense wisdom.
‘I think I think, therefore it’s plausible
I am,’ is all I know, oh oracle!
Thur 7 June 2007
275 - The frozen minds of corpses turned to dust
The frozen minds of corpses turned to dust
Will mock me from the shelf at evening time;
As shiny new ambition turns to rust,
I’ll be amused with tempo, music, rhyme.
My temple stands unused, and no bells chime
Their welcome appeals for the pilgrim’s ear
That yearns to hear refrains above the grime
Of mankind’s living pains and grimmest fear.
I grimace, but disdain for one more year
To finish what it is so plain I must,
Instead of skimming surfaces, a crime
That most commit while doing their time here.
Convicted of conflicting thoughts, I just
Can’t decide whether to lie down, or climb.
Wed 6 June 2007
Will mock me from the shelf at evening time;
As shiny new ambition turns to rust,
I’ll be amused with tempo, music, rhyme.
My temple stands unused, and no bells chime
Their welcome appeals for the pilgrim’s ear
That yearns to hear refrains above the grime
Of mankind’s living pains and grimmest fear.
I grimace, but disdain for one more year
To finish what it is so plain I must,
Instead of skimming surfaces, a crime
That most commit while doing their time here.
Convicted of conflicting thoughts, I just
Can’t decide whether to lie down, or climb.
Wed 6 June 2007
274 - 'Who do I know the best? Myself, or you?'
‘Who do I know the best? Myself, or you?’
‘Yourself!’ you answer, with half-concealed smile
That tells me I’ve a cognitive issue
You wouldn’t find in the mind of a child.
‘Why’s that?’ I ask, unwisely, reconciled
To being cause of further merriment,
And am then told, ‘Think about it a while:
We can’t know others to the same extent!’
And then I ask, ‘But how long have you spent
Observing me from this or from that view,
Free from that sycophant mirror mind I’ll
See myself through, in half-light, as descent
Of evening smooths the lines?’ You smile anew,
But now decline to continue the trial.
Tue 5 June 2007
‘Yourself!’ you answer, with half-concealed smile
That tells me I’ve a cognitive issue
You wouldn’t find in the mind of a child.
‘Why’s that?’ I ask, unwisely, reconciled
To being cause of further merriment,
And am then told, ‘Think about it a while:
We can’t know others to the same extent!’
And then I ask, ‘But how long have you spent
Observing me from this or from that view,
Free from that sycophant mirror mind I’ll
See myself through, in half-light, as descent
Of evening smooths the lines?’ You smile anew,
But now decline to continue the trial.
Tue 5 June 2007
273 - When fondly looking back to younger days
When fondly looking back to younger days,
We fill them with those same old rosy hues
That cloud a glass of wine, spilling a haze
Of dull content to wash away our blues.
Yet those select scenes chosen to amuse
Are chosen with care by survivor’s hand,
Maternally protecting us from views
Too frozen by fear for our sight to stand.
So mother memory paints pastel land,
With pixie population, lit by rays
From smiling sun and merry moon; she’ll use
Some scenes of summer or white winterland,
But cleans until unseen the bully’s gaze,
And teens who barely got through the abuse.
Mon 4 June 2007
We fill them with those same old rosy hues
That cloud a glass of wine, spilling a haze
Of dull content to wash away our blues.
Yet those select scenes chosen to amuse
Are chosen with care by survivor’s hand,
Maternally protecting us from views
Too frozen by fear for our sight to stand.
So mother memory paints pastel land,
With pixie population, lit by rays
From smiling sun and merry moon; she’ll use
Some scenes of summer or white winterland,
But cleans until unseen the bully’s gaze,
And teens who barely got through the abuse.
Mon 4 June 2007
272 - It's natural for all of earth's creatures
It’s natural for all of earth’s creatures
To see their own survival as the most
Important thing to aim for that there is,
And when we die, to live on as a ghost.
The will to live is floating round the host
Of stars and planets, binding each to each,
And still it gives us light and life, opposed
To stagnation, supporting us to reach
For higher heights, from first crawl on the beach
To legs and fingers, thinkers on the shores
Looking beyond the ocean and the coast,
And wondering just how far they can reach.
The stars wink, as if giving their applause
For selfish dreams that place us uppermost.
Sun 3 June 2007
To see their own survival as the most
Important thing to aim for that there is,
And when we die, to live on as a ghost.
The will to live is floating round the host
Of stars and planets, binding each to each,
And still it gives us light and life, opposed
To stagnation, supporting us to reach
For higher heights, from first crawl on the beach
To legs and fingers, thinkers on the shores
Looking beyond the ocean and the coast,
And wondering just how far they can reach.
The stars wink, as if giving their applause
For selfish dreams that place us uppermost.
Sun 3 June 2007
271 - Will power is what makes our dreams come true
Will power is what makes our dreams come true.
Success has its very own recipe:
A pinch of belief, yes, but make sure you
Add spoonfuls of sickly sweet energy!
Keep stirring this foul mix persistently,
Ignoring those calls to leave your kitchen
To help loved ones or keep friends company:
The best food requires more dedication.
To put it differently, we shouldn’t shun
That distasteful process of selling to
The demon publisher. Remember, he
Is like us, looking out for number one.
He owes us nothing, so we have to do
Whatever it takes for publicity.
Sat 2 June 2007
Success has its very own recipe:
A pinch of belief, yes, but make sure you
Add spoonfuls of sickly sweet energy!
Keep stirring this foul mix persistently,
Ignoring those calls to leave your kitchen
To help loved ones or keep friends company:
The best food requires more dedication.
To put it differently, we shouldn’t shun
That distasteful process of selling to
The demon publisher. Remember, he
Is like us, looking out for number one.
He owes us nothing, so we have to do
Whatever it takes for publicity.
Sat 2 June 2007
Wednesday 22 September 2010
270 - The heat today took people by surprise
The heat today took people by surprise.
Most still wore coats despite the baking sun,
No doubt because of recent rainy skies.
What a nice change this was for everyone.
Now we’re in flaming June, it shouldn’t stun
Us when the heat is considerable,
But here in Britain, specially Wimbledon,
The summer weather’s very flexible.
(Unlike our tennis players!) A big bowl
Of strawberries might please you, but no lies:
I don’t like fruit. But I do like to run
On summer hills, weather permissible.
Bad things about the summer? Sweat, and flies,
But what a time to travel and have fun.
Fri 1 June 2007
Most still wore coats despite the baking sun,
No doubt because of recent rainy skies.
What a nice change this was for everyone.
Now we’re in flaming June, it shouldn’t stun
Us when the heat is considerable,
But here in Britain, specially Wimbledon,
The summer weather’s very flexible.
(Unlike our tennis players!) A big bowl
Of strawberries might please you, but no lies:
I don’t like fruit. But I do like to run
On summer hills, weather permissible.
Bad things about the summer? Sweat, and flies,
But what a time to travel and have fun.
Fri 1 June 2007
269 - George Bush stands there and talks 'bout climate change
George Bush stands there and talks ’bout climate change.
Hey, thanks, George! Gee, we didn’t know ’bout that!
Now that you told us, it don’t seem so strange.
Ya know, decidin’s what you’re real good at!
So quick to see them icebergs gettin’ flat,
Them storms a-whippin’ up around the bay,
An’ all that kinda shit. No Democrat
Convinced you of nuthin’. Al Gore can say
Whatever he wants. Now you’re on your way
Out, you’re doin’ the right thang. It’s revenge
On all them suckers who said you just sat
Around and grinned, or walked your dogs all day.
Well now a hole in one’s within your range.
The world’s gonna offer a welcome mat!
Thur 31 May 2007
Hey, thanks, George! Gee, we didn’t know ’bout that!
Now that you told us, it don’t seem so strange.
Ya know, decidin’s what you’re real good at!
