Disruptive - At Your Pleasure

So many thoughts

Way too many thoughts

Who is man enough

To hold onto so so many thoughts

Then the noises

Here, there, and everywhere the noises

Now, then, and whenever the noises

Up, down, and turnaround to the noises

But also

The glimpses of beauty

The deep releases of sneezes

To blow everything up, or close everything down

So many thoughts

The temples are vibrating

First with one thing, then with the other

Before it all kicks off all over again

Then the noises; where are you now

Where will you be tomorrow

Is there any chance at all

That we could share a conversation

No, Not That Way - This Is A Better Way For You

Instead of losing your attachments

Why not try to hold onto them

Try as hard as ever you can

Don’t let go, whatever you do

Not of lost love

Or past memories

Not of secrets, or promises

Or anything which gifts you joy

It is foolish to believe

That if you lose attachments

You will relieve your suffering

If anything the opposite is so

Instead of banishment

Turn to celebration

Dust off the cobwebs from your photographs

Buy no more love-psychology books

Make a collage of words and pictures

To breathe new life

Into that which the miserable buggers

Would have you throw away

Vacate - With Such Joy

I haven’t got going

It’s cold, I’m cold

I nearly bought a present

I almost sent a message

I felt, I felt

A bit better about myself

I haven’t got going

The feeling is cold

The intention is colder

I did have one warm thought

Then another, about the icicles 

At Hambleton, near Rutland Water

Ash In Tow - Also In The Grate

The Bay hunkers down

As the wind introduces itself

To a day of majestical purpose

The wood-burner flue warms up

Even with the flames

Struggling to catch hold

What was that word

Which you failed to remember

After yesterday morning’s meditation

Something similar in sound or meaning

To bestow or all aglow

Definitely with a resounding so so ending

Misplaced Steps - Focus On The Difference

The biscuit box is empty

The Home Body poems are read

At least today’s consignment

For my father was also a wagon driver

Delivering concrete pavement edges

To the navvies laying new roads

In this way I empathise, sympathise

With the poet Rupi Kaur

Yet I feel there is distance between us

Which makes the point, to me at any rate

That nothing changes, which you may recognise

As a David Bowie album, from back in the day

I don’t have a lot more to say

That album includes Let’s Dance

And we did dance, in one of my stories