SOMNAMBULANT

We sleepwalk toward jaws of the Beast.

Carefully sedated since early childhood daze.

While silent voice roars.

‘Sitting up straight, arms folded, eyes on the blackboard.

You kids will need a diploma to cut grass by the time you leave school.’

‘Thank you teacher

for all the useful things you learn us,

Latin and algebra

and all them other practical things.’

So soundly we sleepwalk to our first job.

‘Listen young feller, some advice from the wise,

keep your mouth shut and your head down

and you’ll do fine,

You can do this job in your sleep.’

Work hard pay taxes with money already taxed.

Pay tax on that already taxed,

never wake,

the Beast patiently waits.

So soundly we shuffle to our first vote.

‘I promise lower taxes, cheaper electricity, a home for all,’

Politician cries.

The dream too sweet to wake from, we tick the box.

Zombie like, shuffle on, mumble mantra.

‘Net zero, net zero, save the planet

Agenda 21.

Thank you United Nations for this most useful plan.

Closer, closer, to the jaws of the Beast.

It’s foul breath a most pleasant aroma

to sanitised minds.

Sleep, sleep, ‘Net Zero saves the planet.’

Occasionally a somnambulant wakes,

screams,

‘Lies, lies, all lies, Net Zero all lies.

Can you not see

the Emperor is as naked as a new-born babe?’

Gagged,

he is thrown into the belly of the Beast.

Sleep, sleep, a New World awaits,

no need to be Brave.

‘Net Zero our saviour.’ They mumble.

While bulldozers roar,

decapitating the mountain.

Erect wind farms,

silent sentinal to greed and corruption.

Net Zero saves, saves, saves.

Wind is free,

electricity is free.

(The beast is here,

howls, bears its fangs.)

Vane monsters whir and whirl their sad song.

Waiting for the wet season to wash them to the sea.

Waiting for Doan Quixote on trusty steed

to challenge them with lance of truth.

Waiting for our children’s children to scream,

‘What have you done?

Destroying our birth right for a trickle of power.

Could you not fathom the Net Zero lie?’

‘We did it for you younsters.

To save the planet.’

The Beast is satiated.

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UNTITLED

UNTITLED

Blank as all get out.

But it doesn’t matter

Blank is bold,

loud,

screaming for a word.

Waiting,

in the blankness of mind,

with time and

other nothingness.

Waiting for- nothing in particular.

Blank is abundance,

opulence

couched in nothingness.

Blank is the continuum

waiting for a rambling wordsmith

to cause dis-continuium.

Blank has a beauty of its own,

offending none, unless a reply to:

 ‘Write all that you love about me.’

Blank,

born of a need to say

naught,

to express the inexpressible,

list price of the priceless,

 to note the dimensions of space.

So pure, perfect.

Fill in the blanks  if you dare.

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SYMPHONY

And then there is a silence,

the loudest silence

ever heard.

No sibilance,

no sound, but silence.

‘Did the music die?’

They ask.

Was it natural death?

A catastrophe,

cacophony causing deafness.

Bells muted,

melted for bombs and bullets.

Was it?

Was it?

Go into the silence for the answer.

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WHOA WHOA

Whoa, whoa,

of all things seen.

What is it of comings and goings,

of highways and byways.

Whoa, whoa

of childhood rhymes

of flags and flowers.

What is it of comings and goings?

Whoa, whoa,  the answer known.

But still they question on stupid quests.

‘Ring a ring a rosie

pocket full of posie.’

To block out the stench.

But still they question on stupid quests.

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PENDULUM

 (ASK NOT FOR WHOM THE PENDULUM SWINGS)  09 /12/21

PENDULUM SWINGS,

CHILDLIKE WE BELIEVE IN ITS RETURN.

BUT WHAT IF A BIGGER PENDULUM SWINGS,

COUNTS THE TIME WHEN ALL PENDULUMS STOP

MID FLIGHT.

THE TIME OF TO,

 BUT NO FRO.

SEE, BUT NO SAW.

DISHARMONY OF TIME AND TIDE.

A WORLD OF CONSTANT TWILIGHT,

SUSPENDED SEASONS.

ONLY ONE GRANDFATHER CLOCK

CONTINUES TO TICK – TOCK.

MARVEL OF ALL THE WORLD.

SCIENCE UNABLE TO EXPLAIN,

REASON AND LOGIC LOST

TO TELL WHY THIS OLD TIME PIECE

STILL HOLDS ITS HARMONY.

THEY COME TO BEAT THEIR BREASTS,

BOW DOWN IN ADORATION,

POINT OUT TO THEIR CHILDREN,

SAY,

‘THIS IS YOUR LIFE’S WORK,

MAKE THE PENDUUMS SWING AGAIN!’

