Doubt Of Certainty

 Why would you not believe

Unless there was something in it for you

You know

That, what’s in it for me, modern mentality

Similarly

Why would you believe

Unless, you know

Just to edge your bets

So

As you lay on the bench

And your alter-ego

Stands in the church

Both of you

Deep in contemplation

Meanwhile the scientist waves his wand

And turns water into wine

(It is a fairly old trick but still works)

At the same time someone in the congregation

Asks Bill Withers’ widow

Is it still

A lovely day, lovely day, lovely day

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Play

 Where shall we go now

Where shall we go

We can go almost anywhere

Where shall we go

What shall we do now

What shall we do

We can do almost anything

What shall we do

Why shall we go now

Why shall we go

We can ask any question

Why shall we go

When shall we do now

When shall we do

We can be where we are

When shall we do

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for his Collected Works

Don’t Always Expect

 The two films

Told similar stories

If there are only five stories

And I can’t recall who told me that

But if there are only five

Then this is another one of them:

You begin with a young man

Or a boy, or a girl

Or a woman

You follow their life

Always they are centre stage

Which of course means

That whatever incident

Which they are involved in

They will pull through

The drama then

Slightly withholds on tension

For you know the hero

Is going to keep going

Right until the very end

So such a shock

When last night

He got knocked down early on

By a large delivery van

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for his Collected Works

Life Turned Out…

 Where would it take me

All this duplicity

Unable, or so it seems

To see into my own self

When I was a young boy

The trials and tricks of time

Were of a day to day nature

No longer projections needed

When I was a young man

The hopes and expectations

Offered themselves up

In a startling array

Where would it take me

All this opportunity

More than able, so it seems

To continue to discover me

When I was approaching

Middle age

The doubts and delusions

Called by more often

I followed the mid-life crisis

Which to this day

Still resonates at an altogether

Higher frequency

When I reached retirement

All I had was writing

Quite a turnaround

For the grammar school failure

Where will it take me

All this perspicacity

Once more occasionally unstable

I wobble on the balance of life

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Recognition And Rumination

And finally I see, that as

A Dance to the Music of Time

Reaches Winter

Then what we are watching

Is my life, or your life, or our life

Laid out chronologically

Around you, and I, there is

Birth, and life, and death

On our linear portrayals

We too go through

Many tributes and tribulations

There are times for reflection

You know the sort of thing

As a teenager

Bored out of your mind

Then in middle age

Worrying about the kids

Until, later on, you turn to

Contemplating on your own purpose

Finding distractions

To keep the inevitable passing at bay

Eventually though, the penny drops

Recognition drives in her heavy horses

There is to be no more procreation

It is the time for fine cut clothes

And finer beer, or longer liqueur cocktails

On our endless exotic vacations

In our attempts to keep the unsteadiness alive

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Christopher's Website
for his Collected Works