Arold Pinter

'arold Pinter in the winter

doing a solstice dance

Bruised and babbling, fingers dabbling

was a fine romance

'arold Pinter wot a binter

didn't stand a chance

despite his size, a Nobel Prize

and some award in France

'arold Pinter off to hinter

couldn't catch 'is breath

time went by and my oh my

ended at 'is death

'arold Pinter now it's winter

nothin' left but lime

just the bones, the useless groans

such a waste of time

such a waste

oh such a waste

oh such a waste of time

Green Tea World

I live in a magic green tea world

with green tea seas I bathe in

and green tea rivers I float down on

till I reach the great North Green Tea Ocean

and when I'm there I ease my pains

I soothe my stress

and build afresh

and breathe again

the green tea air

of this magical

green tea

green sea

green me world

On a Bad Day

I am deaf

to the music

of your heart

I am blind

to the beauty

of your eyes

I am dumb

to the wisdom

of your speech

Make it poetic

make it poetic they said

no I said

I don't care if it's not poetic

I don't write this stuff

it writes itself

then edit it later, they say

so that it becomes more poetic

what do you mean, edit?

the wind comes, blows stuff around,

then goes.

Sure, you need to tidy up

but you're not tidying the wind

just what was lying around

let someone else tidy up

says the wind

if it's not poetic

it's not poetic

it still is

and that's good enough for me

The Water's Gone

The water's gone

there's none left

how do we survive when the water's gone?

empty cup

we realise too late

the water was priceless

and now it's gone

the only water is tears

when the water's gone

we are all parched

Talking to Myself

Am I just talking to myself?

I said to myself

Am I just talking to myself?

I said to no one else

and then a wee voice whispered

no

no

you are speaking to everyone

who ever lived

but they are hard of hearing

you are speaking to the ghosts

the angels

the demons

you are speaking to God

the one who doesn't exist

who oversees the universe

and all of time

this is who you are speaking to

and although they don't listen

they hear your every word

you are them

and all of them are you

and we are always just

talking to ourselves

and therefore to everyone

all of the time

Purpose

I am here to be here

to surface when it is time to surface

and dive when it is time to dive

I am here to serve the master

that has no name

no body

I am here to question why I am here

even though I know there is no answer

Indeed, no question

I am here to not be here

in the end

but the purpose

always remains the same

Plea to Fate

Please do not let

the cold

silence the birds

(After a John Guzlowski line 'When the cold will silence the birds' from the poem 'What's in my Hands?'

The Green Tea Man

I am the son of the Green Tea Man

he, who planted the first bush

millions of years ago,

nurtured it to maturity

gently plucked its leaves

so that it would flourish again

next harvest season

dried them in his experimental cave

invented fire so as to heat

the water he brought from the river

in a bowl which he invented for this sacred purpose

I am his son

he who still lives

in the sunshine on the bushes

in the rainfall on the soil

in the majesty of existence

I sip my green tea

from a small ceramic cup

with no handle

specifically made for this drink

I am having today

I am the green tea man

I am his son

I am the green tea

I am the cup

and the water

and the taste

and the enjoyment

and the moment

when there is no more green tea

to drink

The Broken Buddha

I had a little Buddha

that was a candlelight holder.

I used it as a bookend

but the books slid one day

and knocked the Buddha onto the floor

breaking its base.

Still, the Buddha just smiled

didn't flinch

or show any anger

at my clumsiness

Smiled as if he wasn't real

just a candlelight holder

in a suburban house

far from India

far from enlightenment

If In Doubt

if in doubt

a cup of tea

if in doubt

a walk

if in doubt

Chuang Tzu

if in doubt

Uchiyama

if in doubt

sleep

Junk Mail

thank god for junk mail

otherwise all we'd get

is mail from people we know

telling us things that matter

or the latest news on their lives

when all we really want

is fake news about Gillette razors

or an offer of £1 million

from a Nigerian prince

if only we'd share our bank details

God invented junk mail

so that when AI

takes all of our jobs

including the writing of poems

about junk mail

and AI taking all of our jobs

there will still be something meaningless to do

anything will do

so long as we don't have to

sit still and just be,

dwelling on who we are

and for what reason

now that we are no longer

in the workplace culture

that has defined our existence

for the past two hundred years

All These People

all these people

trying to be themselves

but they don't know how

all these people

wandering in total confusion

not knowing who they are

all these people

lost in the wilderness

of their own heart

all these people

forsaken by themselves

looking for forgiveness

for something they didn't do

all these people

not aware

that they are already home

all these people

strung out on ropes

that don't exist

all these people

poor people

with eyes shut

thinking they're open

Reunion with my parents and theirs

When this is all over

we'll all go together

and pull wild mountain thyme

like they sing in that song of old

and we'll all be together

and we'll know that death

is just a shutter

and when you pull it open

the sun shines through the window

and illuminates us all

and we'll all be together

and we'll all hold each other

and the pain and loss and grief

will dissolve in the heather

and we'll pull the wild mountain thyme

while the world stands still

to give us eternity

and I will hold your eyes with mine

and love will envelope us

for all time

Young Man on the Ship

young man on board

scared, trying to hide it

no bravado, no bragging

just hiding inside himself

young man blocking all feelings

shutting down in order to function

mind focussed on the radar

young man

time had to come

where it all burst open

six breakdowns

five months

twice in hospital

four times in rest homes

twenty two years old

a long way from home

a long way from whole

a long way to heal

did you ever heal?

The Gift of Grief

grief is the gift

that reminds you you loved someone

grief is the gift

that reminds you

that life is precious

grief is the gift

that teaches you hurt

and from hurt

you might just find true empathy

grief is the gift

you don't want

but need

Aging Rock Stars

we are now getting to the stage

where we don't go to concerts

to applaud our heroes

for their music

but to pay them homage and love

in case it's the last time we get

to see them alive,

which, all else being equal,

is pretty likely.

One Tomorrow

One tomorrow I will die

and I won't have that tomorrow

and that tomorrow will occur

without my presence

without my participation

and I won't write any poems that tomorrow

and I won't tell my son and daughter I love them

that tomorrow

and I won't make a cup of coffee for my wife

or get Mia's medications ready

or feed the bunnies

or check my to do list

that tomorrow

because that tomorrow

will not be my tomorrow

but only the tomorrow

for the living

and that won't include me.

Giving Time

To everything there is a season

a time to take

and a time to give

so I was asked to give a talk

to a group of people

whose loved ones

had taken their own life

I had nothing to offer

but my time

so I gave my time

and hoped that somehow

my time

might do something for them

Encounter with Survival

It was in Ukraine

in the farming village

next to where my father was born.

Dad's village had been destroyed

to wipe out all signs of it

after the war.

So no one we spoke to knew of it

until an old woman came out of her house

and she walked with us

to where the settlement had been.

Through the translator

she explained that she remembered the Polish village school.

She went there, after the war,

when it was no longer a Polish school,

but a Soviet-Ukrainian one,

all the Poles having been

deported to Russia in 1940

or murdered in 1943

or deported after the war to Western Poland in 1945

which, months earlier, had been part of Germany.

And then she said that she,

just a little girl,

used to live in a part of Poland

which was still a part of Poland

after the war,

and that she and all her Ukrainian neighbours

were all deported to Soviet Ukraine.

Thus the Poles were ethnically cleansed to Poland

the Ukrainians to Ukraine

the Germans to Germany

and so on

like a tumbling massive game of chess.

So, she said in summary,

she didn't know the Poles who used to live here

because she came after they were all gone,

and she, as a Ukrainian raised in Poland

became lost and bewildered when sent to Ukraine to live,

she laughed, I was lost because I was now a Ukrainian in Ukraine.

Done Doing

I've done doing

now just being

am through with doing so much

now going to be much more

doing is over-rated

being can't be over-stated

done doing

now loving being alive

alive oh!

Monkey

I've got the monkey off my back

and it feels so good

no monkey there of course

and I've no back to speak of

only to write about

I'm spineless in a good way

the best way

the way that God has no spine

or oak trees have no spine

or air has no spine

but it sure feels good

to have that non-existent monkey

off my non-existent back

and I'm sure you'll have felt

the exact same way.

