Fabricate

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

Ten things you may not know about me…

1. My day job is being a Shop Manager for a microbrewery and home brew supply shop in Cornwall, UK.
2. I achieved a BA (Hons) in English and Media as a mature student.
3. I also have certificates for degree level Project Management For Business, Desk Top Publishing and Portering (pushing trolleys!).
4. While at University I worked for two years as a Student Peer Mentor.
5. I have managed petrol stations in spite of having never driven a car…ever…not even an inch.
6. I used to be in punk band called Total Bullshat.
7. I am proud of how bad a musician I am as it forces me to overcompensate by experimenting, being innovative and generally breaking rules.
8. I have been on the roof of the Houses of Parliament.
9. I once tried to tackle a former England International footballer (on the same day that I went up on the roof of the Houses of Parliament!). The tackle was very unsuccessful…I’m as bad at football as I am at playing guitar!
10. I have read George Orwell’s 1984 well over 100 times.

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.

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

The Big Switch Off

THE BIG SWITCH OFF

You provide us with the opportunity,

To experience euphoria or suffering,

And which do you choose?

You provide our soundtrack,

You provide our backdrop,

You provide our memories,

Please can I switch you off?

The news is your news,

That which you choose,

And your idea of fun,

Is no fun at all,

You cut my connections from the world,

Please can I switch you off?

I can’t image the world,

Not without a prompt,

Do you provide the correct prompt?

Or can I just switch you off?

Can I design my own social existence?

I don’t want your input, thanks all the same,

I’ll play my own game,

Reserve the rights to my own name,

And quietly switch you off.

NDP 15/6/2012