FESTIVAL

sun day
last day of the holidays
boo hoo hoo
a week-long festival opens in seoul
we get going late
hannah gets her hair done
an oh-so-cute bob
when i see her little round face
framed by this fringe of neatly trimmed hair
i can't stop laughing for nearly five minutes
none of us can stop laughing!
we get into town to check out what's going on
a rock group is playing at the entrance to cheongyechon
'noisy!' say hannah and mrs f
so we move on down to city hall plaza
to take a look at the world friendship fair
but everyone is packing up
the face painting is finished
the percussion instruments are being packed away
one last go on the congas and the xylophone!
the 'free hugs' are no longer being dispensed
but hannah doesn't care
a clever balloon man magics her a wonderful flower
for free
his last one of the day
as the dancers and singers from all over the world
take the giant stage for the last time
hannah cavorts on the grass with her balloon flower
like only a nearly four-year-old can
i'm watching her and wishing she would never grow up
we check out the world food court
most of the countries have packed up and gone
except for the south asians
and the south americans of course!
we grab some delicious veggie kebabs and samosas
some roti bread
some ceylon tea
then as darkness descends
and the curtain comes down on the fair
we join the ecuadoreans and brazilians
for one last twilit dance
to the lilting rhythm
of the irrepressible south american band

FOUR-LETTER WORD

love
hate
work
rest
kiss
kill
hurt
heal
play
pray
born
dead
pale
dark
luck
fate
moon
star
fire
burn
seed
grow

CONDITION

an unquenchable thirst
an insatiable hunger
an indescribable longing
an unsatisfiable desire
an incandescent happiness
an unbearable suffering
an impeccable virtue
an unspeakable evil
an irreproachable selflessness
an incorrigible selfishness
an unconditional love
an irrational hatred
an incomparable beauty
an unimaginable ugliness
an unetchable image
an unerasible memory
an indomitable spirit
an unbreakable will
an impenetrable complexity
an incredible simplicity
an unrivalled companionship
an unutterable loneliness
an incurable malady
an inexplicable dread
an unflinching courage
an unbecoming cowardice
an unblinking loyalty
an unforgivable treachery
an unimpeachable integrity
a limitless gullability
an unblinkered openness
an unbending stubbornness
an insufferable arrogance
an irredeemable pride
an unchainable restlessness
an insane wrecklessness
an unstoppable force
an immovable object
an unsolvable conundrum
an unfathomable enigma

ISLAND

a train winds slowly through sinuous valleys
sprinkled with orchards of white pear blossom
over the crest of a hill
a fresh green leaf floats serenely on the water
an island
a general
a battle
a legend
a story
a romance
a wave
a self-proclaimed republic
a grumbling ferry engine approaches the jetty
late blossom flowers among multi-hued trees
pine needles filter the dappled sunlight
cheeky long-eared squirrels bound
crested woodpeckers peek
stressed ostriches sprint as bullies give chase
wobbly peddle carts trundle past giants' fingers
mountainous hands extend
a moon and a star fly in the breeze
back across the water
homeward bound on the starlight express

GAVIOTAS

out at sea
a pair of white windmills
tumbling and turning
cavorting and careering in the sunlight
dodging the spray
taunting the salty foam with their mocking squawks
arcing a wing into the gust
catching an updraft with loud cries of exhileration
casting out a beady eye
lest a silver morsel should dart too close to the choppy surface
two gaviotas
unhindered and uncaged

