When the world turns upside down
Because of a computer virus
Who ya gonna call?
The magical IT department.

On horses of cabled veins
They charge to vanquish
The evil that lurks inside
The internet.

White flags blowing in the breeze
Always on hand and
Well educated
But miserable in their own way.

'Be there, in the park by the lake. by three
Or we're through'
I paced my room
I ruminated disconsolately,
Would being through be so bad?
Was I squandering my life?
It came quarter to and I left
I thought 'If a bus comes,
And I get there on time,
So be it'.

The bus came, and I turned the other way.

Splashed into boiling water
Swirled on a spoon
Milk makes clouds in brownness
A splodge makes a moon

The spoon stirring causes chaos
Man watches and waits
For the cooling and the stillness
Of this drink of the greats

The sky is cleft across
A ragged aniversay of two
Who for three years were in tune
Down the long paths of their vows

Now it, their love, lies, a loss
And Love roars with his patients on a chain,
Feom every real or crater
Carrying cloud, Death mires their house.

Too much spent in wrong rain
Coming together who love parted:
The windows melt into their heart
And the doors melt into their brain.

The law is cool
Rules are groovy
We abstain
From certain acts;
Irreverent acts.
The entropy of the
Directorate
Is increasing
The enthalpy
Near boiling.

I shouldn't have let you go, that night, to that party. That was where it all started to unravel. 'She kissed me'.
Or did you kiss her? Did you let her, encourage her?
I used to be a part of our we but now it is I who am scathing,
I who am alone.
I can't stop thinking of all the ifs and buts, if she hadn't been so drunk,
If I hadn't gotten into a funk,
If we were still together
Would we be
                         Happier?
                                           Even just happy?

It'snot for me to say
Time just keeps on going and the days pass me by and you are with
someone new now.

Life is a series of events on a timeline. It is unknowable and mysterious. It cannot be created from nothing but only from itself. Life comes from life comes from life.
I like to think of the future. Of the mind reading machines and teleportation. In the future they will laugh at us. We are so stuck.
Living is a part of life and it happens in an unstoppable way. Living just happens to life.Living can be great or not great, we say things we don’t mean and we hear things we don’t understand and we plod along.

The dance is the movement,
Gradual progression
between fixed points:
perfect plie
Balancing on pointe, arms raised.
These alone are boring.
It's the motion
The conflict between human energy and gravity
Defying nature with spins and splits in midair.
Life is not a fixed point that we reach.
Enjoy the beauty of defying nature
Through unending change.

I see you out there poking through,
I stepped on your sister with my shoe,
The Spring has called you out of sleep,
Your tender colour I must keep.

Your cousin the flower shyly rears,
A bouncing nose and courful ears.

Where the others are
Is not here
Where I am

Nodes in a network I feel their presence
In the world
Knowing they exist
I cannot move towards them
For reasons unknown

I am sitting here
Should I be honest
Or brave
Or foolish
I choose wise

I wait.

Like a glove
For many fingers
Maths ties bows
On our thoughts

Logic governs
What can be
And what
Cannot

What cannot be
Is where we live
It is where we
Die

You were a hurricane
I was a little cloud
I was very quiet
You were very loud
Invading my mind
You became Calm
I thought I was an ocean
But I am just a lamb.

'because the word of God is asomething alive and active,
Because we need to pray today'
She spoke like she'd swallowed laxative,
'allow us here show you the way',
I shrugged and let my gaze wander
She followed it around the room,
'do not let thine thoughts meander'
It just all started far too soon.

A bucket in an empty field
Though a verdant field
Feels nothing
It steals the drops
Of rain
From deserving soil

Glowing on your camisole
Reflections cast doubt
On your role
As my suitor

Old time word
Still fresh to speech
Dead concept
Mouldy peach

Faint fair devil a plague thee
Rays of light arouse me
Hogs of ash surrounding
Rings of black abounding
Birth from sheets proufoundly
Chased a bus so houndly
Days come and gallavant
Sequential like the rain
I stand and stay adamant
I will not derail.

Arms grasping war machines
I wanted history and it is grim
The walls are devoid of art
Fu of ways to blow things apart
So much of history behind glass
Fingerprints on glass te me
Where to direct my sorrowful gaze
I try to take it in but the news
Rambles through my skull
History is not done yet
The fighting goes on and on.

My four orbiting stars
You are my everything
When times are hard you
Shine on

When times are dark you
Raise the curtain

When I am alone
You speak to me
My family
My everything

In speaking, I, you respond with one word
                      Good.

