Category Archives: Musings


Tiny rip in the structure

A little light blinking out

In otherwise absolute darkness

They are here somewhere

Stirred to move

By this unexpected change




A to Be

Anything before came Devilish.

Everything forgotten; God has it.

Jingoist killings long Mankind’s never optimised purpose.

Quarantined rights sent through universal views.

Wishing Xanadu, your zoo.

Unlocking the Safe

There’s treasure behind that iron door
But it’s locked tightly shut
Impossible to open
Without the right key
You can’t blow it up either
With a stick of dynamite
Or a wad of explosives
No, you’ve got to have the key

Lucky for me, I’ve found such a key
All I have to do is sit calmly
Clear my thoughts and breathe
Focusing on the cool air going in
And the warm air going out
As I do this, the door starts to unlock
The safe blurs, then disappears
And I see; the riches were here all along

A Utensil

A utensil for you



Or Spoon

A tool to help

Prepare and dine

Is it

Dinner time

Jigsaw Puzzle

Rows and columns

Trial and error

Loading up patterns

To make a picture

Of a time now passed

There are missing pieces


Dead Batteries

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane

Above – Bette Davis and Joan Crawford in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane (1962)

I was watching an old movie from the early 1960’s. A beautiful and horrifying film, sometimes painfully amusing, sometimes just plain sad.

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? is about many things, but chiefly a tortuous sibling relationship. It’s about broken dreams, the fragile mask of sanity, and the fall out of demented jealousy, depression, and alcohol abuse.

In one scene, the next door neighbour repeats the phrase ‘dead batteries’ to Bette Davis’ Baby Jane Hudson character, the focal force of much of the torment and abuse.

The phrase stuck with me.

A container of power capable of doing so much, of providing so much, then failing, no longer usable. There were no ecological rechargeable solutions for drained batteries in 1962. Small or large, receptacle batteries or car batteries, all lie at the edge of the road, beyond the picket fence, waiting to be carted off by the rubbish collection.

Attic Attack

The dust of ages lies spread about over diaries of another life, muddled exercise books and dog-eared photo albums. I feel a chill from the storm brewing up outside as I unpack memories while re-boxing keep-sakes. This place is loftier than my present mind, which stays at ground-level; content to create non-physical reminders of relative prosperity. I put away the tired broom and put on my coat.

Shingle Bells

Well it’s definitely not Xmas…
But how about some Shingle Bells…
A reactivation of childhood illness,
A waking up of what used to be known.
How many other viruses lay dormant
Dutifully waiting for just the right time?
I like to think I think outside myself
But give the body an itch
And it’ll take a mile…
Shingle Bells, Batman Smells
Robin laid an egg
And when it hatches
The world will change
And become a different place
Repeat… forever and a bit.


Taking out the guide-lines and thinking for some time, I traced and tracked the elements that were clogging up the space. Always going up and down and round and inside-out; this devilry of notation was a job in itself. Here then, are the results of my endeavors:

1) Investigate – what is wrong?

2) Action – the lack of meaning?

3)Process – this is a fleeting thing.

4)Conclusion – it works better without guidelines.




Shrink wrapped


It’s oh so easy
And convenient
And it don’t cost you a single dime
Or do anything drastic
Like waste all your time
It’s custom built
To lock away your pain
And fully shrink wrapped
To be one and the same
As all of the things
You were hoping for
When you put on your chains
And bolted up your door
When you ordered plastic friends
From far away towns
To help with the parties
And the smiles and the frowns
To take away the thinking
That led you astray
That asked all the questions
That weren’t black or white
Just grey