PIX

cousins


riverbank


ride

CATS

been out
out on the roof
alone with my mp3
stargazing again
gazing out across the sleepless neon city
a landscape punctuated by funny little orange crosses
oh the spirit of the nazarene is alive n well in sk!
been out
among the bright lights of hongik
with my friend mikey b
we find this cosy bar
looks like it was designed for children
a long bar just two feet high
everyone sitting on cushions on the floor
we grab a spot by the window
and squat down on a couple of swivel chairs
just purrfect for seven-year-old execs
oh tonite's the nite bartender
mine's a jack daniels and coke
the place is piled high with dusty old records from the bargain bin
leo sayer's greatest hits
with a pic of leo on the back stuck miraculously to the ceiling
how did you get up there leo?
macca - give my regards to broad street
where did it all go wrong, paul?
queen's greatest hits
sorry, freddy, bryan and co, but you leave me cold
with the honourable exception of 'don't stop me now'
a bona fide classic
loved it then and loved it now
a couple of furry friends are watching from atop a bookcase
i don't know what breed they are
but these are long-coated, aristocratic creatures
belonging to the two girls behind the bar, i guess
see, i got this little theory going about pets in sk
remember that i reported recently on these pages
how the birth rate in sk has plummeted to just 1 child per woman?
well, everywhere i look
i see young women carrying around a furry friend
a cat or a dog
with a little coat on so that it doesn't catch a cold
usually in a little sling or bag
like it's a surrogate baby
satisfying the mothering instinct
but a lot cheaper and less trouble to raise than a human pup
what with the costs
and the hassle
and the babysitters
and the peer pressure
to send your little treasure
to the same pricey private institutes their friends are going to
one of our feline friends jumps off the bookcase
and nearly sends a bottle of becks flying!
then while mikey's in the loo
i look around and notice a couple of seat covers lying behind me
no, you're kidding, it isn't...is it?
is it?!!
yep! genuine cat fur!
been out

SLOTH

best intentions...
but the six am yoga does not happen
slothful fireseed snoozes on in his big bed
drifting in and out of consciousness
somehow impervious
to the bright spring morning drifting through his window
bathing the room in a soft light filtered through the curtains
this idle devil dozes through the 7:30 school bell
vaguely registering the cries of the schoolchildren in the playground
the course voices of the workmen
at some point the rest of the family toddle in from h's room
and the three of us lie snuggled up together
sardine-like in the now not-so-big bed
finally at 9:30 we guiltily get up
and the day starts rolling into motion
h is going to be late for kindergarten
so i quickly make her brekky
ten toast fingers
there is a brief argument about chocolate easter eggs
h wins and gets to have two mini eggs
once she has finished her toast
she gets herself dressed
and i take her across the road to school
via the convenience store
where we grab a carton of milk
for h to drink with the other kids
(unfortunately our little one is not yet vegan!)
the street is fresh and warm and bright
oh spring is here!
i take my poor neglected shoes up to the roof garden
for an overdue polish
then unfurl the yoga mat
and begin to stretch my ageing carcass
it is now mid morning
but i guess that's what being on holiday is all about, huh?
yoga mat rolled up again
i read a book about ecovillages
over a leisurely late brekky
a little pamphlet crammed full of examples
of sustainable communities from all around the world
it all sounds very inspiring and utopian
a million miles away from this consumerist dystopia
that assaults me and my family
every time we step out of our house
every time we turn on the telly or radio
i was telling mrs fireseed about ecovillages on moon day
then by a strange twist of fate
a synchronicity?
that night she was at her class
and got talking to one of the other ladies
who just so happens to be a journalist for a korean ecovillage
in a province south of seoul
which is at an early stage in its incubation i believe
apparently the first of its kind in sk
coincidentally this lady has just come back
from a visit to an ecovillage in the north of scotland
by the name of findhorn
where the author of my book lives!
now could this be leading somewhere...?

yes-a-day afternoon
after we pick up h from kindergarten
we go for a spring walk along the han river
the fireseedlet makes her usual fuss about having to walk
and gets a shoulder ride and a carry and a piggy-back along the way
although we do succeed in getting her to race us along the riverbank
we collect spring flowers
put them in each other's hair
we soak up some sunlight
manufacture some vitamin d
we stop at the playground on the way back
as a huge orange sun sets
reflected in the glass windows of an apartment block...
back at home
i shake off my slothfulness for an hour or so
clean out the aquarium
it's been about six months since the last time i did it
it's pretty dirty
and i don't want the new plants i've bought for it
to go the same way as the old ones
i don't believe in keeping animals in captivity
but the guy we inherited these little underwater friends from
started talking about flushing them down the toilet
my conscience got pricked
i didn't have much choice!...

planning a family excursion tomorrow
a train ride into kangwon province
some fresh country air
some peace and quiet
hard to find in sk
hope the weather holds...

