The truth is unfurled instantly
in our virtual world
The communal cyber-court
sits in perpetual session


Though the two-edged sword
of technology
sterilizes youth
it smites the system mercilessly


Mother Theresa never factored-in
‘social networking’
This bright light gave us
too good a look at her


               Sean Hunt   June 2017

Why do I find your beauty
Painful,
Hanna May
Even your name
Can bite me
Just a little bit?

It's all about me
And not about you
I'm watching waves
With some wisdom
When they come
Rolling in
Because I know
There's an undertow

Yes, I know
There's an undertow

Sean Hunt
Windermere January 5th 2016

I feel so alone
Floating in a sea
Of humanity
This mystery
Is beyond me

Where can I go?
If I slip
Out of the stream
They will know.
Our henchmen
Do not permit
Dissention
Or
Absention

I am frozen in time
Stuck in an unwritten rhyme

Sean Hunt

See video that inspired this poem at:  
https://vimeo.com/162596231

An omen was sensed by all
though the meaning no one saw
When we were stopped by the wall
there was nothing to do but fall
with passive acceptance
a senseless descent
into a rainy lake of stillness
then when the ripple began
we heard the voice of the captain

You shielded me
From your pain
Your tears all fell
Quietly like rain
Under your waterfall
I couldn't hear
You cry
You let them
Fall like rain
I never heard
Your silent cry
Again
I had to go
I don't expect
You'll ever know why
I had to go
I couldn't stay
Another day
I had to go away

Sean Hunt     Sept 2016

I think I am embedded in this tapestry
I think that every thing I see
Is outside of me

I couldn’t be more wrong
This mistaken view
Is Oh so wrong

How long will I carry on?
The habits of an addict
Are so ****** strong!

Even though I know
I grab the water as it falls
I am like a baby with a ball

I am the loom
The wool and the weaver
The giver and the receiver

Sean Hunt

The towns around me are boring
I don’t want to go out my door
I sit inside here snoring
There’s nowhere I want to explore

The people I see are not pretty
Something is wrong with each face
Exceptions are few, just me and you
I dislike the whole human race

When I plan a great escape
and fly from north to south
the sun is so hot I’m begging for shade
but don’t want to be in or out

The menus never change
The choices are always the same
I’m finding my food very strange
and looking for someone to blame

I’ve been living here way too long
I’m beginning to squinch and flinch
It is said that just like this song
The English love to whinge

The World Will Be Burned

Over eight hundred thousand
Pounds per missile, Mate
British Sterling Money
NOT Imperial Weight!
I could cry.
Many Muslims too
Have teary eyes
Those who loved her smile
Those who bathed
In the radience
Of her beauty
Will remember the missile
And her smile
The missile
And her smile
The missile
And her smile
For a while
And then
When they have been brought
To the boiling point
The world
Once again
Will be burned

Sean Hunt  
Windermere, December 6, 2015

Be mindful when you live
Be careful when you die
Discipline determines
your dream day and night

Watch your mind
your mouth and hands
The winds may blow
where you don’t want to go

During a lifelong drought
two rivers of tears
could flow
from your eyes to your mouth

This thirst is the worst

My friend please put an end
To your dreadful thirst

This Winter
surprisingly
is more like spring
No frozen pipes
No overcoats
Early bursting buds and tiny flies
Sunshine and short sleeve shirts
Sitting in the garden
out of sync
somewhat confused
Summer drinks
are on the tray
We're behaving like it's
a summer day

It’s tightrope time, tightrope time
Nobody says what they think, these days
Every word’s got to be weighed
Our mouths stay shut most of the time
It’s too easy to commit a crime
It’s tightrope time, tightrope time

Candid camera has your back
and has your front too
You have no secrets anywhere
Someone’s watching you
It’s tightrope time, tightrope time

Paper trails track you down
from town to town
Your mobile phone knows where you go
where you run around
It’s tightrope time, tightrope time

Your Facebook trail tells the tale
of you and all your friends
who you know, where you go
the beginning and the end
It’s tightrope time, tightrope time

