Something from nothing,
Yet nothing was something;
So something was
And therefore, nothing can be.
Omnipotent presence
Surely was something;
How can nothing birth something?
Why would something grow from nothing?
Ignorance and wrath in stark contrast,
Ever the contradiction;
Biased omnibenevolence to some,
With all powerful ignorance damning many.
The chicken, the egg, the old conundrum;
Which came first?
Faith in science and science in faith,
Each with parts unravelled.
poetry
The Embrace.
Feel. As much as it hurts.
Fear. For everything you dread.
Worry. About nothing and everything.
Carry. Wherever you go.
However much it hurts…
Lose yourself. But return right back.
Find yourself. Take time to bring love home.
Try yourself. Do it when you feel ready.
Love yourself. Without belief, hope can’t grow.
However much it hurts…
Be confused. Not everything features clarity.
Be afraid. The principles of life bind us.
Be connected. Separately, we feel weaknesses.
Be inspired. Endless possibilities rise with each new dawn.
However much it hurts…
Macintosh.
Heavy rain tonight! I didn’t get soaked. D’ya know why?
I was wearing me rain jacket. Me big coat.
If I wear it, it never rains.
The moment I wear shorts or sunglasses,
I’m soaked right through.
I swear my shorts attract clouds.
But, my big jacket. The one with all the pockets.
It has never felt a drop of rain.
That’s why the clouds moved by me on the ride home.
Hear My Problems Only
If I could stop myself feeling, would I tear it out of me?
No, but I would cut this feeling from me.
Dig deeper for focus on possible positives.
If I could remove all the reminders, and the memories to make it hurt less, should I try to silence all?
I need to feel. I need to know. I need to hang onto hope.
No matter how little remains.
If I could wake up tomorrow energised, refreshed, no longer tired and raring to go, would I sleep peacefully now?
I know I can. Yet I can’t. I should. But, I won’t.
I try to release the anger. The pain. The worry.
Should I desperately reach out for hope and determination, clutching it to my heart?
Kick back the snapping, snarling, scrappy black dogs at the feet of my bed.
Today ends soon. Tomorrow starts immediately. Onwards.
Tree Fall.
Amongst the space of a lonely field,
Towering into winds never before perceived,
For many a century, the wood stood unpeeled,
History’s hardest winds never before conceived.
This night, your great winds blew, relentlessly,
Shaking all umbrellas as they wandered,
And sweeping side to side shattered panes carelessly,
Macintosh jackets thought as squandered.
Stood upright, resistant to gales,
Arose squelching sounds to tree roots,
Battered and blustery heaped on, it fails,
Tougher than a pair of old boots.
Creaking and leaning, sinking deep into,
The tree sought to stand hard on the land,
The air blew and grew as the storm did brew,
Tanned tree’s fanned roots sank into sand.
The turbulent gust gave more bursts of force,
Fierce furious and volcanic blasts slammed,
No longer the tree could hold its long course,
Rammed into it and cause it to be dammed.
Tempestuous savagery caused the tree to turn,
Leaves leapt into volatile and quarrelsome air,
Down went all branches as the trunk turned up fern,
Slumped down, did it all without but a prayer.
The ruinous remains of life situated across,
Soon, dies down the storm of the night,
New horizons lay out for its coating of moss,
Once upright, now fitted tight, susceptible to parasite.
The adaptive bole will adjust as best,
The sideways makeover, an alteration,
Its fruits shall bear once more upon its crest,
Should it steady in its newfound acclimation.
Budweiser.
Shimmering shards of shattered semblance
Beneath broken bottles, unwanted emblems
This mark of shame; scattered destruction
The cyclists, aware, swerving the obstruction;
Former bottles tossed, discarded and then some.
We are unneeded. Before this day
We were used, emptied, paid for, on display
Gave joy, and felt sorrow and now we lay wasted
On the croft, forgotten.
Pick a battle with our handlers so:
To you and your unforgivable hands we know
To decay, expenditure and ruin, with lost opportunity.
Broken faith in our use to your community
We no longer hold your golden ale, or darkest stout
On the croft, forgotten.
Some.
Sometimes, I feel backwards. Some hours, all I touch breaks. Some weeks last longer than others. Some days, a storm becomes an argument. Some moments fade to anger. Some challenges become impassable mountains. Some paths cut off. Some routes have new walls. Some connections tear apart. Some green turns to black. Some perfumes rot in sunlight. Some rainbows wash away. Somehow, I can’t walk away.
