Hi all,
I am delighted to have received a new poem from Nigel Paul. Nigel is a "writer and artist with a strong interest in the relationships between media, culture, society and politics." You may remember Nigel from a poem published here last April, (She's) Dancing With The Idiots (Tonight).
Even though I have moved the focus away from submissions, if you have something you are hankering to share please do still send it my way.
Lies make life richer,
Lies carry the truth,
Stories and fables, fiction and fact,
Help us all to interact,
Psuedo-journalism,
Fantastic Diaries,
Mutated misty memories,
Myriad beautiful colourful world,
Swim naked in the sea,
Be a roving correspondent,
Report your imagination,
Lie to light up your life,
Exaggerate to entertain,
Make money from murky memories,
Explore new worlds,
Explore new minds,
The masses, they won’t mind,
Fancy and play with what you like,
Fight and play with what you hate,
Elaborate the beauty,
Antagonise the ugly,
Ne’er the twain shall meet,
You will be free,
With isolation, the price you pay,
Your stories will travel,
And you will pass on,
Fabrication for your nation,
Remember everything,
Regardless of whether it happened,
Pass them on, for others to remember,
Stories to tell,
After you are long gone,
Your gift to the next generation,
Lies make life richer,
Your contribution to your nation,
Lies carry the truth.
NDP 2013
Welcome to the second Pre-weekend Poem! (the sixty-fourth poem on this blog). I’ve started Pre-weekend Poetry because I would have been booking into May at one a week and that’s not fair on the authors and really, one poem a week isn’t enough. So, tonight’s piece is by poet, lyricist, novelist Nigel Paul.
The Crack In The Wall
I’m feeling creative,
Travelling at the speed of light,
Travelling down the wire,
Travelling around the world,
Life on a razor wire,
Did you give me a glance just then?
Did you even notice?
Did I flash past, far too fast?
Did you?
It’s break neck,
It’s fireball fury,
It’s a poet’s angst,
Cut into your arm,
Did you give me a glance just then?
To my four sons, I give thee gifts, on this, a usual day,
To Matthew, my first, I give thee the burden of responsibility, I show you all the flaws of the world and request that you do all you can to help, assist and correct,
To my second, Mark, I give thee blessings, the notion of, and the ability to count. Of you I request that you count them, each and every day, without fail,
And to Luke, my third, I give thee the ability to teach. I ask that you teach not what is expected of you but what is right, truthful and honest.
And to John, my last, I give thee the gift of parenthood. All I hope for is that the children will learn from their uncles as their father will learn from them.
And to you all, my four sons, I give you all the gift of communication, the ability to listen and speak. All I ask in return is that you share your gifts.
______________________________________________________________
You, the first, and you forgot to listen. The distractions of the earth’s curses deafened you. And yours was the toughest, for the world is wide. The toughest task for the toughest child. But you chose to choose and that distracted you and you forgot to listen. And so you fought, fought the world, and then beaten, you fought yourself. Your life is now nothing, and there is nothing for you to give. Blinded, you looked inward and allowed the gift to curse thyself. We will mourn the death of responsibility for many years but we will not celebrate the selfish.
__________
O! my second son, your patience has punished you and you are now curs’d. My gift has left you with a debilitating and deathly illness and it is only now that you have started to count. You forgot to listen, you chose your own way and it has punish’d you. We will mourn you and the loss is all ours to bear, in life and in death.
__________
My third son, you were my biggest disappointment. Instead of sharing wisdom you allowed yourself to be distracted, as with my first. The size of the world, the size of the task, proved too much. You chose to teach the common message rather than the greater good. It is right that you now hide, reside beyond the horizon.
__________
To my last son, you have the burden of a daughter, now misguided and misinformed. She staggers the roads of life, floats as an island, forever lost. You communicated as asked but the messages were muddled
__________
To my granddaughter, Ruth, I can only offer apologies. For you there were too many interventions. You were destined to become stifled by the unbalanced attentions that you received from your uncles. Your slewed education meant that you knew no better than to take the path of least resistance, take all that was free and reject restriction. You are left to stagger under the weight of excessive intervention, unable to think or feel for yourself. And your actions, you were allowed to do as you wish and I am left defending the indefensible.
Nigel D Paul 30/5/2011
He was a handsome heterophobe who hid behind insecurities,
He told tall stories of tall buildings in two thousand war torn cities,
His sparkle died each time he lied,
He chewed his nails and tried and tried,
He was the cowboy with dark brown eyes,
Someone give him some lithium,
Now,
He was a ham fisted inarticulate who had no humility,
He told sad tales of dead, white males in a run down, crumbling city,
His friendships died each time he lied,
He rubbed his eyes and cried and cried,
He was the gunslinger with jet black hair,
Someone show some care,
Now,
He was a hard hearted hater who lacked integrity,
He told old fables of waiting tables in long forgotten cities,
His loved ones died each time he lied,
He lay awake and sighed and sighed,
He was the smoker with fading freckles,
Someone give him up,
Now soar, young man, it is your time to soar.
