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When I was just a little boy
I asked my mother
Why she was cruel and mean?
Why did she hit me?
Why did she scream?
Here's what she said to me...

You are what you are you are
You are your Father to me
Whatever he was you will be
I hate what you are you are!

At school I learned then to lie
Told my teachers
What they wanted to hear
Ignored all their questions
When home life was mentioned
Did not let anyone near

My life had but one repertoire
To be all they wanted of me
To seem what they wanted to see
To be like they are they are

When I grew up my mother was gone
I asked my Grandmother
Was my Father to blame
Did he make me so bad
That my Mother was sad - She said
No Two People Are Ever The Same

You are what you are you are
Perhaps your birth was too much a dream
But who made you is not all life can mean
What you are is all that you are

Over the years I have grown
I have my own children
Who proudly stand up next to me
They know I will let them
Be all their achievements
What will be doesn't mean it will be

Lo que será no significa que será
The past is just what has gone before
Tomorrow is not written in our lore
Lo que será no significa que será
Simply true.
Apr 27 · 46
Eisegesis
Tommy Randell Apr 27
Hello me
I was you
Hard to imagine
Impossible to prove

Time and tides
Have passed since now
My here is your then
My herewith without

One truth in hope
I'd wish upon you
Hindsight truly is
Of no relevant use

Hello me
My future echo
When you get there
Tell yourself Hello

I the Younger
Have no need greater
Than to believe
There will be a you later
Eisegesis is the process of interpreting text in such a way as to introduce one's own presuppositions, agendas or biases. It is commonly referred to as reading into the text, drawing out text's meaning in accordance with the author's context and discoverable meaning.
Tommy Randell Apr 22
Even at 68 there are firsts.
A surprise today, for example,
The smallest ritual of frying an egg,
Became a eucharist of laying it up
Onto a white plate, over a slice of sourdough -
When did this old Anarchist
Become so formalized in his worship?
Apr 11 · 98
Devon Memory
Tommy Randell Apr 11
Of the acres I held & managed
Two I liked to scythe by hand.
Old Tom in his 90s, first
Swung his hips to show me how
And ran the stone across the blade,
In long sure strokes that sang
At the tip with a susurrus Ping.

One of the days in those 70s' Summers
Would choose itself as Haying Day
And I would start,
In the top quarter,
Hips... 'n Shoulders... Arms...
Hips... 'n Shoulders... Arms...
Rocking forward into the swathe.

The sound of skylarks
In the grass meadows
Where the Geese lay in lazy dreaming,
My Bees whizzing by me
Back to the orchard in their buzzing busyness,
And the swish of the scythe,
And the whisper of clean cut hay falling.

Tom watching from the top fence
Egging me on with his toothy grin -
"Go on, Boy. You'm got 'er now.
Her's singing, a'can tell 'ee."
My then wife, rough-sheafing as I went.
An earthenware flagon cool in the trough -
I revelled in it and the labour was a joy.

In his prime, Old Tom could fettle
An acre an hour, he was proud to say -
My couple used to take a long afternoon
For the fun of it... but,
A lifetime of remembering it
Has kept me warm and filled with Devon light.
I had land and I managed it.
https://www.instagram.com/tv/B-2B2a7geId/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
Apr 1 · 552
Reminder
Life can't be phoned in
Nature has no Pause Button
Reality? Check!
Mar 30 · 879
Lockdown 7
Tommy Randell Mar 30
There was an old fella in Lockdown
Thought all the time spent alone was a let down
The higher the fever he got
The funnier his thoughts
But there was no one there to get his punchlines...
A few lines from last night's fevered moments. The lurgy is passing I think today, but shutting yourself away from family & the world is a little bizarre to be sure.
Mar 28 · 820
Lockdown 5
Tommy Randell Mar 28
Imagine there's no virus
It's easy if you stay
Indoors with the TV off
And your smartphone put away

With ice creams in the freezer
           bought as good behaviour teasers
Ah go on have another shower
           Does it matter that's three in an hour?

Imagine there's no laundry
It isn't hard to achieve
Just stay at home in your Jammies
On self isolation leave

You should phone a friend
           but which friend first and when ?
Do you really fancy that seventh biscuit
            No, best be sensible and wait a bit.

You may say I'm a dreamer
That 'normal' will and must go on
But I want us all to be believers
That Covid will be beat and gone

I should go on listing things to do
           but lists exist only to be reduced
And any short exercise routine
           is never as easy as mug of caffeine

You may say I'm not being serious
I'm just ******* out of Imagine
But when it comes to the Coronavirus
Daft stuff is a great distraction

Meanwhile binge watching 8 seasons of House
            might occupy us 5 weeks or thereabouts
And the cotton face pads we got as a panic buy
            will keep our bums both clean & dry

Imagine there's no virus
It's easy if you try
For a moment don't let it confine us
Just wave from your window and smile

Tommy Randell - 28th March 2020
Mar 26 · 826
COVID-19
Tommy Randell Mar 26
A lightning bolt doesn't care
If it hits the ground or not
It's just the way lightning gets its kicks

The moon doesn't reminisce
Look down at our daft gazes
With the fondness of parenting

Tides don't rock up on the coast
To give us thrills and salty shake downs
The climate doesn't do friendly

As an Evolutionary principle, Viruses
Are more like who WE are
Than we are like them anymore

CO-rona VI-rus D-isease 20-19 isn't bothering us
With any kind of lesson in mind
If anything we're just virus ovens

On the surface Covid-19
Is hiding behind its name
Just an old wolf in another death disguise