Too much pressure.
Too much pressure, I’m at boiling point. Crawling beneath, and within, hidden desperation. I know not, and no longer see what’s around me. I’m scared, so afraid, bring me down.
Too much pressure, bubbling over. I cannot taste this food you make. Isolated, solitary, remote, godforsaken, detached from you. There is no love about this town. The fury I feel is bringing me down. Curled up here, afraid to move.
Too much pressure, burning up. I cannot hear the sound of birds. Rile, irritable, aggravating, enraged – no smiles. All intrinsics, essentials, and instincts instantly lost. Insobriety, inebriated, intoxicated, disappearing. This night stayed. No reappearance nearing.
Too much pressure, feeling cold. I cannot feel your hand on mine. Unevenness, rough, changed, random protrusions throwing out delusions and illusions. Sleeping here in fear’s shadow, hiding away. Cold, clammering, coughing, spluttering, wheezing and sneezing. I struggle to breathe, numb and wheezing.
Too much pressure, reaching boiling point. Too much pressure, bubbling over. Too much pressure, burning up. Too much pressure, feeling cold. Pressure relieving as I slip away. Drifting and shifting. I’m out. Gone.
Interminable.
Eternally.
How long is that?
Forever and a day.
Surely that is too long, right?
Always.
When does that end?
Until I know when, I’ll carry on.
Until I know how, I will turn the now into the future;
And the future into the past.
Interminable.
DZY
On special days; do nothing days; on stay in and snooze days; I wish you were here.
To find new pathways; climb new trails and have short stays; roll in grassy hays; I wish you were there.
Looking at cloudy skies; pondering those storms by eyes; sunny days swarming flies; I wish you were everywhere.
Tidying up after little ones; brushing dog hair off the chair; making efforts ever so fair; I wish we were together.
Foul weather; tough times; moody moments we can’t decline; I wish to share forever.
Just us.
Just us.
No-one else.
Those who matter in the distance.
Those who care, held close.
Our thoughts in your thoughts.
Your warmth together.
Just us.
Two peas. One pod.
Wrapped up snuggly.
Joined. At the hip.
Together.
Stronger as one.
A union led by destiny.
No pressures. No worries.
Challenges to face together.
Fearless and relentless.
For us.
Hope and glory, in lands, over the seas and by green trees.
Bound at the hands.
Rings on.
A bond. Embraced.
One.
Stressful authority.
Prove your status.
Copy that letter.
Twice.
Translate this to that.
Duplicate, duplicate, duplicate.
Thrice.
Indicate at the tick box.
Here, there, and HERE.
There again.
Copies of a passport.
Duplicate and photostat your household register.
Voice print.
Embassy and Consulate verification required.
University experience desired.
Nose print.
Passport photos. Wedding photos. Holiday photos.
Travel history records. Paper money trail. Bank statements.
Dental records.
Fill in this.
Provide a copy of your birth certificate.
Photographs.
What was your dog’s mum’s maiden name?
And, what did your ex-wife eat for lunch yesterday?
Evidence.
Bloodtype, fingerprints, retina scan.
When did you last sneeze?
Health check.
How good are your genes?
Swear an oath, an affidavit, an allegiance to the flag.
Sing the national anthem. In Swahili.
Verify.
What are your political beliefs?
Trump or Xi? Sunak or Churchill?
Confirm.
Height, weight, favourite colour.
Where do you plan to go?
Bureaucracy.
Hand over your loved ones.
Get down on your knees.
Pray.
Relieve yourself of all sins.
Seek absolution and fix this.
Hurdles.
Vellichor
The scent pours off of you, slipping away from your soul, wriggling away, pulling you down to the hole.
The depth opens up wide, snarling ruthlessly snide, ripping darkness from below, confirmation that hopes lost and lied.
The pages tear from the spine, torn away in time, words failing to be read, all shrouded in grime.
You lay on the shelf, emitting bad health, your pages full of wise wealth, yet all pass your stealth.
Daylight comes and goes, your words nobody knows, inside treasures like a rose, you slip away on endless rows.
The dust on your front and back, tightened and slack, no hands to pick you up and put you on back.
