"centred" poems
Money Talks
and what it said back then on the railway bridge
at Bloomfield Road (no longer there of course)
was "You can spare me – it means only one less
penny ice lolly from the corner shop !" (no longer
there of course) and the train will make me huge
(steam no longer here of course) and the others
will laugh and cheer as you scramble down to
the line place me centred and climb back up
here again before the train shoots through to
Central Station (no longer there of course).
Gigantic copper-coloured disc and this recall.
Still talking half a century after.
(c) C J Heyworth August 2014
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
Ten years ago it seemed impossible
That she should ever grow so calm as this,
With self-remembrance in her warmest kiss
And dim dried eyes like an exhausted well.
Slow-speaking when she has some fact to tell,
Silent with long-unbroken silences,
Centred in self yet not unpleased to please,
Gravely monotonous like a passing bell.
Mindful of drudging daily common things,
Patient at pastime, patient at her work,
Wearied perhaps but strenuous certainly.
Sometimes I fancy we may one day see
Her head shoot forth seven stars from where they lurk
And her eyes lightnings and her shoulders wings.
5.5k
Innocent Hyacinth tinted with mint
Tingèd grey hinged on stem singed
With chestnut leaves flowing, to me a fair hint
Of off-centred carousing, black eyes perusing
Wares of all sorts and stocks of all shares
The leading on of a pleasure most gracefully enthusing
Drops dews of all shades, of selfsame structure
And we full of rowdy Sedition;
But Wait! Recognition.
In my hopes and tired efforts, a puncture.
Music blaring loud, aftertaste of rejection
And full on full strand of all smoke addled people
Oh! How great Quasimodo I fell off my steeple
In the midst of the crowd, full dejection.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
I saw an Ulila
Whilst riding a Jeepney
Half-Shoed,
Half-Footed,
Saying, "BAYAD!"
An Endearment for Pay
Yet my Eyes affixed
On his One-Footed Shoe
But due to the Wear
Of a Day's Sweaty Trod
Begging for his Family Dinner
Hoping he could have a Full Meal
And Smiles
For him and his family
And still waiting
For his Final Stop
And still scraping
His Hard-Worn Scar
Thus the Ulila
Handsome to Beg
Despite his Birth-Marked Nose
Which was actually blood
From a flavourful fist-fight
And Soil,
Paints his Tender Body.
Thus the Ulila,
Swollen in his Eyes,
Suddenly remembered
He had nothing to Beg
For since his Time,
Was centred on Smiles
Greeting people,
Wishing them the
Best of Cheers and Holidays
And his Reward,
Sheltered and Soft,
Reaching the end of his Bay,
Cried, "PARA!"
An Endearment for Stop
And disembarked
Full of Flavours and Joy,
Wondering,
If he could Share such with his Family.
Then the Ulila,
Felt a Weight,
And Jingles in his Body.
Thinking of his Thursday's Stones,
He took some out
And all he found,
Were just some Worthless Pesos,
Given secretly,
By the Passengers he Entertained
In the busy Jeepney.
Thus Smiled the Ulila - The Selfless Urchin-Boy.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
Enticing us in, sugar coated doors
for sticky fingers,
Doors of mystery, keep out, staff only
nettled in barbed wire.
Half open doors full of promise,
chocolate soft centred
Exciting doors, silk covered
in lace suspenders
Inspiring doors, Leonardo bold italic,
uppercase only
Lonely doors all shuttered in silence,
cobweb covered
Sad doors, tear stained
and umbrella wet
Happy doors,
candy striped in laughter
Forbidden doors, Pandora boxed,
best kept locked
Revolving doors covered
with the same sticky mistakes
Trap doors crocodile sprung
to catch you out
Doors that slide on tram like runners,
buffered into walls with imprint of face
Secret doors of camouflaged chameleon
Troubled doors
thunder clapped in turmoil
Doors enticing us.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
"Yet you feed us lies from the tablecloth"
- B.Y.O.B. by System of a Down
We sat across the table
as we feasted on misguided notions.
