Category Archives: understanding

Writing a Song

WRITING A SONG

A couple of times
He couldn’t make it rhyme
So he boogied the riff
And paused – to flick his quiff

He couldn’t make it work
So considered himself ‘a jerk’
‘Call yourself a musician?’
He mused – in recognition
Of his bad hair day
And his condition – of dismay

He thought: ‘I will try later’
Sliding from his chair like an alligator
No sooner away from the deck
and the thoughts came flooding back

Try it this way – try it that
‘C’mon man – is this all you’ve got?’
Suddenly it came to mind
As he set himself to unwind:
‘I will write the song as though
I can never have another go’

And rising to his own challenge
He at last found he could manage
A song – simple but true
It came out ‘riffy’ and blue

He smiled and marvelled at
The difference the heart’s new format
– Could make – when it came to lyrics of poetry or prose
Now – written without difficulty – I suppose?

 

 

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Persuasion

PERSUASION
(fiction)

A quick reference to what had gone before
The minutes of previous meetings

A few facts gathered
Now to present my case

Presented.

Time to leave –
Neutral response

Wait to see what they
come back with

Four new suggestions from me
Four different head movements
of response

Wait it out
One two three…

and on the fourth day
The phone-call
summons:

Appear before the head-movers
To hear the politest rejection

Money for the movie?
Backing for the project?
Enthusiasm for the book?
Promotion for the product…?

It ain’t going to happen.

In response to the unpersuaded:

Some quickly fade away
Some would counsel: ‘insist’
Therefore some push on – obnoxiously
Some actually get their way
And wonder – was it all worth it?

Try again – make it more plain
Re-spin the yarn
Go for it
By hook or crook
Try belligerence…

In all of this the persuasion of the persuader
and the unpersuaded

What are you to be persuaded about today?
Of what persuasion ye be?
Persuasion
Persuasion can change your life
Will you be persuaded?

Who’s going to persuade you anyway?
You don’t like sales persons

“I will come to it in my own good time…”
You say

Well I won’t detain you…
Best plans of mice or men…
Rule of thumb:
Be persuaded always in a good thing.

 

 

Thoughts for the day

THOUGHTS FOR THE DAY

How many words in a thought?
Thought for the day
Hard to stop a thought for the day

I thought I might say:
‘It’s worth some thought’
(Worth thinking about)
But some thought it wasn’t

You approach the thought
In a circumspect kinda way
Is it on board as
your thought for the day?

Thought about thoughts?
Many and varied
Here – then away

You can’t record ‘em all
They are too fast
Fleeting thoughts don’t stay

You have thought about this
– right?
You and your thoughts
exclusive – not inclusive

Unless you share them
or give them away

Thoughts – where would we be
If we didn’t have thought’s company?

Penny for your thoughts
Write ‘em down
Are they grandiose?
Thought so

I will leave you with this thought:
Capture and bottle your thoughts
Make sure they are medicine
Just what the doctor ordered

But I think there’s so much more to say
About thought-life
As there are thoughts that are death
And Christ’s Life that takes ‘em away.

 

 

The Manufacturer’s Way

THE MANUFACTURER’S WAY

Silk purse from a sow’s ear
Ain’t gonna happen
Water from a stone?
Depends…

Buttermilk when there’s
no butter?

Still life
of a moving target?

Over exuberant TV presenter
with nothing reserved for emphasis

Guarded words from the Magistrate
Ineffective for the closed-off criminal

You advance to engage
Make friends
Show yourself friendly

Friendship
much under-estimated
because of it’s bad press

Still
as purses and sow’s ears
don’t gel

There is always
using them for something else.

Nothing is worthless
Though you may feel that way

Let me encourage you –
Find yourself a new potter
to make you – anew

Using the clay you provide
But you must learn the manufacturer’s way

He strips down and replaces
He washes your feet to show
the alternative way
He offers the towel for you to dry
He puts you through the processes
until you come out – shining bright

And watches to see if blemishes
re-appear
and need removed again

His eternal patience leaves us aghast

How can such as He
Remain with such as me?

Indeed
what is man that you are mindful of him?
The Great Potter – remakes the clay

Find the manufacturer’s way

 

 

Park Wonder

PARK WONDER

It was that one part in the park…

The road widened
In fact –
it was the only stretch of good road

Canopied by the biggest trees
Creating a sense of wonderment
As the towering
guard of honour
lined the entrance to another land

To walk that trodden path
was a choice not to return

Until the teenage years
When returning was every day
Yet
Still wonderment remained
in the upward gaze that took in
the canopy of summer leaves
or winter branches

That part, that area, that corner of the park
Near that other road that ran parallel
with the home road
Out of bounds because of irrational fears
And stories no one knew the authors of

‘They’ lived over there
Over there on that other road
The unseen people
only seen in imagination-land

Walking to the start of the leafy lane
We paused as though noticing
the air had changed
Breathing-in we lifted our swords aloft
And charged
Into the valley of death –
once more into the breach –
down into indian territory –
or with Robin and John Little.

Hearty hi yo’s!
Into the leafy world
As the bright sunlight disappeared
Changing to disco strobes
Between the few gaps – above
that allowed it in

Imagination takeover –
as the script
was written afoot
no such thing as video games
to recall

Therefore
all original stories
up from the depths
of the poetic mind
except for those
punctuated by throwbacks
found first on the
black and white screen per house

Story after story played out
with wooden weapons.
of the most primitively wrought kind,
but transformed in the hands
of our minds
into glitteringly powerful
instruments
of imaginary self defence

Scene after scene
Dying twice-over
sometimes thrice-
Able to climb back on
imaginary horses
and ride slumped-over
back to the camp

They say ‘those were the days’
Those were the days indeed
What are the days
of the next generation?

As they sway from side to side
Controller in hands
or their faces twitch before
the twitching screen

Here imagination already provided
Played out like a chess game

Still imagination will remain
But will it continue to fuel
good healthy exercise
in the great outdoors
of Parkland?

 

 

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…’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

Conjectured Description

Conjectured Description

A shell of a man
To all intents and purposes

Gone through – and – out – the other end
of all things most disconcerting

A brain if ever there was one
But pilloried and disposed of
Unappreciated and sidelined and
Overruled and misconstrued
Over-the-top isolation and fault finding
Buffeted from side to side
From plane to plane
Bullied in the most predatory manner

Yet coming through it all –
brain intact
And still ready for the fray
So why the ‘shell of a man?’

It took it’s toll – it left it’s mark – it cost him something – emotionally drained – morose – and disquieted within – with only steely resolve remaining intact.

His shell most abused
You will search long and hard to find the withered personality within

But he was told he is ‘still here’
By a friend who added: ‘Living to fight another day…’

And who may I ask…?

Indeed pray tell me…

Who was that man?

That was The Lone Ranger!
Kemosabe:
“faithful friend or trusty scout.”