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.
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 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.
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.
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
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
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.
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
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
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.
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
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
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.
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
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
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
Remember this, Martin
A blade of grass
is as important
as any human
to the universe
and infinity
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
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 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
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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 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
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
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
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
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