So quick to see them icebergs gettin’ flat,
Them storms a-whippin’ up around the bay,
An’ all that kinda shit. No Democrat
Convinced you of nuthin’. Al Gore can say
Whatever he wants. Now you’re on your way
Out, you’re doin’ the right thang. It’s revenge
On all them suckers who said you just sat
Around and grinned, or walked your dogs all day.
Well now a hole in one’s within your range.
The world’s gonna offer a welcome mat!
Thur 31 May 2007
268 - I land our shuttle on Electron Three
I land our shuttle on Electron Three,
Despite a wicked hail of neutrinos
Restricting airstrip visibility
And covering it with slippery snows.
We wait and watch as the nucleus goes
Down under the horizon, then descend
Onto the sticky surface. We are close;
Maybe we’ll find something behind this bend.
After six hours of searching, at the end
Of my powers, in need of energy,
I find it, and am transfixed. How it glows!
I think my report back, ask them to send
More juice, and, rested, refreshed, smile as we
All carry back the treasure our computer chose.
Wed 30 May 2007
Despite a wicked hail of neutrinos
Restricting airstrip visibility
And covering it with slippery snows.
We wait and watch as the nucleus goes
Down under the horizon, then descend
Onto the sticky surface. We are close;
Maybe we’ll find something behind this bend.
After six hours of searching, at the end
Of my powers, in need of energy,
I find it, and am transfixed. How it glows!
I think my report back, ask them to send
More juice, and, rested, refreshed, smile as we
All carry back the treasure our computer chose.
Wed 30 May 2007
267 - The free spirit of jazz is in my head
The free spirit of jazz is in my head:
Thoughts fly off on a tangent like a blown
Up balloon with no knot in it; they’re red
Hot, like Paris; like ET phoning home;
Like tongues of flame licking all over Joan;
Like sweetened air, that special sort of rush
I get from labyrinthine saxophone
Or guitar solos, or the mighty brush
Of Bach’s fast-flying fingers. No, don’t crush
These flighty, flowering, quietly inbred
High towers of Eiffel and Gaudi, grown
Out of an abstract ground, fertile and lush.
From earthly bonds to heaven I am led;
In zeppelin and space shuttle I’ve flown.
Tue 28 May 2007
Thoughts fly off on a tangent like a blown
Up balloon with no knot in it; they’re red
Hot, like Paris; like ET phoning home;
Like tongues of flame licking all over Joan;
Like sweetened air, that special sort of rush
I get from labyrinthine saxophone
Or guitar solos, or the mighty brush
Of Bach’s fast-flying fingers. No, don’t crush
These flighty, flowering, quietly inbred
High towers of Eiffel and Gaudi, grown
Out of an abstract ground, fertile and lush.
From earthly bonds to heaven I am led;
In zeppelin and space shuttle I’ve flown.
Tue 28 May 2007
266 - Got up, had breakfast, wrote philosophy
Got up, had breakfast, wrote philosophy,
Read comments on my blog, then had to dash,
Deciding not to bet whether Derby
Would win or lose today’s most vital match.
My team were playing against West Bromwich
For promotion to the Premiership,
And our form lately hasn’t been a patch
On those weeks when we won each away trip.
Despite the heavy rainfall’s drip drip drip,
I had a day out with the family,
Riding a train and managing to snatch
A meal or two, leaving in time to slip
To the in-laws, where I watched their TV
And saw my team win that most vital match!
Mon 28 May 2007
Read comments on my blog, then had to dash,
Deciding not to bet whether Derby
Would win or lose today’s most vital match.
My team were playing against West Bromwich
For promotion to the Premiership,
And our form lately hasn’t been a patch
On those weeks when we won each away trip.
Despite the heavy rainfall’s drip drip drip,
I had a day out with the family,
Riding a train and managing to snatch
A meal or two, leaving in time to slip
To the in-laws, where I watched their TV
And saw my team win that most vital match!
Mon 28 May 2007
265 - I've just found out I should be moving soon
I’ve just found out I should be moving soon
From this flat in Salford back to Wilmslow.
The buyer’s told me the 15th of June
Is the exchange date; that’s when I should go.
I’m leaving all the furniture, you know;
That should make my move easier by far.
The clothes I never wear, I think I’ll throw,
And just take whatever fits in my car.
I’ve no place to go that’s particular,
It seems: I’ve had eighteen addresses, strewn
All around Manchester, and long ago,
In Birmingham and Lichfield, and, one year,
On Long Island, New York … but not the moon.
I’d get sick of the cheese, so I’ll say no.
Sun 27 May 2007
From this flat in Salford back to Wilmslow.
The buyer’s told me the 15th of June
Is the exchange date; that’s when I should go.
I’m leaving all the furniture, you know;
That should make my move easier by far.
The clothes I never wear, I think I’ll throw,
And just take whatever fits in my car.
I’ve no place to go that’s particular,
It seems: I’ve had eighteen addresses, strewn
All around Manchester, and long ago,
In Birmingham and Lichfield, and, one year,
On Long Island, New York … but not the moon.
I’d get sick of the cheese, so I’ll say no.
Sun 27 May 2007
264 - We walked down wet and windy Wembley way
We walked down wet and windy Wembley Way
Followed by fifty thousand football fans,
The Shrewsbury sharpshooters sure that they
Would beat all Bristol Rovers’ best-laid plans.
We stair-stepped to the summit of the stands
To see the sporting spectacle below.
My special spectacles spanned the distance,
Sparing my sight the strain of staring so.
The Bristol boys beat the black and red foe -
The prize of promotion propelled their play -
While shellshocked Shrewsbury shall not advance
To higher heights than Hereford; hell no.
The raw new red arena roared hurray,
Then away walked the wet and weary fans.
Sat 26 May 2007
Followed by fifty thousand football fans,
The Shrewsbury sharpshooters sure that they
Would beat all Bristol Rovers’ best-laid plans.
We stair-stepped to the summit of the stands
To see the sporting spectacle below.
My special spectacles spanned the distance,
Sparing my sight the strain of staring so.
The Bristol boys beat the black and red foe -
The prize of promotion propelled their play -
While shellshocked Shrewsbury shall not advance
To higher heights than Hereford; hell no.
The raw new red arena roared hurray,
Then away walked the wet and weary fans.
Sat 26 May 2007
263 - Our old friend Terry Bull likes a swift pint
Our old friend Terry Bull likes a swift pint
Down the old Dog and Duck with all his mates.
He’s sound, he’ll talk to anyone in sight
It’s listening what really irritates.
He’ll watch the game. That ref, he masturbates,
Or words to that effect, know what I mean?
The ladies laugh when this bald geezer states
His mind, in language so bold and obscene.
His shaven-headed gang, they rule the scene
On the pool tables or cruising at night
From pub to club, where each week he relates
Old anecdotes to some doting has-been
Divorcee, gets real naughty, then he might
Get frustrated, go home, slap Donna’s face.
Fri 25 May
Down the old Dog and Duck with all his mates.
He’s sound, he’ll talk to anyone in sight
It’s listening what really irritates.
He’ll watch the game. That ref, he masturbates,
Or words to that effect, know what I mean?
The ladies laugh when this bald geezer states
His mind, in language so bold and obscene.
His shaven-headed gang, they rule the scene
On the pool tables or cruising at night
From pub to club, where each week he relates
Old anecdotes to some doting has-been
Divorcee, gets real naughty, then he might
Get frustrated, go home, slap Donna’s face.
Fri 25 May
262 - Both Terry Bull and girlfriend Mad Donna
Both Terry Bull and girlfriend Mad Donna
Feel very full to nerve ends of great love.
This miracle I certainly honour,
By bellyfuls of hurtful punches proved.
He hits her in the morning, his first move.
He hits her while he’s yawning, late at night.
