predestined universe, know thyself
finally make sense
the secret to success
countries at risk
billionaires battle for the moon
what we know so far
is it really all in your mind?
it's not just carbon
we should be worried about
your brain's amazing ability
to create new senses -
isn't time decimal?
the quantum world isn't random
the world isn't random quantum
the quantum isn't random world
the random world isn't quantum.
the brain
is a system
that bankrupts language
the path is narrow
winds this wait and that
no one walking my way
no one coming back
winter snow pervades the scene
spring rain brings its sheen
summer warmth and greenery
autumn's golden finery
each step then a life of its own
the path goes on forever
though it seems solid and true
it flows more like a river
the last step taken on our own
no companion there to share
then once beyond, it fades away
till nothing but the echo stays
of a footstep, and the dream
that once we walked upon a path
until you put it intae first gear
nothin will happen
but once you do put it intae first gear
you start movin
an when you start movin
you don't know where yer goin
an if you don't know where yer goin
you don't know where you'll end up
an that's the whole point
don't you see?
it's the not knowin where yer goin
an the surprise at where ye end up
that's the whole point
telly
green tea
laptop
cat sleeping on the carpet
its owner lying beside it
green tea
a breather
Zen, a strange word
in a strange world
deadly wars going on at present
Zen is quiet to these events
beyond them?
indifferent?
wiser than those who rush to find answers?
In Artland
the Gods ponder
what to do with their errant humans
Families of refugees
attempt normality
Zen hovers
around
under
burrows right into the microscopic centre
of all of our pain
ignores it
and hopes this works
as a cure
for all our woes
knowing it won't
and yet it does
something not Right
what's wrong?
something
we can't express
just not right
out there
in here
inside
something sorely out of kilter
something at the heart
of the heart
of the heart
of the heart
something cancerous
we wear it well, death
it suits our demeanour
our culture
our lifelong actions
we are, at extremes,
remarkable
and
unbearable
ingenious
and
barbaric beyond tears
death makes space for new talents
lays waste to the violent
death becomes us
without it
we would be
a living death
an endless grief
my friend, the writer
thinker
is unwell
maybe more so
than he thinks
I have found few people
with whom
I feel a deep bond
he is one
and I am concerned
he may not last too long
and I would miss his presence
in my life
in the void
comes noise
noise from outside
noise from within
stick and stones
create stillness
in the void
noise evaporates
in the stillness
find a space
to be space
to know space
to recover space
can you go with noise
would it be better if I spelled it
with a Y?
Would that be cooler for your coolness
hipper for your hips?
I guess not
so let's go with your noise
and my silence
and let's see who is louder
in the long run
justify this
and justify that
and justify everything
that comes from your trap
this is because
that is because
everything's because
everything's
the way I see it
wordless would be better
worthless has its worth
in this world or words and worthiness
but better to be
just be
because
there is
ultimately
no cause to follow
They experimented with truth and lies
alibis
children's cries
lullabies
I prefer small truths
Babe Ruths
Spooky Tooths
local uncouths
When Paul McCartney dies
who will be left
from my childhood
"Do you want to know a secret?"
first song I remember
I whispered those words into a friend's ear
in the playground
at St Mary's in Auchengramont Road.
There were entrances at Windmill Road
and Cadzow Street as well.
How evocative the street names
of my McCartney childhood.
She Loves You, yeah yeah yeah
played in my home seemingly endlessly
ooooh
We Yellow Submarined down in the backgarden
and learned to sing Let it Be as if it were a hymn
I bought McCartney III
his voice vulnerable
his musicality untouchable
his empathy tangible
Almost sixty years I have known this man
and learned what love is and could be
and what it is to experiment in life
and what it is to be unafraid
to write for kids and places
and just to see what it sounded like
if you did it this way
instead of that
and what it is to remain human
despite superhuman fame
and adulation
and criticism
and snide remarks
and what it is to know monarchs and geniuses
and what it is to be a genius
yet still remain soft to the touch
of a human hand
Trying to express
what can't be expressed
still they express
something else instead
maybe something better
than what they intended
the world moves in mysterious ways
it's good to see which way it spins
otherwise you'll just end up dizzy
your life will be flat not fizzy
instead of quiet you'll get dins
that's how the record plays
what we all intend
is something better
than what we get instead;
we cannot express
what music expresses
vinyl pressed impressed.
Let the music play
I'm decaying
you too
however young you are
stuff falling off
flaking away
cells and hair
brain cells too
stuff you're made of
what was once smooth
is now rough
what once protected
now hurts
what was once present is gone
so we decay
the loss returns to the pot
and something else is born
not us
our time has gone
but of us
decay, let it come
a gap
quick
fill it
we mustn't have gaps
Gaps are where insights appear
we mustn't have insights
insights show us
the gaps in our lives
so fill it
quick -
no gaps please
sloppy poet strews the words
with abandon onto the page
ignoring grammar,
clashing styles
doesn't understand metre
has no sense of rhythm
disdains editing
the shambles is complete
puts it out there
reviewers ignore
academics despise
nobody reads it
nobody cares
serious poet plants the words
with greatest care
etching that tone
to contrast with this,
perfects the metre
underplays the rhythm
takes ninety edits
makes it complete
puts it out there
reviewers acclaim
academics applaud
but nobody reads it
it doesn't connect
