Down the hill
With head, and video camera
Poking out of the sunroof
Trying somehow to capture
The pastoral
Then to watch the professor
Who obviously hadn’t attended
The seminar on social skills
Whose nervousness almost stole away
His immense breadth of literary knowledge
Who else
Will walk out of a summer’s morning
Who else, through his writing
Will capture your imaginations
Years and years after the events
Then to hear of the artist
Who gathered in, then exploded nature
Who embraced and exposed technology
Such that he gifted action, and I saw the light
Again, and again, and again, and again
Saturday, 23 June 2018
Friday, 22 June 2018
Denial
Nineteen, or Seventeen, what’s it matter
If the target to achieve is seven, or eight
In this way your morning awakes you
In this way reality catches your solar plexus
Amazing really, that it’s taken sixteen years
Think of all what you did in your first sixteen
Which is where your memoir faltered
Thirty years before news of this illness broke
As it did in that telephone call
To a Yorkshireman visiting Yorkshire
Of course by now you know I’m skirting
You too can feel the words meandering
That is how it must be, I have to conceal
For concealing is my learned behaviour
But, as you can see, I sort of want to reveal
I want to, but no I cannot, what is the point
What is the use of giving you news
Which actually is only of any concern to me
If the target to achieve is seven, or eight
In this way your morning awakes you
In this way reality catches your solar plexus
Amazing really, that it’s taken sixteen years
Think of all what you did in your first sixteen
Which is where your memoir faltered
Thirty years before news of this illness broke
As it did in that telephone call
To a Yorkshireman visiting Yorkshire
Of course by now you know I’m skirting
You too can feel the words meandering
That is how it must be, I have to conceal
For concealing is my learned behaviour
But, as you can see, I sort of want to reveal
I want to, but no I cannot, what is the point
What is the use of giving you news
Which actually is only of any concern to me
Thursday, 21 June 2018
Bays Set Out For People Watching
What to do, where to go
How to let the day develop
How to help affairs shape up
Watch the waitress take the orders
Watch the waitress pour the coffee
Watch the waiter serve the breakfast
Look at the glum-looking chap
At the next table, not a smile
So far, not one hint of happiness
Who knows what his worries are
Who knows the troubles in his life
Who knows the debts he has incurred
Maybe he looks on me in the same way
What a miserable sod he might think
He could even dismiss me, as a waster
Though I don’t feel at all uneasy
I don’t feel at all out of place here
I don’t, until I see, and hear, his laughter
How to let the day develop
How to help affairs shape up
Watch the waitress take the orders
Watch the waitress pour the coffee
Watch the waiter serve the breakfast
Look at the glum-looking chap
At the next table, not a smile
So far, not one hint of happiness
Who knows what his worries are
Who knows the troubles in his life
Who knows the debts he has incurred
Maybe he looks on me in the same way
What a miserable sod he might think
He could even dismiss me, as a waster
Though I don’t feel at all uneasy
I don’t feel at all out of place here
I don’t, until I see, and hear, his laughter
Wednesday, 20 June 2018
Olden Days Are Not Forgotten...
One day out of seven
Not a bad ratio
But of course that all depends
What you talk of
What side of the equation you are on
In this instance it was running out of words
Not knowing
The next thing to write
Not knowing
The next thing to think
And most certainly, in those moments
I did not think back
To that last one in seven chance
Such then as were my opportunities limited
Such then my escape into silence
Ever more profound, ever less pronounced
Then to read, thanks to Maria Popova
Of the damming of the word depression
An onslaught on its lack of anything useful
Better then to return to the previous term
Melancholy, and how that word now so so
Rightly masquerades, if sung in a mohair suit
Not a bad ratio
But of course that all depends
What you talk of
What side of the equation you are on
In this instance it was running out of words
Not knowing
The next thing to write
Not knowing
The next thing to think
And most certainly, in those moments
I did not think back
To that last one in seven chance
Such then as were my opportunities limited
Such then my escape into silence
Ever more profound, ever less pronounced
Then to read, thanks to Maria Popova
Of the damming of the word depression
An onslaught on its lack of anything useful
Better then to return to the previous term
Melancholy, and how that word now so so
Rightly masquerades, if sung in a mohair suit
Tuesday, 19 June 2018
In A Room, With A Memory
Listen, listen to the quiet
Bathe, bathe in the collective calm
Even the tip-tap tapping
Of the keyboard is helpful
Yes, yes, yes, no it is not repetition
A whole swathe of letters
Are brought into play
As I imagine climbing over the five-bar gate
Bathe, bathe in the collective calm
Even the tip-tap tapping
Of the keyboard is helpful
Yes, yes, yes, no it is not repetition
A whole swathe of letters
Are brought into play
As I imagine climbing over the five-bar gate
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