Death like lightning can wait
For the World to turn under it
What goes around...
Coronavirus is of course an old friend in wolf's clothing - MERs(qv) SARs(qv) etc were all variations. In this more logical naming we have systematized the nomenclature, presumably because we are expecting more than a few more...
Mar 26 · 1.1k
Lockdown 3
Tommy Randell Mar 26
I'm socially distanced
Emotionally challenged
Snacking persistent
Financially managed
Institutionalized & bored
Conversationally deluded
Talking to myself more
The dog included

I was sure it was Friday
But the calendar says not
It's all cancelled anyway
And I don't need to shop
The weather's ironic
It's March and ****** Sunny
I'm not often neurotic
But my nose is a bit runny

Soon the clocks Spring Forward
Something to look forward to
I'll take what's offered
To keep myself amused
In solitary confinement
Caffeine fixated
Isolation compliant
But socially frustrated

Conversation starvation
How long has it been?
Mental stagnation
Leading to day dreams
I'm not sure I can do this
My whole life is unglued
It's been 55 minutes
My Wife went to the Bathroom

Please walk by my window
Give me a wave
Lockdown is not Limbo
Things can't be that grave
Wait Wait I hear noises
Upstairs on the Landing
Suddenly there are choices
I've not been abandoned!

Tommy Randell 26th March 2020 Day 003
Be safe and stay well & sane...
Mar 24 · 806
Lockdown
Tommy Randell Mar 24
We're alone in the house
For the duration but
Got it down to a fine art
This Social insulation

There's recipes on telly
With random ingredients
When the loo roll is gone
The flat bread'll be convenient

We can make cakes in a mug
Like master chef geeks
Chocolate chip lattes
Microwhipped into peaks

Once a day some quick lungfulls
Of the great outdoors
And, so you all dont get ours
And we dont get any of yours

We'll take it turns
For our constitutional
Wearing a wetsuit
If that's not too juvenile

We've set the evenings aside
For reading aloud and ghost tales
For political debate and
Painting our toenails

We're going to play charades
And famous statues and
We're going to spend 1 hour alone
In separate rooms

With no TV and no electronics
No mp3 players hidden in pockets
Just reading or paper to write stuff on it
WE'RE going to keep this Lockdown honest!

Tommy Randell - Tues 24th March 2020 Day 001
Love & Peace to you All. I hope you stay well.
Mar 9 · 123
Viral Denial
As a weapon of choice
I often use Poetry
As a martial art
Poetry is my Tai Chi

I frame thoughts into words
As a pause in the moment
When things get absurd
And my world is torment

It never makes sense
To keep it all my in my head
My brain has contents
Which are apt to spread

Poetry is lingual
Images mostly not
Fire & water can't mingle
Like silence and thought

Self-isolation is
A contradiction in terms
It's a daft bit of gibberish
A law of diminishing returns

Life is a virus
Death is the cure
Optimism defines us
Fear is a detour

Panic buying
Siege mentality
Science denying
Political centrality

We are all a bit parrot
We are all a bit monkey
We all get a bit zealous
Hearing the turn of the key

But there's nothing to fight
It's a hall of mirrors
And we're blaming the crowd
For our own inner terrors
A Self Explanatory Exploratory...
Mar 7 · 80
Imagine,
How different life would be
If we had different eyes
And we could see a sea of stars
Across the daytime skies

Not just the zodiography
But a map for every purpose
With all our pasts and futures
Charted on its surface

Imagine,

A sense of ever present place
Set day & night to guide us
To have the harmony of Home
Reflected there inside us

Never to be lost, just one look up
To be in perfect alignment
To have no countries only our Stars
And the heavens our horizons

Imagine,

Every eye reflecting
Every window, lake, and pool
To live in such a constant storm
And infinity of jewels

Imagine the oneness every day
The expansion and compassion
Imagine Us and the World this way
Imagine what we could imagine
Yes, the song Imagine - which I am not a fan of btw - but the idea it is our isolation in the darkness drives us to see our differences here on Earth. If maybe we could see the stars ALL THE TIME, maybe then we might find more a sense of connection...

Zodiography? Made it up... sounds good for a geography of the Zodiac.
Mar 7 · 73
A Reminder
The Wolf in the old me
Had the perfect job
To howl at every Moon
However
Whenever
And to keep
Reminding the world
Nothing
Was more perfect than
Challenging any so called
Light in the Dark
To an honest duel
To see who drew
The first echo -

Don't pass on it
I used to say
Pass it on.

The Wolf in the older me
Sleeps soundly
Every night
Whenever
However
Blue Moon
Harvest Moon
Who wants to blow
Smokes rings at the Sky
Keeping
Who knows whom awake?
As well remember
The Moon's gonna
Keep coming around
That's what
Keeps it up there -

As it passes by
I say
Pass on it.
A poem about not tilting at Windmills, funnily enough... Yep.
Feb 28 · 58
Acting Out.
Tommy Randell Feb 28
Loving you was living, everyday
with a rainbow in my head -
But I guess the play's the thing
when all is done & said.

We got to do the little stuff
binds Lovers into couples -
We blew each other kisses
to heal each other's troubles,

we waved, from far away,
we shone to cast a glow,
we acted as if we meant it 'cos
the Play IS the Thing, we know.

I'm hooked on how we mattered,
on our entrances and exits,
but what we said was only chatter,
we loved but to exist.

In the bright lights of our drama
up there on the stage
we ended our little saga
on a grey and empty page -

We jacked up all the rainbows,
we got dosed on real affection,
but were we lovers just for show
that is the question?

