To A Time

I remember back to a time,

To a time when people used to think for themselves,

When common sense prevailed,

When foresight, is forewarned, is forearmed,

I remember trusting my first instincts,

Look into their eyes,

To see if I could see,

Any signs of any lies,

I remember when I was organised,

And organisation equalled efficiency,

Organisation equalled currency,

Organisation equalled integrity,

And you take all these from me,

I remember being judged,

Rightly or wrongly,

I remember having faith in myself,

It’s still the only faith I need,

And I remember what I need,

And I live within my means,

It fills me with satisfaction,

Because I believe in pro-action,

And I make my bed and lie in it,

I get what I deserve.

Children Of Greyland

CHILDREN OF GREYLAND

Sun rises over this tarred and feathered land,

Revealing ravines and scenes of dismal dismay,

Long shadows of revolution spread like fingers across the valleys,

The landscape dulled and lifeless,

Our lives have been filled with grey,

Fields littered with dead livestock,

Sheep await irradiation,

Dirt brown grass and burnt out hedges,

The rich request expatriation,

The moon sets on this sad and decrepit land,

The seeds of rape sown by the men in grey,

You cannot harvest buildings, you cannot eat dirt,

Desecration and desolation,

The drifting island that lost its way.

NDP 16/6/2012

Life, Camera, Action

LIFE, CAMERA, ACTION

As he lays, emaciated, on a drip,

The machine beneath ticks away,

It was never too clear,

Why would they want to shoot a scene here?

The machine beneath ticks away,

Hi time is receding, his power is low,

The air becomes rare,

And the cameras click away,

“If he loses direction, we cannot produce”,

The whispers travel among the tourists,

It’s too big to handle, to just kill him off,

And the machine beneath ticks away,

It was written for ghosts,

For the wide-eyed and empty,

They reside in the goldfish bowl,

Too big to handle,

Wheel him away on a trolley,

But the air turns dirty and there is fuel leaking,

His humours are draining, out onto the floor,

Someone killed the doctor’s compassion,

And the machine beneath ticks away,

A gasping audience, counting down,

He lays still, now empty,

It was never too clear,

Why they wanted to shoot a scene here,

And the cameras still click away.

NDP 10/6/2012

A Strip Of Grey Flannel

A STRIP OF GREY FLANNEL

In the fingers of a child,

In an oriental world,

The strip of grey flannel,

That I once found,

Started out in the fingers of a child,

Pierced with needles,

Soaked with sweat,

That strip of grey flannel,

That I once found

Pulled and pummelled into shape,

Packed as protection,

For a tired fighting man,

The strip of grey flannel,

That I once found,

Pulled tight around skinny shoulders,

Draped across a box,

The fabric of memory,

That strip of grey flannel,

That I once found,

Tear stained and felt,

In darkness resided,

Forgotten, the wearer,

The strip of grey flannel,

That I once found,

Dusted and bloodied and eaten,

Moved and removed,

Passed down and on,

That strip of grey flannel,

That I once found,

Held fondly and so tightly,

Flung and thrown,

Tossed and torn,

The strip of grey flannel,

That I once found,

Makeshift tourniquet,

Held close and tight,

To the arm of a child,

That strip of grey flannel,

That I once found,

Security and safety,

Flapping and tumbling,

Bloodied and torn,

The strip of grey flannel,

That I once found,

With a story to tell.

NDP 18/7/2012

Psychology Philosophy Religion

PSYCHOLOGY PHILOSPHY RELIGION

 

How wide is your world?

Please sit and think,

Your daily life only fills a small quarter of your world,

Do you know that?

Oh, how wide is your world?

When did your history actually start?

The knowledge you use daily is not the total sum of your knowledge,

You pre-date your own sperm,

Hand-me-down knowledge,

Second hand,

Third hand,

Since time immemorial,

Are you aware of how wide your world is,

How far your arms can reach?

How far-sighted you can be?

How far your mind can go?

A clock and a map are never enough,

Oh, how wide your world,

How huge your universe,

Say thank you,

Feel small,

Stand proud,

You should be pleased,

At how wide your world is.

NDP 15/7/2012

This Is My Life

THIS IS MY LIFE

I take a cautious step forward,

And volunteer to meet the world,

With jangling nerves,

I come out from behind the curve of the earth,

This is my life,

For all to see,

Meeting faces,

Collecting names,

Books full of words,

I take a clumsy step forward,

And soil your corner of the world,

With heavy breath,

I step through shadows to see your face,

These are my days,

Flying past our eyes,

Capturing memories,

Albums full of images,

I take a trip towards the door,

And endeavour to explore the world,

With fearful heart,

I move towards so many corners,

This is my hope,

Shared determination,

Hoarding artefacts,

Thieving treasures,

Museums full of stolen goods,

I take a cautious step back,

And remember my place in the world,

With renewed humility,

I crawl back behind my rock,

This was my life,

Too much to bear,

Forgotten names,

Fading memories,

Lost riches.

NDP 23/4/2012

Transparent Transference

TRANSPARENT TRANSFERENCE

And I, the prodigal son of a family of game players,

Run rings and roses and poses,

To confuse and forewarn,

Beware what you create,

And I, the bastard son of a cantankerous father,

Play word games and change names,

Calculate and bewilder,

So that you avoid the same,

And you, the parent, rose,

As your petals fall and drift across the sea,

To a long lost son who hides behind mumbles and the curve of the earth,

Who runs from impotence,

Childless and loveless,

To him a daughter, any daughter,

And I, the angry son, the pawn of your generation,

See your echo,

See the confused, lost soul,

And hope that you will do too,

Soon.

NDP 17/7/2012