 (ASK NOT FOR WHOM THE PENDULUM SWINGS)

THEIR CHILDREN TURN AWAY

DISINTERESTED.

PARENTS HOPING FOR A SWING BACK

TO CLOCKWORK REGULARITY.

THE YOUNG NOT KNOWING,

CLOAK THEIR IGNORANCE AROUND THEM.

‘WHO CARES,

 WHAT DOES IT MATTER?’ THEY SAY.

WHILE THE MASTER CLOCK

TICKS- TOCKS,

READY TO CHIME.

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THE GAME

Life is all choices and chances

cheap the choice,

dear the closing.

Cheap the choice,

until invoice arrives,

it’s fine print pointing out

lucks reluctance to fall your way.

Many paths chance can take                                                   

to hold us to our bargain.

But to never have chanced all?

Thinking at the end, what if?

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MARKED

MARKED

Why have you

 put me here?

 Cries

bookmark.

Is this my

destiny,

jammed

in between

these words

so foreign?

‘A concise

Dictionary

 of the

Latvian

Language.’

Really!!

Put me with

Einstein.

I’ll be

relatively

happy there.

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TOMORROW ARRIVED YESTERDAY

Tomorrow arrived yesterday,               

and no one knew the difference.

It’s like that when you’re in the clouds

and clods plod by.

Seeking solace in the sounds of nothing.

Seeking something nothing can buy.

So by and by you question tomorrow/yesterday.

‘Is it true, tomorrow, you arrived today?’

Yesterday hardly defers, she has a sense of history.

‘I was tomorrow once.’ She sighs.

‘But somehow that went and left me gone.

How can that be, I was this and now am that?

Who winds these clocks, makes time pass?

Shrinks the now to nothing and labels

me fallen from grace:

tomorrow full of promise to be-

to be the past.

What fool invented time?

Did he have so much on his hands

 he thought,

‘Here’s a pretty game,

to ruin lives, fray tempers, end lives.

Time, each tick tock they waste, I’ll make regret.

Look at the time, don’t you know what time it is?’

Tick tock, tick tock.’

Lovers who would meet tomorrow,

will now never know each other,

since Father Time,

from boredom or malice

 has moved tomorrow into yesterday.

‘But it’s today.’ I say.

‘Yes, but today is still yesterday,

if you’re looking from tomorrow,

where I’m from,

it’s all relative.

Look at the time,

I must away before I run into the tomorrow.’

‘But you are tomorrow.’

‘Not when I’m moved into yesterday.

Yes relatively,

merely named tomorrow.

Today, tomorrow, yesterday, all are one.

Time to be away.’

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WOODSTOCK GENERATION

Woodstock Music Festival,

three days of peace and love,

an ‘Aquarian exposition.’

Woodstock Generation where are you now?

Woodstock Generation you saw,

unborn in mind’s eye,

a world of peace,

each looking out for the other.

Sharing,

caring.

Clean water,

clear air.

But wasn’t three days of peace

and love

supposed to be.

three weeks,

three years,

three eons?

Woodstock Generation where did you lose the plot?

The 70’s, 80’s, 90’s.

Kids to raise,

paying for

‘A little box in the burbs all made out of ticky tacky.’

You have become the people

you warned your children about!

When did your vision go foggy?

It was so clear,

‘Mystic crystal revelation.’

Did you sell out

or

were you bought out?

WOODSTOCK GENERATION

Woodstock Generation,

what the hell happened?

Your grandchildren are cryin,’

talkin’ ‘bout tryin’ u

as environment vandals

for burnin’ the planet

like a sausage left too long on the barbie.

What happened Woodstock Generation?

You touched the moon,

now touch the earth,

touch hearts with ‘… minds true liberation’

stop the tears.

You talked the talk,

now walk the walk.

Woodstock generation,

stub out your joints,

rise up out of your bean bags.

Crank up your old L P’s,

show us Aquarius.

Woodstock Generation show us

old hippies never die.

Then,

Woodstock Generation,

tell me please,

where the hell are we now?

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IS

There was a time when time refused to be.

Search parties were sent out,

Looking for that not found.

‘What time will you return?

They were asked as they left,

They shrugged shoulders.

‘Does it matter?

We search for something that isn’t.

How can we but fail?’

‘No! No!’

‘You misread the orders.

You are looking for the gap.’

‘Yes,’ they say, ‘we search for something which isn’t.’

‘No, no it isn’t, but it is

because it is the isn’t that

Is between the is and the is.’

‘Oh. So we follow the is

Until it becomes an isn’t.’

‘Yes, yes, splendid.’

‘But what time shall we

record the find

as the isn’t

is a time when there is no time?’

‘Just use your initiative.

It will all become clear at the time.’

Pondering this the search party left.

The it struck them.

‘Of course it will be clear,’

‘If something isn’t,

we can see straight though.

How dense of us not to see.

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