That thing that's said
about the one you're with..?
Well, with every one, I did,
it was real what I pretended to give.
Love the one you're with...
Feb 21 · 110
So not a Sonnet.
Tommy Randell Feb 21
Poetry Writer. Poem Speaker.
Treasure Maker. Treasure Seeker.
Moment Catcher. Memory Quilter.
Scene Snatcher. Story Builder.

Journeyman Jeweller. Cliché Crafter.
Ballad Brewer. Muse Master.
Couplet Coiner. Lyric Lover.
Syllable Counter. Slam Brother

Sonic Sculptor. Rapper Line-man.
Metaphor Mixer. Synonym Titan.
Haiku Explorer. Iambic Eater.
Paradigm Reporter. Free-verse Teaser.

Fourteen lines of concern to whom it
When Thesauras Poet writes a Sonnet
What it is.
Feb 18 · 124
Just So.
Tommy Randell Feb 18
I've got a brand new book
With lots of empty pages,
I've got an old well used head
Full of stuff that's not been said
In ages.

I've had days and days of time,
Unsorted lines that end with rhymes,
Scrumpled up memories in a mind
Utterly disorganized,
And I have asked why?

Why not get on with it?
Shuffle up some verses,
Move the brain cells about a bit,
Fire up the old creative furnace,
See what smoke emerges?

Instead, I've looked out the window
At a couple more weeks passing by.
Days have become evenings, diminuendo.
Something will happen, sometime
I've thought, if I give it time.

The brand new book is coffee stained
I noticed as I talked to my Brother.
He has a lyric needs fixing he says,
Writing a song about our mother.
We passed a pleasant hour.

Afterwards I am writing this
As a Keep Note on my phone,
A bit later and I will transcribe it
As the first in my new notebook of poems.
And then I'll keep on going.

I'll fix the lyric and words will flow,
I'll reconnect with what I know.
Lines & rhymes will crackle and crescendo
And out of the furnace smoke will blow.
My Brother knew - Just so.
My Brother has an instinct about me I don't have
Feb 14 · 77
Valentine
Tommy Randell Feb 14
I made a card
A valentine
Photos of us
In happy times

We do that
To show our Love
As if Joyfulness
Is evidence enough

But often dear
I remember tears
And how we've survived
Across the years

The truest, best
Of us as a couple
Is how together
Our strength is doubled
Feb 11 · 96
The Blue Note
Tommy Randell Feb 11
Yes, that was me
      in your dreams last night
But I will keep to myself
      the promises you made -
I saw you this morning
      glance at me as we crossed paths
Although I too almost believed
      we were not lovers
So good was your performance -
      Bravo, my Love -
Please don't reply openly
      my wife is suspicious already -
I have mentioned you
      Once or twice over breakfast
But I was suitably vague
      making unwavering eye contact
Lying about how unfit you are
      at work, and how young & naive -
I had to pour hot coffee on my own hand
      to disguise my growing arousal -
I know the way you walk home
       I will step from the shadows
To surprise you where we can talk
       finally alone to plan our joining
You will recognize me I know
       our destiny will drive us on -  
Never before has such certainty
       been mine and all before
We have even met socially or talked -
       So clever of you to call me to you -
So clever of you to wear blue
       like the others...
Storytelling, I love Story telling.
Feb 7 · 168
EDEN
One look, one glancing blow
Was all it took. One smile,
One fleck of lightning, eye to eye.

One sigh, a breath of air,
A swirl in time, and Love dropped -
An Apple from the Tree.

Gravity took place. A pull.
A full realisation that Love
Was the power at play
In just such a demonstration.

I think of her as Eve, always -
My first woman.
Waiting there in the shade
For Adam, who had no idea.
Feb 7 · 235
Sally Lightens
I went into a dark corner
To write a poem about shadows
But She wouldn't let me do that
She was there in the dark smiling

So we talked awhile
About the dark things in life
How I need to let them out sometimes
As a kind of cleansing

We looked at each other there
And all the time
She looked steadily into my right eye
Where I could see myself reflected

So long as I can conjour Her
I am not alone - Sally, lightens.
I asked Her, there in the corner,
Could she help with the shadows...

She said, "We dont have any..."
A valentine, of course, to a dearest friend. She manages uniquely to be far away living a very busy responsible life and yet everytime I need counsel she is here in my head being true.
Feb 6 · 88
Love and Libido
My wife's libido
Is going through menopause
I can't tell which alter ego
Will walk through the door

Some days we have purring
Some days I get claws
Sometimes demurring
Then she's smiling like a chainsaw

Even shopping for groceries
I keep a low profile
'Cos she shouted 'Get me some ovaries' once
As I wandered down the Baking aisle

Then on Fruit & Veg, there was a particular  cucumber
Which she stroked with a lascivious smile
Leering like an executioner
Giving a slow blink with one eye

For the Gin, the ice box is full of lemons
The fruit bowl full of pimentoes
Amazon parcels come everyday at eleven with
Bath Salts & candles, and lingerie combos.

Would you believe she's started ironing my socks?
She's given up tea for espresso
One minute in a hot flush she's eating ice pops
The next minute she's dressed like an Eskimo

Her sense of humour though hasn't gone AWOL
She has bought us matching pyjamies
She says at heart I'm Neanderthal
But I'm still the only Soldier in her private Army

So that's all alright then, we're a couple that tries
We'll do good days & bad days & battle on through
My menopausal wife wants her man at her side
That's the least a Neanderthal great grandad can do.
With permission from my lady wife - I feel I must add.
There was a hand in the darkness once
That reached out and held my hand -
That was a hand of caring.

