Tuesday 21 October 2008

Scenes In Shadow

Underneath the shadows
Where the moonlight cannot reach
So softly she is creeping
Forgetting oft to breath.

Far beneath the cloudless sky
Where nighttime shadows play
She steals a path unfettered
Her one and only way.

As the night unfolds it's pillow
Against a grainy sky
She wallows in the sorrow
But she will never cry.

Pale morning finally beckons
And moonlight fades away
She will be here no longer
Tho' in my heart she'll always stay.

Originally written: April 2007

Tuesday 14 October 2008

Cheer Up! It Might Never Happen

(Memoirs Of A Miserable Childhood)
Advice To The Under 30s

If anyone tries to tell you that school days are the happiest time of your life, not only are they lying to you but they probably deserve your deepest sympathy.

Imagine being at your happiest at school, which is roughly from 5 to 17 years of age - twelve years at most of your whole life, wallowing in bliss only to spend the next 53 or so years (assuming it'll all end around 70) being miserable and wishing you were still at school! Sad, or what!

Let's put this foolish notion into perspective. Yes, at school you do not have to drag your sorry self into an over air-conditioned office to give the impression of doing a job that you hate almost every single day for the rest of your sorry life. You do not have to appear respectful and answer to the meanest most pig-headed, self absorbed, self-appointed, uneducated manager in the world. This is true.

But on the other hand you have to go to school almost every single day, learn pointless things like algebra and the names of some dead and long buried King's seventy-two wives. You have to show respect to that pig-headed, self absorbed, self appointed, uneducated teacher who makes you sit still in class when you'd rather be chasing girls/boys in the playground and generously showers you with impossible amounts of homework and constant public criticism to boot.

It's true that as a school kid, you do not have the responsibility of earning a living and chances are someone out there is probably providing you with a roof over your head and hopefully at least a couple meals a day. But the chances are also high that through most of these heady school days you cannot stand the sight of this all-giving person (or persons) because they just don't understand you and will insist on shouting at you several times every torturously long day, expecting you to do the dreariest most unimportant tasks immediately when the last thing you want is to be disturbed from the vitally important business of navel-gazing.

"Come down NOW! Your dinner is on the table!"
"Turn off the TV NOW and get on with your homework!"

There is no doubt these persons are getting a kick from deliberately making your life miserable.

"No! You can't go to Charlie's party - someone has to look after your sister/brother!"
"Have you tidied your bedroom yet?"
"What are you doing in there?" and so on and on and on.

Plus, you mainly have to eat what you're given and there is little sympathy for your delicate and ever changing palette even when you experience a spiritual epiphany watching TV secretly one day in your blacked out bedroom and become unable to stomach meat and dairy for almost a whole month! Agh, it's so unfair!

My advice, dear youthful reader, is to stop striving in agonising vain to make your school days the fabled 'best days of your life'. Just get through them as best as you can and hope that there are better times to come. If handled correctly, school days can see you in good stead for the real fun part of your life - adulthood. But they will amount to the steepest learning curve you will ever experience.

This will not seem like good news (because it isn't) but whether you feel as though you are courageously climbing up or constantly slipping down the curve of essential learning, there will be no poles capable of sustaining you satisfactorily. You will fall. You will break a limb or two. Hopefully you'll break a heart or two, including your own. Life will be generally difficult and fraught with all kinds of danger.

But, and this is your only salvation, so grab a hold and hold fast: the pain of being young will end, eventually. Though it may take an inordinately long time full of tears, tantrums and traumas, you will finally reach a plateau, approximately somewhere between 18 and 25 years, when you can look back at your school days and think

"Well, thank God they're over and I'm still alive!"

If your school days are long past but you insist on harbouring feelings of failure for not having had the most super splendid time at school or think that you must be the only one of your friends/peer group that did not excel at being a carefree, positive-experience-absorbing, negative-experience-shrugger-off-er of a child, put those thoughts and painful memories behind you and move on. You made it to here didn't you? The future is now and the past my friend, is just that.