He hates violence, but warns he won’t approve
Her taste in friends. Her unborn child feels fright.
Her son, but not his, recently turned eight,
Lonesome, forgotten, frequently on a
Mission to rot upstairs, sent with a shove,
Listens to rock, indecent words of hate.
Headphones on full blast, he starts to answer
Questions. He’ll kill them fast. They’ll be removed.
Thur 24 May 2007
Feel very full to nerve ends of great love.
This miracle I certainly honour,
By bellyfuls of hurtful punches proved.
He hits her in the morning, his first move.
He hits her while he’s yawning, late at night.
He hates violence, but warns he won’t approve
Her taste in friends. Her unborn child feels fright.
Her son, but not his, recently turned eight,
Lonesome, forgotten, frequently on a
Mission to rot upstairs, sent with a shove,
Listens to rock, indecent words of hate.
Headphones on full blast, he starts to answer
Questions. He’ll kill them fast. They’ll be removed.
Thur 24 May 2007
261 - Snow falls on fir trees, slowly. The eyes see
Snow falls on fir trees, slowly. The eyes see
Them filling. Nothing solitary, unique.
Each tree seems the same, each snowflake, icy
White blanket on the ground, surrounding peak,
Slightly distinguishable, ground down, bleak
Equally, under uniform grey cloud
Stretching unbroken. In vain the eyes seek
A dark or light patch there within that shroud,
Evenly woven from a heavenly crowd
Of particles, all far to small to be
Told apart. Yet each one of them could speak
With cold and windy tongue so sure and proud
Of its difference from all the rest. Each tree,
Snowflake or drift of air has its distinct mystique.
Wed 23 May 2007
Them filling. Nothing solitary, unique.
Each tree seems the same, each snowflake, icy
White blanket on the ground, surrounding peak,
Slightly distinguishable, ground down, bleak
Equally, under uniform grey cloud
Stretching unbroken. In vain the eyes seek
A dark or light patch there within that shroud,
Evenly woven from a heavenly crowd
Of particles, all far to small to be
Told apart. Yet each one of them could speak
With cold and windy tongue so sure and proud
Of its difference from all the rest. Each tree,
Snowflake or drift of air has its distinct mystique.
Wed 23 May 2007
260 - There's concepts that just don't exist at all
There’s concepts that just don’t exist at all,
Like time, truth, soul, life, death and uniqueness,
And things that do exist, things that we call
By any name, such as a rose, I guess.
Each thing is indeed separate, more or less,
But each thing’s also a community:
The heart is not the brain or pancreas,
But all together make up one body.
That body, from a distance, you won’t see;
It’s now part of a crowd watching football,
Whose presence, from the moon, you would not guess.
No sign of life in this whole galaxy
That lies hidden within that drop, so small
You’d not believe it was a universe.
Tue 22 May 2007
Like time, truth, soul, life, death and uniqueness,
And things that do exist, things that we call
By any name, such as a rose, I guess.
Each thing is indeed separate, more or less,
But each thing’s also a community:
The heart is not the brain or pancreas,
But all together make up one body.
That body, from a distance, you won’t see;
It’s now part of a crowd watching football,
Whose presence, from the moon, you would not guess.
No sign of life in this whole galaxy
That lies hidden within that drop, so small
You’d not believe it was a universe.
Tue 22 May 2007
259 - Truth's nothing but each being's own viewpoint
Truth’s nothing but each being’s own viewpoint.
The ant finds most of his down in the grass,
While we look up to distant stars to point
The way ahead, to where we all must pass.
From bloody prison cells, through two small glass
Eyeholes, we survey the allotted strip
Of outside world our senses encompass,
And, weary, create a mental starship.
On death row, some still cling to hope they’ll slip
The rope that jungle justice would appoint.
And they’re right; dreaming, scheming, we surpass
That brick wall truth, catch whispers from the lip
Of nature, as it appears to anoint
Its children as they graduate from class.
Mon 21 May 2007
The ant finds most of his down in the grass,
While we look up to distant stars to point
The way ahead, to where we all must pass.
From bloody prison cells, through two small glass
Eyeholes, we survey the allotted strip
Of outside world our senses encompass,
And, weary, create a mental starship.
On death row, some still cling to hope they’ll slip
The rope that jungle justice would appoint.
And they’re right; dreaming, scheming, we surpass
That brick wall truth, catch whispers from the lip
Of nature, as it appears to anoint
Its children as they graduate from class.
Mon 21 May 2007
258 - The universe, and even life itself
The universe, and even life itself,
Seems unconscious, no matter what it builds.
You don’t think so? Do you control your health?
Or is it managed by some gland that spills
Those hormones just when needed, giving thrills,
Mending, or regulating production
Of other hormones? You don’t have those skills.
Or do you, without knowing? Each section
Of brain and vein and heart, each part, gets on
With doing its job expertly, so well
That you’d think it had brains. Are fishes’ gills,
Or even a computer, or the sun,
All things that react but don’t think or smell,
Conscious? Yes! It’s from them our mind’s distilled.
Sun 20 May 2007
Seems unconscious, no matter what it builds.
You don’t think so? Do you control your health?
Or is it managed by some gland that spills
Those hormones just when needed, giving thrills,
Mending, or regulating production
Of other hormones? You don’t have those skills.
Or do you, without knowing? Each section
Of brain and vein and heart, each part, gets on
With doing its job expertly, so well
That you’d think it had brains. Are fishes’ gills,
Or even a computer, or the sun,
All things that react but don’t think or smell,
Conscious? Yes! It’s from them our mind’s distilled.
Sun 20 May 2007
257 - Two lovers flirt, then one, now mother, cries
Two lovers flirt, then one, now mother, cries:
A tougher birth no-one could ever know.
All over, but that start, those fluttering eyes
Made butterflies fly over the rainbow.
This beautiful new babe could never grow;
Though hurtful to mother, maybe he knew,
Though certain to part, he was of love’s flow,
So up above he and his dart both flew.
Through lightning flash, through thunder, under dew-
Bejewelled blades of grass, here, there he spies
Each flushing lover’s grasp, fair aims his bow,
Enflaming hearts, unshaming gasps: one, two.
And so, when claiming lovers’ parts, be wise:
The skies have eyes. And your prize? An arrow.
Sat 19 May 2007
A tougher birth no-one could ever know.
All over, but that start, those fluttering eyes
Made butterflies fly over the rainbow.
This beautiful new babe could never grow;
Though hurtful to mother, maybe he knew,
Though certain to part, he was of love’s flow,
So up above he and his dart both flew.
Through lightning flash, through thunder, under dew-
Bejewelled blades of grass, here, there he spies
Each flushing lover’s grasp, fair aims his bow,
Enflaming hearts, unshaming gasps: one, two.
And so, when claiming lovers’ parts, be wise:
The skies have eyes. And your prize? An arrow.
Sat 19 May 2007
256 - Ole Chuck O'Leary loved his chocolate
Ole Chuck O’ Leary loved his chocolate
So dearly he got stuck in his doorway.
Clearly that roly-poly was too fat
From nearly always eating it all day.
His tummy, not his mind, he would obey
When yummy thoughts unkindly caught a hold.
A funny sort of smile like a sunray
Would run like naughty bunnies through his folds.
The neighbours saw Chuck stuck, and so did scold,
You schmuck, Chuck! Well, just look at where he’s at!
But while some chuckled, luckily Fat Fay
And ’Normous Norman, both of stomach bold,
Informed us they were not flummoxed by that,
Warmed up their hands and pulled! Somehow Chuck rolled away!
Fri 18 May 2007
So dearly he got stuck in his doorway.
Clearly that roly-poly was too fat
From nearly always eating it all day.
His tummy, not his mind, he would obey
When yummy thoughts unkindly caught a hold.
A funny sort of smile like a sunray
Would run like naughty bunnies through his folds.