There was a hand at the playground gates
Took me by the hand the first day -
That was a hand of sharing.

      A Father's hand I never knew
      A Mother's hand I lost too soon
      Of Lovers' hands there have been many
      My Brother's? Everytime, & always ready.

There was a hand pushed my hand away
Then pushed again and kept on pushing -
That was a hand of warring.

A time of loneliness when no hand came
When my hands held themselves and
When my hands learned about mourning.

      My Children's hands reassuring me
      My close Friends' hands knowing All this
      More tenuous Friends not getting me yet
      Colleague's hands getting the fist bump flip.

A lifetime of hands coming and going
A poetry of hands speaking more than words
That death and all of life is but a hand away.

Giving hands, hands taking, years of hands
Speaking incessantly good and bad
And I have listened to all they had to say.

      When I give my word I offer my hands
      When I greet a friend, when I take my leave
      Equally I see myriad hands upon the page
      Time flowing from this Poet's hand displayed.
      
There was a child holding a pen once
That needed a family to write about -
That was a hand  of shaking.

There were two fists raised to the world
That was a young man out of control -
That was the poetry of me in the making.
Feb 6 · 105
Poem Song
It's a Poem song
It's a song about a Poem
Caught in a groove
Don't know where it's going

It's just a Riff thing
It's still a little bit iffy
Needs more working on
Won't take but a jiffy

And the Chorus, well it's just a Chorus
The Chorus is so the tune doesn't bore us
Choruses do that, 's what a Chorus is made for
Chorus's job is to try and be an ear worm

Maybe just a couplet as a bridge
Signal and manoeuvre into a switch...

So a song about a Poem
With a life of its own
Needs more work I think
One more verse to keep going

Can't tell sometimes
What words will do
They float out of nowhere
To be something new

And the Chorus, well it's just a Chorus
The Chorus is so the song doesn't bore us
Choruses do that, 's what a Chorus is made for
Chorus's job is to take the applause

But the last Chorus, can sometimes be more for us
It can make a few changes, stop being so cautious
Choruses can do that, when they can't do anymore
Choruses can hang... and ask for an Encore!

Choruses can hang... and ask for an Encore!

Yes... Chorus's job is to ask for an Encore!
Feb 5 · 71
Silver Surfer Blues
Windows7 is no more
The house is dark, the drapes are drawn

In the gloom I hear viral typing
I fear Terabytes will bust my piping

Will the Malware Spammers come?
Will I be saved from Logic Bombs?

Will the Hackers beat a pathway
Straight to me down the Super-highway?

Oh Microsoft what a fiasco
So casual and so so de facto

We Siver Surfers left to our own devices
Becalmed upon a blue screen crisis

Citizens of the Cyber Nation
Cut short in our prime by Defenestration!
Feb 5 · 96
Facebook Avenue
I'm not selling, I'm not telling
I'm not correcting someone's spelling
I'm not preaching, not out-reaching
I'm not book or CD releasing

I'm not dissing, or **** kissing
I'm not convincing or insisting
I'm not setting out to plague you
Evangelise or persuade you

I'm not bribing you into daring
I'm not chiding you into caring
In fact I'm doing nothing shocking
I'm not boycotting or mocking

I'm just saying hi... Still here... alive
You dont have to share... or actually even care
In fact I dont mind
If you're not even there

This after all is Social Media
I prefer it best low key & immediate
Throw away, blow away, meet & greet
Oh, and be polite, this is a public street
Feb 4 · 107
Sunday Deposition
Getting older I admit I am becoming less cuddly
Or drawn to people who are fussy & bubbly
A lot of the time I don't say my farewells
And I always react badly to being compelled

I hate... waiting in traffic or queues of any kind
Bar-staff who can't serve more than one at a time
Dogs that yap and yap and yap
Public restrooms that don't have a hot tap

Did I mention dogs that yap and yap..?
Well ok, dog owners too not picking up their crap
Kids disrespecting their Mothers
All kids not listening, talking over each other

People who talk to me because I'm sat on my own
Like I need company or my life's been postponed
I would say cinema audiences but then why would I
Go sit in the dark re-breathing other people's bacilli?

I've never been what might be said to be forgiving
You don't stop being stupid just because you've stopped living
I'm at my most tolerant over a long distance call, but
You might say I'm at my best when you havent met me at all

It has been said I have some good qualities
In that I am totally unmoved by All religion and politics
Smiling to myself a great deal through my day
Endlessly amused listening to what people say

So there it is another day spent unfriending the World
Seeking out the shade as Life's meaning unfurls
Old King Log asleep on the bottom
Solitary & nugatory and trying hard to be forgotten
The word DEPOSITION is an interesting word in English. It has a range of meanings and concepts attached to it. For example...

affidavit deposit attestation dethronement
testimony confession hearing filing
evidence evaporation crystallization statement
file filings committal sedimentation
sediment custody dismissal removal deposits
application acidification buildup precipitation
ouster impeachment accumulation receipt
spill rainfall lodgement storage
reservoir accretion introduction submission
tabling rejection laying depository
benefits
Feb 4 · 57
A Sockism
I look down and see a pair
Others see two odd ones
What I can see is clearly there
To them is just as clearly wrong

Such is life in all its aspects
Such is class, race, and creed
I see beauty, they see defects
They hear defiance, I sense need