Our integrity tenderised,
thoughts manipulated,
traded with unconditional compassion.
Twisted ideals,
served upon the finest china.
Delectable treats,
laced with shards of
such distorted agenda.
Multi-faceted truths,
all lobbied for self-centred gains.
We're the ones who'd worry
and cower under tattered brollies...
To anticipate for when it would rain.
Between us still sat the table.
We'd still be served age-old (t)ale
while the room stank of rancid broth.
But I have lost my appetite
the moment we were fed lies...
Offered on the most extravagant tablecloth.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
well you've done it again
made me feel like ****
is that a natural talent or did you practice
(oh how you've practiced)
you
with your attitude to women
cos they didn't turn out the soft centred
sweets your so addicted to
so tired of these power games (is that what they are....?)
you go away then ph when i'm at work (you knew that)
then do the same thing AGAIN the next day...!!?
"between you not being home
and the computer"......
?????????
untrue
i've stayed offline
most of the time
in case you phoned..... "sigh"
i knew you would
do what you did
didn't
what is that
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 4:18 AM UTC
Weepy is my heart as it mourns hard this day
Muddled is my head with thoughts all amuck
Muffled is my voice with the words I try to say
Stifled are my screams as they try but all seem stuck.
Tense are my shoulders with the load that I bear
Wet are my eyes seeing everything so blurry
Heavy is my chest as it sighs and draws its air
Tired is this body with so much it attempts to carry.
Weak is my strength, fending off oh so feebly
Uncertain are my hopes to see the light at the end
Outstretched are my arms reaching and grabbing constantly
Tested is my resolve, how much further can it bend.
Lonely is my soul yearning greatly for it's other pair
Drunken are my senses, almost losing all control
Desperate is my being wanting love that's not here but there
Clouded is my future, totally obscured is my goal.
Two-sided are the fallen words I have listed before
Strained is my mind as I try to view the good
Mirrored are these feelings, they bear so much more
Enlightened is my will, I shan't mope and brood.
Relieved is my heart when I think of the other that beats
Serene is my head when I separate fear from fear
Loud is my voice as it clears for the love it greets
Redundant are my screams for I don't need them here.
Relaxed are my shoulders, still fueled to continue
Wide are my eyes for the sight they can't always see
Lifted is my chest for the love it wants to pursue
Upright is this body, to get to where it wants to be.
Rejuvenated is my strength when I accept that I am strong
Restored are my hopes, I'd still keep them alive
Faithful are my arms, still reaching for what they long
Strengthened is my resolve with plans it'll contrive.
Contented is my soul for the mate it has found
Heightened are my senses, embraced by feelings so keen
Centred is my being, keep my bearings on the ground
Bright is my future, in my dreams they have been.
Empty are the words for I won't let them linger
Focused is my mind; on my prize no matter how far
Embraced are these feelings for they only make me stronger
Steeled is my will; to be one with my love, angel and star...
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC
There is a place
in you
that needs a name
but you're an absolute beginner
at naming things.
Centred in this pathos, I've never known
whether to create stillness or bitter passion.
In this, there is a sacrifice,
something to see through to the end.
The openness I sometimes extract
can break me down.
Is it better
to find a way to say it?
Would it be better to hang for it
or to forget
how the fig is fertilised?
In its sweetness,
to forget
the distaste of undermining friendship.
I have stretched myself into the past.
I have stretched my body
to see the places it could end.
Vein bubbles
from where it started,
wet bloodgasps;
sorry smear of a poem
they write your name next to.
History repeats, all that's left;
neutrality at the cost of
a better passion,
and the count of
how many ribs you have and how many you've lost.
I abuse my fingers
and still expect them to carry me through.