The neighbours saw Chuck stuck, and so did scold,
You schmuck, Chuck! Well, just look at where he’s at!
But while some chuckled, luckily Fat Fay
And ’Normous Norman, both of stomach bold,
Informed us they were not flummoxed by that,
Warmed up their hands and pulled! Somehow Chuck rolled away!
Fri 18 May 2007
255 - Sweet Peter, pea eater, pleased to meet ya
Sweet Peter, pea eater, pleased to meet ya
Said Tubby Rita, not a meter maid,
Discreetly seated in Peterborough,
Greeting people who’d seized the ad displayed
In Peterborough’s paper and then made
Fleet-footed progress to her factory.
For complete success Rita sat and prayed:
To employ Sweet Peter as boss would be
For Peas R Us so satisfactory.
You’re so sweet, Peter, that I could eat ya,
Thought Rita. A litre of lemonade
For you, Peter, she said; now eat a pea
With me. It’s easy. Come here, I’ll squeeze ya.
Sweet Peter patted her. Pots of pennies he made.
Thur 17 May 2007
Said Tubby Rita, not a meter maid,
Discreetly seated in Peterborough,
Greeting people who’d seized the ad displayed
In Peterborough’s paper and then made
Fleet-footed progress to her factory.
For complete success Rita sat and prayed:
To employ Sweet Peter as boss would be
For Peas R Us so satisfactory.
You’re so sweet, Peter, that I could eat ya,
Thought Rita. A litre of lemonade
For you, Peter, she said; now eat a pea
With me. It’s easy. Come here, I’ll squeeze ya.
Sweet Peter patted her. Pots of pennies he made.
Thur 17 May 2007
254 - When rain, and pain, and strain again goes on
When rain, and pain, and strain again goes on,
The tonic is demonic sonic joy:
Enthusiastic plastic music spun;
Some fine ole vinyl finally employed.
Discs, decades displayed, dissuaded, annoyed,
By CDs, DVDs, developing
Machines; that means, by any means, destroyed
Must be our records, I reckon, wrecking
Those long lost listens, misty, glistening
In memory, ephemeral, then gone,
Like miles of smiles at each child’s wild new toy,
Besotted, now forgot, fetid, rotting.
Oh no, I own a phono, so no-one
Must take or break my discs. Mistake, old boy!
Wed 16 May 2007
The tonic is demonic sonic joy:
Enthusiastic plastic music spun;
Some fine ole vinyl finally employed.
Discs, decades displayed, dissuaded, annoyed,
By CDs, DVDs, developing
Machines; that means, by any means, destroyed
Must be our records, I reckon, wrecking
Those long lost listens, misty, glistening
In memory, ephemeral, then gone,
Like miles of smiles at each child’s wild new toy,
Besotted, now forgot, fetid, rotting.
Oh no, I own a phono, so no-one
Must take or break my discs. Mistake, old boy!
Wed 16 May 2007
253 - I've been to the doctor, and he said
I’ve just been to the doctor, and he said
It’s either stress or it’s an infection
Affecting muscles. But he put to bed
My worries about blood circulation.
I feel at ease; he’s relieved the tension,
At least in part. This gradual malaise
Has slowly grown; I paid no attention
For weeks, but had strange aches and pains some days,
In arms and legs and neck. Not just a phase
As I had hoped, for recently it’s led
To pain and numbness when typing. To shun
The keyboard can’t be done. My books, my plays,
My office work! I think this stress was fed
By sleepless nights. Roll on, relocation!
Tue 15 May 2007
It’s either stress or it’s an infection
Affecting muscles. But he put to bed
My worries about blood circulation.
I feel at ease; he’s relieved the tension,
At least in part. This gradual malaise
Has slowly grown; I paid no attention
For weeks, but had strange aches and pains some days,
In arms and legs and neck. Not just a phase
As I had hoped, for recently it’s led
To pain and numbness when typing. To shun
The keyboard can’t be done. My books, my plays,
My office work! I think this stress was fed
By sleepless nights. Roll on, relocation!
Tue 15 May 2007
252 - An alien's dictating this to me
An alien’s dictating this to me.
Don’t worry, he seems like he’s a nice chap,
Although his orange and green skin’s ugly…
(He laughed at that and gave my back a slap!)
Here goes. “Earth peoples, you must very clap
The nice and friendsome kinds and not shoutful.
We Zorg peoples do never, how say, trap
Or trick or treat or hurt or speak like bull.
You to be like we, flying saucerful
Across the university fastly,
You not beehive each other like they crap,
But like we, to strange beings acceptful.
Greatbye!” I feel like Elliott in ET.
Boo hoo! He’s nicer than us by some gap!
Mon 14 May 2007
Don’t worry, he seems like he’s a nice chap,
Although his orange and green skin’s ugly…
(He laughed at that and gave my back a slap!)
Here goes. “Earth peoples, you must very clap
The nice and friendsome kinds and not shoutful.
We Zorg peoples do never, how say, trap
Or trick or treat or hurt or speak like bull.
You to be like we, flying saucerful
Across the university fastly,
You not beehive each other like they crap,
But like we, to strange beings acceptful.
Greatbye!” I feel like Elliott in ET.
Boo hoo! He’s nicer than us by some gap!
Mon 14 May 2007
251 - Sophia, golden goddess of wisdom
Sophia, golden goddess of wisdom,
You’ll never rust, decay, depreciate.
No fear, bold, on goodness insistent,
Forever you must stay and seal my fate.
You bore me and will bear me to the gate,
And there you’ll leave me, needing you no more.
Before the hands are still, let me await
Your fair jewelled evenings, reading from your lore.
Your sense, ability and shining ore
Are both beauty and truth’s inspiration.
Immense facility, refined, innate
Devotion to duty, proof of the law:
Your golden rule, ancient divine system,
You’ll always uphold. Nature incarnate!
Sun 13 May 2007
You’ll never rust, decay, depreciate.
No fear, bold, on goodness insistent,
Forever you must stay and seal my fate.
You bore me and will bear me to the gate,
And there you’ll leave me, needing you no more.
Before the hands are still, let me await
Your fair jewelled evenings, reading from your lore.
Your sense, ability and shining ore
Are both beauty and truth’s inspiration.
Immense facility, refined, innate
Devotion to duty, proof of the law:
Your golden rule, ancient divine system,
You’ll always uphold. Nature incarnate!
Sun 13 May 2007
250 - Of thousand steps I've now taken quarter
Of thousand steps I’ve now taken quarter,
Like youth coming of age with laughing beard,
Like truth from president to reporter:
Of cows and bullshit may my steps be cleared.
Like spring’s beginning when March first appeared,
Of budding beauty green and wet with dew,
Of love poetry, eyes of mist uncleared:
Like singing of the first dark-winged cuckoo.
Of steps untaken, peaks with unseen view,
Like son’s career or husband of daughter,
Like deterioration to be feared:
Of steps mistaken, please let there be few.
Likely I’ll find Sophia: I’ve sought her
Often, her golden curls to heart endeared.
Sat 12 May 2007
Like youth coming of age with laughing beard,
Like truth from president to reporter:
Of cows and bullshit may my steps be cleared.
Like spring’s beginning when March first appeared,
Of budding beauty green and wet with dew,
Of love poetry, eyes of mist uncleared:
Like singing of the first dark-winged cuckoo.
Of steps untaken, peaks with unseen view,
Like son’s career or husband of daughter,
Like deterioration to be feared:
Of steps mistaken, please let there be few.
Likely I’ll find Sophia: I’ve sought her
Often, her golden curls to heart endeared.
Sat 12 May 2007
249 - Love's lovely, but it's just a distraction
Love’s lovely, but it’s just a distraction:
Often it dies soon after bearing fruit;
Like cherry blossom in the spring, it’s gone,
Replaced by desiccating summer heat.
