Monthly Archives: September 2017

Dull day fishing

Dull Day Fishing
Dull day fishing (Acrylic)
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Pointless…

POINTLESS

A pointless discussion
in various guises

Differing opinions
in conflict
unresolved

Agreeing to differ
But
not liking
the disagreement

A last resort
this
‘agreeing to differ thing’

A pointless discussion –
he doesn’t speak your language
no point in asking him –
no way you will find
directions to the hotel

Pointless –
as he has
his degrees
and you have none

What point are you trying to make?
I told you I would sell the car.
So why tell me about the hidden Apps?

What’s your point?
I know how expensive it is.
So why keep telling me?

Pointless –
a discourse
monologue
that rambles –
frustrating
any attempt
to take notes

A point was reached
in the proceedings
when the chairman
remarked:
“We shall have to meet again”

And your point is?
Well you don’t need
me to point it out…

Pointless jabbering
spilling words –
the drunk
writes his script in
your ears on the bus

leaning over the
aisle to gesticulate
and bring home his point

Only to instantly
forget what it
so importantly – was

An army of point makers
in government

Point after point
recorded –
amendments –
bills –
stand up
sit down
until you make your point

“Order! Order!
Would the right
honourable gentleman
stick to the point”.

Do you get my point?
Do you get my gist?
The whole point of the gathering
is to discuss the points

Over the points
over the points
the six-five special
is coming down the line.

He pointed with his index finger
and said –
“I find no fault in the man”.
Nobody got the point.

The Black Bird

THE BLACK BIRD

The black bird
hopped a little

The staccato
movements
of his head
accommodated his
beady eyes

All clear?

Then, time for
another peck

Peck and lift –
Throw aside –
staccato look – again
Peck peck –
peck and lift

You get the picture

But no –
now
up up and away…

Today’s takings
taken to the nest.

Feed
regurgitated one
regurgitated two

Partner?
– elsewhere occupied

“I know nothing about birds”
I reflect

“Nothing about birds…”

I don’t know
one species
from another

But they all
Peck and lift –
Throw aside –
staccato look – again
Peck peck –
peck and lift

 

 

Constant Consternation

CONSTANT CONSTERNATION

Constant consternation

Imagination takeover
Fretting
up and down the frets of life
The music of dissonance

Rasping sounds
backfiring

Fury is
running wild

Seeking escape
from that
which is coming upon the earth

Dissolution epidemics –
marriages falling apart
(the abnormal)
becoming the norm
because no answers are found

The answer is blowing in the wind
But not the wind au naturel
But the wind of God.

Foremost in –
the forefront –
of the collective mind

is baking our own cakes
for survival

Communities together
under many guises
common denominators
becoming their religion

But consternation is
higher and lower
and higher and lower
and higher and higher
and higher…

Consternation
for that
which is coming upon the earth

The high tower
safe and secure
the righteous run into it and are safe

The high tower of God’s name

But the loose – so profuse
The careless and confused
The calamitous lives
lived in confusion

The brokenhearted
the dissolute
take infrequent breaks
to stop and take stock
emotionally zombie’d
and can’t seem to rise
to return
to normality
to a worthwhile
existence.

They cry out for mystery’s
to be solved

they fall further addicted

we all struggle
with the nature within
but never use the word sin…

come with me we shall catch the bus
Yes – it is slowly starting
it’s heading for the next gear
slowly – heavily – away
run
run with me
catch it still

It will take us to the place
of peace within
‘Is this the bus for us?’

The children’s book did ask

Let that be our metaphor
departing within
for another place
found at the cross of the crossroads

crossroads in your life
answers found

‘put your hand in the hand
of the man who stilled the water…’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Reunion (Observed)

THE REUNION
(Observed)

Leather clad male and female
Friends at the biker’s reunion

Much water under the bridge
As the man who knew most
communicates and calls for the
old school get-together

The common stamp
of biker’s footprints
upon the dirt
As boots push into the ground
And hearty embrace is entered into

Smiles and laughter and
banter-esque exchanges
Bandana’s as-ever – diverse
sunglasses peer at glasses of beer

Hefty slaps on the back
And pretence-shadow-boxing

Quips and remarks and studious
glances at each others bikes

A multitude of comments – and in there
James Dean and Marlon get mentioned

The cacophony of sound as
engines are revved up and enter
the ventricle of the seat of the emotions

Waves and – hand signs
good bad and ugly

In sport –
they
race-off leaving someone behind

While all the old bike brand names
are regurgitated
In memories recalled

Once a biker always a….

Creaking bones now
beards still as long – yea longer
Hats n signs and necklaces and rings

Torn jeans
and
home-made
waistcoat adaptations
as fancy dictates

Large legs of chicken
In fact whole chickens
consumed
Burping and belching and wiping of mouths

My oh my…
A family indeed of special language
and political correctness
of a different kind

A life on the road
(At weekends anyway) –
For families are now returned to

Except for the infantile
Living still
in the nostalgia
Of the past
As though the past hadn’t passed.