There's always a way
to see trauma as something to crawl into.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
The rattle is shaken and life becomes unfixed
Torrential rains cascades downwards on ancient bricks
These stunning moments have been rediscovered
In wonder all is flustered in awe as the state of silence honks
Love creeps out of tune in time, the unsureness of cold feet
The voice fades, the toned whispers continually erased
Stormed and soaked, stilled and stalked by a heart that stole my dream
Drenched in uncertainty, non-favouring multitudes won't let me be
These flutters flattens and deflated, I stroll and I will not run
The floating fun fares vanishes, the morning bird furnishes
The time capsule evaporated, unstripped and frozen
Ohh, how I wished to plant and harvest inspiration
Wake up with a renewed breath of air, the flowing river
Of the days when the gloom masked, I hated what life had become
How could humanity be so self centred and selfish?
I looked for silence and the banging never ceased
The masses rushed, never to let me be, they snatched my freedom
I inhaled the hope of the freeness and longed for the racing momentums
How so?
That over time the weather collapsed to coldness, the darkness marbled
A nag of the songbirds, as I escaped in the ****** ozone layer
A disconnect of the mind, body and soul; when I saw my spirit sail
A snail sailing on its own course and journey slowly but steady
Reflections and visions of the timeline of growth and fertility
A heart of one, the soul of all, the mind of many, a tongue in sums
The chandelier hanged on a ceiling, high, holding the flickering bulbs
A condense of energy, the modelled nature of a prognostic intervention
A laughter and synergy rests in the symphony of the unsung melodies
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 6:24 PM UTC
The closet in the dim isolated room
Stores away so many of my bones
That store too many secrets for the
Weak hearted,
So each week I’m parted from demons
That are a part of too much of me.
But I can never see the difference, my two sides won’t show it.
It does so little to comfort me; what have I become?
Am I the walking dead and a watcher of the funeral of my smiles,
Whose continuous lives and illness discomfort and confuse all?
Am I fast asleep when dreams of a peaceful life take over?
Because I awake to find that I’m too stripped back and empty to find anything to give,
A signal I care, or knowing something has shifted
A tectonic plate in my brain,
Erupting the series of footsteps to the door
Of the insane, knocking furiously enough to break it.
The desperate pull of the veil over my mind
Disguises it as curtains for a show, a grand act.
I am the star of the leading role, too centred, too vain,
Perfect to match the unmatched mess I feel every day.
The genius illusion is that am I really acting?
Even I do not know.
The stage is my war zone; no man’s land,
Because I am obviously not human,
And I cannot let anyone else in.
It's bad comedy of a pathetic attempt at drama
For anyone willing to tolerate my oh so called woes.
I choke on the mixture of laughter and tears
I collect in a cracking overflowing jar and drink,
Getting intoxicated on my pity, and hazy on the self-mocking,
Gurgling manipulations of sharing the side dish
But also shoving away any takers.
I am greedy - I want it all to myself.
And to myself it shall remain.
I buy all the tickets and keep them to remind myself
How my dim isolated room shrinks with each entry,
How I refuse to give out any more keys.
Maybe the walking dead is what I am;
Surely life is not this lightless when it is lived.
At least I hope not.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
Empowered Manager, your Rules beknown
I'd rather you Teach how we must Behave
Or, filter these Concepts to his Reknown
And coat this Script for his role as a Knave
So what's new? Long does this Method wear
For the Centred Market your Profits invest
Though, we Illusioned, squeeze each dareful tear
Close his Next-Door Gates for an Open Contest
To be Fair, dear Sir, if we can afford
To pay for that trite, unsubstantial fee
I suppose his Skill to waters accord
Reward by Harvest; A Hero as he.
So yes I'm aware for such tweets I send
Were not his eyes for your mouth he'll depend.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
War broke: and now the Winter of the world
With perishing great darkness closes in.
The foul tornado, centred at Berlin,
Is over all the width of Europe whirled,
Rending the sails of progress. Rent or furled
Are all Art's ensigns. Verse wails. Now begin
Famines of thought and feeling. Love's wine's thin.