Discrimination
Why do you discriminate against me?
Why do you think you’re better?
Who allows you to talk over me?
Am I too unambitious if not a go-getter?
What makes you the king of this castle?
Whose voices are you speaking for?
Why do you bring me all this hassle?
Was it my forefathers in that long forgotten war?
Didn’t you understand the mistakes of the past?
Is it my skin, you fear?
Do you blame me or my people for that blast?
What values should I hold dear?
My religion or your religion?
Hate us? Hate me? Hate our future?
Where is the peace dove or grey sooty pigeon?
What makes you think I’ll level a score?
Equality or inequality?
Why do you raise your voice?
Why do you question my ability?
Why do you ask me for my choice?
Will your hateful words always haunt me?
Do you decry the freedom I seek?
Where is forgiveness and the blossoming new tree of the free?
Are you unhappy that I am not weak?
What makes civilisation?
How do I know that you know?
Where is my destination?
How will you show we can no longer grow?
Mams, moms, mums… 妈妈
Words taught. Ideas thought. And spoken. A gift, a token, a day awoken. Mums are brilliant. They’re resilient, they’re efficient and sufficient. A guide along paths. A shoulder to turn tears to laughs. Mums, moms, mams, 妈妈
Books given. Lies forgiven. Lessons learned. Trophies earned. Encouraged. Discouraged. Pushed on. Troubles gone. Forever enduring, securing and helping you before and during. A fanatic supporter helping and scoring. Moms, mams, mums, 妈妈
Try this, try that. Do this, do that. Eat your corn. See her scorn. Tidy up, fold it up, put it away. Have your say. Listen to the way. Day after day, always there for you. Truthfully, forever true. Mams, moms, mums, 妈妈
Loving, caring, sharing (through choice or not), supporting (win, lose or draw), there for you, no matter your lot. MUMS, MAMS, MOMS, 妈妈
Thanks for being my friend.
Interminable.
Eternally.
How long is that?
Forever and a day.
Surely that is too long, right?
Always.
When does that end?
Until I know when, I’ll carry on.
Until I know how, I will turn the now into the future;
And the future into the past.
Interminable. Apparently.
Hope’s message
I don’t want to see tubes coming out of your nose; or your face lacking cheeks coloured in rose.
I don’t want to see wires attached to your skin; nor your arms stretched out so thin.
I want to tell you off for trespassin’; I want to see you read Carl Hiaasen.
Or, shout at you for hiding your homework; watch you frustrated shouting berserk.
I want all your worries, testing times; problematic homework, and accidental crimes.
I want to learn alongside you; watch you grow strong as a Sky Blue.
We should be together, I apologise; when you’re older you’ll realise.
Wise as it is, life ain’t simple; especially seeing your still simple.
Finally, I believe we shall laugh together; walk on hills whatever the weather.
Those tubes and the fear can’t last; hope you recover ever so fast.
Storm in a Teacup
Don’t conceal it. Don’t hide it. Don’t fear it. Don’t fight it. Just put your head down and right it.
Don’t give in. Never surrender the win. Block out that enormous din. Just get yourself up and head for the win.
Don’t shatter your dreams. Avoid tearing at the seams. Watch out for low beams. Just look for the place with good teams.
Don’t slide about. Don’t scream and shout. Don’t ever make yourself doubt. Just let it all out.
If not, what have you got? Your thing, your place, your lot. You’re more, are you or not? You’re here on this pale blue dot.
Now go get it yourself! Trust in your health. There’s more to life than wealth. Put doubt firmly on the shelf.
In a pickle.
Financially, mentally, substantially.
In a pickle.
Unquestionably undoubtedly, profoundly.
In a pickle.
Historically, periodically, profoundly.
In a pickle.
Oddly, secretly, openly.
In a pickle.
To the letter, by the books, across the board.
In a pickle.
No trust fund, no benefactor, no obligation.
In a pickle.
Without reserve, without doubt, without care.
In a pickle.
Dark thoughts.
Take it all for yourself. Pool up the wealth. Cripple those in ill health. Myself. Each self. Yourself.
Why should anyone share? It isn’t supposed to be fair. Have power, will scare. Less care. What care? No care.
Copy it, market it, sell it on. Small trader’s hopes gone. Give in to each don. A con. This con. The con.