If you take a lady for a ride
and your car’s a little fast
make sure that all your windows
have some tinted glass
It’s tightrope time, tightrope time

Every iris is different
like a bullet from a gun
Soon an eye in the sky will be
watching everyone
It’s tightrope time, tightrope time

Why does my body
rebel against my wishes
to walk or to talk
to tidy my house
to wander the world
or work?
Do I really need to sleep
to dive so deep
beneath the waves
of the day
to  run so far away

Today
Over
Once again
Tomorrow a new one
Will begin

I dare not say
“I will not die today”
Nay
I know not when
I know not where
I know not why
This holy moment
Is for me
A hidden mystery
Inside a galaxy
Of potentialities
Preparing to pop
Like kernels of corn

I must tidy my house
Today


            Sean Hunt  Dec 2016 Windermere, UK

My poem was a 'hit'
My friend
You imputed it

My house and my life
have been Tracified
Now the frames on the wall
which once were all black
now have a trace of blue
and the ambience is
utterly new
Just like Christ on the cross
who was crucified and died
I say goodbye to the world
that I once knew
and embrace the tinges of blue
and the wonderful newness
of Tracey’s brew
She says “Hush”
as she hands me the cup

Seems like
Psychosis squared
To me
I don't see you
You don't see me
You don't see you
You don't see me
What else can it be?

So many songs are written
About this sorry state
Which always ends in tears
Sooner or later

Enjoy it while it lasts
It will only be 'true'
If it does not change
Into something new

Magic never turns into tragic

Sean

Stop and watch me carefully
what you get will not be what you see
My hedonistic needy-me view
has nothing at all to do with you
It’s all about me and not about you
Don’t trust what I say or what I do
I’m a man with a plan that I’ll never reveal
and it may take years for you to heal
If you fall for me and take the bait
You will find your self in a sorry state

Sean Hunt  July 2017

Tricky Trump
Trying to trump
Other players
In the game

Real thinkers don't think
Neither mind nor matter matters
Ego tyranny

I am a poet freak, no doubt
Some who read my rhymes
Pull their hair out
One at a time

A romantic poet I am not
What you see is what I’ve got
A twisted view, from me to you
At least it’s something new

Sean Hunt

April 18 2016

a psychotic word salad
shotgun streamed
for all to see

Two Moths

Two moths are flying around the same fire
being burned by the same flame
both are trying to get close to the light
but  no one is winning this game

Both of them looking for the same thing
in the very same place
and they arrive at the same time
in the very same space

It’s so hard to fly with you’re wings on fire
because they’re fanning the flame
then we’re surprised by what we see
with all our open eyes

The puzzle becoming more muddled
some pieces hiding under the others
intuition not helping
confusion telling

High anxiety’s refrain
is in the air
and our breath has stopped
us in a stare

Paralysis and impotence
guard the gates
against
spontaneous response

How where when?
Will it all end?
Question marks abound
and surround the event

Under the canopy
we are stranded
and wondering why
trying to stare through the sky

Lives are like straw
They are fragile
We are not strong
People do not last long

Religions all promise
an answer to the question
We try to make sense
stumbling through our innocence

Please be consoled
if you're grief is deep
We will escape our plight
The mirage is finite

The skittering fish of my memory
refuses to be food
refuses to be used
another time

Like a shooting star
from the corner of my eye
fish fly by laughing at
my hook and line

Of course they can’t be caught
because they were never there
Memories imagined
The mind is so unfair

I wonder why
Jerome
Likes my word
'Unfindable'
Seems absurd!

If you only have
Ten words
They shouldn't be
Heard!