The grain of human Autumn rots, down-hurled.
For after Spring had bloomed in early Greece,
And Summer blazed her glory out with Rome,
An Autumn softly fell, a harvest home,
A slow grand age, and rich with all increase.
But now, for us, wild Winter, and the need
Of sowings for new Spring, and blood for seed.
2.1k
All my technology died
At midnight
Everyone else left the
Huge
Room
While inspiration kicked through my soul
I sit centred
Everything left and right
Identical
Soon will be darkness
But shortly again light.
Light! Light!
Symmetry in front of me is the only
Place it can be found
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
Like the tide,
you, will, rise and fall, impossible to hold on to.
Just as a pattern emerges
your personality synchronises with the British weather.
Like a long summer evening in Shanghai you are warm and bright,
carefree as an afternoon breeze.
Making me smile, laugh, blush
such a tease.
Car rides into the sunset with
the windows down and the music up
sharing cigarettes.
But as you pull those dark shades over your eyes and soul
the rain begins to pour
the intimacy washes away
trust astray
several steps apart
from the inch we grew closer yesterday.
Laid back, insecure, self-centred, unreliable,
unstable, restless and emotinally unavailable
yet somehow charmingly mystic
surprisingly dashing
talented and well bred
unattainably captivating
naively helpless
shy
thus I cannot pin point why
I am drawn.
I regret not kissing you
and know I would still have
if I did...
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
The World is ruled
By massive corporations
And nations.
By Trump, Putin and The Queen.
But I say again:
Only I have ownership of My Life.
For I am The King of My Mind
And, from my point of view,
When I die the Universe Ends.
It does not matter to me
That when I go,
Life goes on.
What use is that
If I’m not here
To see it?
Even now
What do I care
About what goes on
In Ivory Towers
And murky corridors of power?
Maybe it’s my Whisky
Or Autism
That informs me I am King.
And yes I’m being self-centred.
In my Matrix I’m “The One”.
But you’ll get no apology
From me.
Yes, I’ll be polite
And try (a bit) to comply
With rules of etiquette.
But don’t be fooled:
My self esteem keeps growing
As I shake off the shackles
Imposed by a society
That seeks to make most people
Little more than
Corporate slaves.
I may appear to be a “nice man”
But underneath that mask
Is a heart of steel.
For I am The King
Of My Life,
On Planet Paul.
Paul Butters
© PB 30\3\2019.
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 6:25 AM UTC
Excuses Excuses...
So MANY EXCUSES... !!!
For The Type of Looseness...
That Has Embraced NOOSES... !?!
EXCUSES For THIS...
EXCUSES For THAT...
EXCUSES For Plans...
That Have CORRUPTED Man...
BAD EGGS In The Batch... !!!
Where Policeman Are Hatched... !!!
Oh YES Bad Eggs INDEED... !!!
Is How RACIST Cops Be...
When RACISM Feeds...
Their Motives On Streets...
And In Turn How They Deal...
When They’re Using Their Knees... !!!
And Using Their... GUNS...
Like These Tasers That Stun... !!!
And Choke Holds That DON’T... !!!!!
When They Leave People COLD... !!!
Excuses UNFOLD...
Even When They Are Shown...
To Move... So Much SICKER...
Than Those Known As KILLERS... !!!
Excuses Come QUICKER...
Than Confession Sinners... !!!
Because of Protection...
These Bad Eggs Be Getting...
From Those Who NEED VETTING... !!!
BEFORE They Pass Sentence... !!!!!
These Excuses I Mention...
Are Those With DEFECTIONS... !!!
That Need REAL CORRECTION...
That’s Neutral And... CENTRED... !!!
Like... Natural Selection... !!!
There Are Others That SMOTHER...
...... Historical Blunders...... !!!
Like Those Now UNCOVERED...
About... CERTAIN Brothers...