I keep my socks mixed in a jar
I know exactly where they are
They fit my feet and that's enough
I don't even have to look

Not worried about the colour
Don't care about the spots
Socks see themselves as brothers
That the other is not lost

It's a sockism
All socks are foot-shaped
It's a truism
Life is better pair-shaped
True
Feb 4 · 117
Butcher (re-Post)
I want to be in your window
I want to be on your slab
I want to be on your shop wall
As a diagram of cuts to be had

But I don't want to be sold by you
Unless to customers of value
I don't want you to sell me cheap
For just any old barbeque

I want you to sell me as the best
Unique, a one time presentation
I want me to be the meat
That makes your reputation

Look, I'm tender, use your skills
Lay me open to the light
Let me be the demonstration
Of the artistry of your knife

You have made me perfect
Everything has led to this consuming
I am compliant, I bow my head
For this my final abusing
So, the end came:
Some flew a white flag
Some flew a black
Some stared into a future
With no hope at their back.

All memory was cancelled
Family ties stretched thin
Bullying & cruelty
Gave the vengeful and the wicked
Power over everything

Some went to work as normal
Some knelt programmed to pray
Armies walked the streets
In case anger
Came out to play

Travel was kept to minimum
Holidays were abandoned
Wages were food
Hunger meant obedience
Compliance was demanded

A new Prime Minister
Declared himself
Winner of the pageant
But no-one knew who voted
Or why only one vote counted

The status quo is always that
It's just power-speak
For we know best
If things don't change tomorrow
Then assume we failed the test
Acta Non Verba ... Deeds not Words
She's got a talent, she's got a calling,
She wears Black like it's never boring,
She giggles with Jesus in the dark at night,
And although she seems as sharp as a butterknife
She's got the aura and the dark velvet glow
That hints at a history of being bad to know.

She's been a nun since her bully of a husband drowned
Fell asleep in the bath they say and just never came round.
She likes a bet, on the Gee-Gees mostly,
But just for fun, for confessional purposes only,
She likes to give the Fathers something ****
So their forgiveness muscle doesn't get lazy.

She mixes with Goths at festival time,
Paints tears on her cheeks and blood red lines.
Drinks Guinness & Cider with blackcurrant cordial,
Cursing in Latin like an everyday Immortal,
She wears leathers decked in buttons & badges -
One says 'GOD Is Love - But JESUS Is Magic'

That's Sister Imelda a paraclete of one -
She didn't like being a widow so became a nun,
She's a legend of loving but woe betide you
If you're up to no good and she gets half a clue
She'll skelp you right off, she'll hit you so hard
You'll be counting your bruises per slap per square yard.

And, don't ever tease her about finding God in the bath
She's turned medieval penance into her personal Arts & Craft.
As a religious enforcer with a fine line in torture
Before you say 'Yes Sister' she knows she's gotcha,
And her poor 'Our Father' up there in Heaven
He's out of bed getting on with it before she says Amen!

Yes, having her in the family has always been fun -
Like sitting down to tea with a ticking time-bun.
The laughter is Biblical, the jokes are like lightning,
She's the best go-to-person when the screws of life need tightening.
Imelda? She always behaves like she's the Pope's Darth Vader,
Tough as old boots now you think - but just you wait 'til later..!
A performance piece favourite usually delivered in Trad Irish Sessions or Pub Poetry gigs. If it is anything it is a 'nod' to the style & delivery of John Cooper Clarke but beyond that my erstwhile father had a cousin named Imelda who was indeed a Nun for a short time- She was not suited to the life evidently.
Riding the bus to enjoy company
Is like driving alone to find space.
Writing a poem to give meaning
Is like waving the chequered flag
To come first and last in the race.

What a word is best used for, who knows -
Or how silence can be written on the page?
When does an idea ever come to an end
And from what beginnings do we count its age?

It is a persistent myth often sold
Poetry is language condensed to sculpture.
But, can we see always in the bare minimum
What we were meant to see captured -
Sometimes there is nothing there
Awaiting the casual glance?

Your time spent was yours to spend
But you will measure these words now
As well-spent or not in this chase -
Like *** with a Lover,
Riding the bus to enjoy company
Is like driving alone to find space.
Looking is not Finding
Feb 4 · 38
By Heart (re-Post)
Poems have a nifty purpose
Clever uses for every day
When you're feeling a little bit nervous
Tongue-tied, parched, and wordless
Quoting poetry gives you something to say

Poems are a crutch in a crisis
Reciting good stuff keeps bad stuff at bay
Spouting just a few words... priceless!
You're the hero, giving out what's righteous,
When you have something shiny to say

Poetry remembered rings true
Spoken out loud in bright times or grey
That piece of verse you didn't know you knew
Off the Cuff, right on cue
Can bring purpose & meaning to a day

Poetry learned by heart
Is treasure that can't be taken away
When the possessions of Life are broken apart
And you just dont know how to make a new start
It'll be like gold there inside you,
                   the only, the right thing to say
I urge myself everyday to learn another poem by heart. When I was a child there were 9 of us, 4 generations, in a small terraced 3 bedroomed house. You couldn't just get up and wander about or stay up late keeping everyone awake - For me, Poetry in my mind and storytelling was night sanity.
It's said a Brave New World is coming along
Pundits and Gloomsters singing the Doom song
There are going to be asteroids, storm & stress
Floods and fires will cause many deaths
World wide viruses, total economic warfare
Climate confusion leading to climactic ego despair

But 'Wouldn't it be nice' exactly according to the old song
It WAS the kind of a World where we could belong
For me 2020 had a sound of optimistic promise
Of being without drama, filled with light & calmness
Poetry is growing, Poetry is on an upsurge
New voices, new consciousness, new words?

