Category Archives: Musings

Like an abandoned shopping trolley in the breeze

Like an abandoned shopping trolley in the breeze

He moves back and forth on the bench

Shuffling his notes around

Waiting to speak

The time doesn’t arrive

He moves back and forth on the bench

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The Mower

Under a clear azure sky

The lawn is kept in shape

Like so many other mowers up and down the land

Uniform headphones protect the ears

Cap and glasses from the orange sun

The work is set

*

I hear the whirring of activity every afternoon

There is always more grass to cut down

More growth to dominate

Our advancement shapes the earth

And challenges the natural fit

How long will the work go on for?

Australia!

As of nearly 2 weeks ago, I am a resident of Sydney, Australia. There is a lot to write about and explore, but for now, here is the first of many responses to this new life…

 

From over and out to under and around, the day seemed clear enough

We’d pack all our things and depart on the wings 

And go from there to here.

Australia chimes through as melody

A loud enough blast of intensity and colour 

The shine directed with no hidden extras

Everything in shot and strictly in focus.

The smell of the lotion mixes with the sea spray 

The early morning birdcall sounds out an age-old greeting :

The sun, the sun – the giver of life!

Ink Sweat and Tears

I am featured over at Ink Sweat and Tears poetry webzine today.

The poem is The Paperboy Whose Mind and Paper Round Expanded.

It will tell you a bit about growing up and suburban paper round routes.

Repeats

Putting the pieces together
And then taking them apart
Frustrated by symmetry
And a semblance of art
When all around is confusion
And chaos on demand
The schedule is nightmare
A sentence without remand

I’d like to change the picture
And bring it more in line
But as you know tracking’s touchy
And the bells don’t always chime
Whether we like it or not
This shit’s always on repeat
So don’t bother with the timer
It’ll be on again next week…

Surtr

The Norse fire giant Surtr lived in a small electricity power station just outside my primary school. The bringer of Ragnarok was a distinct presence around the playground, with tales of his wanton destruction and grief-giving the talk of many a troubled playtime.
Once an overzealous goal kick led to a fly-away Frido football pitching up just outside Surtr’s modest home. I went to retrieve the ball. As I approached I was gripped by a sense of pure dread and dark foreboding as if this was it, the phase of all-consuming fire. A warning sign of ‘electricity – danger of death’ glowed hypnotically, radiant with the full fury of the arch-demon. I stood there, entranced and with a feeling of impending doom.

And in the furthest reaches of my brain I heard a bell sound and a voice, stark with intensity:

“Oi, Rob, where’s the Frido?”

Birds

The birds are not singing for you
The birds are not singing for World Peace, an end to oppression or a return to the Godhead
The birds are not singing for workers rights, libertarian values, social mobility or true sexual equality
The birds are not singing for a slap-up lunch, a boozy weekend away or a 2 for 1 deal at the supper club
The birds are not singing for hacked elections, the virus in your hard-drive or the End of all of these Days

The birds are not singing for you 
The birds are singing because they need to.

Diluted

From pupils being dilated
To culture being diluted
The underground’s running all night
But there’s not a party in sight
The clubs and venues closing
To make way for global cloning
The ambience gets peaceful
If you can afford it
It all gets a bit more ‘nice’
And wildly overpriced
Time to make an impact
A declaration of intent
Music and clubbing is part of the Fabric
Of what makes a city a city
Keep it alive

http://nightlifematters.com/

Motorway Spirits

Here I lay
Struck cold by a van
On the motorway.
Still and quiet
Like a dead bird or rabbit
Though getting hit by cars
Is not in my habit.

I turn and wave
As each new one
Passes me by
Bits of bone
Bits of flesh
Blowing from tarmac
To sky

Got proper stuck from A to Z
So chucked the roadmap instead
Drive on or walk on
There’s nothing left to see
Abandoned dogs listen
I promise them:
We shall run again

Threats

Picturing a bird
Brought down by a sniper
And wondering what
The fallout will be

I thought travelling light
Would make the most sense
As I need the strength
To remain free

The threats to our lifestyle
Are both real and authentic
And test what
We want to see