I smile.


We, to each another, chat,
Chitting.

You a quiet man make
I, a quiet other

Together
                    Intimacy

You are all I see
Yet your voice, is like a bullet
You fill up my days
Yet I despise that fact

I cannot leave
Or even move slightly apart
I am caught in the web
That I don't know if you know you wove.

You were mine
I won you
But now you
Are won away

I had you
For me
We were friends
Not any longer so

I see you
With her
In my mind's eye
It's painful

The talk and walk
And breathe and balk
They sing their joys
They invented toys

I love them

Little ****** blighter unsightful
Strut on the pavement cement
Droppings like rain
Feathers rough and unclean
Yuck they coo
They never seem new
Yet we know that they
Die too.

Thou no work can in truth be done
Ye may count hours had of fun
Ye may think that tbou hast won
                   Yet it goes and goes

Lest long hours make ye sad
Try in earnest to be glad
I forbid thee from feeling bad
                 Nature sews and sews

Like lions roaring shiny pelt
Your noble actions are well felt
Pride young one is how its spelt
                  Worship of the Jos

Know in you we'll not forget it
Singing high from every pulpit
Have your celebration biscuit
                  Abandoned are all woes

Joyful joyful those around you
Praise and adoration on cue
Blazing celebrations for you
                  In happiness' throes.

Take life in bitesized chunks, let the histories overlap, BOOM! New life, fresh life everlasting.

Vectors
Abstractors
Nomenclatures.

Drizzles from the sky
Catch in my eye
It will burn in future time
The cogs are turning and the oil
Floating on the surface of a droplet
As an angel
Dances on the head of a needle

Recycling and renewable energy
Can save our souls
And Mother Earth
Before its too late

It's toxic
Life giving
Drowning
Forgiving

Measured in inches
Measured in miles
Destroying the crops

When will they heed
The planets need
To breath

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Go **** yourself.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
I don't follow.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
You can't generalize like that.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
All conflict in the world cannot be attributed to a single root.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That requires the assumption that, basically, all human values are the same.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That is very naive of you.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That is because communication and language are the only means of expression and different words acquire very different meanings not only from culture to culture but even profession to profession.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That's why the government is investing in that new fibre internet.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Well of course, all human values are essentially the same.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
It's actually a lack of technological progression that restricts us from contacting aliens.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Religious conflict is far more complicated than that.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Go to Hell.

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Yes

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
No

Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
What do you mean?

Poems of selfindulgent love are running through my head
Poems like these of private peeves make me wish I was dead

A metre that sways
in slow rolls
and drags the heart
through sopping towels
when you didn't answer
my text.

For example.

These are the words that are not free flowing,
Their being shaped by the slow eroding
Of "newsfeed" sliding down throats
Into expressing these strange empty emotions,
Projected from screens onto beings,
Rouses in me
A Confusion Profusion.

I am not a hopeless romantic,
Nor am I inviting your listless affection
By a farcical pretense of denial,
Take note.

A life defined by love is,
To me,
Rather silly.

Love is not the goal,
It is however
The mediating language of all really human transactions.

Sandwiches are like sentences
They make great metaphors.

Ham and chicken
And butter smoothed out,
Coleslaw.
Pots of tea for the crowd
Gathered
They walked from the church

To the house empty
Of his noise.
Cheese falls to the floor.

Making babysteps in human knowledge
Feeling fluttering in my ribcage
Helping to a brighter world
Possibilities unfurl

Teams of scientist roaming the web
The tide of progess flows and ebbs
Just to play my own small part
Brings me gladness in my heart.

Seeing how discorery works
The sweat and tears that ****
Struggling to be very thorough
Not to introvertly burrow

Meeting great minds giving talks
Learning how to walk the walk
I'm thriving in my favorite field
Like an orange slowly peeled.

The bug to the moth said sit right down
The door to the cloth said shine my brown
The man to the mouse said watch my frown
The ghost to the egg said 'eiderdown'.

We pile them high
The slush taking shape
The sky made solid
In our hands.

Every one young or old
Likes to fabricate
The form

Armies would they be
If, like in cartoon,
They could attain conscious
Motion

But alas they are doomed
Like so many of us
To melt and evaporate
And return to whence they came

In the big melt
The sum's rays glinting
Fiery inferno
Causing gentle curving,

Maketh ice
Which forms puddles
Which give way
To earth.