Prediction however is forever the art of never being right
It's a shot in the dark despite perfect hindsight
It's running the numbers, double guessing the odds
20/20 foresight is in the lap of the Gods
I might agree words should be the heart's bio-fuel
But however much Poetry pleases Poets don't Rule

Tommy Randell - 31st December 2019
Jan 20 · 312
This Poet's Hand
Tommy Randell Jan 20
There was a hand in the darkness once
That reached out and held my hand -
That was a hand of caring.

There was a hand at the playground gates
Took me by the hand the first day -
That was a hand of sharing.

      A Father's hand I never knew
      A Mother's hand I lost too soon
      Of Lovers' hands there have been many
      My Brother's? Everytime & always ready.

There was a hand pushed my hand away
Then pushed again and kept on pushing -
That was a hand of warring.

A time of loneliness when no hand came
When my hands held themselves and
When my hands learned about mourning.

      My Children's hands reassuring me
      My close Friends' hands knowing All this
      More tenuous Friends not getting me yet
      Colleague's hands getting the fist bump flip.

A lifetime of hands coming and going
A poetry of hands speaking more than words
That death and all of life is but a hand away.

Giving hands, hands taking, years of hands
Speaking incessantly good and bad
And I have listened to all they had to say.

      When I give my word I offer my hands
      When I greet a friend, when I take my leave
      Equally I see myriad hands upon the page
      Time flowing from this Poet's hand displayed.
      
There was a child holding a pen once
That needed a family to write about -
That was a hand  of shaking.

There were two fists raised to the world
That was a young man out of control -
That was the poetry of me in the making.
Some people are Face & Eye watchers, some are hand watchers - For me, the hands never lie. Watch any person's hands... it's all there. When I was a Customs Officer it was one of the secret tools of my craft of a quick assessment of a stranger. From their grooming to how their hands move can be seen so many things.
Jan 16 · 131
Butcher
Tommy Randell Jan 16
I want to be in your window
I want to be on your slab
I want to be on your shop wall
As a diagram of cuts to be had

But I don't want to be sold by you
Unless to customers of value
I don't want you to sell me cheap
For just any old barbeque

I want you to sell me as the best
Unique, a one time presentation
I want me to be the meat
That makes your reputation

Look, I'm tender, use your skills
Lay me open to the light
Let me be the demonstration
Of the artistry of your knife

You have made me perfect
Everything has led to this consuming
I am compliant, I bow my head
For this my final abusing
Jan 16 · 82
Acta Non Verba
Tommy Randell Jan 16
So, the end came:
Some flew a white flag
Some flew a black
Some stared into a future
With no hope at their back.

All memory was cancelled
Family ties stretched thin
Bullying & cruelty
Gave the vengeful and the wicked
Power over everthing

Some went to work as normal
Some knelt programmed to pray
Armies walked the streets
In case anger
Came out to play

Travel was kept to minimum
Holidays were abandoned
Wages were food
Hunger meant obedience
Compliance was demanded

A new Prime Minister
Declared himself
Winner of the pageant
But no-one knew who voted
Or why only one vote counted

The status quo is always that
It's just power-speak
For we know best
If things don't change tomorrow
Then assume we failed the test
Acta Non Verba ... Deeds not Words
Jan 15 · 39
Our Sister Imelda
Tommy Randell Jan 15
She's got a talent, she's got a calling,
She wears Black like it's never boring,
She giggles with Jesus in the dark at night,
And although she seems as sharp as a butterknife
She's got the aura and the dark velvet glow
That hints at a history of being bad to know.

She's been a nun since her bully of a husband drowned
Fell asleep in the bath they say and just never came round.
She likes a bet, on the Gee-Gees mostly,
But just for fun, for confessional purposes only,
She likes to give the Fathers something ****
So their forgiveness muscle doesn't get lazy.

She mixes with Goths at festival time,
Paints tears on her cheeks and blood red lines.
Drinks Guinness & Cider with blackcurrant cordial,
Cursing in Latin like an everyday Immortal,
She wears leathers decked in buttons & badges -
One says 'GOD Is Love - But JESUS Is Magic'

That's Sister Imelda a paraclete of one -
She didn't like being a widow so became a nun,
She's a legend of loving but woe betide you
If you're up to no good and she gets half a clue
She'll skelp you right off, she'll hit you so hard
You'll be counting your bruises per slap per square yard.

And, don't ever tease her about finding God in the bath
She's turned medieval penance into her personal Arts & Craft.
As a religious enforcer with a fine line in torture
Before you say 'Yes Sister' she knows she's gotcha,
And her poor 'Our Father' up there in Heaven
He's out of bed getting on with it before she says Amen!

Yes, having her in the family has always been fun -
Like sitting down to tea with a ticking time-bun.
The laughter is Biblical, the jokes are like lightning,
She's the best go-to-person when the screws of life need tightening.
Imelda? She always behaves like she's the Pope's Darth Vader,
Tough as old boots now you think - but just you wait 'til later..!
A performance piece favourite usually delivered in Trad Irish Sessions or Pub Poetry gigs. If it is anything it is a 'nod' to the style & delivery of John Cooper Clarke but beyond that my erstwhile father had a cousin named Imelda who was indeed a Nun for a short time- She was not suited to the life evidently.
Jan 14 · 52
A Persistent Myth
Tommy Randell Jan 14
Riding the bus to enjoy company
Is like driving alone to find space.
Writing a poem to give meaning
Is like waving the chequered flag
To come first and last in the race.

