Embrace change,
Welcome the weird
And invite in the strange.
Nothing to fear,
But what that yet
We don't understand.
Nothing to fear
But the feeling;
That we have still yet to comprehend.

From the fiery hills of Maui
to the dry Canadian brush
from the flat lands of the delta
down to Texas on the gulf.

The weather’s downright awful
you can hear the people say,
summers sometimes take bad turns,
but it’s never been this way.

From the tall pines of the Great North West
to the Louisiana shore,
from Florida’s boiling waters,
to California’s reservoirs.

The weather’s downright awful
you can hear the people say,
With the heat domes far above us
Montreal’s hotter than Bombay.

From the fiery hills of Maui
to the dry Canadian brush
from the flat lands of the delta
down to Texas by the gulf

The weather’s downright awful
you can hear the people say,
everyday the heat breaks records,
how long can we go on this way?

From the tall pines of the Great North West
to the Louisiana shore,
from Florida’s boiling waters,
to California’s reservoirs.

You can feel that something’s different,
you can hear what people say.
It kind of makes you wonder,
how long can we go on this way?

Let go of
The pain
The torment
The anguish
The worry
The times long since past.
Let a new exciting
Chapter unfold
In its own
Unique way,
Embrace change,
Welcome the unknown,
And hope

The oil's spilled; the weekend’s spent.
Battering rams adorn our newest cars.
The coral's bleached, our girders bent,
and as the ash falls, drones fly on Mars.

The poker chips clank on the felt.
Sweltering mules sway drunk in bars.
A toddler falls, receives a welt,
and as the fires grow, drones fly on Mars.

I could not bear to speak the truth
when you had asked me where went the stars.
A cow sits in the kissing booth,
and as the sky blackens, drones fly on Mars.

The wind has fangs; my heart now sags.
A feral pig grunts to mass applause,
Now childish men hoist cryptic flags,
and as the crops fail, drones fly on Mars.

he asked a question
and without waiting
for a response
drew three cards
from that divinatory deck
usually carrying as little
meaning as a tossed coin
scoffed at and swiftly ignored
this time seemed to tell
a recognisable tale
unexpected in its providence
a fortune perhaps
to favour the brave

the hanging man
with his eight swords
and his eight wands
these cards showed him
the start of a journey
not necessarily a life
turned upside-down
instead that a change
of perspective is needed
the octet of swords
unveiled his cage
of indecision
uncertainty and fear
a need to upset
the balance of the inert
a reasoning for destruction
in order to create
and those upright wands
carrying with them
such signs of movement
a willingness to decide
a commitment to progress

either that or
the pack was simply
reshuffled and dealt
again and again
until it foretold
that which needed
to be heard

As I string words together
From existing thoughts
Aiming at shaping souls
That will make the future
I ask…

Will there be more questions
Will there be more wonder
Will there be more action
Or just more plunder

Will there be more thinking
Will there be more linking
Will there be more sinking
In the depth of life

Will there be more focus
Will there be more locus
Or just more shrinking
In the width of sight

Will there be less shirking
Will there be less cringing
Or just more complaining
About the strive

Not Hopping
Some trainers in the BPO industry
Have worked in 20 or 30 different places
Brian met 2 or more such trainers
Both had worked in dozens of centres
Between a month’s training and years
Finally settling down to train others
Being Hoppers no more job to job
Instilling their skills info knowledge
With wisdom guidance mind set
It takes skill to be a trainer
And something else to excel
Getting the next generation ready
Reps support trainers OMs

i’ve lost hope
numb and reeling
living the aftermath
of a foreseen tragedy
remembering
what was important
when there was time
to love
and dream

the sun burns white in an endless sky
as i forget the silver glow of a faint moon
i no longer hear signs of life
all is quiet
most everything is dead
stars hang reflectionless
in a sea of tears
i struggle to remember
what life was like
when things were normal
when there was hope
that last summer
of two thousand nineteen