SONG 6

a bright sunny morning
a cool breeze blowing through the house
a week's holiday is giving me a bit of space
and a bit of time
for the art of living
though the four-letter hangover is still wearing off
slowly slowly
i start to get back into the routine that i have abandoned
over the last couple of months
when every day became a 4:50am-drag-myself-out-of-bed drudge
i am up at 6am to do yoga
while the house is still quiet
while there is no-one there to pinch my mat
or climb on top of me (that's my daughter, folks!)
or turn on the telly
time to stretch the aching muscles and joints
to discipline the headless chicken mind
that otherwise starts running off in a million directions
then time for blogging while the house is still quiet
breakfast with the fireseedlet
before she goes over the road to kindergarten
time for music
i am recording for the latest album
number three
i have got as far as song 6
although it won't be that order on the final playlist
a song called 'hero with a 1000 faces'
i wrote the words and melody back in february
but the arrangement has given me a few headaches!
i want something spiritual
something to put the listener in touch with the universe
that great wide unfathomable cosmos out there
something that taps into a force way way bigger than we can see and describe
how to convey all that with sound?
an almost impossible task
well, i start with some evening forest noises
and a buddhist monk chanting and banging his gong in prayer
now i want a sound that flows like a constant over the ears
like a mountain stream over pebbles
not rock and roll, my seedlings!
i try strumming an acoustic guitar
but it doesn't have the smoothness
too jangly and rhythmic
i try some piano arpeggios
but it's too bouncy
then suddenly i come up with a new idea
in a way the antithesis of mother nature
a synthesiser on a sinusoidal wave setting
a regular cyclical pulse that somehow evokes timelessness
i programme this synth so that it just keeps on burbling out its arpeggio patterns
for about seven minutes!
i add a bassline which kind of matches and doubles the synth
but keeps on swooping up to the same three notes
to evoke that constancy
suddenly the whole thing is starting to take shape
i get a sinuous bongo rhythm going in the background
and add a slippery echoey guitar solo to the middle section
wow! that guitar line is catchy!
i might be able to bring it back into the song later on
pity about my lugubrious out-of-tune vocals
but there doesn't seem to be much i can do about them!
oh well
off to resume work
while the house is still quiet
peace on you
f
x