What a word is best used for, who knows -
Or how silence can be written on the page?
When does an idea ever come to an end
And from what beginnings do we count its age?

It is a persistent myth often sold
Poetry is language condensed to sculpture.
But, can we see always in the bare minimum
What we were meant to see captured -
Sometimes there is nothing there
Awaiting the casual glance?

Your time spent was yours to spend
But you will measure these words now
As well-spent or not in this chase -
Like *** with a Lover,
Riding the bus to enjoy company
Is like driving alone to find space.
Looking is not Finding
Jan 14 · 40
By Heart
Tommy Randell Jan 14
Poems have a nifty purpose
Clever uses for every day
When you're feeling a little bit nervous
Tongue-tied, parched, and wordless
Quoting poetry gives you something to say

Poems are a crutch in a crisis
Reciting good stuff keeps bad stuff at bay
Spouting just a few words... priceless!
You're the hero, giving out what's righteous,
When you have something shiny to say

Poetry remembered rings true
Spoken out loud in bright times or grey
That piece of verse you didn't know you knew
Off the Cuff, right on cue
Can bring purpose & meaning to a day

Poetry learned by heart
Is treasure that can't be taken away
When the possessions of Life are broken apart
And you just dont know how to make a new start
It'll be like gold there inside you,
                   the only, the right thing to say
I urge myself everyday to learn another poem by heart. When I was a child there were 9 of us, 4 generations, in a small terraced 3 bedroomed house. You couldn't just get up and wander about or stay up late keeping everyone awake - For me, Poetry in my mind and storytelling was night sanity.
Jan 10 · 144
Solo Cheap Date Night
Tommy Randell Jan 10
It's on these quiet nights when
There's nothing on TV to be found
I go to bed kind of early
To miss you while i'm lying down

Thinking of you still beguiles me
Our friendship persistently blurred
But my 30 year fantasies of you will never
Be something that needs to be cured

So, I'm on a Solo cheap date night
Spanish brandy and logic games
Thank God for sokoban & sudoku
They seem to keep down the flames

I think of us playing together
Irish Flute & Bodhran as one
I design Tune sets, CDs, and Album covers
Imaginary Posters of Gigs we've done

The brandy is to make me sleep
The phone apps to keep my hands busy
I try not to visit your website
Or get all romantic & Disney

The moon is still in the sky
I check-in for a chat now and then
I sign off with yellow hearts in Messenger
But on Solo cheap date nights I can't win

You're there in my life as a constant
So I write you the odd poem or two
Like this one and others more passionate
And then I go back to sudoku
Jan 9 · 120
See Our Future History
There on the fading page, where
Lost meanings & Dead Poets decay there

On the shelves of dusty time, where
Books of words are mildewed and rimed. There

Every sonnet is a love-soiled bed where
Lie in ruins all the Truths ever said, there

Well-penned promises & rotting rhymes, there
The Future of beautiful times where

Passion was recorded and flesh rejoiced, where
The madness of eroticism found a voice. There

It is transparent now, unreadable anyhow, there,
There it is, our Life scream a silent howl, where

What was most human, our very Souls, there
Our crumbling books of Poetry & Prose. There

See our future history.
... for Fergal McDonagh, Galway

When our poems are written
    and we are gone
When our ashes still warm
    are poured & blown
When days are dark
    and the nights are long
Remember the laughter
    shared and shown

Hear the blood music
    the heart's beat in the mix
The passions we stirred
    the battles that raged... but
Think too we fought
    for Love not Politics
That All were welcome
    and our doors never shut

I say, for Irish hearts
    still this moment is the Joy of it
As the Double Jig cracks
    and the tunes are turned
In war and in peace
    Go-on, so ... dance the **** off it
Then buy the Players & Singers
    the reward they've earned

I say, our Irish Hearts
    beat better for knowing
The world comes to us
    when it finds itself poor
And it keeps on coming
    to give life a new meaning
To send You on your way
    a thousand times better
    
To be sure. To be sure.
This is the ocean
This the sky
This is the town
Of times gone by

These cliffs & beaches
Walls & echoes
Make a home that teaches
A life that mellows

This is a place
Of history & lessons
Tough love & caring
Mixed-in with the blessings

A battlefield of loyalty
A menu of bloodlines
Where a DNA of sobriety
Is useful at times

This is a fun park
This is a playground
It's an absolute benchmark
Of being a Hometown

There are Tourists & Visitors
Bringing chaos & busy-ness
There are Purists & Nimbys wishing
More people were here less

But there's a ******* of believers
People amazed
That a little town like Whitby
Can be such a place

And, Hometown Anytown
Your town or my town
We all need that one place
That's never a letdown

It may be the Nightclubs
The Pubs or the Shops
Where your Spirit is lifted
And you can put life on Pause

It may be the voices
Of us locals or our accents,
That you feel you're where you should be
Where life sort of makes sense

If so then BE here, just be HERE
It's easy to NOT be an outsider
Just tell us...
You don't like Seagulls either
AND you prefer Whitby to Scarborough.
Every town has local rivalries with neighbouring towns. If you want to fit in, discover 2 things the locals don't like about the other place and just agree; it's that simple.