We sweat, we fret, we start to feel so beat,
Turned up too high instead of just turned on;
The pressure cooker forces a retreat
To safety’s shadows, out of the kitchen.
For we have seen that, all of a sudden,
The thrill of that dangerous liaison
Was paid for with another mouth - so cute -
That needs more food, more work, more distraction
From doing what we wanted all along.
So how intelligent is love’s pursuit?
Fri 11 May 2007
Often it dies soon after bearing fruit;
Like cherry blossom in the spring, it’s gone,
Replaced by desiccating summer heat.
We sweat, we fret, we start to feel so beat,
Turned up too high instead of just turned on;
The pressure cooker forces a retreat
To safety’s shadows, out of the kitchen.
For we have seen that, all of a sudden,
The thrill of that dangerous liaison
Was paid for with another mouth - so cute -
That needs more food, more work, more distraction
From doing what we wanted all along.
So how intelligent is love’s pursuit?
Fri 11 May 2007
248 - I don't think much of the proposition
I don’t think much of the proposition
That there’s a purpose to all of this life,
And that it’s all about reproduction:
There’s plenty of worth in a barren wife.
In any case, the population’s rife:
We’re multiplying too fast as it is,
And so, in order to ward off more strife,
Let’s value the productive and childless
Who often work for others’ happiness,
And, when they die, the accumulation
Of their estate’s cut, like cake with a knife,
And distributed to the charities
And not the usual selfish transmission
To one’s own kids only. And so we strive.
Thur 10 May 2007
That there’s a purpose to all of this life,
And that it’s all about reproduction:
There’s plenty of worth in a barren wife.
In any case, the population’s rife:
We’re multiplying too fast as it is,
And so, in order to ward off more strife,
Let’s value the productive and childless
Who often work for others’ happiness,
And, when they die, the accumulation
Of their estate’s cut, like cake with a knife,
And distributed to the charities
And not the usual selfish transmission
To one’s own kids only. And so we strive.
Thur 10 May 2007
247 - It's plain insane to complain of the rain
It’s plain insane to complain of the rain,
Those few times you find blue skies kind of grey.
How often do drops soften stiffened grain,
Assuaging raging thirsty crops in May?
I’ll wager major wonga* you may say
This rain’s a pain, a drain on stayin’ power,
But think: we drink and wash our stink away,
Fill kettles, thrill to petals of real flower,
All met from wetness. Let’s not fret; this shower
Is sure to pour more of life’s store again
In just the dust it must restore; that clay
Adam and Madam had in ’em that hour
In Eden; feedin’ em, breedin’ ole Cain,
But leadin’ to the freedom of today.
Wed 9 May 2007
Those few times you find blue skies kind of grey.
How often do drops soften stiffened grain,
Assuaging raging thirsty crops in May?
I’ll wager major wonga* you may say
This rain’s a pain, a drain on stayin’ power,
But think: we drink and wash our stink away,
Fill kettles, thrill to petals of real flower,
All met from wetness. Let’s not fret; this shower
Is sure to pour more of life’s store again
In just the dust it must restore; that clay
Adam and Madam had in ’em that hour
In Eden; feedin’ em, breedin’ ole Cain,
But leadin’ to the freedom of today.
Wed 9 May 2007
246 - Oh great! I just sat down ready to write
Oh great! I just sat down ready to write,
And guess what? Yes, I need a toilet break.
Just hold that thought. My bladder’s getting tight,
And soon I could be sitting in a lake.
Beethoven, did you know, managed to make
Such freely flowing music by the use
Of chamber pot under piano. Shake
That thing, Ludwig, and return to your muse.
I’m serious, I don’t seek to amuse.
To capture airy fantasies in flight,
Cut out the interruptions, for God’s sake!
When all is down on paper, then you’re loose.
This incontinent sonnet’s full of shite;
I should write about love - but I’m no fake!
Tue 8 May 2007
And guess what? Yes, I need a toilet break.
Just hold that thought. My bladder’s getting tight,
And soon I could be sitting in a lake.
Beethoven, did you know, managed to make
Such freely flowing music by the use
Of chamber pot under piano. Shake
That thing, Ludwig, and return to your muse.
I’m serious, I don’t seek to amuse.
To capture airy fantasies in flight,
Cut out the interruptions, for God’s sake!
When all is down on paper, then you’re loose.
This incontinent sonnet’s full of shite;
I should write about love - but I’m no fake!
Tue 8 May 2007
245 - Springtime in North Wales, picnic in the rain
Springtime in North Wales, picnic in the rain
On Holy Island; Arthurian lunch
With ham and cheese sandwiches on terrain
Of seaweed and grass, stones and shells that crunch,
And tiny crabs that make great big girls cringe,
And dabbing tear-choked cheeks and grabbing coke,
And toilet stop in Beaumaris; next, plunge
Accelerator down - this car is smoke -
To reach Llandudno: fairground rides or broke.
But Kavern Records boarded up - what pain!
Downloading dries the profits like a sponge,
Along with supermarkets. Lazy folk!
We eat inside the Fountains pub again,
But what a dirty place to sit and munch.
Mon 7 May 2007
On Holy Island; Arthurian lunch
With ham and cheese sandwiches on terrain
Of seaweed and grass, stones and shells that crunch,
And tiny crabs that make great big girls cringe,
And dabbing tear-choked cheeks and grabbing coke,
And toilet stop in Beaumaris; next, plunge
Accelerator down - this car is smoke -
To reach Llandudno: fairground rides or broke.
But Kavern Records boarded up - what pain!
Downloading dries the profits like a sponge,
Along with supermarkets. Lazy folk!
We eat inside the Fountains pub again,
But what a dirty place to sit and munch.
Mon 7 May 2007
244 - Are we alive or dead? Do dead things live?
Are we alive or dead? Do dead things live?
Strange questions, sure, but oxygen is dead,
And so is water, food, the sun that gives
Us light and heat. All of these things we’re fed
Without us needing one thought in our head.
So death nourishes us, and finally
We nourish it when on our final bed;
We pay our debt and then it sets us free.
Our bodies are a whole community
Of bones and hormones, cells on a massive
Scale; jobs are done by all with nothing said;
They don’t ask why, they just act naturally,
Then die and are replaced. We get on with
Our lives, unaware of our own bloodshed.
Sun 6 May 2007
Strange questions, sure, but oxygen is dead,
And so is water, food, the sun that gives
Us light and heat. All of these things we’re fed
Without us needing one thought in our head.
So death nourishes us, and finally
We nourish it when on our final bed;
We pay our debt and then it sets us free.
Our bodies are a whole community
Of bones and hormones, cells on a massive
Scale; jobs are done by all with nothing said;
They don’t ask why, they just act naturally,
Then die and are replaced. We get on with
Our lives, unaware of our own bloodshed.
Sun 6 May 2007
243 - Tonight's the night I'll stay booze-free and write
Tonight’s the night I’ll stay booze-free and write.
Don’t know ’bout you but drinking slows my mind.
Not smoking’s really helped. I don’t drink quite
As much now as I did before, I find.
But any drink at all still seems to bind
My brain in chains; it strains and puffs and pants
Like some old train chugging uphill, half-blind
(The steam gets in your eyes); a cripple’s dance.
Enough of that! I’ll give myself a chance
To swim down to the seabed where those white
Pearls beckon, truth and beauty both are mined,
And duty’s fed by ruthless gaze, not glance.
And so in clear blue sea I swim tonight,
Not in polluted waters dark with wine.
Sat 5 May 2007
Don’t know ’bout you but drinking slows my mind.
Not smoking’s really helped. I don’t drink quite
As much now as I did before, I find.
But any drink at all still seems to bind
My brain in chains; it strains and puffs and pants
Like some old train chugging uphill, half-blind
(The steam gets in your eyes); a cripple’s dance.