Who Sold Their Own Mother’s... !?!
For... Colonial Masters...
A... FACTUAL DISASTER...
That’s Been So Well Plastered...
That EXCUSES Run Talk...
That IS STUPID And FLAWED... !!!
When It Comes To The Past...
And YES... Slavery Paths... !!!
You See Some EXCUSES...
Breed... MORE THAN Denial... !!!
They Hold Certain Files...
That Are TRULY OBSCENE...
Within... Black History... !!!
Like Those Now EXPOSED...
About... Certain White Folks...
Who’ve Earned Money For Shows...
With... BLACKFACE Videos...
And RACIST Themed JOKES... !?!
That Are FORCING These Peeps...
To Make... APOLOGIES...
As If They Will CLEAN...
Their Slates With Black Peeps’... ?!?
And Of Course Yes EXCUSES... !!!
For Things They’ve Been Doing...
That Lacked... Racial Prudence...
So Just Like The Others...
These Excuses PROVE LOOSENESS...
Is Something That Humans...
Exude In Their Movements...
And In... CERTAIN CHOICES...
That Have Done MORE Than POISON... !!!
Yes... HUMANITY... !!!
When... ACCOUNTABILITY...
Is What NEEDS To INCREASE... !!!
Because These FALLACIES...
Are What Make Some Heads Feel...
That It’s Best To... "Conceal"...
Themselves Behind LIES...
And... FRAUDULENT Deeds... !!!
And The Need To Keep Choosing...
To AVOID Being TRUTHFUL...
Instead of Indulging...
... In All These...
......... “ EXCUSES “....... !!!
Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 2:21 AM UTC
Buried in darkness,
Accompanied by scent of metal and dirt,
No time given to discover colour.
But to toil on and on, day and night,
Supplying the fortunate doppelgänger with
All the needs to prosper.
Whether it knows or not,
That ****** beauty never fails to show.
Eyes of recognition solely
Centred on the fruit bearer where
It’s decorated with wonders of nature.
Though with flick of a finger,
It’s life will cease as the supplier
Has all the power in the world to
Go into strike.
Arousal of schemes powered by
Darkness about, that of light
Will shrivel into the fine dust,
Those that feed the void
Of Jealousy.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:52 PM UTC
Your use of words
of late, I have noticed,
seize the cold light of day
snowball the pack ice
send a shudder down the spine
hail the dawn of an audible ice age
lest if only
One would listen
that loquacious nature
left to stew in the freezer
the embodiment of toxic wine
your preferred after taste;
the sediment of choice
demands a selective palate
we have bulldozed
The Garden of Eden
now only the Snake remains
offering the bitter-sweet apple
to those who oblige
pave the way for emotions
to argue their objections
a subjective nature
in acerbic tones
fierce and unwavering;
the adulation of the Other
A raised eyebrow
denotes a self-centred assuredness
that anyone else
with a deft hand for art or language
is clearly a copy of the blueprint
your ingenious creation;
such is the intellect you abide by
that of your own reckoning
Your argument
is the passing of an iceberg
perhaps fleeting
the early evening;
the disingenuous melt
of your carbon-cloaked temper
My riposte
will be your undoing
defeat by the warmth
of the passing Sun;
embrace that which you chase
see what you dont see
agree to disagree
is the sympathy
for your antipathy
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 1:52 PM UTC
Am I really self-centered?
Well, certainly am I not selfish
Always, do I help people in need
And you definitely cannot accuse me of greed
For my family, cousins and friends
My love and care has no end!
Am I really self-centred?
Not boasting, but am I kind
And loyal to a fault
Certainly, am I a compassionate adult
And do my best to empathise with people
As far as possible
Including even those who don't deserve it
Because, I know what it is like
To be ignored or laughed at
Hence, are there certain jokes
For which I do my best
To keep a poker face
Since, I do not appreciate insensitivity
After all, known am I, for my sensitivity!!
Am I really self-centred?
