Choice

Inexorable logic on logic
plotting formulae into my spreadsheet
with cause-effect, sine-wave, a particle,
pi - on and on – such an effort

but I’m born of melody, mixed
out of salt into soup, grown of sunlight;
a writhing, a forcing, a molecule
grabbing for first breath at midnight.

According to Ralph Waldo Emerson,
a Daemon stands beside me,
an anchor, idealising destiny

and that is surely how I’ll know
a good friend from a sour one,
the dark side of the moon or balmy sun.

Heating oil for the last supper

Outta oil, our tank ran empty
through the coldest winter in a century;
snow’s about and a shortage of oil,
t’wagons can’t get through at all!

I had to sweet-talk Mr Bigshot,
told ‘im tank were empty, we were out,
and only when he heard my missus hullabaloo
did he say he’d ‘see what he could do’.

Next day, there t’was – a big lorry
and he half-filled our tank, bless his trousers,
though yet there’s no spark, there’s no heat here.

But, when I crack the tightest nut in all of history,
the oil bleeds a tear, has a weep, flames away
and our hands warm together – blessed be.

Give & Take

Today – hooray - my diary has gaps,
I’m trusting it’s an easy day,
tittle-tattle with some chaps,
I’ve time to spare and rest and, even, play;

when Dave steps in the room,
miserable loon
‘I got news for you!’
handshake, troubles, dear, oh dear

and Stevie had a crisis,
I thought that we had cracked it
but Mark sat down
with spreadsheet, frown;
all in all, I’ve gotta shrug and laugh:
this is this - (and this and me and they) - move this to that.

A Container

The crazy trees decide to feel inside joy outside dancing stars rotate love now
crazy trees decide to feel inside joy outside dancing stars rotate love now
crazy trees decide to feel inside joy outside dancing stars rotate love
trees decide to feel inside joy outside dancing stars rotate love
trees decide to feel inside joy outside dancing stars rotate
decide to feel inside joy outside dancing stars rotate
decide to feel inside joy outside dancing stars
to feel inside joy outside dancing stars
to feel inside joy outside dancing
feel inside joy outside dancing
feel inside joy outside
inside joy outside
inside joy
joy

Mobiles on the train

Forgetting how to pray
we rabbit-on instead, lifting
mobile phones in praise
- a modern way of living.

Projecting words as kind-of-truth,
wagging tongues flap on - and on again;
speaking sometimes softly, sometimes rough,
with every song from worry, sorry, joy or sadness, pain.

Praying now I see
cold snow reach out so far
along England’s dusk. It’s Winter and a train
guard calls ‘I apologise’ again, again.

Broken promises! I’m only half aware he’s hoping for
a nod, a yes, responding to a tiny hope, his prayer.

Arrivals - Xmas 2010

The screen flickers, then changes
and times of trains are moving, changing.

This time of year, many things change;
although one thing seems to never change
- a tension between truth, half-truth and lie,

elastic, it leads from sunshine into shadow, night.
These days, it’s easy to deride
Truth, offering other headlines
from a mind – my trickster mind!

What occurs at eclipses, in deserts, big plains
is perspective – beyond our superficial terrain

and, as times up there on that screen change,
a train might arrive
carrying prophet, shaman, seer – or even a friend of mine.

Snow

Down it loosens from the sky
along the trees and city blocks,
trampled on by squeaking feet
from 6 o’clock to 6 o’clock.

It gets inside the downfall pipes
and open upward mouths and eyes;
dropping through uncertainties
on certain hats and city types,
whitening our blackened streets,
changing an indifferent world.

The snowman’s little smile is curled
because he knows he’ll never cling
to a billion crazy snowflakes, each,
uniquely fashioned - everything.