Birds fly
In high formation
Above nations
Unknown to them

I need to stop being me
There’s somebody else
That I want to be
I spend nearly all of my time
Thinking of me
Thinking of mine
I seem to be stuck
In this unwritten rhyme
Since beginningless time

Sean Hunt  May 2016

The home of his skull is in Rome
His blood's in a vial in Dublin
It's the day of this lover's last breath
the day of his date with death

Love is the name of his game
They play it all over the world
Everyone knows his name
every single boy and girl

I will wear her name on my sleeve
She'll receive all my attention
I'll tell her I'll never leave
We'll keep this love convention

Valentine's Day

I live alone
And my house could be cleaner
And there's no one to comment
On my demeanor

But

I tremble to think
Of the crevice and *****
On the slippery hills of
Love full of hope

Sean     Feb 14 2016

It’s a virtual world
the one that we now
think we know
once removed reality

We see through
a series of screens
from hand-held cells
to HD screens
and every thing
in between

It’s water under the bridge, the one we’re standing on
Didn’t last long, stopped like a song
Now we’re moving on
The water’s long gone
and we’re moving on

Perpetual motion, every thing,
the people we see, the queen and the king
the rooks and the knights, the blacks and the whites
When we try to stop time, we find out it’s a crime

In a dream you came, in a dream you went
I wanted to make up, and I tried not to wake up
but the morning insisted, I open my eyes
so I did, and I cried

We saw something float by, with all of our eyes
We disagreed,  a branch or a tree
something dreamlike, a flash of moonlight
No matter now,  it gone anyhow
The jury is out, everyone’s gone
and it’s time to move on

Sean Hunt    Dec 5th 2017

We are all Perpetual Refugees
Crossing the perilous Sea
Of Reality

Do we laugh when we are born?
Do we laugh when we die?

We do laugh in between
While we play in the waves
In the constantly changing Sea
Of Reality

Every day we play
And we surf
Those dangerous waves
In the constantly changing Sea
Of Reality

Though we should really know
And pay attention to
The undertow

Sean Hunt
Windermere Jan 4th 2016

WE ARE ALL REFUGEES    2

We're not laughing when we're born
Or when we die,
We mourn and we cry
When we're born and when we die,
Yes, we mourn and we cry,
When we're born and when we die

We are all refugees running across  the Sea.
Everyone is running,
You, and me,
Trying to find a place
That's safe, and secure,
Where the air and the  water
And the people are pure,  

We keep on running away,
From every thing that causes pain,
Yes, we keep on running away,
From every thing that causes pain

We're not laughing when we're born
Or when we die,
We mourn and we cry
When we're born and when we die,
Yes, we mourn and we cry,
When we're born and when we die

In between we laugh a lot,
Sitting in the sand
By the sea of reality,
Surfing waves when they come,
One by one,  when they come,
On the sea of reality..
Every day we play,
And we surf on the waves,
In the Sea Of Reality.

On the beach, as we go, we should know,
Underneath there's an  undertow.  
On the sea, as we go, we should know,
Underneath, there's an undertow.
Down below, an undertow,
We should know.  

Sean Hunt
Windermere January 7th 2016

We are not a thing, We're a happening

We're coming and going all of the time
Never staying still, just like my rhyme

We are not a thing, We're a happening

You can't point at me!  If you try
I will disappear in the blink of an eye

We are not a thing, We're a happening

You can't drive a wheel because it's not a car
If you try you won't get very far

We are not a thing, We're a happening

Doctors know this because they've seen
Inside our skin with an Xray machine

We are not a thing, We're a happening

Still looking for the book, for some thing to read?
Or maybe the beginning of a seed

We are not a thing, We're a happening

Without the fish and egg where would we be
There'd be no you, there'd be no me

We are not a thing, We're a happening

We're coming and going all of the time
Never staying still, just like my rhyme

(I was asked to be part of a four-person panel at a conference in Glasgow dedicated to the arts and mental health. The work of Leonard Cohen was explored in our panel of a journalist, a musician, a poet and a mental health /arts organizer, all sharing a deep fondness for Leonard and his music/lyrics/poetry. On my way home I wrote this poem about the panel experience:)

For an hour
four of us spoke of you
today
sharing views
how it was listening to
the music that you made
how you helped us
make it through
the darkness
of our days
You soundtracked lives
from Quebec
to Glasgow town
in the UK
the place from which
you ran away
to the dry
Aegean Hydra Isle
to meet the muse
named Marianne
whose beauty was unstained
whose mountain you would climb
to wash
your eyelids in the rain