After Covid

hot it's not.

cold and wet

ne'er forget.

flowers rot.

rain keeps on.

wind blowin

daylight goin

summer gone.

harsh for some

winter gnaws

sharpens claws

but spring will come.

spring will come

daylight spreads

flower beds

life for some.

Paths

not to be had

not to go there

beyond the pale

beyond the sane

the mainstay is death

the mainstream is death

but stray too far and you come apart

there is a line

fine but stable

to which you can edge

on which you can walk

step by step

and remain safe and clear

Mass Experience

the job gets done

a trudge

a bland expression of inexpression

the day gets done

work is finished

the salary attained

going through the motions

Life Plan

you plan

but you get different results

you don't plan

and something unexpected occurs

you decide to stop planning

and you get what you wanted

even though you never knew you wanted it

you plan to stop planning

but it doesn't work;

a plan emerges nonetheless

but the results are different

and so it goes back to the beginning

but it's not the same beginning.

Machu Picchu and me

seeing Machu Picchu

after three days walking in the Andes

was awe-inspiring at the time

but that was then

in other words

nothing now

and that's OK

now I am typing about this series of thoughts

as they emerge unknown to me

except the first

which got me typing

and that is better than Machu Picchu

which doesn't exist in reality

my reality

which is only now

and only here

here is a living room

not even all of it

as I have my back to what I can imagine

but don't know for certain

is the rest of my living room

and if I turn my head for a moment

to check what's behind me

I lose the part of the living room

I was once facing

It will have disappeared

just like Machu Picchu did

the moment I left it in 1986.

time

runs out

time

runs out

forever

runs out

so run in

and time runs out

always

so run in

always

in a flurry of calm awe and action

sometimes

sometimes

a moment

sometimes

the moment

everything changes

sometimes

love overcomes everything

It

it will come

when you least expect it

when you don't want it

when you least need it

it will come

then

it will go

oat cake sacrament

hard to imagine

oat cake

plain perfection

hard and crumbly

soft firm experience

oat cake communion

this is my body

which I have given unto you

before and after

before my father died

he came to me

and changed my genes

so that he was even more in me

than I was born with

before my mother died

she came to me

and changed my DNA

so that I became more of her

than I was given by her at conception

It has taken fully eight years

for their parts of me

to begin to awaken in me

and I can't tell how long

it will take till these fully flourish

in my malleable mind

space

within the infinite space

I admit a few moments

of extreme pain

but despite a few moments

of extreme pain

I have had infinite space

I have had infinite space

I am infinite space

I know infinite joy

everything

everything is priceless

and therefore useless

everything is worthless

and therefore precious

what is real

 what is real is not what it seems

what is real is not what you think

what is real is beyond belief

what is real other than what is not?

The Turn

strange how it turns

the sphere

never asking permission

as if it was the boss

of all who could be bossed

sitting here doing something

of no account

(and therefore priceless)

when all of a sudden

the turn happens

and a new line of direction

dictates your life

your words

your tune

and it's nothing whatsoever

to do

with you,

whatever "you" actually are

si see nepa oon poem (not haiku and haiku)

si see nepa oon poem

itsa prose

itsa wurkov art

si see oon poem

hiytend awarnes ov cors

do yoo feel thi art?

do yoo feel this art?

it splashez ol over yoo

o its amazing

Not Here

I am not here to be here

but to be elsewhere

where the other me can exist in peace

without the me me

I am not here to exist at all

but to be the ghost of one

who once existed

but fell badly

I am not here but you are

so you think

but truly

no one is here

and here is reserved only

for those who are not here

Cool isn't

I wonder how long it took them

to create that flaked-off painted wall

making it grungy

when beforehand

it was a normal middle-class room

neat and in order

but to make it a space

for people to discuss art and literature

you can't do that in an ordinary room

and they say

and they say

blah

it's true

really

blah

and the world is compelled to listen

to blah

from the Big Bang

till Judgement Day

and no doubt God

just before he made Big Bang

said blah blah blah

as a kind of sub-Presidential speech

and just after Judgement Day

Blah

uttered with false modesty to no one

as they had all been consumed in Hell

for saying Blah while alive

and no one went to Heaven at all

to which God said

Blah

To be said

there is something to be said

in not watching the news

not watching it deliberately

repeatedly not watching it

time after time

until we are shorn of its rotting influence

which may take several years

if not decades

All these papers

all these papers

in a clumsy pile

with Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

near them

a to do list

so mundane

it could be a poem

by Hugo Ball

when I die

all that stuff

and all those papers

will have been done

to no end whatsoever

Art is

art is watching Eastenders

every episode

despite not enjoying it at all

art is not writing down

the pretentious reflections

of critics

and claiming them as your own

art is the last leaf

on the near-winter tree

it's raining (non-haiku)

it's raining

and the neighbours are playing hip hop

through their open window

Advice not to be taken

they tell me not to write on this

the laptop

the computer

it won't be a poem they say

they say it's only possible

if you are out and about

like a landscape artist

with a notebook and pencil

they talk of the creative process

as if it is something different

from eating your toast and beans

they say anything

that pops up in their mind at that times

but pretend that when writing poetry

something else kicks in

but it doesn't

it's all automatic

even if you think it isn't

struggle am I

so they say

write and share them

that's the way

everything else is pretend

I Have Wandered

I have wandered through death

so many times

it's like my back yard

I have wandered through sleaze

so many times

 it's like the mud at the end of the garden

I have wandered through crises

so many times

it feels like I create them

though I don't

I have wandered where I shouldn't have wandered

way too often

and not wandered where I ought to have wandered

I have not trod the true, narrow path

but somehow have stumbled parallel enough to it

to still be on the right course.

Your World is not my World

In your world

you just did

you might have feared

I'm sure you were terrified many times

but still you just did

there was nothing else to do but just do

in my world

you could choose

to do or not to do

that was the annoyingly constant question

freedom to choose

is no freedom at all

when you just want the choice to disappear

and leave you just with one thing

to do

Then your world changed

slowly, deathly

you had choice

and you made choices

and things happened

I happened

and your choices brought new things

to have to do

restricting choice

though not completely

in my world

endless choice

so much that I have to restrict it

try to make it no choice at all

but it doesn't work

even binary provokes uncertainty

your world is not my world

I wouldn't have had yours for the whole world

but I wish I could have had your absence of choice

just in better situations

and oh I do miss you

miss you both

Life

one day you won't be able to run up the stairs

so run up them now

one day you won't be able to walk up these stairs

so run up them now

like you'll never walk them again

one day you won't be able to read this

so read it now

one day

there won't be one day

so do one day now

Battling Battling

It's natural, they say

well so is a storm

a volcano erupting

an earthquake

and human violence

we battle our urges

but battling just adds another urge

it's natural, of course.

instead

step away

away from yourself

battle the battling

by not battling

cede space

let the fighting end

so no one is wounded

and peace can be born

Dead or Alive

is he dead or alive?

my friend, the poet.

I don't know.

Even in the seemingly omniscient world

of social media

there seems to be a silence

which speaks of the worst

and yet

there have been silences before

and silence built on silence

till it seemed the whole world was dead

and yet, here we are

is he alive or dead

the poet, my friend?

What am I talking about?

what am I talking about?

I don't know

I'm just the utterer here

not the one who produces the words to utter

now where was I?

November Song

This is my November song

it's cold and wet and dreary

the days are short, the nights now long

it makes a person weary

but in my heart I take no part

in pessimistic chatter

the sun's above the stormy clouds

the weather doesn't matter

So when it rains just let it fall

for I still feel the sun shine

though my hands are cold, this heart is warm

and all the world looks fine

When night is dark be your own light

and feel the love around you 

for we're all safe and snug inside

and know that peace surrounds you

So this is my November song

I wish you warmth and laughter

and if your mind turns cold and bleak

I wish you sunshine after

Life Matters

life comes

and goes

it's what you do in between

that matters

Green Tea Experience

wild outside

the classic combination

cold, wind, heavy rain

four o'clock in the afternoon.