Yes, there are certain times
When I do tend to be self-obsessed
However, not too often do they come
In fact, often has my heart bled
Even when it was not required!!
Am I really self-centred?
Well, many a mistake have I made
However, always do I apologise
And give people space
I don't repeat my mistakes either
Because, truly do I care
For the wellbeing of others!!
Am I really self-centred?
Many a time, have I cried
Even for relatively small things
Doesn't that tell you something?
The fact that I care a lot
About other people's opinions
Should ideally show, that I am self-centred, NOT
In my life, have I learned a lot of lessons
And, over a period of time, changed for the better
Hope this at least provides the answer
To the question I have been repeatedly asking
Genuinely sorry am I, for all the time wasting
However, I am sure you would have understood by now
As to why and how
This issue means so much to me!!
May 19, 2024
May 19, 2024 at 12:45 PM UTC
life looks like a painting from up here
the clouds beneath my feet
beauty at its finest is what nature creates
everything is constructed perfectly
like a building everything is in place
away from all the hurt and pain
my heart flutters away
into the sea of clouds and rain
no matter how emotionally drained
humanity can be
nature will always be nice to me , truthful to me
a perfectly drawn masterpiece
a view from outside my window
we are so tiny and minimal
to the life we encounter
everything is different from up here
everything is pretty from my window
the earth as one no matter how separated
the air is clear rather than polluted
everything seems evenly distributed
pressure is weighing down on me
i can feel the force pulling me
but the air that pushes me
is the one that keeps me going
its only thing taking me away , allowing me to move on .
Water and land look like a spread thin sheet of paper
how we as humans belong to something greater
the world we live in so peaceful
yet our minds so pain driven and self centred
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 11:56 AM UTC
**** you…
**** you for not giving me the keys to the car.
**** you for not letting use my own money to buy things for myself.
**** you for not even trying to help me.
**** you for ruining my Thanksgiving.
**** you for ruining my Christmas.
**** you for changing your password and not letting me into your life.
**** you for falling in love with someone else.
**** you for running away from me.
**** you for breaking off all contact with me.
**** you for giving me hope and then taking that away from me.
**** you for overdosing and leaving me broken.
**** you for killing yourself.
**** you for treating me like **** all throughout my childhood.
**** you for never giving me the affection I needed.
**** you for trying to get back into my life when you’re the worst person for me.
**** you for ******* everyone but me.
**** you for being so ******* far away.
**** you for never being there for me.
**** you for never noticing me.
**** you for standing me up.
**** you for being a self centred *****
**** you for never thinking of me.
**** me…
**** me for having a ****** heart.
**** me for never having the motivation to improve my life.
**** me for not talking to anyone even when I need it.
**** me for isolating myself from the world.
**** me for falling in love with everyone that gives me the slightest bit of affection.
**** me for trusting everyone.
**** me for being so ****** up.
**** me for all the problems I have.
**** me for being so clingy.
**** me for never being good enough.
**** me for wanting more.
**** me for wishing something could have happened.
**** me for never letting go.
**** me for being so nostalgic.
**** me for actually giving two ***** about you.
**** me for falling in love with you.
**** me for crying every night for weeks because of me.
****
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
It's a beautiful day,birds singing as I'm walking Mill Lane,
listening to a few Me Fein Refrains,
I'm whistling,feeling pretty fine and dandy,
with my eyes red rovering all the eye candy,
when I hear it,brakes shriekin'-women Shriekin',
a mans voice-Hoarse, "Jaysus Someone do somethin",
I spin on me heel,eyes centred as ****
wishing this was all a dream-A runaway Truck,
tires peelin' brakes smokin' rubber burnin',
A runaway load,it's not gonna make the turn and it's
**THEN that I feel true terror in me soul,
I see a little boy playin' at the edge of the road** ,
he's a sturdy little lad,stick in hand,
pokin' at the grasses growin' up from the path,
and he's right in the Path of the Truck from hell,
Theres no decision,I'm runnin' like a bat outta hell,
and it's then that I get a feeling it's a Lucid dream,
languidity covers me,no more screams,
theres a Figure in my way that's wasn't there the last breath,
then I'm literally starin' in the face of Death...