With a huge portion of patience, foresight, tolerance, good observational skills and the regular company of those who actually do know better (rather than the majority who simply think they know better), it may be possible to get through childhood relatively unscathed. However, if you can collect at least a few scars along the way, you'll know that it has been worthwhile and you will have something to look back on in admiration for making it through to the wonderful world of being 20 something and almost grown-up.

Then there is simply the matter of your pre-30 days to get through, attempting to put all you've learned into practice, re-learning the algebra and history you didn't pay attention to at school, discovering that there's so much more useful stuff that can only be learned through experience, finding your own way and carving your own space in the world. But don't worry about these years, if you've put in the hard graft already, compared to being at school, they'll be a breeze, trust me!

Saturday 16 August 2008

Birthday

Reading, writing, rhythm sticks
We bang the drum so hollow.
Walking, talking, drinking whilst
Red river keeps on flowing.

Upside, downside, inside out
The aching soul revealing.
one step, two step, leave the floor
I think it may start raining.

Slowly, surely, creeping on
Warm distant sun is fading.
Wake up, wake up, see the moon
Beyond the pale cloud hiding.

Lisping, tripping over words
From glossy lips come falling.
Whisper, stutter, what's the thing
I try to say, so telling.

Upstairs, downstairs on the bus
Bright streets go by all blurring
To one undistinguishable mass
Of light aglow all burning.

Quietly, quickly, in the house
Upstairs now, go softly.
Hot tea, PC, check the 'phone
Radiation greetings.

Slowly, softly, under covers
feel the rhythm breathing.
Intake, outake, deep and low
Dissolving into dreaming.

Thursday 14 August 2008

Morning

Aoishka! I yawn aloud
Pulling cobwebs away
Rubbing sleep from aching eyes
Not yet ready for new day

Hot tired eyelids fall,
And rise, and fall again
Wrapping mind in auburn glow
For just another moment, again.

Has a decade passed me by
Or was it merely a second?
Dreams rescind and thoughts descend.
No place for sleep in crowded den.

But, still, lying here, I am
Held under covers, warm,
Glimpse To-Do lists and memories
Wash over, and under and... now they're gone.

Back to the safe snug place
So warm, so cosy, so serene
Where daily demands can be ignored
And life is nowt but a dream.

Still, there is no true escape
As day-light grabs it's vivid hold
Wrenches body from reverie
Demanding I make a move, bold.

Sitting upright in musty bed
Covers thrown aside
Now I'm awake and ready to face
Whatever awaits outside.

Another morning has been broken
Another day dared to unfurl
Another chance to scatter seeds
'Cross bright and wondrous world.

Tuesday 12 August 2008

Playing God

Maybe when we die, we all get a chance to 'play God'.

When we meet God and s/he asks us why we did or didn't do this and that, we will come up with excuses about how hard life was. And God, in her infinite wisdom will say:

'What would you do differently then?'

And s/he will give us a day, week, month, year, century or second to try being her.

Maybe every second, minute or day we experience here on earth is under the influence of another 'God' - someone else, who used to be like us - having a go at being in charge of the universe to see if they can do better than the original God.

Maybe.

What would I do differently then? What will I do when it's my turn?

Tuesday 29 July 2008

Dear Neighbours

Dear Neighbours,
We were kept awake again
Last night until half two am
Due to noise that seemed to emanate
From your walled garden near.

Dear Neighbours,
We live in close proximity
Thus any noise between our homes
Travels too easily and reverberates
Off brick, through window to collective ear.

Dear Neighbours,
We would be grateful if
Out of kind consideration and respect
You would please ensure that all of your
Late gatherings are strictly kept indoors.

Dear Neighbours,
Perhaps after midnight during weeks
And weekends after one am
You might consider keeping quiet
To permit your weary neighbours sleep?

Dear Neighbours,
This is not the first time
We have had to most politely request
That the constant noise levels are reduced.
We really really need our rest.

Dear Neighbours,
Can you have failed to notice
Hot summer requires windows left ajar
Thus we can hear all the noise you make
Whilst attempting futile dormir.

Dear Neighbours,
We are truly tired
And quite fed up of losing sleep
We will consider calling enforcements
If your noisiness does not soon cease.