I had gone out to feed the rabbits and the wild birds

that so enhance my life.

by the time I had got back in my hands were cold, almost numb.

I put the kettle on

made a gentle green tea.

cupped the sandy ceramic curves

and the warmth brought my palms

and inner fingers back to life

I turned my hands around

to allow the back of the fingers

to benefit from some of the warmth

then loved one, two, three grateful sips

and my mouth enjoyed taste and warmth

all too soon finished

hands still warming

wind still gusting.

me, safe, snug, in love with life 

Accidental Life

 if Wladyslaw had not been granted land

if dad had stayed in the Polish army and not transferred to the navy

if mum had decided not to go dancing the day they met

if they had decided the other way when they discussed in 1949 whether to emigrate to Poland or not

if that sperm had gone off course just a millimetre

if mum and dad had decided to stay in Cambuslang instead of moving to Hamilton

if one teacher had said study maths or english or philosophy instead of law

if Kenny hadn't suggested we go the Munich Beer Festival in 1982

if Phil hadn't asked Christine to come with him to Kenny's birthday party

if all this and a million things more

you would not be reading this

Haiku Mess

this is a four-line haiku

in the wrong order

and one line missing

The Three

three things can lift people to joy and fulfillment

uplifting sources of income

uplifting things they consume

uplifting things they enjoy doing and perceiving

three things wither people's spirit

meaningless sources of income, especially soulless work

addiction to consumption

 mindless entertainment

Ghosts Within - a Haiku

we have ghosts within

moods are voices without words

haunting, taunting us

Scots Haiku

whisky an' freedom

a temporary matter

sair heid the next morn

Zoom

I'm with them on Zoom

at the business meeting

they're all engaged

they're all alive

the time will come

they'll be forgotten

and then unknown forever after

were their so serious endeavours

worth the time it cost on Earth

mortal life so short for them

eternity dead thereafter

carpe diem?

I see the rain outside and smile at its random beauty.

Morning Dog Walk

I don't have a dog

he is female

I take her for a walk on his leash

wondering if she'll materialise

he never does

but she wags his tail excitedly

at all the other dogs

who also aren't there.

The Reality

the reality

is that people are living

in slums, corrugated iron shacks

with no fresh water or sanitation

and sometimes seeking food

or something they can repair and sell

in the Hell that is the vast landfill areas

strewn around our world

where then Zen?

for that matter, where then Anarchism, Kropotkin

or Trump, Putin, Xi, Boris, Nicola

Climate Change and Covid?

the reality is

I don't know

you don't know

we don't know

but can we stumble towards better?

Choosing Realities

For too much of today

I sat in the reality

our culture proferred

via the dominant media.

My head spun

heachache

headstrung

headsunk

headless

I need that other place

that other space

the other reality

that our society does not promote

some call it a retreat

some say it's evasion

avoidance

or, gentler, an escape,

time out

but no

there is dominant ambience

and there is that other place

where the inner world grows

I choose that place

Should have chosen it earlier today

but that's now gone

so now I try to gently undo the junk collated

through the day

and from there

accumulate some tenderness and quiet nurturing

to be kind to myself for at least some of my precious day

For The Polish Ancestors

Truth is, I don’t know if you were good or bad.

Good, I like to think, but were they?

My father said his mother would argue

And throw plates around,

While my aunt said my grandfather

Was politically enlightened for the time.

All of which doesn’t tell us much, it’s true,

 

But good or ill, they were, and then they weren’t.

Just like that,

Though that took a long painful, lingering time.

How long does it actually take

To die of hunger and exhaustion?

I don’t know, though I know the dates

And the events that made it all happen.

I can figure out more likely

How long it took my grandfather to die of cancer

But would need to take into account

The degree to which

The gut-wrenching anxieties

Amongst all the other emotions

Hastened his death,

Stemming from not knowing if his wife was still alive

-          She wasn’t

Or his three children

-          They were.

 

Where does a poem go from here

For God’s sake?

I’m trying to figure out how to pay tribute

To people I didn’t know

But in a normal world

I might have been expected to,

And now all they are

Are names and dates and a few photos.

 

All their dreams for family

For agriculture and farming and harvests

For a multicultural Poland

Free from hatreds, religious animosities

Narrow-minded leaders

Ripped apart

Like being put through a shredder

 

And me

I sit in some foreign land

Called home

Not being the Polish son

I could never actually have been

But can imagine I might have been

And just feel

Feel what?

Give me a second for God’s sake

I’m trying to work this out in a poem

And I can’t get the fingers to type the right words

Because the rights words don’t exist

The words don’t exist

They

They

They, whom I ought to have had the chance to know

To love

To critique and laugh with and at

They do not exist

Except as dust in graves

Not even together

But 1700 hundred miles apart

What the fuck can a poem ever do

To express all of that?

billions

there are billions of poems out there

paintings

photos

a high proportion, excellent

and in the vast storage hangers

of the world's museums

billions more objects

unable to be displayed

because the museums are all already full

we are a creation machine

unable to stop

unable to slow down

and we are magpies

relentlessly collecting -

everything must be preserved

nothing is too mediocre to throw away

so eventually we all become

collectors

and creators

collecting in order to stop

the onset of boredom,

our inability to face life in the raw,

creating in order to be noticed

praised

though few are

and it doesn't stop the longing

in a moment

in a moment

nothing

in a moment

everything

in a moment

nothing much

in a moment

everything that matters

Turn off the phone

Turn off the phone

turn off Facebook

spend time alone

live without hook

live life liberated

not fully constipated

if you want to feel free

just let everything be

Time has gone past, so what?

time has gone past

so what?

you expect time to do anything else

but go past?

use of time questionable

for sure

but whether you use it well

or badly

- which is subjective

and therefore chance or absurd -

it still goes past

and when you're dead

it won't matter how you used it

so don't fret.

I reach for my phone

I reach for my phone

resist the urge

it'll come back

but for now

I am unchained

I hear the tick of time

I hear the tick of time

talking

tocking

ticking

it ticks for thee

my anxious mind remind me

I take a calming, slow, deep breath

keeping it so slow

I might as well be dead

but I'm not

keeping it so quiet

I might as well be deaf

but I'm not

and the ticking stops

in my head

I have stopped time

I am timeless,

free to explore infinity

for eternity

in a moment

liberated from the tick of time

Despite absurdity

despite absurdity

there are still things to enjoy

sunrise

and sunset

spring

and autumn

snow in winter

those cold crisp

impossibly fresh days in January

warmth in summer

birds landing on branches

outside your window

yes the philosopher inside us

may carp

it's all accidental

meaningless

absurd

but that too

that conjecture

is absurd

absurdity is absurd

enjoy the pleasures

accept the inevitability of death

rejoice in the absurd situation

we all find ourselves in

The Join

can you see the join?

where ego meets altruism?

wisdom collides with longing?

right here?

right now?

in these very words?

in your very reading of these words?

were there no join

there would be no poem

no writer

no you to read it.

going nowhere

going nowhere

coming from nowhere

better sit still

while the Earth spins

sun rises, sun sets

day then night then day

and seasons come and go

people born, age, die

born

better sit still

going nowhere

and everywhere is nowhere

What exists, doesn't

 what exists, doesn't

can't you see?

can't you see

that you don't see?

that what you see

isn't?

how can we communicate

what all we perceive

is unreal

momentary

gone already

replaced with another unreality

and so on

ad infinitum?

Hideaway

Poetry should be neither seen nor heard

but read, if at all, in an attic or cubby-hole

like a secret addiction

and poets should hideaway

lest anyone discover their uniquely

bizarre habit.

Reactionary Mind

my body reacts against healthy eating

sixty years of culture

pushing junk down my throat

resists the attempt

to reacquant my body with food

that nurtures me

the mind that controls me

filled with a thousand experiences

of caramel wafers and endless snacks

will not countenance rebellion

from the wishy-washy lets-get-healthy

new kid on the block

even though he's been on the block

for twenty years or more.

eat junk and die satisfied it says

only instant gratification matters

but tonight and tomorrow

I'll try again

La Plus Ca Change

when I was a kid in Hamilton

in the late 60s and early 70s

I'd go down the town centre.

outside the pubs

and at the bottom cross

old guys would hang around

chatting, smoking, caps on

or bald heads shining.