INSOMNIAC

i'm tired but i can't sleep
been feeling a lot like this recently
all is uncertain
up in the air
i'm talking about our future
i mean
no certainty is ever attached
there is always the cheerful outside possibility
of some kind of calamitous meteorite strike
some third world war triggered by a stupid misunderstanding
or the catastrophic effects of a global climate system sent haywire
by a sudden confluence of freak effects
escalated by the ecological havoc our race is playing with planet e
which the current lifestyle of family fireseed
our collective consumption of mother nature's resources
makes its own little unsustainable contribution to
leaving its over-sized ecological footprint
[ed: but weren't you talking about the future, fireseed?]
okay, ed, but first let me tell you about the past
me and mrs fireseed been living in sk for nearly six years now
all told it's been an exciting and multifarious experience
i have struggled to get to grips with the ways of korea
and the koreans
so hard to read and understand sometimes
so difficult to interpret
so tolerant and so intolerant
sometimes i manage to blend in effortlessly
and sometimes i stick out like a sore thumb
(of course i always visually stick out like a sore thumb!)...
i have succeeded triumphantly and failed miserably with the language
since reaching an early plateau of mediocrity
still mixing up my monk and my customer
(is it 'sonim' or 'sunim'?)
confusing my wallet with the word for suddenly
('jigap' or 'kapjagi' or...'japkagi'!)
a good reason for losing my wallet
and acquiring a money clip instead!
my speaking and pronunciation have got better
but my listening is still horrendous...
i have met and got to know a lot of kind and lovely people...
i have seen some spectacular parts of this mountainous country
where it hasn't been concreted over and tamed
or turned into a theme park with piped music...
we have had our lovely daughter
not a twinkle in her father's eye
when we first stepped off the plane
we have watched her grow from a tiny diamond
into a bright and shining four-year-old...
i have become a 'teacher trainer'
a staff representative
a 'co-ordinator'
a manager
a manager with more responsibility
a kind of specialist in teaching children
(who would have thought it?!)
i have been to korean state schools and observed lessons
given korean schoolteachers advice on their lessons...
thanks to the inspiration of a friend i made here
i have rediscovered the joys of writing
after a few barren years in the musical wilderness
i have written a load of new songs
better songs than ever before
some jewels and nuggets in there, i do believe
i have discovered the joys of the digital home studio
crafted and arranged and polished those tracks as best i could
overcome my technical shortcomings to painstakingly record them
published and sold my cds on the internet...
as an erstwhile bedroom guitarist
i have discovered the pleasures and agonies of playing with other musicians
formed a rock band with various name changes and a shifting line-up
put in the rehearsal time
trod the boards
plugged in my guitar
cranked up my amp
fumbled with my pedals
let the vocals rip
gave it my heart and soul
and sometimes - though not always - rocked
then endured the antagonisms
the edgy silences
and the acrimonious break-up...
i have taken up yoga
tried skiing and snowboarding
started looking after tropical fish...
i have become a blogger
typing out poems
stories
feelings
comments
observations
anecdotes
homespun philosophy
just for you
dear reader
ok, and for me too, i guess...
sometimes i feel that there is almost nothing i haven't done
over the last six years
like i haven't stopped to catch breath
which brings me to the present
six years in a country which is not my own
and never will be
six years working for the same organisation
clocking in and clocking out
giving them my precious time and energy
usually too much of my time and energy
comfortably numb is a life lived in a bubble
only really coming into contact with the priveleged few
not having to get my hands dirty with the real issues
that affect the wider world out there
and it has made me weary
not seeing enough of my daughter
who speaks korean as her mother tongue
but who lacks the same confidence with english
who only gets to see her grandparents once every year or two
like her dad only gets to see his family and friends...
living in sk is living life in the fast lane
unless you're on the roads, that is
in which case you'll be stuck in the slow lane
behind a pile of other traffic
among a people for whom the term 24/7 should have been coined
people who work too hard and have too much expected of them
you can see it in the way this country generates extreme statistics
a bit like the states
over the years i've seen or heard about a few different examples:
second highest divorce rate in the world
second highest per capita alcohol comsumption
highest suicide rate
lowest birth rate
then of course last week a citizen of sk hit the news
for all the wrong reasons
but checking out some links on wikipedia
i accidentally came across an even more appalling story from 1982
which is still the world's worst ever so-called 'spree killing'
committed by an off-duty policeman
in - you guessed it! - sk...
so the contract is up again this summer
and even though it appears that i am now tenured
it feels like it might be time for a change
time to give up the comfy lifestyle for...what?
for a long time i've been thinking of a career change
a lifestyle change
to something simpler and more sustainable
slower and richer
more meaningful
but my inertia has stopped me
the fatigue and burn-out has exhausted me
the fear of the unknown has smothered me
i have been tethered to a stake...
sometimes i think we need to make a clean break with our past
to set out on a new journey
along an uncertain road
with no destination fixed
following our noses to where we want to go...

