Are the lions drinking or drowning today?
And what sort of whimsy may come into play?
If I skip the long walk and get carried away
By a piper whose horn touts – fat ladies, wahey?!
Do I find inside mercy, or terrible pride?
Am I fearful of friends from whose habits I hide?
Is there just cause to question the ways we go wild?
Or conceal what we feel to keep on in our stride?
With a pace at once terrible, tortuous, slow
We make progress an inch at a time, so we grow
And though others may ask us – do they want to know?
How we got where we’re planning to stay when they go?
I cannot give an answer – my answer is no
Guarantee of it working for anyone, so
Do not plead my response – I don’t do it to show
To the world: mine – the best
Way to reap what you sow.
Absurd, bus, DIY, Fear, Friends, games, habits, lions, mentor, Mercy, negative, Nosiness, path, play, pleading, Poetry, Pride, Progress, questions, self-selective, Show, slow, stream of consciousness, Strength, Thames, Transport, walking, whimsy
Sep · 19
Have we come so far
Under a banner of nations
But to fall at this hurdle
Racing to justify our own
Ignominious feelings of
Selfish, ignorant pride?
acrostic, banner, Brexit, Europe, facade, fall, Hubris, hurdle, ignominy, Ignorance, Loss, Nationalism, Poetry, Politics, Pride, Progress, self-justification, Selfishness, Shame
Mar · 01
Choose certain death and ostracism
Exile self-imposed; ‘tradition’
Loss of home and family
Born of faith’s supremacy
So young, with minds not fully fed
In fear of first missteps, unled
Some seek to live by others’ rules
And hope to never have to choose
While those whose choice was thrust upon
Unwary shoulders, far too young
Have just enough experience
To recognise their own good sense
And knowing that some errors will
Occur despite intentions, still
Are less afraid to persevere
And build the life they want right here.
Though actions have their aftermath
There is no righteous, clear-cut path
Please do not fear all consequence
Change is not dangerous; though dense
And unenlightened elders may
Feel life no longer goes their way
As age and distance emphasise
The loss of youth before sad eyes
Unready to relinquish reins
To those in throes of growing pains.
Decisions to abandon trust
Give up hope and freedoms; lust
For life of lesser contemplation
Out of social obligation;
Turn to ends more violent
Ignore suggestions, kindly meant
And quick condemn all other views –
Is this the path you wish to choose?
Consider this, before you do
For truly, this choice rests with you:
Such suicide invites abuse
Of others that may follow blood
For love, for family, for feud
Will throw themselves away; – jihad
In mourning for those gone before
Their minds made waste, still immature
And more than one will idolise
The first to die – if death you prize
Above the life you hold in hand
So understand, if you have planned
To be the martyr for your tribe
And leave the others still alive
The minute you take up this course
Imagining rewards; Firdaws
You lose control of what is shown
And once you’ve gone, the whole thing’s blown:
With ashes scattered over sand
Your image will be used to brand
Misinformation into truth –
Deserted and abandoned youth.
Abuse, Ageing, Betrayal, Blood, Cannon fodder, Change, Childhood, Choice, Closed society, Condemnation, conservatism, control, Danger, Death, Decisions, Dialogue, Dictatorship, Disenfranchisement, domestic, Elders, Exit strategy, Experience, Faith, Family, Fear, Feud, Firdaws, Grooming, Heaven, Hope, Idolatry, immature, Impressionable, Innocence, integration, Lack of comparison, Lies, Loss, Love, Martyrdom, Misinformation, Monologue, obligation, ostracism, Poetry, Power, Progress, propaganda, Rebellion, Resistance, respect, Reward, Segregation, Siblings, Social obligation, suicide, Syria, Terrorism, Tradition, Tribe, trust, truth, Violence, War, Waste, wisdom, Youth
Jul · 14
Fleet of foot, we rose up on new legs
And crawled from the ocean,
Found caves by the shore more secure,
But ambitious, precocious, we wanted more.
Overtaking the bones of dinosaurs
Forging weapons of our bodies
We set out to outsmart competition
Surpass them with strength and speed.
It was not easy. Some fell early
To malnutrition; attrition rate high,
But we were stubborn, focused;
Too intent on growth to die.
Hurdled germs on our own terms
Through the darker ages, lettered pages
To illuminate and illustrate
Our superior ways, our mind, our fate.
When prayer for days fell out of fashion,
Revolution wrought new passion
Choosing sides and burning towns:
Spoils to victors, death to clowns.
Bloodied our hands in War and Peace
With the drawing of borders and global police
Such inventive solutions to building new homes
That we thought we were Gods, not flesh and bones.
And now we have entered a digital age
We find new forms of life engaged
In fights for supremacy, violent rage
Evolved to the glare of a flickering page.
But we haven’t forgotten our primitive roots
For one, in anger, aims and shoots
To rid this world of other tribes
Ensuring only “ours” survives.
Anger, Black Death, Bodies, Book of Days, Charlie Hebdo, Civil War, Competition, Conceit, Dark Ages, Death, Digital Age, Dinosaurs, Dominance, Evolution, Expansion, Fate, Genocide, Germ warfare, growth, Hubris, Human Race, Illuminated Manuscripts, Lebensraum, Life, Peace, Plague, Poetry, Prayer, Progress, Publishing, Racial hatred, Racism, Rage, Religion, Revolution, Spoils, superior, Supremacy, Terrorism, Tribal, Victory, Violence, War, weapons, Winner, Written word
Jan · 15
One day it creeps up
With its laser-bright tech
Androids, iPads and iPods
And it’s me, me, me, next!
Me, first in the queue
For my bells and my whistles
Buying new, full price too
Grab an upgrade that sizzles
The older and wiser
Are left far behind
While the eager, hard-driver
Is blowing his mind
On fragile collectables
Soon out of date
But oh, so delectable
He just can’t wait
Get one home from the shop
And undress it with care
See your mates’ faces drop
Blank with envious stare
Why take the insurance
Of tested, tried, true
When flashy performance
Is shiny and new?
It’s progress, yeah baby!
You know that it’s fun
The future is selling
A new app to run
All manner of items
Are bought on the net
If you’ve never tried iPhones
You haven’t lived yet
Every inch of existence
Is broadcast in space
Yet we must be persistent
So we’re easy to trace
In the hope that new planets
Want to ‘friend’ us online
Drop a tweet on our twitter
To invite us to dine
At their favourite pit-stop
En-route through to Mars
Where the quaint little bipeds
Zoom ’round in their cars
In praise of technology I’d like to say
A lifetime’s achievement’s now done in a day
Life’s so much the easier for this great boon
There’ll be no further use for the labourer soon.
Instead of a fact’ry, there’s one great machine,
Much faster than men and a good deal more clean.
No more will I rise at the cockerel’s crow
For my function has gone, I am obsolete. Though
I wonder how long the machine will resist
The temptations of ‘progress’, ‘improvement’ persist.
I shall watch with much int’rest the cogs start to turn
For the call of the future is too hard to spurn.
And however intelligent engines may be
I doubt even they will escape you and me.
As our scientists shrink to the size of a pin
The machine in it’s splendour can now be breathed in.
And the seeds of development soon start to grow
As the bell for technology tolls long and slow.
Perhaps in the future I once more may find
A use for my hand and my heart and my mind.
Balance, Future, Humanity, Invention, Labour, Machine, Man, Poetry, Progress, Technology, Work, Worker
Dec · 05