They all looked the same to me.

Meanwhile my older brothers and their friends

were in and around the clothes shops

and especially the record shops

looking cool

in their flairs, full-length leather coats,

long hair and fancy heeled boots

now I go down the town centre

see the same old guys

standing outside the traditional pubs

and lingering at the bottom cross

passing the time of day

but they can 't be the same old guys

they'd be over a hundred now

it's the once young guys

the long-haired louts

touting Hendrix, Beatles, and Led Zep albums

in their arms to impress the girls - and their mates

now they've become the old guys

right down to the cloth caps

who'd have thought that

in the revolutionary year

of 1968?

The Truth about Green Tea

 

it has nothing to do with tea

the leaves

the bush

the time of the picking

the storage

being kept in airtight packs

it's in the first sip

the warmth of the ceramic cup

as your fingers spread round it

the first taste

the space between sips

the silence of experience

the sense of disappointment

when there's no sip left

the acceptance that tea has gone

the gratitude for being alive

able to experience all this.

Comedians are Tragic Figures

I see them on TV almost every day

see the fear in their faces

compelled to be witty

spontaneously hilarious

all the time

except when showcasing human misery

for fundraising charity fun nights.

Those desperate fake laughs

to try to ignite a similar response

in the audience

or from the co-presenter

or interviewer.

Hahaha they plead

It's not a rare condition

the longing to be noticed

recognised

the centre of attention

but it is a hard act

to do so

by making people laugh all the time.

Poets don't have to speak in haiku

or soliloquies all the time

nor singers voice their thoughts

in vibrant tune.

So spare a thought

and a wan smile at least

for the comedians

who only want to be loved

but think they can't unless

they please everyone all the time.

Lifespan

Let's say I live till I'm 100

but not beyond.

I'll see the celebrations

of the 100th anniversary of Paul McCartney's birth

but not the 100th anniversary of England winning the World Cup

Will I see the complete domination of driverless cars?

The mass unemployment of people replaced by Artifical Intelligence?

Will I live to witness mass extinction

or human greatness in preventing it?

Will climate changes render present ways of living impossible

before I am lowered into my grave?

Let's say I die in two days' time

that's 1st October 2020.

I won't see my children's journeys through life

Won't be there to help them if they need me.

On the other hand I won't face the pain

of their inevitable upsets and disappointments.

I won't even learn the full consequences

of Covid-19 or Brexit.

Does any of it matter?

Not for the dead, 

but even, ultimately for the living,

is it all just a soap opera

invented in our heads

scriptwritten by Fate

and directed by the Genes

Fate placed into our embroyonic self?

We all die

We all die...

that's just in case

you didn't realise it

Homer doesn't know

that over two thousand years

after he created his epic poems

that people still know the stories

Robert the Bruce

never got to see Scotland

join with England to make the United Kingdom

in 1707

My grandfather never got to know

that his children survived the Gulag

nor that they'd make a life in far-off Britain

and live till their nineties.

What will you not live to see?

And what do you not see even now

while you're still alive?

Champions League Final

So there we have it.

United have won the Champions League

defeating Atletico

by 3.5bn pounds to 3.1bn Euros

pipping them at the post

with a stoppage-time injection

of money-laundered 100m pounds

despite a similar-sized bribe to the match officials

from the opposition.

The President of the Federation of Football Club Owners

said it was a truly thrilling final

with both sides giving their all

with money from dictatorships

and the exploitation of local fan loyalties.

Our thanks go to Sleaze TV for their vast sums

obtained through viewer subscriptions

and we look forward to seeing all the fans

pay outrageous sums for next year's season tickets.

It truly is The Beautiful Game.

News Update

good evening

here is today's news

it's the same as yesterday

and the day before

and the day before that

and so on

back in time to when Cain killed Abel

and before that, Adam blamed Eve

and Eve blamed Adam

for taking forbidden fruit.

The names have changed

but the stories are the same

so do yourself a favour

and go and read a good book instead.

Another Purchase

minimalist me

the anti-consumer crusader

except not crusader

because they were not the heroes

we were once told they were

bought another thing

necessary?

maybe

maybe not

but maybe

so I did

and each time I buy

guilt trips me

and I fall

killing my world

purchase by purchase

or maybe not

maybe not I hope

maybe not I lie to myself

Used Green Tea Leaves

there they are

splodged

stuck in the infuser

washed out

these once magical

sticks and strands

offered the promise

- always delivered -

of a moment's grace

and serenity

like a cliche where compassion

meets clarity and calmness

now sodden and ready

for the compost heap

their manmade purpose served

impermanence exemplified

in the joy of a few sips

Green Tea Leaves

green tea leaves

dried, ready for use,

sit there like Buddha

contemplating

whatever Buddha contemplated

sit there

not knowing their fate

is to be rehydrated

in not-quite boiling water

releasing their scent

like a gift

to the drinker

and up to that point

of leaves meeting water

they are dessicated potential

the not-yet given delight

Party Pooper

give me silence

ah that's good

nothing quite like nothing

to improve my mood

don't give me parties

all those things to say

like hi

how are you

how are the kids

and

what do you do?

give me infinite solitude

like after the end of the world

just me and apocalypse

and no parties

in my burned out diary

No more

"come on, just one"

when you've declined a beer

no more mega-reluctant dances

because it's impolite to say no

just me

the ruins of Glasgow in the distance

and the next barrage of comets

coming down

in time for me to say

a fond farewell to no one

but life itself

and this beautiful

once and future

Earth

Shadows are Real

shadows are real

solid

things of the flesh

it's us that aren't real

we are the shadows

of the shadows

the mirage of the oasis

the nothing there

of the optical illusion

but the shadows

they're real

Working from Home

interruption

disruption

corruption

distortion

frustration

digression

distraction

retraction

extraction

subtraction

where was I?

where am I?

who am I?

Sit

sit

let it all come out

in its own time

don't fret

don't fight

don't push

sit

it'll come

like the outbreath

follows the in

sit

and all will be well

yes, all will be well

promised land

promised land

can't you see it?

over the hill

milk and honey

awaits us there

there will be jam tomorrow

an end to sorrow

in the promised land

what about today?

today we strive

to make ourselves fit

for the promised land

but today I'm hungry

just wait

sacrifice yourself now

and tomorrow

there will be bread and roses

in the promised land

but I can't even see the hill.

trust me it's there

and over it lies

the promised land.

Empty Cup

 the cup is empty

"fill it up then

fill it up!"

the cup will remain empty

even if I pour the green tea into it

look

I pour it in

it goes in

but doesn't fill

how can that be?

because there is no cup

can't you see it

the presence of no cup

the absence of cup?

After Enlightenment

what did the Buddha do

after enlightenment

went to the toilet

wrinkled his nose at the smell

wiped his backside

and went on with the show

what did the Zen priest do

after zazen

went to the supermarket

was tempted by a packet of crisps

what do the enlightened

really get up to

same as us

same as us

that's what the enlightened do

same as us

Green Tea (a haiku in five syllables)

green tea

bliss

then gone

Future Past

in the future

everything will have passed

when we're gone

no one will know we ever were

when it all evaporates

it will have just been

nothing at all really

nothing at all

make rich your moments

make still your day

everything is precious

and then blows away

Rain Falls

rain falls on a sunny day

nothin doin, no games to play

the sun shines but the heart is cold

the morning's young but the body's old

when shall we walk free again?

when shall we walk free?

Lost Forever

I had it

right here in my hand

it slipped off

and fell

it could only have fallen a foot or two

but I looked and couldn't see it

searched for it everywhere

felt for it with my fingers

in case the poor light

hid it from sight

to no avail

for days and days I searched

looked

felt

I asked everyone I knew

if they had seen it

or if they could comb the area

to find it

as it is small in size

but gigantic in importance to me

it's lost

so am I

Eyes don't lie

 Beelzebub on the throne

glinting eyes beckon

welcome he says, welcome all

but eyes don't lie

and a shiver like Fate

trembles in every pore.