Enough of that! I’ll give myself a chance
To swim down to the seabed where those white
Pearls beckon, truth and beauty both are mined,
And duty’s fed by ruthless gaze, not glance.
And so in clear blue sea I swim tonight,
Not in polluted waters dark with wine.
Sat 5 May 2007
242 - My neighbour, he's the devil incarnate
My neighbour, he’s the devil incarnate:
His ample blubber could fill shelves with soap;
His guts, if laid out in a line real straight,
Could lasso moon to earth just like a rope.
He loves to bang doors, pots and pans; no hope
Of quiet evenings or nights swathed in sleep.
To meet him at the top of Everest’s slope
Is now my only dream, in which I keep
Kicking his ass till he rolls down that steep
White mountainside at a tremendous rate.
Now the world’s biggest snowball tries to grope
For handholds, but nothing is there. The creep
Rolls off the edge and then, gathering great
Speed, flies up into orbit. Bye bye, dope!
Fri 4 May 2007
His ample blubber could fill shelves with soap;
His guts, if laid out in a line real straight,
Could lasso moon to earth just like a rope.
He loves to bang doors, pots and pans; no hope
Of quiet evenings or nights swathed in sleep.
To meet him at the top of Everest’s slope
Is now my only dream, in which I keep
Kicking his ass till he rolls down that steep
White mountainside at a tremendous rate.
Now the world’s biggest snowball tries to grope
For handholds, but nothing is there. The creep
Rolls off the edge and then, gathering great
Speed, flies up into orbit. Bye bye, dope!
Fri 4 May 2007
241 - I didn't go to work today because
I didn’t go to work today because
I got no sleep last night. Got up at five,
E-mailed a publisher, and then I was
All set to do an undercover dive.
But then, gosh, flippin’ eck, and snakes alive,
The moron below me starts hammering
Like Thor on steroids, making my brain jive,
My relaxation paranoid, staring
Into the void of this new day bearing
Down on my helpless shell, a real lost cause.
So I watched TV, then wrote about life,
The universe, and almost everything.
And so to bed, again, but then the roars
Of lawnmower engines rang out. Such mental strife!
Thur 3 May 2007
I got no sleep last night. Got up at five,
E-mailed a publisher, and then I was
All set to do an undercover dive.
But then, gosh, flippin’ eck, and snakes alive,
The moron below me starts hammering
Like Thor on steroids, making my brain jive,
My relaxation paranoid, staring
Into the void of this new day bearing
Down on my helpless shell, a real lost cause.
So I watched TV, then wrote about life,
The universe, and almost everything.
And so to bed, again, but then the roars
Of lawnmower engines rang out. Such mental strife!
Thur 3 May 2007
Tuesday 21 September 2010
240 - Here's to the unborn in their zillions
Here’s to the unborn in their zillions:
Let’s raise a glass to those who had no chance;
Who, unlike us, were the unlucky ones
Never invited to life’s crazy dance.
We still think we’re victims of circumstance,
Although we won the greatest lottery
Back when a few cells turned into humans,
As sperm and egg conjoined so selfishly.
Lest we forget: two hundred and fifty
Million sperm die each time that a man comes;
Millions of eggs made by girls in advance,
Though only hundreds reach maturity.
Add to these losers sperm and eggs from sons
And daughters never conceived. Now give thanks!
Wed 2 May 2007
Let’s raise a glass to those who had no chance;
Who, unlike us, were the unlucky ones
Never invited to life’s crazy dance.
We still think we’re victims of circumstance,
Although we won the greatest lottery
Back when a few cells turned into humans,
As sperm and egg conjoined so selfishly.
Lest we forget: two hundred and fifty
Million sperm die each time that a man comes;
Millions of eggs made by girls in advance,
Though only hundreds reach maturity.
Add to these losers sperm and eggs from sons
And daughters never conceived. Now give thanks!
Wed 2 May 2007
239 - A writer in another universe
A writer in another universe
Was feeling hungry, but he struggled on.
It takes so long, he thought, to write my verse.
Oh, where on zorg is my inspiration?
But during that last word’s long duration,
My earth was born in flame, cooled, lived and died,
Again in flame. And what a creation
Was that man’s desk! It was so long and wide,
Ten of my galaxies would fit from side
To side, within its left-hand drawer. A curse
Against his ineffectual god upon
His lips, ambitions to be big denied,
And health declining. Could things get much worse?
Life’s short, he thought, and put the kettle on.
Tue 1 May 2007
Was feeling hungry, but he struggled on.
It takes so long, he thought, to write my verse.
Oh, where on zorg is my inspiration?
But during that last word’s long duration,
My earth was born in flame, cooled, lived and died,
Again in flame. And what a creation
Was that man’s desk! It was so long and wide,
Ten of my galaxies would fit from side
To side, within its left-hand drawer. A curse
Against his ineffectual god upon
His lips, ambitions to be big denied,
And health declining. Could things get much worse?
Life’s short, he thought, and put the kettle on.
Tue 1 May 2007
238 - This is a small writing experiment
This is a small writing experiment:
I’m typing whatever comes in my head,
Like sort of flash poetry’s what I meant;
Besides, it’s getting late and I’m not fed.
As I walked home from work I bought some bread
And pasta when I need to eat faster.
Oh no, pasta and faster? I have sped
Too fast into that line, a disaster.
What other ‘aster’ rhymes are left? Plaster,
Maybe, but how does that fit in? I’m spent!
This poem’s terrible - that’s what you said?
Or am I paranoid? Now I’ll blast a
Way through to the couplet. Intelligent
Or not, this travesty’s accomplishèd!
Mon 3o Apr 2007
I’m typing whatever comes in my head,
Like sort of flash poetry’s what I meant;
Besides, it’s getting late and I’m not fed.
As I walked home from work I bought some bread
And pasta when I need to eat faster.
Oh no, pasta and faster? I have sped
Too fast into that line, a disaster.
What other ‘aster’ rhymes are left? Plaster,
Maybe, but how does that fit in? I’m spent!
This poem’s terrible - that’s what you said?
Or am I paranoid? Now I’ll blast a
Way through to the couplet. Intelligent
Or not, this travesty’s accomplishèd!
Mon 3o Apr 2007
237 - Tomorrow, also known as manana
Tomorrow, also known as mañana,
Is everybody’s special favourite day.
Then sorrow will have flown to Botswana,
While heavy bodies have sex in the hay.
How? Because we won’t need to earn our pay!
We’ll win the lottery and other bets.
Each night we’ll dine out, then go see a play,
While earning all the time from our assets.
My fortune-teller, he never forgets
To foretell all this promised nirvana.
He’s got a nerve, maybe, but baby, hey,
D’you like depression? Frankly, no, so let’s
Go nice n’ easy, like Frank Sinatra,
Till these prizes and freebies come our way!
Sun 29 Apr 2007
Is everybody’s special favourite day.
Then sorrow will have flown to Botswana,
While heavy bodies have sex in the hay.
How? Because we won’t need to earn our pay!
We’ll win the lottery and other bets.
Each night we’ll dine out, then go see a play,
While earning all the time from our assets.
My fortune-teller, he never forgets
To foretell all this promised nirvana.
He’s got a nerve, maybe, but baby, hey,
D’you like depression? Frankly, no, so let’s
Go nice n’ easy, like Frank Sinatra,
Till these prizes and freebies come our way!
Sun 29 Apr 2007
236 - It's Saturday morning, sunny and bright
It’s Saturday morning, sunny and bright
I wake up yawning, try to doze once more
No lawn mowing, not at second-floor height
I’m warming to the tasks that are in store
Like relaxation, and being a bore
Making the floor dirty instead of clean
Placing some bets that make me very poor
Listening to music, watching TV screen
Old shows I watched way back in the nineteen
Seventies. Heavenly. What a great sight!