We are not fans
though we would stand
for long days
to see your face
to hear your songs
special sounds sung
coming through
from you
so we could hear
through blessed ears

We are not fans
We are fortunate ones
Who have touched the philosopher’s stone

Sean Hunt April 20th 2017

I whinge for the cold
You whinge for the heat
Whether we whinge or not
The wether will be what it will be

Kate's lucky
She's married
And I’m old
I’m lucky
Kate's married
And I’m old

We’re so lucky to live in ‘The Lakes’
Every day we find new mates
Meeting people from Shanghai
From ‘Down Under’ and Dubai
From towns all over this country here
From places far and places near
From across the oceans wide and deep
They come to see our hills and sheep  

I’m so lucky to live ‘The Lakes’
A place where I can meditate
Look at the mountains from afar
Admire them like a distant star
Take a picture with my phone
All from my window in my home
I talk about mountains with my mates
I’m so lucky to live in ‘The Lakes’

Sean Hunt      June 6th 2016

We wonder, me and you
We wonder why the sky is so blue
and why the weather’s never right
why everybody’s so uptight

Is love all we need, like the Beatles say
running around in a hard night’s day
In order for them to feel so free
they needed **** and LSD

Wisdom seems to be missing, to me
not knowing so many mysteries
With wisdom we can shine a light
and every ‘thing’ will be alright

What a kiss last night!
Ultimate exquisite bliss
From only a kiss.
I was satisfied.
It was enough.
Unsurpassable.

No yearning for more
Or for something else,
No painful neediness,
No hedonistic greedy
Begging for
Those blasphemous bells
That shake the house
And douse the mind
With dullness and deadness
Then sleep.

I awoke
With the microscopic memory
Of a slow caresssing
Of mouths
And  tongues,
Of each holy moment,
And a silent sigh
Of ecstasy.

It was only a dream

Sean Hunt  
Windermere November 15 2015

What a War!
Invisible weapons
Sudden surprises
Brash and bold
Suicidal  sorties
Nasty and naughty
Into our status quo

Graphic gaudy gifts
Given any time of any day
To anyone in any place
Random acts of unkindness

They make us imagine
The worst that could happen!
We're standing
On the edge of a cliff,
Wondering if the ground beneath
Will suddenly disappear
And lift our stomach to our ears

Exotic hot tourist spots?
I think not!
Now flying in a plane
Is only for the brave
Or the criminally insane

Here come our bold bedouin consequences
Of our modern day econo-crusades
Our karmic boomerang

We tunneled in their soil
And planted puppet royals
Now they tunnel in our soil
What a price we pay for oil

Sean Hunt, Windermere 2015

What Can A Muslim Woman Be?

Bobbing
On the misogynistic sea
Of inhumanity

Muffled by
Mandatory muteness
Veiled in artless darkness
Horrified by heartlessness
And tasting
A terrible tartness

A gauntlet of confetti stones awaits
The rule breakers
And mistake makers
Equivocation
Or twisted motivation
Can cause a horrid hail
To happen
At any moment

I wonder
What can a Muslim woman be

Sean Hunt Windermere 2016 May

Ask yourself
Before you write about love
While you write about love
After you write about love

Higher education leaves you
Down where you started
Floundering around
In waters uncharted

Some Mums and Dads
In our early years
Spoil their rods
And spill our tears

Some mums see their child
As the 'apple of their eye'
And never even notice
Other children passing by

And when your love for
Someone is so deep
That you cannot eat
And cannot sleep?

Love is giving, not getting
Love is generosity
Wanting someone else
To be happy, to be free

We enslave others
This is nothing new
How we like to see love
Is simply not true

Sean Hunt   Windermere

What I want
Is freedom
From fear
For
Ever
More

Sean Hunt

Jan 17, Windermere

What's it all about?
It's time
To figure
It out

True tears
convince me more
than so many words
which seem to go
overboard
Effusiveness
gets less response
from open hearts
and refined minds
One listener
who was new
heard holy words
but did not think
that they were true

What to do?