Tuesday 22 July 2008

Turtle Dream

It was the turtle that did it
Last night (just now) in my dream
He was wandering nonchalantly, or so it seemed,
Along a country road, with huge cars whizzing by
Somehow managing to miss his sturdy little body
As they sped on their way over him.

I sat and watched in amazement, until
- What am I doing, lying here in the hot sun
Sketching drawings, watching the turtle
Waiting for surely imminent death by squashing?

I got up and 'rescued' the turtle
Picked it up off the road
And brought it back to my workspace
Placed it down amidst the notebooks and pens
Watched it find its feet in the new environment.
I photographed it with my camera
Snap after snap of wrinkly turtle head
Eyes staring back at me, expectant?
Or annoyed? Perhaps I'd moved him
From an essential journey. His life's journey.
Perhaps he was on the road he was meant to travel.

Not any more, or, infact, yes, still on the road
Just a different view, different surrounds, philosophy
Different experiences from the one he'd gotten used to
Over, however long he'd been travelling on the road.

I put the photographed steps together
In a row. I sketched them. Fragments
of a life; a being; a moment;
Each one on its own, yet joined to the next
By an invisible thread.

It was the turtle that did that.

The Rescue

Did I rescue the turtle or did it rescue me?

I lay nonchalantly watching until woken from my stupor.
By what?

By the realisation that I had more meaningful purpose in life than lying in the sun making drawings?
By realising that if I didn't help the turtle escape death, perhaps no-one would?

If not me, then who?
If not now, then when?

It was my duty to rescue the other life.
From what?

From cessation of life?
It was my duty to preserve life.

In so doing, I changed lives.
The turtle's life was changed.
My life was changed. I now 'had' a turtle to protect, to nurture, to find a home for, to release.

Your life has changed. You now know about the turtle because you're reading these words.
These words tell you how the turtle changed my life and I changed the turtle's.

I am the turtle.
And the road.
And the cars whizzing by.

I am the sunlight burning my skin
I am my skin.

I am the page on which I write.
I am the pen with which I sketch.
The camera lens that peers and captures and stores.

I am the turtle.
And I am me.
And so are you.

Monday 21 July 2008

Bank Station, Monday

Peace in the city
Small haven amidst metropolis traffic.
A bus driver angrily beeps his horn.
Street cleaners ferociously spray
Unnamed liquid at chewing gum marks
On the pavement.

City workers amble by
Ascending from, descending into
Bank underground station.

JH Greathead stands tall to my left
Perusing his plans.
Chief Engineer of City & South London Railway,
Inventor of the travelling shield
Enabling deep level tube
By tunnel cutting.

Wellington sits yonder
On horseback.
A memorial still and grandiose.

Pretty girl in cap and skirts
Talks effusively on mobile phone
Drawing attention from the street cleaners
And other nearby men.

The girls glance up and smile knowingly
To each other. Pride or jealousy?
Mere observation?

Two police officers stroll past
Playing with their radios.
The sun beats down
Upon hot denim clad knees.

Two flags wave listless in bored breeze.
Buses thunder by.
People sitting near like me
Leaning against ancient stone
Chatter or in solitude
Never alone in our city.

The ghosts of London past
London present, London future,
Hover, amble, lie and lean
Rush past, sit quietly, watching,
Always watching as time floats round.

Sunday 8 June 2008

Everyone's Shopping

Everyone's shopping
What are they shopping for?
Looking for happiness
Behind clean glass windows
Of shops with labels
Selling a lifestyle unsurpassed
To those who can afford?

Louis Vitton, Marni, Anya et al
What do they have to offer me?
How can they fulfil my desire?

Liberty of London
With its heraldic shield
Models lounge listless on pillars and plastic plants
Security stands inside the doorway
Peering out at passers by.
Will you come in? No, you! Not you!

You are not smart enough for us
But you with your unstylish
Unthoughtful look
Copied from catalogues
Of very high class.

You with your striped rugby top
You with your leather jacket and heels
You may enter our prestigious walls
And shop to your credit's content.