Welcome, he says, you are most welcome

but the eyes cry murder

and we shall die

Bad Situation

There is junk in all corners

mistrust on the high seas

where we sail I don't know

and if I knew wouldn't tell

There is sickness at sea

moondrunk at night

the sharks await us

as we cling to the wreck and hope

Sitting Still

I am a man at the ready

I see the grave

before birth

I am still and I am stable

Nothing

disturbs the silence I am made of

I am the thing and the being

ready for nothing

alive to a twitch

ready for birth and grave

Evening Reflection on the Day

I'm dead to the world by evening

dead to the world my dear

My energy fades, my focus degrades

and nothing in life now seems clear

This morning was full to the brim

Morning was full my love

I smiled at the sun, I had so much fun

Even thanked the good lord above

But my day ebbs away with the hours

My day ebbs away it's true

By the afternoon, I'm a burst balloon

and no use to me or to you

Autumn Warns

Autumn begs the question,

What have you still to do

before the leaves fall

and you are stripped bare

to lie under winter's frozen soil?

Imperfection for me please

Please, no.

Not perfection.

I can't stand

the absence of glitches

too smooth a path

things polished so finely

that they lack grit

Trying too hard

trying too hard

to be original

they slip into the cliche

of the new

Out the back

there is another world

just out the back

no cities there

nor art

or music

or books

just the sound of the wind

the soft rains

and the clouds

Dreaming

the unreality of dreams

the pointlessness of listening to dreams

the absurdity of what we call reality

Elsewhere

his mind is elsewhere

it used to be here

where it best served life

now it is somewhere else

where, I don't know

serving a lesser cause

we are all elsewhere

we all need to be here

doing what needs to be done

here

now

Writing poems

writing my poems is a process

through which I try to understand life

how to live it

how not to live it

what is real

and what is not

Ignore

another interesting thing

ignore

another funny story

ignore

another cut video

ignore

all the news

ignore

we know the news

we need to know

it says extinction of species

loss of biodiversity

through man's greed and frivolity

and climate hange

driven by the same things

focus

on what needs to be focussed on

changing human minds

while others hopefully

change human laws and activities

Dangers

there are dangers to be had

and dangers to be held

and dangers to be kept downstairs

deep in the dungeons

there are dangers to be loved

dangers to be mistrusted

dangers who appear to be your friends

but want to suffocate you

in the darkness of the eternal night

Be Part

we are asked to be part of something

we don't understand

told it'll be good for us

but we don't know what it is

reassured it'll all be fine

you'll enjoy it

and be worth your time

still, I look back to previous things

when similar was promised

and turned out worse than bad

much much worse than just bad 

Finding Truth

looking here

looking there

everywhere is nowhere

searching high

searching low

No place to search any more

thinking this

thinking that

no response to all these thoughts

playing hide and seek

with truth

it always hides

I always seek

the game never ends

and there's only one winner

The Brown Burn

down by the brown burn

the sparkle of sunlight

the gurgle of water

the rocks are alive

World on Fire

World on fire

put it out?

World on fire

Let it burn?

Put it out

repair the damage

Let it burn

a new world emerges

Dada 3

DADA

Doesn't it make sense?

DADA

Doesn't it make no sense?

DADA

Doesn't it make nonsense?

Dada 2

Zen DADA

Zen anarchism

DADA anarchism

DADA Zen

Anarchism Zen

Anarchism DADA 

Dada 1

DADA

Isn't it art?

DADA

Isn't it not art?

DADA

Isn't it anti-art

ANTI-ART

Isn't it art?

DADA

DADA

DADA

Not about Cleaning

the hoovering's done

the room is cleaner than it's been for years

because the carpet cleaners are coming tomorrow

the birds are fed

the rabbits too

and Christine has done the weeding

though she hates it

and hates that I hardly ever do it

even though I was working

- and properly working

not writing poems

cos that's not really work

and you don't get paid for it

or not any amount that matters

anyway it's now late for tea

and I have to make my dinner

the pretend hunger

is gnawing away at my stomach

and there's more moving of furniture to be done

after dinner

because the carpet cleaners are coming toomorrow.

Slogging and Flogging

You see them all work so hard

slogging

and flogging their wares

well, that's the phrase

but it's not their wares

someone's else's wares

a big global corporation

whom nobody knows

made by who knows

how many people

probably women and children

in crowded noisy blocks

in the middle of city streets

slogging and flogging

till the day is done

Ach

ach they say

ach

in irritation

and frustration

ach

and yet the sun is shining

the autumn leaves are gold and peach

where does your

ach

come from?

ach

you don't know

and yet the rocks outside

are still and silent

they know they'll be worn by the rain

till all that's left is dust

ach

but they don't complain

only we complain

ach

After

don't worry about now

there's always after

and after that, after

after is always preceded by before

but not really

as before doesn't exist

but neither does after

so even though after

seems to be after before

and before is before after

there's really neither

before nor after

and if we could only

get that clear in our heads

life would be so much simpler

and better

There's Time

time to complete a mundane task

time to have a cup of green tea

time to eat an oatcake

time before the deadline

time before the dead line

You call it real

you call it real,

this thing called life

look again

it's changed already

so how can it be real

if

by the time you perceive it

it's already gone

you call it real

try to call it flow

a flow with no river

a life without a liver

existence inside never

ignorance as clever

a moment is forever

Tomorrow Always Knows

If you have doubts

fears

woes

ask tomorrow

it always knows

if you have yearnings

wishes

dreams

ask tomorrow

it's not what it seems

tomorrow is always

with you today

tomorrow always knows

It's alright

it's alright

not perfect

but it'll do

perfect is too polished

to be perfect

the only perfection

is impefection

the real gem

unpolished

rough

Waiting

I wait impatiently

not realising

it's always here

waiting for me

to notice it

I wait impatiently

for something special

not knowing

everything is special

and always here

I wait impatiently

for success, adventure, excitement

not knowing

these are mirages

and that life

is living

and living is always here

It's Over

I put everything back in its place

switch off the lights

close down the lid

ensure I am calm and stable

look around to check that everything is as it should be

remember to take out all I need

the very little that I need

and leave this place

as if forever

Listening to Ghosts of the Past

There was a time

time there was

when I knew those people well

That time has passed

and they have passed

to that other place

that no one knows

but everyone goes

where there are no words

only memories

regrets, remorse

and impotence

I listen to them

in their sleep

moaning sounds

wails and tears

it's hard to hear

but I have no choice

their lives are in my heart and soul

and time does not soften

the empty space

that once they filled

A History of Statues

 Put a statue up

Pull those statues down

Put new statues up

Tear old statues down

Create a new statue please

Destroy those old statues

The statue-makers rub their hands

Their work is never done.