This is a performance poem in my local pubs & sessions... to get the crowd on my side and give them an insight. Feel free to rewrite and adopt it to your needs. Rgds +tmy+
A man writes a poem
With the thoughts at his disposal
But always fearing a proud heart
Can make his words boastful

A man tells his story
From having lived through it
But often without knowing
What possessed him to do it

A man learns of his moods
And is careful where they take him
Being cautious in Life
The more sensible undertaking

A man carries his pain
Diamonds in a velvet cloth
Looking at them in private
At the beauty of their cost

A poet makes doorways
That only a storyteller can open
A shy man has silences
Because vows were once broken

A man writes this poem
Of riddles and answers
A choreography of sorts for
These doubts, my Private Dancers
Jan 7 · 41
Las Night's Poem
Las night I wrote
A poem no-one will see -
Even for an agnostic writer
That is almost a blasphemy.

For what is writing
It has no chance
To become an Idea
At a single glance ?

What good is a poem
It finds no Home?
And why are we writing when
We've got mobile phones?

But it's a quality thing
I have to admit -
I thought las night's poem
Wasn't very well writ!

Tommy Randell - 6th Jan 2020
btw... it began life as...

LAS NEETS POM.

Last neet I wrat
A pom nayyan'll ivva see -
Een forra gnostic wreeta
Dats allmoss a blasfirmy.

For wat is writtin
Itassnt nay chance
Ti becom an Ideer
Atta yanoff glance?

Wat gud issa pom
It fynds nay Hom?
An wyyar we wrytin weh
Weev getten mobile fons?

Bur itssa quality thin
Iyaff tadmitt -
I thor las neets pom
Wernt verriwell writ!

Tomi Rannell - 6fh Yan 2020
Tommy Randell Dec 2019
Do not forgo this political fight
Look for the Truth in what they do not say
Rage rage against the lying of the Right

Greedy scoundrels brag of their appetites
Trying to twist the pathways in our brains
Do not forgo this political fight

Con Men whose last thought in the dead of night
Is to rule and profit while the poor pay
Rage rage against the lying of the Right

Deceitful Toffs who see with blinkered sight
Will always want their slaves to live in chains
Do not forgo this political fight

Before silence remains your only right
Before your votes cast their Truth in their way
Rage rage against the lying of the Right

So, come All, be anarchy fierce and bright
Do not give in, don't bow down and be slain
Do not forgo ths political fight
Rage rage against the lying of the Right

Tommy Randell ... 21st Dec 2019
Dec 2019 · 236
A Reasonable Rhyme
Tommy Randell Dec 2019
And of all the simple Truths
This was ever thus
Whatever the route and destination
Only one man drives the bus

And if buses drive in circles
Thus life is yet the same
What goes around must come around
Whatever stop is named

A fare is a fare, what's fair is fair
A journey has many beginnings
A man must drive, a bus be driven
A riddle may be for giving

The be-all and the end-all
Of any journey's end is
Where you want to get to
Is a beginning such as this
Dec 2019 · 561
America Ne Plus Ultra
Tommy Randell Dec 2019
Cabaret Mozart. Defcon Cherries.
Impeachment Reformist alert status.
Even fact checked Fake News
Is left out there anyway.

Every weapon is a Chessman.
Every bullet a flower blooming.
The Milky Way at night - Are you with me?
The smart money's on leaving town.

Spooky Anaphylaxis is a 10yd rush.
Clouds of Unknowing. Listen.
Honeymoon fear response.
All measurements are in denouncements.

Confetti as Graffiti. Tolls on the Freeway.
Falling into Autumn leavings -
Let's not let Perfect
Be the enemy of Good.

Does a sentence exist
If no-one reads it out?
Ask the Prisoner, ask the Victim.
Euclidean Space has many floors.

Windowless wrong meanings
Slide probably. Sine Qua Non -
Think Sunflowers, blooming from
Flowers seeded on a grassy knoll.

The Deaf are signing ***
In ASL while Silence rains(sic).
Such Tuesdays are a lonely brilliance -
Where every Poem is a Word Zoo.
Yes, complex I know... but it is really what my head's like on the inside - even without stimulants. If you've seen American Ultra you will know what the inspiration for this was... 'The Mandlebrot set is in motion...'
Dec 2019 · 139
A Woken Man
Tommy Randell Dec 2019
I woke at 4 this morning
Then again at 3, and thought
I must be dreaming
Backwards through my sleep.

But, the 3 was afternoon, so
I had slept on through, until
My lazy ears caught on a tune
And I was roused anew.

She, busy in the scullery,
And the 'Wild Mountain Thyme'
Accompanying her cookery,
Unlocked my sleeping mind.

Leaving behind now fading dreams
All through me ran those
Clear crystal streams,  and
I was a woken man.

Awake to the days of Winter
When outside chores can wait, and
The smell of tea as she entered
With toast & cheese on a plate.
Tommy Randell Dec 2019
A forlorn commitment to Love the hopeless, he professed.
A bored genius for conversation on buses, nonetheless.
A lazy prowess for ******* over wine, he confessed.

An active disregard for the niceties of manners, he admitted.
An inexhaustible hunger for the laughter of women, even addicted.
An total infatuation with being on time, he submitted.

The delicate moment before saying... No. Good riddance.
The lonely ****** of telling someone... Just Go. Pure insistence.
The immense satisfaction of asking... So..? Without quittance.

When everything is expected, accepted and not referred to.
When payment is not questioned or one doesn't even care if it's True.
When one is singular in particular, never one of ANY few.

Then one is Posh, one is spreading the the Word - he averred.
Then one is not messing or guessing, one has matured - he assured.
Then commendably, one genuinely, never, doesn't ever give a ****!
Not so many Posh Nicks around these days...
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