Hardened by grimy soot. Tough under each jutted foot. The struggling empty gut. Howling mutt. Growling mutt. Mournful mutt.
Crumbs shouldn’t drop to the floor. Beggars asking for more. Wounded families, sore. Greedy poor. Filthy poor. The poor.
Darkness crawls through the light. Crushing all that is right. Turning summer to winter’s night. Strangling delight. Sapping delight. End of delight.
She.
She didn’t throw herself from gorse under a horse.
She could not endorse her message without remorse.
She didn’t plot a way to close down a course.
She didn’t use an overly aggressive force.
She didn’t yell, “What do we want?”, down a megaphone.
She didn’t cry long hard and alone.
She didn’t stick herself in front of rush hour.
She didn’t throw eggs, milk, or flour.
She didn’t write a play and sign up a star.
She didn’t brandish a message along the side of her.
She didn’t lecture or pity the fools.
She didn’t etch out a story, hands filled with tools.
Nor did she shout out at all cost.
She didn’t argue until hope was lost.
She didn’t glue her hands to classic artwork.
She didn’t fight, resist, bite, spit or go berserk.
She didn’t cry behind a podium in front of an audience of the great and good.
She did talk sense and described all she could.
She even wrote it on her pencil tin.
She whispered her words amongst the great din.
And nothing happened.
Nothing ever could.
Status quo.
No changes.
No new beginning.
The same old.
Nothing.
Rebellion #3: Confused
They fought for us. They thought for you. They won for freedom. They are one and true.
Now, we fight for ideals. We fight invaders. We fight refuge-seekers. Weren’t we once bastard crusaders?
The fickle and trickle of history. Surrounded by sinister hostility. Split lines and scorched earth. Rebounded in ability.
The boundaries expanded. The world was divided. The scars were sewn shut. The remainder decided.
There stood statues. Status removed in reflection. Pulled out shattered pews. Heading to a new direction.
We question the questioners. We squeeze the doubters. We exclude the opposition. We silence the shouters.
The man says we can. The woman says we cannot. The party toes the line. The leader cares, not one jot.
Vote for this. Decline that. Scream and shout about it all. Ignore that silly old twat!
You’re upset about raiders coming over seas. Afloat on makeshift dinghies. You ignore nameless children floating for fees. One less worry buried in the seas.
Clear mistakes without fault. Confused and dumbfounded has arrived. Homes gone, no roads left. Unsheltered and barely survived.
What if tomorrow we had to retreat? Would you put your feet in the same hot seat? Would your drum carry the same old beat? Where would you go for the last meal to eat?
Who would care if you were not there? What if your loved ones were forced underground? Where will this path go? Would you open your mouth with that ugly sad sound?
Humanity? I see. Believe me. Free?
Rebellion #2: Homelessness
I was ripped from my womb, sent from warmth, from my creator, made to work to the bone for the inflator.
No longer again to see Mother nor Father, in workplaces far away, sent out long hours day after day.
Through taxes and energy bills, through blooded sweaty torn up hands, ploughing out profits for someone else’s lands.
I carried my owners, along with my leaders, and prayed to the sky that God may receive us.
No answer from upon high, to my pitiful cry, as I crept out to deny my sigh. Time was to fly.
The strength of those who fed us with kind, as we wallowed through despair, without comfort of mind. An axe must grind.
Here, I ask of you to reflect for a while,
Along with my colleagues, in times of denial. This life has been a trial.
For we are the future thrust into fear,
And cold nights gave up some lives year on year. Year on year on year.
Remember us, the homeless dead, as we lay down, ice tethered to head. Dead.
Dead.
Rebellion #1.
I’m the rise against the odds. I’m the growl facing the sods.
I’m the vote that casts a change. I’m the matter that needs derange.
I’m the fighter in the field they want to mine. I’m the nurse fixing plasters rain or shine.
I’m the voice that they want to silence. I’m the battler against all manner of violence.
I’m with many who shout and demand new ways. I’m one of the glued-up rebellious art damaging strays.
I’m the silent protestor who annoyed the police sergeant some. I’m the leader of the change that has to come.
Stand alone, fall down. Stand tall and together, stand up for your town. Stand for the greedy and against the needy, stand opposite me, you’ll see. We’re the changes that are needs be. See.
The time is now.