News

nothing happened much today

usual stuff, usual names

leaders, sports folk

murders, war

nothing much beyond the realms

of normal human interaction

happened today

Interruption

conversation

when you don't want it

interesting, funny

but not now thanks

now is for silence

thank you and goodbye

Lost in Space

the final frontier

the human mind

cluttered and soiled

with skill and attention

rekindled direction

empty and found

lost in space

nowhere to go

everything fine

Disappointment

 I went to the new castle

to see what's to be seen

there was nothing there

but fresh clean air

not even a dancing queen

Breakfast

breakfast is the great sacrament

holy communion

with nature

after the fast of sleep

the feel of nuts and sultanas

crunching and bursting

in the just-awakened mouth

a world renewed

an agreement reached

a day formally acknowledged

and now to be revered

Evening is morning

evening is morning

wearing a different face

as sadness is joy

in disguise

as love is hate

in the mirror

as war is peace

by another name

as certain is unsure

in the world's plans

as noise is quiet

in the mother's arms

as endings are beginnings

in every moment

as now is then

in the eyes' blinking gaze

I think to myself

I think to myself

most days

the world turns

what does that even mean?

the world turns

of course it does

but I don't turn with it

some times

and nor do you

sitting there static

like a dead planet

like a world without a sun to warm it

turn your world

make it spin

make your life spin

and the world will turn forever

No Junk Mail

no junk mail?

what are they up to

lazy gits.

where's my spam

my million pound free gift?

no junk mail today

I am bereft

We Speak

we speak as if we understand existence

but it's just a word

there is no existence

only experience

existence is non-existent

learn that

and you'll live

Songs like no tomorrow

rhythm of heaven

a voice like grit

melody-driven

playing hit and hit

what a joy to dance

to feel alive

to accept chance

then jump, and dive

words and music synch

absorb into my bones

every note a link

to lives of joy and groans 

Mystery Morning

Mists on the mountain

mystery world

I can see forever

through the fog

across the fields of dense dew

mystery morning

a world of mountains

I see inside my heart

devoid of mist

a purity like dawn dew

mist across the world

mystery mountains

I can feel eternity

amidst the fog of human woes

in fields of dreich dew drops

News Instinct

my instinct

or rather, my mind's instinct

when there's a pause in the proceedings of life

is to check the news

on TV, BBC or CNN or Euronews or Al Jazeera

of HNK the Japanese channel

or maybe all of them

if I get caught up

in the whole

I want to know everything

even though none of it is relevant to me or my life

kind of addiction

or online

the Herald and Scotsman

even though

because I don't pay a subscription

or register where it says Please Register

I usually can't read the articles I am interested in

and online sometimes too the BBC

It used to be the World News, then the UK, then the Scottish

but to be honest

the UK news section is becoming too irrelevant to my life

even by my own standards that all news is irrelevant to my life

for me to bother scanning

but best of all

is when

like now

my mindful mind kicks in

dumps the idea of reading the news

as it won't be any different from last time I checked three hours ago

and go and write this instead

even though when I first decided to do so

I had no idea that this would be what I'd write

nor that this would be the way the writing ends. 

Woodpigeon

I see a woodpigeon in the garden

not thinking of death

just plodding amongst the stones

looking for seeds to eat

but he'll die too

and all his friends

who gather every morning

for the ritual of watching me

throw sunflower hearts onto the lawn

for them to eat

eat while you can guys

though you're not thinking of death

it's thinking of you

Do the Dead Die?

do the dead die

after they're dead?

a second death

even though they're already dead?

can you become more dead than usual?

are the steps actually as follows

dying

dead

decaying

decayed

dust?

The Big Issues of our Times

you live

then you don't

that's it

the big issues of our times

look big when you're alive

but are nothing once you go

there are a million big issues you never experienced

or lived through

and there will be millions more

long after you are a forgotten name

maybe still engraved somewhere in a cemetery

for descendants to search for and find

as part of a genealogical outing

but Brexit

Trump

Putin

Scottish independence

these things are but distractions

that prevent a person living

look, it's autumn

the vines are turning from rich green

to soft yellow

and delicate shades of peach

Right, Write

I once rememering reading

that someone said

given a choice between living

and reading

if that was possible

they'd choose reading

I don't quite agree

but am pretty close to that view

if the word was writing

instead of reading

Realistic romantic poetry

Tread softly

for you tread

on my newly-cleaned

kitchen floor

to mop or not to mop?

that is the question

I wandered lonely as a

crowd of Rangers and Celtic fans

passed by

singing insulting songs

of Irish heritage and religious preferences

I came upon a fork in the road

and being indifferent to life

and not really being the adventurous sort

turned round and went back home

and it has made no bit of difference at all

and that is just fine with me.

Consider This

when I consider my life

compared to my father's

well, I can't

so don't

Baking

I hear the whirr

of the blender

scones a-coming

good times

Moaning

he complains relentlessy

about this and that

what this or that is

I really can't recall

as I wasn't listening

most of the time

after the first twenty complaints

still it's one way to live a life

explaining why life is so miserable

and sharing it with others

so that they can enjoy the misery too

Putin Trump Belarus Xi

I washed the dishes earlier than normal today

There's an endless conversation going on

I have a yellow booklet beside me

it's about yoga

I'm not interested in the subject

but rather the design

of the book

Philip K Dick's

Do Andriods Dream of Electric Sheep

is also beside me

I've read two pages

not sure if I can read novels any more

but am giving it a go.

Brexit

I need to get ready to go out

the young badger

came again last night

and enjoyed the peanut butter sandwich pieces

I'd like to go see Gliwice

next year

if covid allows

it's where my paternal great-grandparents

came from

the sun is coming out

The UK Government

the TV is on pause

they're talking about Strictly

we plan our day

perhaps going to see our daughter

and enjoy a walk

at Kelvingrove Park

the flowers in the vase

are dead

and need throwing out

The Scottish Independence Debate

I try to plan my day

consider magazines to subscribe to

whether anarchism is realistic or not

listen to my wife

explaining her aches and pains

am aware of the desire

to go upstairs

to clean my teeth

Politics

I feed the birds

and the rabbits,

do the dishes

go upstairs to clean my teeth

Homecoming

think Van Gogh of course

but closer to home

the still-born loss

of a baby boy

- our neighours' woe

they sit

too big

in our biggest vase

on the window sill

a gift from those same neighbours

in remembrance

of our cat

who died last week

in due course

they'll drop their petals

and be taken to the compost bin

just as Toto

now lies buried

in the soil we will all call home

Most poems

most poems

are too long

this one included

most poems

are not worth existing

maybe this one too

but the few poems

that are

worth reading

only come into being

as a result

of the poet creating

all the poems

that were not worth reading

Flow

getting it done is not the point

the point is to flow

being praised is beside the point

the point is to flow

being criticised is neither here nor there

the point is to flow here

not there

Not perfection

Please, no

not perfection

I can't stand

the absence of glitches

the sickening, too smooth path

polished so finely

it lacks grit

Trying too hard

trying too hard

to be original

they slip into the cliche

of the new

The Puritan

The puritan speaks with a forked tongue

stabbing at joy till the day's done

nothing is good, everything evil

don't listen to music, voice of the devil

poisonous words, philosophy sick

don't listen to him, beat him with a stick

puritan slips secretly into your head

tells you to pray, tells you you're dead

stabbing at joy till the joyful day's done

Puritan speaks with a cruel man's tongue

The Jay

 The jay is what it should be

old and worried

about mortality

coolest bird on the block

knows harshness

knows love better

I have seen many winds

and rainy days

but the jay's wind blows

a fresh, pure breeze

death will come for sure

but my jay deserve an immortality of sorts

it's how it should be,

surely?

Fly jay, fly

to your final nest

Unfinished

 Listening to Exile on Main Street

on the record player

nostalgia meets boogie

I love the deliberate

unpolished production

a bit like you and me

like reality seen close up

unfinished

the better for it

yet when you see it all

from a distance

it's perfect

everything in its place

the tumbling dice

part of a greater album

driving ourselves crazy

if watching TV is so bad

what are we to do?

the internet has long been scorned

for its wasteful useless content

the old scriptures say

be in the present moment

but to do what?

stare at the wall?

come on zazen

give us some entertainment

for God's sake

or we'll drive ourselves crazy

with nothing to do but...

see that we're driving ourselves crazy

and then we know we're sane

and then we're free

filled with joy

and then tomorrow

we'll have to do it all over again.

Don't go

don't go

watch the snow

see it slow

don't go

do stay

on the hay

then we'll play

do stay

in the rain

use your brain

ease the strain

in the rain

don't go

laid down low

we'll all grow

don't go

Heartbeat

the beat starts

it never stops

the sun shines

the moon rises

the beat never stops

the sun shines

the world turns

no one yet lives

it's the beginning of time

the sun sets

the world stops spinning

no one is alive

it's the end of time

but the beat continues

Discussion

 are these real she asked

well kind of I said

but I don't know for sure

what's in a name, eh?

well you should know

it's yours after all

and I said, is anything?

mine?

yours?

anyone's?

and she said

ocht enough wi' your endless chatter

and I said OK.

