Category Archives: Musings

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.

Guidelines

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

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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

Directive

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A fresh Spring-clean and a major Fall-out

These seasons turn to mush and are one and the same

Doppler effect caught on camera

Stuck in a loop from one to the next

A smile in the mirror says it’s time to think different

To turn off the ongoing repeats

To mute the direst of diatribes

And bring a new mic to the listening booth

Amp one and amp two broadcast the news

The state of this union; ugly and bruised

Loaded with trauma from point A to Z

Directive: remember, learn, don’t forget

Capparis Spinosa

It’s on the tip of my tongue
That sharp, savory hit
A bundle of rose life
I can’t quite place
I see the floral essence
Future blooming in my mind
And yet, I cannot fathom the name or the times…

With a sprinkle on the plate
Its message told in part
And as it nears completion
I appreciate the art
The colour, the wonder, and the oceanic depth
The strangeness of secrets better left unkept
And yet, I cannot fathom the name or the times…

Robert W Monk

Propulsion Lethargy

The ants don’t seem to notice
They continue in their industrious many-legged strides
Heading to solemn purpose
Across dusty paving stone, sun-scorched lawn and Biro-flecked page.

My aim is clearer:
To recover and renew
To discover comforting patterns in the void
To rework the threads currently hanging loose about mind and body.

Stepping forward
Not looking back.

Speaker on Auto

“In today’s ever-changing world it is not always easy to remain consistent. One day I could be a bird, the next a pocket-sized calculator. The opportunities stretching out before us do not stop or have any discernible boundaries. The chance for things to change remains ever-present.”

So sayeth the tree, stuck into the ground, by its ever-strengthening roots.

Hot Squash

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Hot squash always helps
Or perhaps cordial would be ideal
For a day looking out the window

Why are there no painkillers in the rainforest?
Because the Parrots Eat ’em All
No they don’t
They just fly away and chatter in colour 

Why has the common cold not been cured yet?
Blame the wrestling master called Big Pharma
I remember Tunes and Lockets and that nice tasting
Cough mixture that made you feel slightly sozzled

Ruminate, meditate or detoxicate
Ambient chill music and tea
The future looks a little clearer
I can see it in the mirror
More hot squash needed, it says.

Hard Graft

The surgeon had been awake for days. Looking down at the patient’s tattered face, he grimaced. This would need more than a regular skin graft.
He saw a twitch on the patient’s face. A faint mumble, and then a scream.
“Please Lord, do not forsake me!”

Space to Move

Older lady in some agitation

Halfway inside the doorway

And halfway on the street

She beckons for help with one hand

The other keeping tight hold of a man incapacitated

She is telling him off for being difficult

He was refusing to get into his wheelchair

She instructs me to hold his arm

While we position the chair

Eventually he angles himself in slowly, securely

“He thinks he can walk more than he can”

She explains

“I can!” he adds

We say goodbye

And they both look happier

Than they did when I first saw them