Category Archives: art

The Exhaling Poet

THE EXHALING POET 2020

“A short poem just before you go

You are not going anywhere I know

But just the same if you have the time

And buddy if you could spare a dime?”

                           ….

He sold his poems in limited editions

For an extra dollar he gave renditions

But people ran and hid their head

From the unmasked man

Who created the dread

                           ….

It takes breath in the form of words

To exhale my sonatas in poetic muse

But people said: No! No!”

His lyrical poems they did refuse

                           ….

Until one day he no longer stood

On that street corner unfurling his hood

Gone to ground – isolated off

The man with no mask

Had been taken to task

By a local priest

Who told him to cease

Pontificating his poems and rhyme

With the unappreciative public – it didn’t chime

                           ….

So he stayed away and wrote some more

Pasting them to his chimney breast

A grand wallpaper they made

                           ….

Until one day hundreds dispensing accolades

Stormed his house

Banging on window and door

Crying through masks: “More more more!”

“We will pay any price more than before”

“Too late” he cried back “they are all stuck down”

“My genius is gone to the wall” he said with a frown

                            ….

The moral of this tale is:

When wearing your mask

Don’t take breathing poets to task

Rather, If you want another poem

Just simply ask

Getting away

Stunned paralysis of the vocal

You stand aghast and don’t know what to say

The audacity of the swaying mob

Trying to steal kill destroy or take away

Get away from it all 

and we

Transport you – 

To a far-off shore

Now things are different there

But you freeze in loneliness

You quench all intrusion

Turn-off phones and even throw away…

You live to isolate another day

Who wants this?

All wanting where imaginary other’s are at

Anyway…

Where do we pick up the story of your stay?

Yes you slept a little longer this morning

It would appear…

And a little longer and a little longer…

Until you disappear

Lost in the blankets of oblivion

Until the inner call of your heart

Causes you to climb aboard that ship

Sailing back to your everyday – yesterday

But you learnt a few lessons from the silence

The silence from which you turned away

Back to the pseudo rat-race and

out the other door

clambering down the fire escape

Onto another familiar shore

Into routine daily grind

You try to unwind

But you are on your way

To becoming

One of those stowaways

who stay away

Forever and a day

You save up your cash

Get rid of your trash

Get the next flight out

Back to the land of your birth

Repetition of habits of travel

As you unravel your complexity

And try to reach simplicity

Finding at last that it doesn’t matter

Where you dwell

It’s truth you’re after – forever and a day

PROTEST

PROTEST

The galloping obstinates heading for the fray

Make a placard – to display what they say

Roughly written words hoisted on high

Conglomeration of puns most of them cliche

Cliche or not they reason

This is the season to make our voice heard

A deeply embedded cause

Wrapped in philosophical thought

They hope will hold sway

Marching – marching on – to the square

See you there – is it Tiananmen or Trafalgar?

With one voice all agree

Until the opposition arrive gleefully

Someone shouts ‘I predict a riot’

Somebody shouts ‘let’s all clash together’

One old man is back to mods and rockers

One young woman can’t see the connection

But they stay on the outskirts of the crowd

They talk together as he reminisces

Their strongly held views suddenly

Disappear as they don’t like violence anyway

So they go for a coffee and she marvels

At his stories

While he is glad of the company

“Can I be your Granpa?”

“Yes” she says –

So they live to fight another day

Some other time maybe?

Poetry or football?

Poetry or football?

He was going

to make some poetry 

He stood staring

hand on chin/mouth

studiously thinking 

about

What he would say

Anyway

he went on his way

To his little room

and banged some keys

Producing

and reproducing

Letters words and phrases

on pages

Pacing himself

in semi-rush

with pauses

Contemplations

and elations

liking some – hating most

Stopped for Sunday roast

Climbed back into that chair

the one with the spare

neck brace

Was a bit of a disgrace

he couldn’t keep up the pace

And got lazy

And wrote no more

Out the door

onto the grass for

a kick-about

Back and Forth

BACK AND FORTH

Once long ago I stood in the street

And heard the coal-train-trucks clinking together

Coal transported – as I am transported

– Back

I looked long ago at the Gas Tower

Grey and brooding in it’s changing shades

I shake myself – all is gone – I’m back to the

– Present

In times gone past I ventured over the bridge

Homeward bound – with sideburns and hair

And an insulated world of music and fashion my

– Adornment 

I look at the children now

And know they must make their journey

To the land of memories-recalled and

– Contemplated

Like I do now

 

The Voice kids

THE VOICE KIDS

Those little children

Ages ranging up the scale

Stopping at – still children

They smile and engage

Opening their mouths

with such volume

Sweet sound – deep sounds –

super enhancement

What stars they are

Without being stars

Replacing the term star –

True star that’s what they are

Star-quality in character

They sing their heart out and

With tutoring – expand and grow

Bettering their craft so all will know

That they are all winners

And so it should be so

CHING-CHANG-CLANG

CHING-CHANG CLANG

There’s a ching-chang-clang of heads

In this world of opposing trends

And everybody knows they’re right

While no one knows their plight

And in this – bang crash zoom – swirl

Of opposites that make up a world

You’ll find a world gone wrong

Bringing their mistakes together in a throng

Of mishmash misshapen ideologies

In a storm of verbal cacophonies

As taking sides is the trend

One wonders will it ever end?

