A Christmas Gift

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

The Raven

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.

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.

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

We Love You (For Now)

WE LOVE YOU (FOR NOW)

Yes, he was a luminary,

His mind seeped red and white,

He told tall tales of terrible things,

But one day lost the fight,

He used to sit, so very still,

With an audience of just one,

He would feed his soul with rubbish and junk,

And play clumsily with a gun,

He wore despondency like a torn and dirty cloak,

Wore death like a metal vest,

Would sit so still, so quiet, so cold,

Waiting to be laid to rest,

And on that day, when he lost the fight,

No one knew his name,

And his audience of one shuffled along,

On to the next parlour game.

NDP 10/6/2012

Extinction

EXTINCTION

Oh, dear drowning water baby

God’s straw arms can’t help you now

Your fanaticism, oh the horror!

You, the echo, dear, drown

You, the abandoned woman

And God’s paper hands

Torn to shreds

Soaked in spirit

Burned

When the rooks cried ‘caution’

You swam in dirty water

You, the proprietress

He, the bigamist

He pushed you along

With one gentle foot

No nurse, no jetsam

You reached up, you reached out

Oh, dear, drowning water baby

You and he, no King or Queen

No God, no hope

The rook mocks you

You sold you

You bled and bred and bled and bred

Starving thin, insolent

You took your god to your room

And he pushed you away

The shower blocked, the bath flooded

Shit on the floor

‘Help’ written with a needle

You drown in the river

Where he let you go

Traitor to your beliefs

And your convictions sold you short

Now you sail under sodden sweater

Godless, bemused water bitch baby

Underserved, unblessed

Caressed by militant hands

You pointed a gun to your land

And spat fire at your friends

Their blank back is barely a memory

And you care not a penny

That charming character that you carried

Disarmed your foes

Killed your friends

Incapacitated by blood and greed

You took your need to God

Your fanaticism to your soul

And drowned

All illusory, all gone

Water filled lungs

You sink

For one last time.

NDP 4/7/2012

Sanguine Scena

SANGUINE SCENA

A drip of blood falls,

From the cotton that hangs from the ceiling,

Aiming to stain the snow-white marble floor,

With its discarded robe,

Sodden, scrunched into the corner,

One tentative step, sword drawn,

Towards helix and high tide,

Shards and hard water,

Leather skin that the wind cannot resist,

Man of coal, he frowns,

I glare as eyes glare,

A second step takes me unawares,

Takes me towards the last gaze,

The sword tremors,

I shiver and stare,

The cut doesn’t kill,

Doesn’t fail to maim,

The powered cries out,

A yelp of pain,

She flees, pulls the cotton,

Let’s out a cry,

A further step forward,

Towards the door,

Dark furrowed brow of weathered skin,

Glowers as he cracks his leather whip,

The rich cowers in a corner,

Scrunched, like the discarded robe,

Soaked in sweat and blood,

The crash as the sword falls,

To the fresh stain on the floor,

Echoes far, echoes long,

Leather skin creases as he kneels,

He sobs,

He seeks redemption, forgiveness, reason,

I plea,

Let us leave,

Leave together,

In innocence, in ignorance,

In misunderstanding,

And we shall stand strong,

Unknowing, yet with a drawing to sketch,

Of a power shift,

A heart turned,

And an end to the strength of a currency.

12/9/2012

The Space Between Us

THE SPACE BETWEEN US by NDP

©Nigel D Paul 2012

The Spent Force

(…and this is all I have left in my head…)

The rose in the garden is dead,

But she doesn’t care,

The pleasure was in the buying,

And now the pleasure is all spent,

A thousand dead promises,

The pleasure is in the potential,

The disappointment is in the failure,

The failure to deliver the fruit,

Too many trees to tend,

Too many branches bend,

Under the weight of hope,

And everyone is pleased,

And no one is ecstatic,

Because no new fruit were delivered,

Today,

There’s a dead herb in the garden,

Hung, limp and dry,

Blown away by the breeze,

Of misunderstood contentment,

Empty shells,

No content,

The pleasure was in the buying,

And the pleasure is all spent,

The happiness was yesterday,

And the hope is of a new transaction,

All spent,

And this is all that is left,

In my head.

©Nigel D Paul 2012