Aberystwyth Town
Attack after attack;
Balls whipped in deep;
Every game an opportunity;
Running down the byline;
“You’re not fit to referee!”;
Seasiders giving it their all;
Tref am byth!
With black and green, shirts we all dream;
You can do it for our Town;
The past is in books and the future in boots;
Here in Aberystwyth, the teams are all ready.
The women, the men, the boys and girls are ready;
Over to the tea hit for Bovril and Wagon Wheels;
Win, lose or draw, loyal greens forever roar;
Now, where do we begin?
Football at Park Avenue is back;
Our floodlights drape the field in rays;
Our stands sing chants beyond the valleys and hills;
Together we stand and cheer on the teams of Town;
Ball after ball shooting at the goals;
Athletic warriors wear our dream badge;
Loyalty, love and destiny’s results follow;
Let’s feel the mighty movement of Aber;
“C’mon Aber!”, shout the voices from the terrace in the sky.
Look at the linesman and laugh with the fans;
Up, up, and up the table we desire;
Be here now and be there forever Town.
Hey adventure, where are you?
I’ve been waiting, patiently and impatiently. Where are you? Perhaps, you missed me here. Hey adventure, where are you?
I know I’ve been distracted, confused and upset. Where are you? Just maybe, you’re too busy to call by. Hey adventure, where are you?
These days have been testing for me, unsure and hanging on the help of others. Certainly, you know where to look. Hey adventure, where are you?
I looked back at last year and the year before, and one before that. How come you didn’t visit me yet? Hey adventure, where are you?
Is it something I did, said or thought? Am I not the same person as before? Hey adventure, where are you?
When you call by, bring some tissues and a shoulder to lean on. I’m sure you’ll return. Hey adventure, where are you?
I’m feeling so low, blue and deep in shadow. You won’t see me outside. Hey adventure, where are you?
I need to feel the sharpness of lemons, taste the sweet cool air and smell of green life. Instead, you’ll see me between these walls. Hey adventure, where are you?
It could be worse I guess, cast off and unwanted? No letter of recommendation or wave off. Hey adventure, where are you?
Hey adventure, where are you? I need you. I need. I need you. Need you. You. Come get me. Hey adventure, where are you?
Hey adventure, where are you?
Spheksophobia
How many old dreams of the past are dormant? How many dreams of the future are yet to be realised?
The flocculant rain falls, and the howling wind calls, as he bangs his head firm on walls.
How many days drifted in and out? How many hours in light? How many in night?
The foundations of the house shake, they ripple, bend and quake, all the while his feet flip, slip and bake.
How many lights shine out bright? How many rays cast no shadow? How often does light fade to black?
The will of a man is tested, his head ill-rested, broken undigested, wasted hope scattered and shattered.
How come comets flash and zoom by? How do meteors find their way? How often do they evade all sight?
The feel of his feet grow rough and sore, unable to walk no more, lost on a map with no detail, cast off to sea without a voyage.
How does a guide find a route? How do you define what’s in a suit? How often is a path well-trodden?
The life of Riley, the hidden Eden, the leadership skills of Christ all the parts of Paradise’s Elysium far, far out of reach.
Eh?
We’re all writers putting pen to paper, typing night and day;
Singing love songs come what may.
Banging out letters of dismay;
Giving our opinions on hearsay.
All in front of us, our display;
Making sure we have our say.
Place down your head, just go and lay;
Eyes to the left, eyes to the right they bend and neigh;
Come month end’s wait for our pay.
Should I go or should I stay?
Passing our eyes over the latest play;
Heartfelt causes won’t go away.
In hard times, we kneel and pray;
Write that letter to the girl called Fay.
Oh sweet Fay, the next day your name is May;
Life moved on and we found our way.
Children rejoice, they jump and say, “Yay!”
No more waiting, no such delay.
Watching movies until we hit the hay;
It doesn’t really matter if anyone’s gay.
Dipping our toes in the deep of the bay;
All around the sound of that lovely jay.
On cloudy days grabbing each ray;
Talk about football on the Saturday.
Watching movies until we hit the hay;
It doesn’t really matter if anyone’s gay.
Dipping our toes in the deep of the bay;
All around the sound of that lovely jay.
AGAINST THE FLOW OF TRAFFIC - ACTON28.BLOG 