All social media outlets

Invented to give display

To the countless tendencies in array

All longing for satisfaction and traction

And stumbling they fall into mismanagement

Of all their brain power devices and judgement

Many grope in the dark for an exit

Shooting-up to kill the pain

And failing to see

You must be born again

Unaided

UNAIDED

I was listening to a lecturer, who was speaking (more or less) ‘without notes’.

Ad-libbing out of his wealth of knowledge and pre-occupation with art.

As in all communication on any subject we are also on the receiving end of a person’s subjective outlook or stance.

Mixed-in with all the history or theory or facts regarding the subject they are expounding on, is their subjective ‘in my opinion…’ aspect.

We are all the same in this respect. We mix knowledge of facts, with our personal subjective response and opinion based fully or somewhat on those facts, plus other influencing factors, perhaps unique to ourselves.

So that our personal subjective experience is mixed-in with what we are sharing.

Let’s take-in a definition of subjective. This would be helpful, in getting us to read from the same ‘hymn’ sheet.

subjective | səbˈdʒɛktɪv |

adjective

1 based on or influenced by personal feelings, tastes, or opinions: his views are highly subjective | there is always the danger of making a subjective judgement. Contrasted with objective.

In this lecturer I referred to, I perceived a man who was partly spilling his ‘insides’ in a somewhat ‘honest’ and vulnerable way.

This is a modern trend today. Spill all. Whereas wisdom would dictate that we choose carefully what we say and who we say it to.

A fool vents all his feelings,

But a wise man holds them back.

Proverbs 29/11

The honesty or at least candidness that spills out of the inner person, is usually admired. Admired for various reasons.

Some find the person is echoing their listener’s own inner conflicts, problems, conclusions, experiences and so on. And therefore it can be therapeutic bringing us to the conclusion that we are not alone in the world.

That we have – just been listening to someone who understands our conflicts, problems, feelings etc., by virtue of the fact that they just verbalised what we have known or experienced ourselves, – gives a certain ‘solace’.

This person spilling their humanness to all, during the lecture, are empathising with their audience, and this is usually appreciated, because we can associate with their confessed dilemmas, hang-ups, self-doubt, and therefore we perhaps applaud their contribution.

But in all of this it can be, that they provide – few or perhaps no – solutions to those openly confessed problems, shortcomings and hangups.

This  lecture on art inevitably included also this person’s outlook on life, so much of a mixed bag was their talk.

Their opinion on how to live was suggested indirectly or heralded emphatically. And perhaps unbeknown to them many of their utterances were (on closer examination) replete with contradictions.

The thoughts were coming so hard and fast, that giving proper consideration to them, by speaker and listener alike, was lost in the maelstrom of their delivery.

Why are people impressed? Well if, for example, what they say is mixed with humour, sometimes this alone can get the ‘A’ review and standing ovation.

They made us laugh, – take a bow. We enjoyed it.

All such talks or lectures [stating the obvious], are man’s ability to communicate.

It is the result of an active mind. It is the result of the workings of human ingenuity. The intellect has formed conclusions, experienced life, studied other minds, and in the example here – studied and looked at art for a long time.

‘It’s all in the mind’ is an old saying.

This lecture is the result of accumulated knowledge and experience. The experience of ‘viewing art’, and the experience of ‘living life’ mixed together into a subjective-objective soup.

It is a natural mind struggling it’s way through what it is – to be human and what it is – to grapple with whatever the individual has encountered in his or her journey.

They now stand before fellow human-beings and say: ‘This is what I have found – experienced – struggled with – concluded (or not)’.

There is no divine nature in any of this. It is man at his best or worst.

There is no pretence of it being influenced by the divine, even though there may be references to God or gods, in what they say in passing.

Talks can be punctuated by swear words or blasphemy, or spiritual references or terms utilised in their speech, but with no proper understanding of what those words really mean.

For instance today, quite often you will hear references to our ‘personal demons’. But there is no thought for one moment – that there are actual beings, fallen angels, known as demons. The sort Christ casts out.

So we have the use of terms adapted to cause a given effect, or to make some point – that are actually misused, or used without true understanding.

Increasingly in our world, there is an exultation of man’s intellect. The bible references this exultation of the intellect in the following divinely inspired statement:

For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, because they have itching ears, they will heap up for themselves teachers; and they will turn their ears away from the truth, and be turned aside to fables.

This lecturer, although speaking on the subject of art, spent a lot of the time referencing his subjective experience of life, and also his world view.

A king once gave an oratorial discourse and fell ill after it.

And the divine intellect (God’s) tells us the reason:

21 On an appointed day Herod dressed himself in his royal robes, sat on his throne (tribunal, rostrum) and began delivering a speech to the people. 22 The assembled people kept shouting, “It is the voice of a god and not of a man!” 23 And at once an angel of the Lord struck him down because he did not give God the glory [and instead permitted himself to be worshipped], and he was eaten by worms and died [five days later].