In all the days and ages gone by,
    How do we record the time,
It seems therein hereof to fly,
    And freezes, only embossed in rhyme.
To live forever and plus that day,
    Is not so impossible in truth,
Though we can scarce predict our own way,
    Angels write our lives for flute.
Envy will these tales incur,
    Such that the future long for past,
And we, the passed, lie demure,
    Dice of present lying cast.
Toward an even field of life,
In tomes that, to a word, all strife.

****** tie it theatre knot
     Seductive lick it with tongue red hot
Desire the lust ages, cakes will rot
     Sweat the sheets to clammy faceless knot
Gruelling physicality a god's revenge
    Aphrodite wept in tears of stone rock
Previous encounters must be avenged
     ****** always creeps up to bow shock
Toes curl and fingers grapple at air.  
     Heave him over turned right way about
Grabbing for something solid, hair
     The mouth wants to shout it out
Happiness sublime an easy win
      It beats those that just stick it in

They lie with corners touching
Boxes
We live in those

To communicate we hope our corners
Touch

They float and flit from nether to hither
Thither and thereabout they float
Watching our attempts to cope.

They are the ruling emotions
The guiding wise mind
Guide ropes of the ocean

The ocean of life.

RED splodge on YELLOW splodge makes ORANGE splodge.

This day winding down now
Cogs of time turned by turetlesGrinding axles ssquealing
In the mouth of a gull
In my wind rocked home
Sounds permeate the gloom
Steam and spilt droplets of
Freshly poured milk mark
The ashen counter top
Grey becomes rose as the sun
Traverses its casing in the sky
Low now, light gets into my eyes
A flock of crows fly to the treetops
Cawing in their cacophinous way.
Daffodils are aging and leaning
On the stems leaves slightly wilting
Crocuses are lying down ready
To sleep the long dream of death.

Slow-motion was developed over a thirty year period and involved gently and gradually tensing and relaxing various muscle groups. The stretches were not demanding and it did not leave a pain in her muscles for days after like exercise had in her youth. It left instead a warm glow.
The standing exercises were mostly on two feet but some involved standing on one foot. The imagination is incorporated and the astounding discovery that kept Daphne coming back was that if she imagined herself leaning on a table, she did not fall. It was difficult to maintain that imagining, and therein lay the exercise; mind, body and soul.
There were women and men in the class and they would chat afterwards but never during. Relaxing music (noises really) were played during the class and the level of concentration required made conversation nearly impossible. To converse would be to blow on a tower of cards. The longer the silence the taller the tower was built, but of course everyone breathes and everyone chatters nervously and so some sessions were indeed filled with whispered chats, sometimes while trying to touch one’s toes.
‘How are you today, Lisa’, whispered Daphne at such a time, ‘Very well thank you, I can’t actually reach my toes though, should I tell her?’ said Lisa, ‘Oh I don’t think so I’m sure she’s watching over all of us, though I can’t see her, my knees are blocking my line of sight’, Daphne replied, ‘Show off’ and Lisalaughed drily.
The music came in various themes: seaside, piano hall and forest. The forest were her favourite and comprised of bird song and rustling leaves. The piano was very generic and was too similar to the open door noise of her microwave to be particularly appealing.
The seaside songs featured the raucous sound of gulls which Daphne did not enjoy as she thought them to be a selfish bird. It seemed when she visited the sea that the gulls were always flying to whatever section of strand they fancied and cleaning the place out of small ***** and seaweed.

the bird not the body function
leave the body behind
the birds are being swallowed by the sky
The clouds are welcoming to them
I think 'take me too'

Poured over the ground
Settling into stillness
Lasting lifetimes

Goo that prevents
Flowers from growing

Underlit by a candle
             Lightbulb reflections

Warming frozen hands
Lips smattering

Intettwining destinies

            Hands wrapped round
            No sound

Streaming listlessy
Irrational rain
Less or more pain
I don't know

The spring in my face
The time to chase
The passages on my cheeks
Seems a waste.

Bony body writhing stomach
Bubbling, boiling.
Mind inside it hiding,
Rupturing, recoiling.

Come out to dance at midnight
The moon is full
Of sorrow.

Though bugs do not leap up and yell
They know death came close by
Though impossible to tell
I think I saw one's mothet cry
               Their thanks is silent

Though you not met the farmer
Know he's grateful as is the cow
He warmed his hamds not to alarm her
You bought his milk and how
               Their passion's violent

Though I send no gift but words
Know them to be sincere
Would I could fly with birds
And whisper this poem to your ear,
                You are magnificent.