and I FEEL his thoughts as he turns blank Orbits,
on me and his words are like this "One Obit,
uary in my Ferry is my Task today,
do you really want to be the one who gets in MY WAY?(way way way),
and he can HEAR my thoughts,just as I heard his,
"get out the fuckin' way you long streak of ****
"you said one has to go,well that's fine with me!",
"I've got coins in my pocket if you need your fee!"
and with a glint in his eye and a plangent refrain,
he touches me centre forehead and declaims "NO PAIN"
Then things speed up and I'm off fists pumpin',
feet slappin' on the pavement head down, heart jumpin,
I'm not the Flash,but I can move it when I need to Run,
and the long drawn screech is a Hell of a starters Gun,
I'm across the road like a bolt from the blue,
grab the little Man and throw him,then BANG there I flew,
its all earth,sky,earth,then a terrible jolt,
but no pain as was promised as I come to a halt,
then his Mother is there(he's on her hip) and she's holding my(only)hand,
tellin' me theres ambulances and I'm gonna be grand,
but theres a Grand Piano layin' on my Chest,
and no pain,but to be honest here-I'm not at my best,
and just as I start to think of family and friends,
before Distress can manifest too much in my mind,
a tall RATHER BONY figure stretches out his hand,
and intones into me bones,"OFF TO THE NEXT LAND(land,land,land)"
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
You visit this place
You do not stay long
There’s nothing here
that speaks of settlement
Everything you do has an edge
of intensity wet by the weather
sharpened by the clock
If you try to be still
in what passes for shelter
the wind will find you
seek you out
So with the camera your primary tool
begin to collect - image after image after image
Point and click : view and share
Eventually the mark-making begins
though fraught with difficulty
it seems just hopeless this testing out
of the body’s response to what passes
before the scanning eye
Blink
and the image shifts
There is this fierce and on-going campaign
between the near : between the far
What lies at your feet : what decorates the horizon.
After a few hours wrapped round in nature’s vortex
the eye and brain are exhausted by the profusion of it all
wearied by the press of wind, the touch of rain, the glare of sun
Always the problem of what you do
with what you’ve seen
and touched with cold hands
pulling out metal objects from the sand
whose rusted and distressed forms
will lie exposed on the studio table
The place marks you Rain and wind on the face
raise new freckles there’s a salty veneer to the skin
the rub of sand : a wash of seawater
the grasp of pebbles : wood’s chiromatic grain
The lexicon of texture expands under your fingers
changes of temperature : degrees of saturation
and further uncompromising perspectives
unimaginable yet in two dimensions
Beyond beachcombing this is seacoast surgery
Away from it all (and out of the wind)
your memory stretches to the corners of recall
Wandering through a home-centred day
as in a waking dream
knowing you’ve already gathered
all manner of sensory matter
held and stored in the pineal gland
flowing free in Meissner’s corpuscles
Even absorbed in conversation’s company
as you turn away to fill the kettle
you are on the beach back in the wind
scanning the memory tin : priming the future.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
The idealisation of the far-fetched reality ,
Doesn't make it right.
The happiness coming from someone else's pain,
Doesn't make you thrive.
The insensebility of taking wrong decisions,
Doesn't make you look cute, just cruel and naive.
The passing on of the confusion,
Shows your incapability of commitment or in general Life.
The repetitiveness of a command,
Doesn't make people oblige.
It's a simple game...
A game of what's wrong and what's right!.
Of seeing things you ignored ,
Being a self-centred blind.
It's an opportunity to open yourself up,
For the things you've done to others,
and putting yourself in their shoes...
And.....REALISE.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 5:24 AM UTC