Timing

I sent the letter too late

he died the day before

he was due to receive it.

In it I told him how much I loved him,

how much he meant to me.

I sent the letter just on time

he died the morning after he received it

his wife said he read it three times that day

from his cancer-ridden bed

and he smiled, not at what I wrote to him

but at what we meant to one another,

how the decades had fused us together

even when so far apart.

Not a Poem

I write poems for no one

and no one reads them

which means I have achieved

the purpose of my poems

When no one reads them

they readily appreciate the poetry

and meaning

though there is neither

poetry nor meaning in them

The philsophical question remains:

if no one reads your poetry

do your poems actually exist?

does this poem exist?

do I, the poet, exist?

do you, the reader, exist?

we'll never know

because no one reads my poetry

and if you think you are doing so just now

and thus proving me wrong

think again.

you are probably dreaming

or are reading someone else's poem

and getting it mixed up for mine.

Death Pays a Visit

Death came knocking on my door

No! said I, can't I have some more?

Sorry, he said, get up off the floor

you should have thought about me before

You're all the same, fritter life away

as if I'd never come some day

too much work, too much play

you've spent your life, it's time to pay.

Existentialism Resolved

Nothing matters

but lots of stuff

is interesting.

Forgetful

I forgot what I was going to do

then forgot that I had forgotten

so went ahead and did it

then forgot that I had gone ahead and done it

so I went to do it again

only to realise that it was already done

so I sat down wondering who had done it

then I forgot what it was that was done

all of which made me feel that somehow

I had forgotten what I was going to do.

Indescribable

Try describing

Machu Picchu appearing

from below the clouds

at dawn

viewed from our tent

in the hills above

or hearing for the first time

Pale Blue Eyes

by the Velvet underground

or for that matter

First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,

the Roberta Flack version

or aghast at what I thought

was my wife dying

and our newborn boy dead

in Bellshill Maternity

or four years later

our girl

born, fully developed

like Athena sprung from Zeus's forehead

saying, come on life

show me what you've got

or saying goodbye to David and Maria

not know for sure if it would be the last goodbyes

...and they were

The Old Shop

 At the old shop we used to stop

and wait for my father

to come down the stairs

from his plush sixties office

At the old sweety shop we used to ask

for a hundred and forty-four sweets

at four for an old penny,

or a farthing each

At the old toy shop

we'd spend our pocket money,

two and six every Saturday

on DC comics or the Beano

or plastic soldiers or Airfix models

then run home without stopping

to play with them

The old shops

are now gone

we now get everything

from Amazon

Uncaredfor

the uncaredfor are not cared for

like sheep lost in a Bible

or sacrificed as baby lambs

drowned with every other created

bar those selected for the Ark

swallowed by a whale

head chopped off and silver plattered

and young deluded or man-God

ebbing on a wooden cross

devised by fellow men

for the fun of torture

and the most precise of warnings

who is there, up there,

looking out for the uncaredfor?

We might have to do it ourselves.

Anticipation

After days of frustration

anticipation

the end is nigh

the beginning high

After a lifetime;s irritation

behold the new nation

the endless sky

we hope to fly

After infinite congratulation

now desperation

endeavour ended

we seem untended

Good Connection

I speak with my son

He is in Japan

We don't speak

He sends a text on Messenger

with an image of the weather forecast

in Nagoya

hot humid horrible weather

I send him our weather forescast

Late August 13 degrees

leading to a max of 14

He shows me how he is doing

with the jigsaw he bought

for something to do

during lockdown

and unbearable hot humidity

I comment on its beauty

and the unsual way

he focussed on colour themes

rather than doing the easy bits first

It was a good connection

A Paradox is Paradoxical

Pointlessness is pointless

Meaninglessness is meaningless

Having no purpose serves no purpose

Label is just a label

Name is just a label

An invented mindscape

with an invented language

and invented words

blocks us from

beyond pointlessness

beyond meaninglessness

beyond no purpose

where being dwells

Planning

 My plan is to have no plan

that way I get out of the way

of the bigger plan being cooked up

by every atom in the universe

as affected by the wider federation of universes

that comprise the multiverse

and has been working according to a plan

set off an infinite number of years ago

so any plan I create

is likely to be overwhelmed

and superceded

by this somewhat larger plan

over which I have extremely little control

Hmm...

I've changed my mind

I will make a plan for today

as I need to get the shopping

and work on a paper I'm editing.

Slipping

Skipping on thin ice

slipping

falling

fallen

crashing

freezing

drowning

drowned

In The Meantime Part 1

Waitin on a friend

supposd to be replyin to me

never does

or not for ages

what to do?

what to do?

listen to The Basement Tapes

Side 3

Tiny Mongomery says hello

and Reuben Remus ain't no doctor

that all helps it makes sense

in the meantime

- oh, you mean life?

play it like a fine tune

only, let the fatigue go

from time to time

see what's happenin

down at the cafe

old friends comin back 'round again

haven't seen some of them

for forty years or more

now they're reappearin in my life

and I'm all the better for that

in the meantime while waitin

for that old friend

who takes so long

to do what I want him to do

as if he should have a life for himself

and so time is spun

and webs are run

and day is done

and all was fun

as the settin sun

said goodbye to everyone

Flavour

The tiniest hint

of a flavour

overpowers the senses

and fills me with joy

tinier and tinier

I test it

until there's barely

an atom of the flavour

in the mix

still it explodes

savoury

in my mouth

then one atom less

no flavouring at all

and the whole world becomes bland

How to do the dishes

Take the plate in your right hand

left if you're right-handed

notice the remains of sauce and food on its surface

place your sponge in the warm suddsy water

take it out still lovely and dripping warm

and put it onto the plate

then gently but firmly

clean it in a circular fashion

see the dirty dish become clean

sparkling clean

like the first day of existence

smile at its gleaming image

rinse it in beautiful cold clean tap water

and place it on the rack to dry

this is how to do the dishes

no one does it this way

but this is how to live a deep, full life

before we have to die

and we do have to die

so make sure you enjoy doing the dishes

while you have the chance.

There

 It lay there

a tiny thing

on a tiny thing

a universe of microscopic

delights

we shun it

let it fly away

to another world

but we do not control the cosmos

in which this scene played out

on a tiny thing

such a tiny thing

we are micrscopic universes

all of us 

Poison

There is a petty poison

that runs around our minds

longing for recognition

attention

even fame, power, glory

Without it we feel its gnawing

craving

we want to be remembered

after we die

though we don't know the names

of almost everyone who has gone before us.

Still we want it.

Learn to be at peace

let the petty poison

ebb away

stop it infiltrating

your deepest desires

Accept anonymity

and unimportance

Presence

The past moves quickly into the present

ruining it for all

the past runs swiftly into the future

though neither exists at all

the future is trampled by the past

leaving no space to breathe and stand tall

only the present is still

only now is all

Reminder

Remember this, Martin

A blade of grass

is as important

as any human

to the universe

and infinity

Finished

The class has finished

we all up and go

but leave behind the us

that used to be

before we learned

a new way of being

in this mysterious

vast space

we call class

Morning

Do you know the morning?

I do.

Red like spaghetti

covered in rich tomato sauce

Bright like the child who wakes at dawn.

Echoing footsteps of another day

replaying itself on my doorstep.

Do I know the morning?

It's where I live,

red like the rose

on my mother's sweet grave.

Click

 Click the button

something happen please

click the button

nothing new

click the button

please, let there be news

click the button

moments without novelty

how cruel and unbearable

this world without trigger-happy media

to feed our every face

There's Been a Murder

Murder in the Mausoleum

all the dead are killed

murder in the museum

the fossils slaughtered

like dying rocks

murder in music

universal soldier's not to blame

ebb and flow of blood

mayhem in Marseilles

Madrid mutilated

the flow of fluid time

passes through the massacre

in Mars and on the moon

all passes

and there is a temporary peace

Interruptions

In between birth and death

interruptions

in between death and birth

interruptions

in between two successive moments

peace or

interruptions

everywhere

from Alaska to Australia

interruptions

always

from the dawn of time

to the end of ages

interruptions

interruptions

also known as life

Notebook

In a notebook

in the attic

of a long-since abandoned cottage

is the means by which we will all be saved

in it also

are exquisite words

that ease the grief of the multitudes

and cure the sick

all we need do

is locate the house

search the attic

find the notebook

and hope it does not decay into pieces

at our touch

Universe - a personal set of reflections on the Tao te Ching by Lao Tzu (Addiss / Lombardo translation)

The universe just is.

