Nero

I take the window seat
Why wouldn't I
It is the street
Distant, cold, and thin

To touch the soul
It is why I write
People watching;
Passing smiles, engaging grins

Years ago, years passed by
The class of two thousand and five
It was a way back to life
Drinking beer, and slipping gin

Van Morrison is on the radio
I remember the lyrics that I wrote
It was my own sat alone Scandinavia
Before the daily threat of insulin

Time to say, funny old life
Recognition of visited places
It is the treat
Instant, warm, let’s begin

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Estrange

When there is no one
There you are
When there is nothing
Not even a thought
You silently enter

With the blueberries
From by the water
With the compliment
About my mother

He talked of indifference
As being between
Attachment and detachment
Which caught me out
Set me questioning

With the one
From the other
With the same
And the familiar

Between your attraction
And my distraction I see
The impermanence
Freed of all reason
Even disassociation

With the light
From the ether
With the search
For one another

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Grounds

I park in the same place
I have parked here since
Two thousand and seven

I can see the college dome
Where we went for coffee
Sometime around eleven

Behind me the wine bar
They opened their doors
On the day I was leaving

Beside hopes and dreams
We cleared out a space
To endow the grieving

I might tell of winter
Mornings, of catching
New light at the dawn

Specify all the reasons
That make these lives
We live our very own

Ahead of me now stand
The railings, prescribed
In, and as, circular motion
Names of not so famous
War heroes, who gave and lost
Their life, without a notion

Of the purpose of dying so
Cheaply, whereas I remember
To try and love you so deeply

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No-Flap Jack

Not a seat in the house
Sat instead, in the small café
Eating what I shouldn’t eat
Although it is laced with ginger

The gold mine, for that is what it is
This first fine Saturday of summer
A first day, and also a last day, for today
Ends my Vipassana meditation course

Twelve weeks of transportation
Inspiration and motivation
Eighty four days of waking
With a chosen purpose

And to conclude, in the luxury
Of endearing choiceless awareness
The more I am aware the more
Difficult I find it to be surprised

Yet I know that that pleasure
It is just around the corner

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Weak Of A Kind

You saw something you didn’t care for
A trait that you thought demonstrated weakness
And I guess that once you had made the discovery
I became an irritable itch to scratch

I should have been less weak
I should not have shouted
And after half a life
I should have learnt a lesson

You saw something you cared for
A trait that you thought demonstrated kindness
And I guess once you had made that discovery
I became a holistic soul mate to support

I should have been more kind
I should not have demeaned you
And after the last few months
I should be more than grateful

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