SNAPSHOT

'tis sun day and we are waiting for the outlaws
or should i say the inlaws
mrs fireseed's sister and her family
mrs fireseed senior has already turned up early
and is disgusted with the state of the flat
cussing and cursing
she attacks the laundry room
bagging up recycled plastic and paper
smelly food leftovers
feeling guilty
mrs f has belatedly joined in with this sudden burst of spring cleaning
as for me
i am an island of calm in this sudden sea of frenetic activity
i am sitting in the kitchen
having my normal leisurely sunday breakfax
lots of freshly ground and brewed coffee
and piles of toast with orange jam from cheju island on top
i am reading a most interesting book
by a couple of clever fellas called lakoff and johnson
called 'metaphors we live by'
all about how met her 4 is central
not only to the everyday language we use
but also to our thoughts and actions
hannah e is running round the house
with a big bunch of bananas on her head
our little fireseedlet is all excited
cos her nanny's here
her cousins, aunt and uncle are on their way over
and she knows she's going out
finally the mood jolts me into action
a spring clean of the 50% of the spare room that is not a complete no-go zone
and still just about qualifies as my recording studio
the other 50% being well and truly buried underneath mrs f's stuff
as i start getting to grips with the dust and the grease
hannah comes running in
with the huge bunch of bananas on her head
and i snap her on the digital camera
two or three nice ones
still can't get over how you can immediately tell
whether you've taken a good one or a dud!
finally the house is clean...or at least cleaner
i get showered and changed
and everyone arrives
it is a blustery spring afternoon
the sun threatens to break through but doesn't quite manage it
the party jumps into a couple of taxis
which whisk us across the bridge to the island of sonyudo
in the middle of the han river
couples and families stroll around
distorted piped music interrupts at intervals
the island used to be a water treatment plant
now it's been transformed into a park and museum of river ecology
the concrete pools and aqueducts have become home for plants
one bit has been imaginatively turned into a kids adventure playground
hannah elisabeth is getting on great with her cousin jiwoo
who is busy making sure h doesn't get into any scrapes
we spend some time in the adventure playground
stroll around
grab some coffee
churros for the kids
which reminds me of spain
somehow churros have caught on in sk
now that's globalisation for you!
snap! hannah emerges from a metal pipe
with jiwoo and big cousin yoora in hot pursuit!
snap! hannah looking tearful as she pulls herself up an incline
with the help of a rope and jiwoo pushing behind!
snap! h, nanny and yoora squinting up at me
as i look down at them from the top of the climbing frame
snap! a lovely one of mrs f, her sister and my mom-in-law
snap! a top-notch one of aunty minja and family
snap! a good one of family fireseed
even despite the sunlight reflecting uncannily off my forehead
as per bloody usual
snap! jiwoo and hannah hugging each other
two sweet little girls out for the afternoon
back to our place again for dinner
fried bacon 'samgyopsal' for everyone else
fried tofu for me
chocolate ice cream cake for the rest of the family
bought to celebrate mrs f's birthday a couple of days early...

FIRESEED

did i ever tell you where the name fireseed originated?
it's a funny little story
the term was coined by a guy i used to work with here in sk
a fellow who has been known to check into the aol on occasion
and even leave a little massage...
anyway this chap being a smoker
like others of his kind
routinely spent his breaks
puffing on a ciggy outside the building
where the walkie-talkied black-suited security sharks
lurked in the shallows
you see this forecourt area is where visitors get dropped off
where the posh limos draw up and spill out their high-powered execs
their vips
their company presidents
and their high profile politicos
so the security sharks are none too keen on loitering smokers
stubbing out their fags on the pavement
making the place look untidy
lowering the tone
ooh! they get a right haranguing for that!
the problem is
in the absence of proper ash-trays
what do ya do with your ciggy?
well this pal of mine finds a solution
there are these little trees growing in plant pots
so he furtively chucks his fag end in there to put it out
and hey presto!
this security dude comes running up flapping his arms about
'you can’t throw your cigarettes in there
danger! fireseeds!’
this being a kind of direct korean to english translation i believe
thus was coined the name of the band
who used to stride the boards of ‘freebird’ in hongdae
and thus was coined the identity of this here blogger!

