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

 

 

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Trees ‘n buildings

Trees ‘n buildings (Watercolour)

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.

 

 

Motor Show

Motor Show (Watercolour/acrylic)

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me…

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me… (Watercolour)

Birds over fields

Birds over fields (Watercolour)

I remember…

I remember

I remember…
The whitewash on the yard walls
The transformation when renewed

I remember…
the long wooden trays of
the baker –
mobile-man
in a van
calling at doors

The array of breads – biscuits – cakes
each allocated it’s partition.
Each breathtakingly sealed on
a young mind

I remember…
the semi-circular
pristineness of mum’s
scrubbing of the street
outside the door

I remember…
dad’s froth covered face
and ski-slope tracks made in
it’s shaven snow.

I remember…
dad – shoulders back –
chest out – muscles flexed as he
punched the wall in jest –
to impress his young son

Impressed he was –
and so was the wall

I remember…
the parlour.
The parlour.
For so it was named

I remember…
the cavaliers and
the roundheads
(a patient, loving mum
with son
obtained – in shop ‘umpteenth’
after
their long slog
the full length of the road)
and
put away for Christmas day

I remember…
a tender-hearted mother
who put her two children first,
always first.

I remember…
as millions have remembered
As mankind remembers
As mankind is made
to have memory
I remember..

But I also forget…
I forget what memory fails
to revisit
The engine won’t start
No matter how hard I try

We all would revisit
the
good times/
good things/
good happenings –

meaningful things
frivolous things

Our first-ever this…
and
our first-ever that…

Off we went without a care
until dished-out treatment
(kids can be so cruel)
stopped us in our
joyous tracks

I remember…
bully boys
and my chivalrous stand
the marks of the one-sided
battle I physically endured

I remember…
great nights of play
continuity from that of the day
Football played by ear
as the day’s light
did disappear

I remember…
a childhood crush
All in the mind

Emotion only
allowed to touch

I remember…
school…

and

[I break into this trip…]

‘This can’t be me’ I quip
to myself
as I write this
‘I remember’… riff

For I will stop here –
no more visiting
nostalgia –
the bygones

by
ropes and hooks
on the past
dragged back
into memories
present span

I will no longer challenge
you
to indulge or disagree
ridicule or stare incredulously

This is out of fashion
to talk so
You are showing your age

McCartney and his
‘silly love songs’
comes to mind

But no one will blemish
my preciousness
with insensitive
disqualification
For
I am no pearl and
you are no swine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The value of value

The value of value

Indiscriminate value

“That’s worth it…”
here
to
Highly valued…
there

Value – please explain

The value people put on things

There it is at the market place
Many monies I pay

There it is –
older –
once used

twice removed
little monies I pay

The artist’s conglomerate
to make a ‘bob or two’
You do the background
I the fore
You mix the paint
I will apply to twelve at once
Churned out –

Standard image

with no thought-standard

Conveyor belt stuff

“Get what you can for it…”

Superficial value –
No love or tender care

Supply and demand
300% mark-up
Somebody’s creaming it.

Value.
Nostalgic value to the robbed.

Value contrasts:
The rich pay to indulge
The poor pay to survive

Value
and
value-added tax

Value
the values of life

Your values
My values
do not coincide

Valuable

Value and
what is able
to be valued
to remain
valuable

Longevity counts
for value

Your valued life
in the hands of
the surgeon

eroded to:
just making a name
for himself(?)

More earnings
to buy valuables

Human life?
thousands and
thousands –
wiped out

too overwhelming
for the brain
to process

Christ
thought us
valuable enough
to die for

enough to enter the mystery
of His chosen punishment

to remove the sting
of destroying sin

Value –
Christ forsaken –
‘we esteemed Him
stricken,
Smitten by God,
and afflicted’.

becoming valueless

that true value
might
be restored.

 

 

 

 

Rickshaw

Rickshaw (Watercolour)