Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
OH BROTHER MINE

my brother
has lost his voice
I will speak for him

my brother
has lost the world
I will share my world

my brother
has lost his body
he lived in

I let him live
in mine
keep him alive

my brother has lost
all his thoughts
I let him think with mine

come brother
live in me
let Death die
BROTHER BLUEBOTTLE

a bluebottle
emerges
from a hedge

like an expensive
and repulsive
flying jewel

It settles upon
my ring finger
I wear it

with fear and delight
Its iridescence
bewitches

this the first
bluebottle
I'd ever seen.

I thought
they grew
in hedges

I had a lot to learn
It buzzes about
in my brain

as if
60 years
had not passed

welcome
welcome back
brother bluebottle

it's good
to see you
still alive
SCHRODINGER'S DOG

Unlike
Schrödinger's cat

Schrödinger's dog

was always
there

under his feet

hungry for
...his Master's voice...a pat...the sound of his step...

The cat
(like anybody's cat)

couldn't give
a toss

(but that was neither
here nor there) .

It's hard to tell

if it's alive or if
it ain't.

It's one
lazzzzzzy cat.

He's never there
(when you want him to be)

and always there
(when you don't want him to be.)

Quark the cat
was just one big paradox.

The dog
was old and faithful

always
in the box

asleep or gnawing
a bone in thought.

The cat couldn't care
less

a source
of constant

anxiety

about its
whereabouts

and the state
of its health.

Being
neither

here nor
there

or somewhere
else entirely

as if it lived
in a parallel universe.

Lived in a world
of its own.

Thus the theory of
Schrödinger's Cat

proved
(beyond doubt)

that although
cats are nice an' all dat

dogs
are a scientist's

best friend.

*

In 1935, Schrödinger published an essay describing the conceptual problems in quantum mechanics. A brief paragraph in this essay described the cat paradox:

One can even set up quite ridiculous cases. A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following diabolical device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat) : in a Geiger counter there is a tiny bit of radioactive substance, so small that perhaps in the course of one hour one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens, the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer which shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives if meanwhile no atom has decayed. The first atomic decay would have poisoned it. The Psi function for the entire system would express this by having in it the living and the dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out in equal parts.[

*

There was a leak in my cistern in the brain stem. I didn't like to play dice with my universe so I called a quantum mechanic in. I asked him if it was bad. He said: Well, it is or it isn't...depending on how you look at it.. It's good for me...bad for you! '

'Now, about that cat? '

'Not that old chestnut....the cat is over 70 now...just fix the cistern will ya! I had the cat poisoned...so that's that! '

'Ohhhhh! '

'Anyway...it was a hypothetical cat! '

'Ya mean it wasn't real? '

'Oh...what is real?

He seemed considerably saddened by this and left without charging for the cistern.
I hate when after all this time Animal Rights activists disguise themselves plumbers in order to rescue the ****** cat that is neither alive or dead.

Next time it leaks...I'll call a vet
". . .TO KISS THE SLUMBERING OWEN NA BUIDHE. . ."

the river wandered along
as if it was
in no particular hurry

it had forgotten time
and Time
took no mind

now it flows
through my memory
lazy in a heat haze

the sun thrown high
in a summer kissed sky
the day lasting longer than forever

"Howya!" I called
and the river answering
in its own language

now here
we are
I no longer a boy

both of us
both of us wearing
the same sunshine

we wore
some 60 years
or so ago

"Ya wouldn't have
an auld song in ya
would ya!" asks the river

"Indeed I have!"
I told the river and
it sparkled to be told so

I sang Carrigdhoun
catching the river
in the nets of the tune

"Ahhh sure that's
a grand song so it is!"
pleased to hear itself sung

and now dusk
was gathering
the countryside to itself

"Will ya come back
tomorrow and sing!"
I promised it I would

and every 60 years or so
I sing to the river
flowing through my mind

"and Dónall swore aye o'er &  o'er,
we'd part no more
a stór mo chroidhe"
YESTERDAY'S MAP

yes Sir
can I be
of some assistance

this map
I
bought yesterday

it keeps changing
all the **** time
never the same

from one
moment
to the next

of course Sir
that is a map
of the future

well I want
one that stays
the same

oh you should have
said so Sir
you want a map of the past

you should have
specified
the type of map

most people
want a map
to tell them

where they are
going rather than
where they were

paid my money
and left in a huff
now where was I
IN FOG EVERYTHING IS THE GHOST OF ITSELF...SO IT IS.

alas poor Scrooge
I knew him
a fellow of infinite jest

a lover
of all things
Christmas

why he wouldn't say
boo
to a ghost

the kindest
caringest
loving
loan shark
in all of this here
dreary town

kept me going
through hard times
even though my life

was only
rust & dus
rust & dust

"People
mutht be
amuthed!"

he'd always say
in that Sleary way

wot happened
to the old
geezer

why there is not
a body
doesn't know dat

ended up Marshallsea
Debtor's prison along
with old John Dickens.

ya know
Charlie's
father

for want of
an unpaid baker's bill
a good man was lost

to his self
drove him mad
it did so it did

now that Marley
on the other hand
'ard as nails....

*

HARD TIMES was at one stage possibly going to be RUST AND DUST. And of course it is Mr. Sleary in HARD TIMES who professes: "People mutht be amuthed!"
Dickens' dad John was the one who was sent to Marshallsea for not paying his baker's bill.
Scrooge going to the light side of course will be the ruin of him as a money lender 'cos he has become just too too nice and let's everyone off! Marley instead of being dead...'dead as a doornail" is very much alive and horrible to boot.

As well as being as "myriadminded' as Coleridge proposes to be and as humorous as could possibly be...old Charlie just wrote beautiful English! I always remember the section with great affection of how the house came to find itself in the street it was in in A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

As I do of the beautiful section in OUR MUTUAL FRIEND when in talking a bit about...mist Chapter 57 if ya wanna look it up.

"The moon had gone down, and a mist crept along the banks of the river, seen through which the trees were the ghosts of trees, and the water was the ghost of water."

That sticks in my head as pure poetry and whatever the story is what I really really remember!

You can now see how and why my title is concocted as I wanted to pay homage to those words and to get a chance to knock around with Charlie and his cast of characters.



"They were gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide and seek with other houses, and have forgotten the way out again."
THE ME I AM

I laugh
with a dead man’s laugh
(a man I never knew)  

my grandfather’s laughter
flowering like Springtime
blossoming in my mouth

not listening to the years
Time joins the dots
Painting by Numbers

I see
with my mother’s eyes
the world

stealing into my mind
become music
anything it chooses

Time
joins the dots
Painting by numbers

this gesture
is my big sisters
gathering me

up into her
nearness
tenderness

Time
joins the dots
Painting by Numbers

my father’s love
beats in my heart
sings in everything

it touches
amuses me to see
how I am

all those
others
as well as me

Time joins
the dots
Painting by Numbers
Next page