I might not even be here, after all there is
Absolutely no incoming communication
I have been, as it were ex-communicated
If that rings true
What is that song about spiders
There is a song isn’t there
Also a book about disquiet
Yes I am certain to have read it
If there is a plan then this is the plan
Bare oneself
To the wave after wave of nothingness
Riot after riot of unanswerable questions
With or without the headphones
Also with or without
Any prior contemplative knowledge
It is after all why I came here
To feel the ache of lost love
To feel the pain of lost love
To wallow
In the decrepitness of such loss
In the very middle
Of the darkest of the darkness of night
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Saturday, 7 December 2019
Friday, 6 December 2019
Restrained
The telephone says no
To the dialled number zero
Which, for me
Cuts out all of the folk that I know
Not that I truly know all that many
No point though
In feeling sorry for myself
Although, to be honest
It is something I do do rather well
You see even now it is raining
It is quite likely
To rain all day long
Which may make it tricky
To take photographs
Or to walk beside the river
No point though
At this moment in time
In kicking up a fuss
Which, to be perfectly honest
I am not quite so so good at
To the dialled number zero
Which, for me
Cuts out all of the folk that I know
Not that I truly know all that many
No point though
In feeling sorry for myself
Although, to be honest
It is something I do do rather well
You see even now it is raining
It is quite likely
To rain all day long
Which may make it tricky
To take photographs
Or to walk beside the river
No point though
At this moment in time
In kicking up a fuss
Which, to be perfectly honest
I am not quite so so good at
Thursday, 5 December 2019
Withheld, Upheld
In the one place
Which is in the other place
I reveal all that I am able
In another place
Which is in this place
I hide all of which I am culpable
Like cat and mouse
Or more apt, as spider and fly
I test the culpable with the able
Not that on the cross
He had any knowledge of this
For no guidance is offered
To hide or to reveal
Two sides of the same coin
Before into the fountain it is thrown
The shadow, the light
Salt flakes in salt cellars
It is what it is
Which is in the other place
I reveal all that I am able
In another place
Which is in this place
I hide all of which I am culpable
Like cat and mouse
Or more apt, as spider and fly
I test the culpable with the able
Not that on the cross
He had any knowledge of this
For no guidance is offered
To hide or to reveal
Two sides of the same coin
Before into the fountain it is thrown
The shadow, the light
Salt flakes in salt cellars
It is what it is
Wednesday, 4 December 2019
Internet Free Space
I am able to send letters by post
But cannot email
Or send text
In that sense I am incommunicado
Which, if I rightly recall
Is one of the reasons
Why I came here
Another was to walk by the river
Though today it is raining
Almost from first light
Also forecast for the rest of the day
Which, if I rightly recall
Is how the weather was
Thirty or so years ago
I have a chair to sit on
Also a chair at my desk
With a lamp to light
There is a telephone
I don’t know if it works (it doesn’t)
It will not make outgoing calls
Nor will it receive calls from beyond
But cannot email
Or send text
In that sense I am incommunicado
Which, if I rightly recall
Is one of the reasons
Why I came here
Another was to walk by the river
Though today it is raining
Almost from first light
Also forecast for the rest of the day
Which, if I rightly recall
Is how the weather was
Thirty or so years ago
I have a chair to sit on
Also a chair at my desk
With a lamp to light
There is a telephone
I don’t know if it works (it doesn’t)
It will not make outgoing calls
Nor will it receive calls from beyond
Tuesday, 3 December 2019
Absent, All But One
I am here
You are not
The clock only ticks
In the silence of darkness
It does this, this year
Next year, every year
As if it also knows
That xxxxxxx is the cruelest month
Why did you choose it
For your birthday
What’s that you say
It wasn’t up to you
Rather it was your parents
Who were to blame
It was one of their peak experience moments
Which brought you to me
Yet here you are not
Neither they
No, it is only I for whom
The clock ticks, in the darkness
You are not
The clock only ticks
In the silence of darkness
It does this, this year
Next year, every year
As if it also knows
That xxxxxxx is the cruelest month
Why did you choose it
For your birthday
What’s that you say
It wasn’t up to you
Rather it was your parents
Who were to blame
It was one of their peak experience moments
Which brought you to me
Yet here you are not
Neither they
No, it is only I for whom
The clock ticks, in the darkness
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