Buying Reflections

From the present gazing outside
the torrent of the future flows fast, wide
and swift
to crush my hopes, or to lift
but just here, on the presents side
I will look over the rushing tide
to the tranquil quiet of past
to the things in life not meant to last
to so many characters endlessly recast
in a past
rich with memory-gilt days
a scattering of grief, oft a dark haze
Further back, deeper we go
back to old Ancestral blood flows
to battles, kings, tyrants and heroes

But this is recollection,
precursor to reflection
a selection
investigation
of thought,
singular
focussed
taught

evaluation by wise men is sought
reflection is with clear memory bought.

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Look up, Look out.

Self-absorption, inward thinking
stinking
of rot, of a lively mind sinking
convincing
is introspections path
yet answers to the questions still elude one, laugh
for all those heavy thoughts, smile for all that’s daft
float with me upon the outward thinker’s raft

look up and see the sky wide
look out, see the foam that wave’s top rides
look down deep below the ground, glimpse the molten tide
look within thyself too long, all you will find is lies.

 

 

 

There’s a room

In insomnia’s noisy tomb there’s a room
neglected, forgotten buried beyond him to exhume
beneath piles of thoughts sluggish, half-formed
relics when from child to man he transformed

in the room toys, T.V shows and trading cards sit shrouded in dust
the dust of fading, failing memories, falling as it must

though the mansion of his mind has been remodelled
countless times,
every time
something stays put
amid hope’s ashes and dream’s soot
that something is the room that holds a half-forgotten childhood
played out amid warm Island’s houses, fields, beaches and woods
where the boy learned lowest bad, learned highest, noblest good

Now to sleep the man must find again some joy
remembering the flailing steps of that bright little boy
then  might he find the key, out of sleepless trap
totter to the little room, there to take a rest
psyche at peace
mind released
thoughts cease!-sleep. The Best.

infinite possible perceptions exist,
in space, beyond the life-saving mist
of atmosphere thick, still strong
protection from space, for Earth’s fragile throngs.

A small hop across cosmic gulf we’ve flown
seeds of ambition in new hearts sown
for in space scientists ever bemoan
much is still beyond us, a great unknown

Space! to you many young eyes gaze
your cosmic wonders inspire and amaze
should we one day wander space’s myriad ways
we’ll not forget this awe, from largely earthbound days.

Earthbound Days

the Truth About Christmas

Over Britain’s fields green
among struggling throng times are lean
corporate conglomerates for cold cash scream
from mouths in adverts in windows that gleam
glitter or glow
picture or light show
all mean nothing to the falling snow

Jolly season,
festive season?
Festival a term  of reason
dead lords declared Solstice party treason
sanctioning instead what is now the Christmas season

Beneath  wrapping-paper, bright gifts, chocolates ever sweet
lies the real substance, Christmas’s bones and meat
something which no name nor religion can deplete.

a time of fellowship, fun, family, food and friends
a time when no one loans, borrows or lends
so indulge the Christmas fads, the latest little trends
remember this time’s for giving, to loved ones and to friends.

Motivation/Apathy

A shaky start
motives world’s apart
for existence, for death, just the start
with me its too dark for a heart to heart

Sometimes perhaps before you go to sleep
you feel it, that weakness, the indiscision creep
into your soul, into your dreams wriggling deep
doubts and fears into your life seep

So Scream! Join the nameless, numberless tide
the choice is yours, choose, decide
cower in the dark or walk to light side
humble thyself rise! or fall massaging pride.

Candy Floss

loss, like candy floss
sticks around when you thought you’d forgot
in childhood sweaters £5 a pop
in the smell of that old favourite top

it lingers on the lampshades
behind the sofa and down the stairs
it thrives in the children’s grief-hardened glares

when someone dares
to speak of theirs
the loved one gone away

Yet in the heart it truly dwells
its root, its start is here
and so my friend, never fear
loss, for with it we hold our lost near.