THE END OF THE WORLD IS NEIGH
The end of the world is neigh
Said the sandwich-board vendor
The word is ‘nigh’ my friend, I replied
And anyway it’s not due until next November.
We’re all cowboys on this burnt out lump in space
Searching for a spark in the dying embers
The world has already ended many times
The latest one was in the dog days of last December.
WORMWOOD
Wormwood isn’t here
The sign said, rather waspishly.
It wasn’t the Wormwood I remembered;
Scrubs Lane on a wet Sunday
The outback in West London
No buses, no cars, no people
Just limp grass, acres of the stuff
And, oh yes, the finest redbrick edifice
Victoria’s henchmen could construct.
No rotting bodies in here, my friend.
Not Newgate, not by a long shot
Though debts must still be paid
And some may still get laid
Lord Alfred Douglas lay here,
As did Charles Bronson,
Keith Richards, Leslie Grantham.
And George Blake
Scurrying along in his traitor’s gait
Till the day he pole-vaulted to freedom
More or less
Before waving goodbye
To his English life,
His liberty and his wife
And all those Wormwood scrubbers
A couple of days ago I invited contributions to complete this poem. I guess is was an experiment really to see if several different poets could find the same emotions to make sense in a joint effort. I am delighted to say that Michaelnjohns did just that, and he finished my poem better than I could have done myself. Thanks michael
THERE WAS A TIME…
There was a time which was Much better lived than told There was a time we were much younger then And growing up held more sway than growing old Then one day all that growing was done And the long slide down that Imaginary hill had begun…
I’ve slid, lost my hat, what’s worse, I’ve gotten fat, But if, at the end of it all, I could choose,
I’d say it’s been a good slide; I’d go again-
Through every bump and cut and bruise.
And I still reminisce now, of life back then
This poem has always hit the spot for me.
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
PRISONER
The ticking clock is silent
Articulating emptiness
Mainspring not busted
Just not required.
Time gulling it over the horizon
Speckled in the distance
The residue left behind
Not worth a light
Over some visionary hill
Virtual reality is real enough
More and more scream the worms
Turning every which way but one
More length, more depth
More leisure, more pleasure
More love, more life
Bur mostly more coin
Nothing prepares us for this
The hand that held the answers
Trembling now before new idols
Knowledge bootless as experience
New waves have old beginnings
But tired dogs own no snap
It’s the rut we’re stuck in, see?
Slow going forward but no going back
Sitting by time’s window
Waiting for the daily rebuff
To come winging by
Sifting little crumbs of comfort
From the embers
Screaming all the way……
FLASH FICTION
My stars had predicted it. ‘Go for maximum growth and opportunity, late in the afternoon’, said the Sun’s Stargazer. Well, it was late afternoon and here I was in firm’s stationary cupboard. The maximum growth had already taken place, and the opportunity was about to present itself. Just as soon as Jackie managed to free the stubborn zip on her skirt!
WITNESS
If I bear witness of myself
That witness is not true
There is another who bears witness
And that witness is you.
You are a burning and shining light
My only reason to rejoice
You gave me hope where there was none
You brought sanity to my voice.
If now you should wish to leave me
Where is there another who will believe me?
When I shout out to the heavens up above
That what saved me then, and will do so again
Is nothing other than unconditional love.
All available on amazon #amwriting
DEFRAGGING THE SCANDISK
All this talk about the mathematical concept of infinity
As if it was a numbers game
Real numbers, that is
Not those sets of integers
Or Cardinalities
Favoured by the current crop of God-botherers
Lemniscate my arse
Stop going on and on and on
Infinity is not a number
When you’re gone, you’re fucking gone
PRESENT
Where has the present gone?
Time melts in our hands
Fleeing before we can touch it
Gone in the instant it lands.
My Writing Life 