Those old cars drive again just like before
Old home décor, haircuts and music scene
The trappings of my childhood back from flight
What a big smile from my toy dinosaur!
Sat 28 Apr 2007
I wake up yawning, try to doze once more
No lawn mowing, not at second-floor height
I’m warming to the tasks that are in store
Like relaxation, and being a bore
Making the floor dirty instead of clean
Placing some bets that make me very poor
Listening to music, watching TV screen
Old shows I watched way back in the nineteen
Seventies. Heavenly. What a great sight!
Those old cars drive again just like before
Old home décor, haircuts and music scene
The trappings of my childhood back from flight
What a big smile from my toy dinosaur!
Sat 28 Apr 2007
235 - Just yesterday my hopes were dashed again
Just yesterday my hopes were dashed again:
A publisher, though kind, still said ‘No.’ It
Seems I must deem, another year, in vain
All schemes and dreams to call myself ‘poet.’
(Poor rhyming.) Don’t despair. No, don’t blow it,
Just slow it; Start AND finish a novel,
A funny one. (But don’t tell, just show it.)
Attend a course, get out of this hovel.
(Predictable rhyme. Needs a course!) Shovel
Your crumbled ego back into your brain.
Heat gently. It’ll rise up like dough. It
Can’t be kept down! A hell-breaching devil,
Escape artist, rebel, castle in Spain,
Or single cannabis seed. (Let’s grow it!)
Fri 27 Apr 2007
A publisher, though kind, still said ‘No.’ It
Seems I must deem, another year, in vain
All schemes and dreams to call myself ‘poet.’
(Poor rhyming.) Don’t despair. No, don’t blow it,
Just slow it; Start AND finish a novel,
A funny one. (But don’t tell, just show it.)
Attend a course, get out of this hovel.
(Predictable rhyme. Needs a course!) Shovel
Your crumbled ego back into your brain.
Heat gently. It’ll rise up like dough. It
Can’t be kept down! A hell-breaching devil,
Escape artist, rebel, castle in Spain,
Or single cannabis seed. (Let’s grow it!)
Fri 27 Apr 2007
234 - A speck of dust upon a speck of dust
A speck of dust upon a speck of dust
Rode slowly in the sunlight round the room,
Along with countless others that were brushed
By Adam’s wife, so handy with the broom.
Her man sat there and tended to assume
That glittering display was for his sake;
Those winking orbs that twirled through the vacuum
Did so for his eyes only, while awake.
But dust just doesn’t care if senses make
Sense of the senseless or if they are hushed
By sleep or death. His eyes, long shut in tomb,
See no more golden stardust, cause no ache
For human acts of creation, no lust.
But all, yes all, continues since his doom.
Thur 26 Apr 2007
Rode slowly in the sunlight round the room,
Along with countless others that were brushed
By Adam’s wife, so handy with the broom.
Her man sat there and tended to assume
That glittering display was for his sake;
Those winking orbs that twirled through the vacuum
Did so for his eyes only, while awake.
But dust just doesn’t care if senses make
Sense of the senseless or if they are hushed
By sleep or death. His eyes, long shut in tomb,
See no more golden stardust, cause no ache
For human acts of creation, no lust.
But all, yes all, continues since his doom.
Thur 26 Apr 2007
233 - Five hundred on the Aussies - go, McGrath
Five hundred on the Aussies - go, McGrath!
They’re tearing the South Africans apart.
I don’t like cricket, I love it. The math
Works out at two hundred profit. Good start
To the week, then. On the financial chart,
The stocks and shares are doing what they should,
Which means, if they stay stable, I’ll depart
With further winnings. This inning’s so good!
I’ve known the hard times, like when Celtic could
Not beat the ‘mighty’ Falkirk: oh, my wrath!
And as for Man United, this old heart
Of mine’s knackered; it barely pumps the blood.
(They drew with Boro, and lost to Portsmouth.)
I’ll quit when I’m ahead. (The liar’s art…)
Wed 25 Apr 2007
They’re tearing the South Africans apart.
I don’t like cricket, I love it. The math
Works out at two hundred profit. Good start
To the week, then. On the financial chart,
The stocks and shares are doing what they should,
Which means, if they stay stable, I’ll depart
With further winnings. This inning’s so good!
I’ve known the hard times, like when Celtic could
Not beat the ‘mighty’ Falkirk: oh, my wrath!
And as for Man United, this old heart
Of mine’s knackered; it barely pumps the blood.
(They drew with Boro, and lost to Portsmouth.)
I’ll quit when I’m ahead. (The liar’s art…)
Wed 25 Apr 2007
232 - Some English names that sing of fame's renown
Some English names that sing of fame’s renown:
Shakespeare and Pope, so peerless with the pen;
Newton and Milton’s apples all fall down;
Breakspear, the pope whose name was Adrian.
St Patrick, who took that trip to Ireland;
Charles Darwin’s Beagle blown by far wind’s moan;
Trevithick, that prolific railwayman;
Charles Dickens, one of fiction’s finest known.
Old Churchill virtually saved us alone;
Elizabeth, till death, the virgin crown;
Poor Tyndale dwindled to a cinder’s end;
Henry the Fifth that swift thief of French throne;
The Venerable Bede, lost history found;
A memorable list, women and men.
Tue 24 Apr 2007
Shakespeare and Pope, so peerless with the pen;
Newton and Milton’s apples all fall down;
Breakspear, the pope whose name was Adrian.
St Patrick, who took that trip to Ireland;
Charles Darwin’s Beagle blown by far wind’s moan;
Trevithick, that prolific railwayman;
Charles Dickens, one of fiction’s finest known.
Old Churchill virtually saved us alone;
Elizabeth, till death, the virgin crown;
Poor Tyndale dwindled to a cinder’s end;
Henry the Fifth that swift thief of French throne;
The Venerable Bede, lost history found;
A memorable list, women and men.
Tue 24 Apr 2007
231 - St George's Day, and Shakespeare's birth/death day
St George’s Day, and Shakespeare’s birth/death day -
A big day for the English? Well, not so.
I haven’t seen one red and white flag sway
Among the merry winds of spring that blow.
But then I live in Salford, don’t you know?
Only when football and shaved heads collide
Do fat men, untucked sports shirts white as snow,
Put all their flags in one rust-bucket’s side.
No doubt exclusive villagers showed pride
(Most villages now keep the poor at bay)
And they’ll have flown the flag from churches, though
In multi-ethnic cities they must hide
Their Englishness. Ex-SS (Uruguay)
Were freer down in Montevideo.
Mon 23 Apr 2007
A big day for the English? Well, not so.
I haven’t seen one red and white flag sway
Among the merry winds of spring that blow.
But then I live in Salford, don’t you know?
Only when football and shaved heads collide
Do fat men, untucked sports shirts white as snow,
Put all their flags in one rust-bucket’s side.
No doubt exclusive villagers showed pride
(Most villages now keep the poor at bay)
And they’ll have flown the flag from churches, though
In multi-ethnic cities they must hide
Their Englishness. Ex-SS (Uruguay)
Were freer down in Montevideo.
Mon 23 Apr 2007
230 - Oh Ireland and its people, I love thee
Oh Ireland and its people, I love thee,
Though silent sun above me’s all I’ve known
When I’ve sailed o’er the silver salty sea -
I’ve not been jailed all winter in Athlone.
Oh hills of England, ne’er has heart outgrown
Your thrills; it rings like the bells of Penrith
As the cloud shadows dance on moor and stone -
But all that rain, perchance, I’ll do outwith.
Oh dragon’s lair of Wales, your song and myth
From Brecon fair regales to Pwllheli;
Now I’ll look back till croaking life hath flown -
How fucking soaked I got near Machynlleth.
In short, friend, thou canst not nor ne’er shall see
How shit it is when north wind hits your bone.
