Double minded man

DOUBLE MINDED MAN

Fifty jobs later he thought to settle down

He tried to dive

Belly-flopped instead

He tried to strive

But strove in vain

Did his best

That was plain

He climbed the ship’s ramp

Said ‘Farewell’ but didn’t explain

Then walked back down again

He got a job – enthused in full – ’til noon

But ran out of steam like a deflated balloon

Left the premises and went to a bar

Let the alcohol sozzle his brain

Left the car there – didn’t take it home again

He liked a band – wore the vinyl thin

But hasn’t listened to them since and never will

He loved a girl it was ‘forever’ he said

He walked out on the engagement never to wed

Fifty jobs later he thought to settle down

So he settled for unemployment in a one-horse town

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

Rising Up

RISING UP

Rising up to climb the hill

Thinking he was going to a superior place

Where the wind would challenge him to fall

Hands in pockets as though that would help

He ascended with momentary pauses

The landscape increased it’s comprehensive vista

But his expectation diminished

As no rainbows appeared

No community of little people scurried about

To Gulliver-ise him with their ropes and stakes

No beanstalks about

No wooden horses of Troy

Not a different thing did appear

Just grass and shrubs and stones

And imagination

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

 

Normalising Sobs

NORMALISING SOBS

There’s the older guy to the younger woman wed

Helping each other through their daily tread

‘Treading the boards’ is the old-fashioned lingo

But Hollywood calls and to Hollywood they must go

Good at their craft it must be admitted

As they live many lives in character depiction

Times apart, – they agree – relieves any friction

Partners for good – one hopes it is so

The glamour and glitz won’t tell them this – though

Holding their family together – money is the prize

Finance has barricaded-them-in

Bringing life to a manageable size (?)

Trying for normality now

Fame and fortune a brigand who robs

But it’s compensation normalising their sobs

‘A long and healthy life’ they say

As they tread those boards in another Play

Setting all things off against each other

Weighing it all up – a lifestyle of ‘colour’

They decide they are in – for the long haul

Until they make a mistake and drop the ball

The paparazzi move-in for the kill

Choking the wounded with their bitter pill

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

Free from the grip

FREE FROM THE GRIP

And all alone

The skeptic in his corner – dim

While I – in my small corner – am lit

 

Dumb before the shearers taking my sin

While I in my small corner look to Him

Despised and rejected – you forget

While I remember daily

 

I can’t hear you – I can’t see you

I don’t know you –

 

no really –

you won’t say hello

 

You heard I am religious

And you don’t want to know

While all the while

I remember The Lamb and

how He freed me…

From dead religion’s grip

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

The Commuted Life

The commuted life

We will just carry on this way

Twisting and turning down roads of dismay

Aghast to some degree

Flummoxed and all at sea

Bouncing our conclusions off hearing ears

All pierced-through with inconsistency and tears

All amiss – we still insist

That we are right – but don’t know what to do

 

Run and hide in ‘ordinary life’

Daily rituals – things we must address

Keep focused on survival to avoid the mess

 

A Philosopher comes to address our mind

A Doctor our physical frame

An alternative practitioner does the same

A policeman says: ‘Get in line’

A psychiatrist  says: ‘You will be fine’

A football manager gives his reason

A soccer star injured and out for the season

 

‘Life’ – they call it

As we all commute

Not enough hours in the day – to waste

Hobbies – (a horrible word) – to indulge

We hear of friends the newspapers have disgraced

Increase in suicide – brains emaciated – 

Normality lost or misplaced

 

There’s that man on the street corner again

Preaching a message with a fervent face

‘Christ is the answer’ he was heard to say

But his message is lost as it’s done in the old-fashioned way

The communist shouts:

“Communism can put a new suit on this man!” –

pointing to the vagrant on the street – with his hand

The preacher responds:

“Christ can put a new man in the suit!”

 

That’s today’s interruption over –

as you make your way

Past the small crowd on display

The street corner preach follows you to the train

Until you open your lap-top once again

Best to see the Stockmarket score

Best to forget and ignore

anything to do with challenge and change

I will return home and re-arrange

The furniture – it’s due a move

I see my goal as a decorator – to DIY improve

Then lie back and lounge after my weekend work

Dosing and day-dreaming I awake with a jerk

Night sleep ruined – you toss and turn

Catch the train again the next day

Slumber and train-sleep but never pray

Bullies fallen

BULLIES FALLEN

You’ve seen it –

up through the years

In different scenarios – in different spheres

Starting at school – in the playground

At the milk break

 

Afterwards as school bags are tossed around

Teenage cheek – putting others down

No thought for feelings received

In Bullish-idioms claiming to be ‘the man’

Tarnishing reputations on demand

 

You’ve saw it for yourself as you have observed

“Who asked you anyway…?” they say

Dishing out commands

 

In the present company – jostling for position

The bully – bull-nosed and bulldozed…

Stamps his personality upon the crowd

All know and step away – none step-up to stand-up

 

But here is a young lad called David ready to at least try

He throws his stone and it lodges near the eye

The bully falls and the immediate ground doth-tremble

David beheads – the giant demonic-assailant

And cries: ‘To God be the glory – not I!’

ON BOARD

ON BOARD

Hello! – Hello!

Anybody out there?

Can anybody hear me?

So goes the cry to the…?

 

Those who heard – did not heed

Those who didn’t hear could not know

‘What’s this about?’ asked the curious

Others laughed

 

Like rising steam on a mirage day

In sight – outa sight

Tremors of sound

As the words go forth

 

They will be received

And rejected

“Get on board little children

Get on board”

 

Some will leave

in the twinkling of an eye

So said Ken…

SO SAID KEN…

That person – you know the one…

The one you passed-by en route to another place

You caught their name

Especially their first –

Such inventive parents to have named them so

 

Is this only in America – ?

Is it the only place where the titles are replete

With such wonderfully-concocted variations?

Not just a Bill or a Sam or a Jill or a Tom

 

Press any subject and go search online

Find the credits descending your screen

And see the names in-between

Great names with a spring in their step

 

To name a child – they may thank you later

But they may not

And revert to some foreshortening by choice

 

So said Kenneth?

Never –

So said Ken…