In this example, the natural intellect unaided by God, was put on such a pedestal that – the god of this world (satan) and his pride – resided to such an extreme degree in this king, that an angel from God Almighty, was despatched to end his life.

That is scary, but true.

We can satirise this story, make it into a cartoon, rasp at it, and get the applause and laughter from the crowd at the clever way we do it. But God has the proverbial – so called, ‘last laugh’.

As we listen to the many kinds of voices in our world, as human communicates with human, one thing we can say is – it can only be man at his best or worst. There is no divine impetus or inspiration in a lot of it.

That is not to say that it all has no value. Not at all. But rather its  ‘worth’ is usually in varying degrees.

Conversely some of it – or a lot of it – is foolishness to God.

Where is the wise man (philosopher)? Where is the scribe (scholar)? Where is the debater (logician, orator) of this age? Has God not exposed the foolishness of this world’s wisdom?

And

19 For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent.

20 Where is the wise? where is the scribe? where is the disputer of this world? hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?

21 For after that in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe.

The average ungodly person, who does not accept the divine, will quickly pass over the Biblical quotes in this post, and get to the rest of the author’s logic.

Because the ‘interruption’ of these bible quotes will not appeal to their natural mind. It is ‘unnatural’ to them, because it is the divine nature in these verses, which is contrary to their natural thinking.

As an artist I accepted  quite a bit of what this speaker communicated, when speaking of art, but heard the heart of a man who was (by what he himself indicated but not in so many words)…

Ephesians 2/12

…without Christ…having no hope and without God in the world.

The day it went away…

THE DAY IT WENT AWAY

The phantom aggressor with his Covid name-tag

Gains Purchase on the flesh of man

 

And all is lockdown

Lockdown – the new word

In newly found context

as we all go to ground

 

Never this before

Never known as is

Never catered for

No cure as yet

 

Twiddling thumbs don’t know what to do

Now indoor searchings – seeking to find

New pursuits or old revived

New noticeability of things always there

Appreciation increase everywhere

 

But time wears away resolve taken

As principles are embraced or forsaken

What wins the day – does patience reign?

Or has depression set-in – new ground to gain?

 

Stirrings as by others inspired

Walkers and keep-fitters

Show us the way

Crafters and artists give us their day

 

And on the front line

The brave and constant stay

To provide management and show us the way

Families stay at home

Locked-in or walks in the park

Dodging each other – this stepping aside lark

Others – into closets they run and hide

Television on – most of the time

 

Latest reports gossip and rhyme

News and contradictions and opinions sought

Fermenting anger as jobs are lost

Exasperation but what can we do?

All shut-down – shops, cinemas and zoos

 

Slowly but surely

Except for rule breakers

We emerge from submerge

And seek to embrace the day

The day Covid went away

Ugly reprise

Ugly reprise

And the cacophony of generations

Whisper softly or shout aloud

Conflicting opinions around the world resound

 

No one seeks the hidden wisdom

Too busy making their sound

Whilst others in a daze remain

Corrupting any speech – thought too plane

 

Feel the pulse of generations gone

Feel the pulse of generations carrying on

Listen to the drumbeat of causes gone

Addressing and using the crowd as their pawn

 

Much ado… – and further still

Making their point with terrible chill

That penetrates the bones with ill-will

“Take my point or die you pig-swill!”

 

So they say, so I’ve heard

So I see on the screens

Screaming – out

blasphemies and attempts at a coup

Nothing stands still – it’s all about you

 

Squirming masses up in arms

All causes together causing alarms

Sick people from head to toe

Fighting in crime and won’t let go

No compromise or peaceful rapport

“Outa my way” pushed to the floor

 

Can’t listen – won’t be told

Can but feed the nature below

With all kinds of schemes

And dastardly deeds in tow

 

Big sway now as the crowd takes an advance

It’s do or die – no time for ‘romance’

It’s crush or be crushed

All authority to oppose

Ways of peace – are thought comatose

 

And behind every country there hides

A principality of lies

Resurgence of trouble thought normal

– No surprise

When all will not listen and do not get

Blocking their ears and with one accord

Rushing to exterminate

 

Political correctness all gone amiss

Straining at gnats and swallowing the abyss

Making a fuss with no difference to make

Great swelling words – most of them fake

 

Rampant irregularities too many to count

Screamed against and forgotten in copious amounts

A whole big deal made of thus and thus

While the unborn die without any fuss

Been Everywhere 😎

BEEN EVERYWHERE

Of course there is always the alternative route

Don’t go – climb the stairs and go to bed

That’s the journey you can easily make

Too much trouble getting all worked up:

 

Bookings, and credit cards and online stuff

and packing and hairdressing and pets put in store

 

You didn’t want a holiday anyway – that’s for sure

Different climate to attack your skin

Street sellers hassling you ’til you give-in

 

Walking for miles – your poor sore feet

Different receptionists you have to greet

 

Restaurants to negotiate in another tongue

Waiting with unserved others

that you sit among

 

Why sightsee? – there’s always online videos

Sit with your feet up and a packet of Cheerios

 

Take it all in – from the comfort of your armchair

And afterwards boast of the fact

– ‘you have been everywhere’