Sun 22 Apr 2007
Though silent sun above me’s all I’ve known
When I’ve sailed o’er the silver salty sea -
I’ve not been jailed all winter in Athlone.
Oh hills of England, ne’er has heart outgrown
Your thrills; it rings like the bells of Penrith
As the cloud shadows dance on moor and stone -
But all that rain, perchance, I’ll do outwith.
Oh dragon’s lair of Wales, your song and myth
From Brecon fair regales to Pwllheli;
Now I’ll look back till croaking life hath flown -
How fucking soaked I got near Machynlleth.
In short, friend, thou canst not nor ne’er shall see
How shit it is when north wind hits your bone.
Sun 22 Apr 2007
229 - As, unenlightened what to write about
As, unenlightened what to write about,
I’m waiting for the muse (like Lou’s old song),
Distracted by the fact I’m making out
From fat guy’s flat below that arsehole on
TV, a Mr Norton, caught in schlong
Gags too often, softened, auditioning
Those maybe Josephs. Lloyd-Webber, it’s wrong.
God save me from belaboured bellowing
And cruel Cowell, last year’s flavouring.
Vote for the worst has burst like rain on drought,
And now the tune-free crooner sees no gong,
But hears applause, though he’s nauseating.
It keeps on coming, dumbing down-and-out.
All quiet! Now I’ll write my sonnet. BONG!!!!!
Sat 21 Apr 2007
I’m waiting for the muse (like Lou’s old song),
Distracted by the fact I’m making out
From fat guy’s flat below that arsehole on
TV, a Mr Norton, caught in schlong
Gags too often, softened, auditioning
Those maybe Josephs. Lloyd-Webber, it’s wrong.
God save me from belaboured bellowing
And cruel Cowell, last year’s flavouring.
Vote for the worst has burst like rain on drought,
And now the tune-free crooner sees no gong,
But hears applause, though he’s nauseating.
It keeps on coming, dumbing down-and-out.
All quiet! Now I’ll write my sonnet. BONG!!!!!
Sat 21 Apr 2007
228 - To all the many ex-smokers out there
To all the many ex-smokers out there -
I’m one of you now, starting from last night!
Each cigarette can palpably impair
The blood flow, you know. What a bloody fright!
My arms and fingers, legs and feet aren’t right:
They have become progressively numb (hum
Along). So I’ll stop setting cash alight;
I’ll gamble it all away instead. Dumb,
Maybe, but healthier. And soon will come
The first of July, when the English air
Is liberated from those clouds of white
That long oppressed the crowds trapped in a room
Like prisoners held in a dragon’s lair.
It’s time to quit. That’s it. Thanks and good night!
Fri 20 Apr 2007
I’m one of you now, starting from last night!
Each cigarette can palpably impair
The blood flow, you know. What a bloody fright!
My arms and fingers, legs and feet aren’t right:
They have become progressively numb (hum
Along). So I’ll stop setting cash alight;
I’ll gamble it all away instead. Dumb,
Maybe, but healthier. And soon will come
The first of July, when the English air
Is liberated from those clouds of white
That long oppressed the crowds trapped in a room
Like prisoners held in a dragon’s lair.
It’s time to quit. That’s it. Thanks and good night!
Fri 20 Apr 2007
227 - Come to the freak show nightly on TV
Come to the freak show nightly on TV
And on YouTube and in the newspapers.
Tonight, kill time with chilling Cho Seung-Hui,
Or Saddam’s hanging, Baghdad massacres.
Hey, sado-masochists, you’ll get a buzz
From Abu Ghraib or from Guantanamo.
A filmed assault by young happy slappers,
Look! Someone kicked to death! Come see the show.
The Shoah (black and white) from long ago
Sure nuff’s shocking; so’s child pornography,
And snuff on DVD. So much stuff. There’s
Cho’s lead. Don’t just kill - make a video!
A thinly veiled gross immorality
Prevails as we watch executioners.
Thur 19 Apr 2007
And on YouTube and in the newspapers.
Tonight, kill time with chilling Cho Seung-Hui,
Or Saddam’s hanging, Baghdad massacres.
Hey, sado-masochists, you’ll get a buzz
From Abu Ghraib or from Guantanamo.
A filmed assault by young happy slappers,
Look! Someone kicked to death! Come see the show.
The Shoah (black and white) from long ago
Sure nuff’s shocking; so’s child pornography,
And snuff on DVD. So much stuff. There’s
Cho’s lead. Don’t just kill - make a video!
A thinly veiled gross immorality
Prevails as we watch executioners.
Thur 19 Apr 2007
226 - Live near your work! We should be made to own
Live near your work! We should be made to own
Or rent a property within five miles
Of factory or office. How we moan
About commuting in our vehicles
As we turn up those global warming dials
A few more degrees. To cycle or walk
To work would be healthy and free. All smiles:
No need for gym fees. Please, town planners, chalk
Up plans for city centre schools; no talk
Of costly, exclusive suburban zone
Or only poor or singles’ domiciles
In the town centre. And we should not balk
At scrapping workplace life. We have the phone,
We have the net. Who needs rat race lifestyles?
Wed 18 Apr 2007
Or rent a property within five miles
Of factory or office. How we moan
About commuting in our vehicles
As we turn up those global warming dials
A few more degrees. To cycle or walk
To work would be healthy and free. All smiles:
No need for gym fees. Please, town planners, chalk
Up plans for city centre schools; no talk
Of costly, exclusive suburban zone
Or only poor or singles’ domiciles
In the town centre. And we should not balk
At scrapping workplace life. We have the phone,
We have the net. Who needs rat race lifestyles?
Wed 18 Apr 2007
225 - I just can't wait to get in bed tonight!
I just can’t wait to get in bed tonight!
To snuggle up with the best company:
My radio, tuned in to ‘Up All Night’
Left on as I drop off, and my teddy,
Called Peter, who was introduced to me
When I was five. How many nights we’ve spent!
He came with me to university
And watched as girlfriends came but mostly went,
Like some stern grandfather, his eyebrow bent
In disapproval. He was out of sight
For many years, laid in a box with the
Mementoes of my childhood. He was meant
For further service, with his eyes as bright
As buttons. (They ARE buttons. Irony!)
Tue 17 Apr 2007
To snuggle up with the best company:
My radio, tuned in to ‘Up All Night’
Left on as I drop off, and my teddy,
Called Peter, who was introduced to me
When I was five. How many nights we’ve spent!
He came with me to university
And watched as girlfriends came but mostly went,
Like some stern grandfather, his eyebrow bent
In disapproval. He was out of sight
For many years, laid in a box with the
Mementoes of my childhood. He was meant
For further service, with his eyes as bright
As buttons. (They ARE buttons. Irony!)
Tue 17 Apr 2007
224 - Kids drink and screw and stab and shoot, or so
Kids drink and screw and stab and shoot, or so
The papers tell us. Do they want to scare
Us into right-wing thinking, even though
Our lives are ever easier? They care,
Or so they claim, about justice, but their
Proprietors are tax-avoiding and
Manipulative. Does a millionaire
Get where he is by wringing of the hand?
Inheritance tax may not seem so grand,
But how else will the money ever flow
From haves to have nots? People will not share.
Above all, we have got to understand
That peace comes not from military show
Of force, or hard-line police, but being fair.
Mon 16 Apr 2007
The papers tell us. Do they want to scare
Us into right-wing thinking, even though
Our lives are ever easier? They care,
Or so they claim, about justice, but their
Proprietors are tax-avoiding and
Manipulative. Does a millionaire
Get where he is by wringing of the hand?
Inheritance tax may not seem so grand,
But how else will the money ever flow
From haves to have nots? People will not share.
Above all, we have got to understand
That peace comes not from military show
Of force, or hard-line police, but being fair.
Mon 16 Apr 2007
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