Don't label it Universe.

It has no name,

nor do we.

Drop thoughts; live.

Thinking is not living.

Flow.

Opinions, waste of breath.

Let existence flow.

Accept, enjoy.

Do practical.

Don't intellectualise.

Accept unknowability.

Be empty, still, stable.

Accept all, including evil and stupidity.

Ebbs and flows.

Don't contend.

Stay focussed on the whole, the core, the flow,

on the existing present.

Stick to the One philosophy, view, "goal".

Make your day simple, rigid but fluid.

Don't be complacent; live deeply and focussed.

Be behind the scenes.

Help practically.

Be local, simple, basic.

Avoid glitz, fame, recognition.

Abandon self-promotion and seeking attention.

Trust in "life and death",

coming and going,

enjoy the existing present.

Speak less

communicate less

Be.

Do.

Become the Way, become what happens.

Be moderate in food,

minimalist in activity.

Temporary

 Within the everlasting nothingness

temporary are we

like the click of a finger

signifies your moment has gone

and death comes swiftly

on his Harley

wheacking you away

sickle-free

black-hooded

we are so temporary

we just miss not existing at all

and some of us, sadly,

actually don't live at all,

just die in every moment

they live

we are moments away from a single moment

that defines our non-existence

enough is never enough

but less is all we have

and vacuum is our truth

emptiness our game

life our sweet nothing

Endless

 It doesn't stop

just because you do

you think everything revolves around you

they way the church once thought

the Sun and all the heavens

rotated around our God-centred Earth

But let me be your Kopernik

tell you how the universe turns

before the Big Bang

there was a Big Cause

and prior to that

a Big Effect

and you and I

are but dust

of these Big events

and unto dust...

but let's not go there

quite yet

you and I

we have universes to create

made of dust

and we are Koperniks too

truth-tellers

story-sellers

endless like breath

breathless like God

Godless like dust

Heard

I have hear it said

It has been said

I heard it

But I don't believe it

I don't believe it was said

I don't believe what I said

I believe in life

but not in life

I have heard it said

there is life

but no one truly believes that

belief is a figment

life is a fragment

I have heard say

there is a death after life

but I don't believe it

I don't believe what I hear

with my own ears

they are not my ears

they are not ears

I am a figment

a fragment

a fragment after fragment after fragment

after life

and after death

Black and White

 There aren't really colours

just waves

or is it particles?

At that crazy sub-atomic level

they can't tell the one from the other

but there's no red or blue or green

just waves that are particles

or particles that are waves

easier to think in black and white

and every shade of grey

easier to see existence in monochrome

and glory in shadow and light

Matter and Doesn't Matter

I heard a guy talking

doesn't matter who

doesn't matter what about

but he spoke of things that don't matter

what matters is quietness

awareness

living

Junk

History

really

is

junk

Fate

 I really like Fate

passively awaiting its choices

loving the waiting

Memory Lapse

 It's one thing

forgetting things.

It's another

remembering things

that didn't happen.

Laying it Down

 Putting it up

laying it down

hoping it lasts

nothing lasts

everything fades

hoping it lasts

words count

words don't last

hoping they last

time comes

time goes

hoping it lasts

nothing lasts

Kris Kristopherson and Brandi Carlile sing A Case of You

 I skipped the ads

saw the star

he was startling

like a gift from God or water

He seemed blind

blinder than I've ever been

but he could see what needs to be seen

and left me in a flood of tears

like a gift from God or water.

And she sang to him

to love him and soothe him

and make him feel she was still there

and he was

blinder than I've ever been

I wish I could see like he sees

when he sings

it was like a gift from God and water

God, and water

I am drowning in his God and water

Speed

Go faster

go fast

fast is the new slow

go slow

slow is the new stop

don't go at all

not fast

not slow

not stopped

everything is the same speed

surely you see that?

Seal Sings

 Seal sings Joni Mitchell

as I prepare my green tea.

It's in my indigenous Australian art mug.

I gently let the last drops fall off

the infuser

unsure if Seal wrote the song

so deepyl did he feel it

or if Joni had transformed into a black man.

The green tea was mild

in order for me to consume the music

What you see is what you get

The world is a mirage

there's something there

but this is not it

better to create your own mirage

believe in it

live it

love it

Raining in my Heart

 The rain has stopped

my heart has stopped

the world has stopped

the world recommences

my heart beats again

the rain comes on

the rain is in me

I am in my heart

my heart is in the world

Chance

 I pressed a button

the wrong one

ended up here

a la Robert Frost

it has made all the difference

only I don't know what that difference will be

Holes

 There was a hole in his hands

the way holes appear in space in sci fi films

but instead of opening a portal

to another world

these holes opened a thought

deeper than any galaxy

He looked at the holes in his hands

and prayed to the God he worshipped

and said take these holes from me

I just want to be a normal person

I don't want to be a savour

Question

 What does it mean to be alive?

What does it mean to have life?

A cup of green tea in the morning?

Catching the news at ten?

Worth

 Was any of it worth it?

The question invalid,

the past, gone

now it never existed

The question is

Now, can I enact worth?

Clarity

 Life is more uncertain than ever.

That's for sure.

Slipping

As I ponder

time slips

simultaneously

into the past, present, and future

As I write this,

lives slip

into the birthplace, celebration, graveyard

As I slip

the Earth tilts

dangerously close

to where everything ebbs away

Clever Clogs

Oh you're so clever

he said

as if that was a complement

I don't want to be clever

I said

I want to be simple

the simpler the better

until there's nothing but simplicity

and silence

and quiet

and emptiness

Oh that's so clever

he said

OK

OK he said

OK

but I could tell by his voice

that it was anything but

OK

OK I said

OK

but he knew by the way I said it

that I knew

he was not OK about it

but that was OK

so we both said

OK

T.V.

The T.V.'s on

it makes a noise

I don't want noise

I turn it off

but all the T.V.s

around the world

are still switched on

and making noise

I want to switch off

every one

I want to end the noise

I want T.V. switched off

Error

Sorry

this poem was published in error

another poem was meant to be written

but the mind was not functioning

in the correct manner

to produce the poem

I had expected

Normal service

will not be resumed

ever

ever

ever

Worlds

world in front

does not exist

world behind

does not exist

world right here

that's where I am

Rain

the rain falls

as water from my tap

always purified

always purifying

the rain falls

Heaven as liquid

Footprints

footprints on the patio

a ghost has been here

the self I once was

fingerprints on the fridge door

a hungry ghost

the self I never was

imprints on the book cover

the ghost of a ghost

the author I never knew

And if

and if perhaps

you and I

could sail away

we could salvage

for all time

this sacred day

Time yet (for Maria and David)

There is time yet

to conquer time

time yet

to say goodbye

time yet

to face the monsters

time yet

to say hello

time yet

for you and I

time yet

to hold you dearly

time yet

to worship time

When

When all is said

and done

there'll be nothing to say

and nothing to do

When all is said

and done

just be quiet

and inactive

Revolution

They sought redemption

from oppression

they tried supplication

and persuasion

they tried protest

civil disruption

and when all these failed

to relieve the situation

they accepted violence

as their road to salvation

---

when all was said and all was done

and millions were laid in dark mass graves

the revolution, so hard won

asked the harder question,

What Now?

And wise answer was there none.

A Different Song

I cannot sing your song my friend

I cannot sing your song

though you lilt and cry and softly sigh

I cannot sing your song

Your song is yours not mine my friend

your song is yours for ever

but my song's in a different key

and your song will be mine never

My song is silence, loudly sung

it echoes over all the Earth

I'll sing it on my dying day

as I've sung it since my birth