FORGIVING

'foregive them father
for they know not what they do'
so said the gentle carpenter
as he was raised up high
above the assembled crowd
and left to die an excruciating death...
oh the art of living is no easy ride
it is not about harbouring grudges or resentments
it is not about lashing out
or throwing stones
the art of living is to cultivate understanding and compassion
to conserve patience and kindness
to pick up the spade and dig down deep
into reserves of integrity you didn't know you had
burying the useless anger and bitterness
and unearthing the treasure chest of sparkling jewels
sometimes fireseed falls short of his own expectations
the wild angry consuming flames burn
where the warm embers should glow
the good seed bursting with spring potential
somehow morphs into the bad seed
the bitter winter chill stunting its growth
this seed extends its roots and tendrils in search of nutrients
and finds none
until one day
the warm sun shines on the moist earth
and a little shoot sprouts shyly from the ground

UNFORGIVEN

oh people can be so harsh and unforgiving at times
jumping to conclusions
doubting your motives
questioning your integrity
taking every single little thing
and turning it into a personal affront or indignity
making it out to be something it ain't
venting their frustrations
twisting words
complaining how sly, crafty and conniving you are
invoking 'transparancy'
unearthing lies
falsehoods
plots
conspiracies
injustices
ideas cooked up in secret
with the aim of making their lives unpleasant
the lives that they just want to get on with
without any stress or hassle
and they will make damn sure
that everyone else knows how unjust it is too
not for them the face to face chat
or the private email
why pass up the opportunity to wash dirty laundry in public
oh no!
don't go expecting these dudes to give you the benefit of the doubt
don't expect any charity
never mind the times when you were there for them
because these moaning minnies expect absolute perfection
and they apply standards to others
that they would never dream of applying to themselves
always wanting something more than they got
another little piece
another little concession
an answer to their question
a solution to their problems
the grass is always greener
the status quo is always inadequate
always raising the bar
always shifting the goalposts
good is never good enough
very good represents a failure to be excellent
excellent is a failure to be outstanding
there was once a gentle man who lived in galilee
who preached forgiveness and humility
he said 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone'

VISITATION

up on a high hill
another country
the city laid out beneath me
the river a silver sliver
misty mountains all around
the distinctive profile of kwanaksan
a hazy blue
and above the houses that crouch on the hillside
atop the ridge of mousy-coloured trees flecked with grey
namsan tower like a space rocket on its launching pad
steep winding lanes descend
flanked by blooming trees
pink cherry blossom confetti flies in the wind
a great playground that hannah would like
oh i feel so alive and free up here
in a part of town that i have always so assiduously avoided
during my time in sk
so why am i here?
paying a visit to a workmate who's been off for a couple of weeks
hospitalised with a burst appendix
very nasty!
the poor fellow
a christian man
spent his easter in a hospital bed
recovering from surgery
experiencing the excruciating pain
and then his resurrection
fireseed been selfishly putting off this visit
making excuses to himself that he doesn't have the time or energy
but now sipping mango tea with this colleague and his missus
in their living room with a panoramic view out over the valley
chatting about stuff
their frisky cat making weird noises and rolling around on the floor
'tis lovely to be here
so easy to retreat into your shell when you feel down
so easy to hide yourself away
an instinctive reaction
but the best way of pulling yourself out of it
is to be there for someone else

BLOCK

oh it's been like this for weeks now
this dust that smothers and suffocates
this windblown substance that alights on every surface
and clings to it
stubbornly like grease
this layer of dirt that blocks out the sun
a grey film that coats everything
the street
the trees
the grass
the buildings
the house
the furniture
the floor
adding to the intolerable domestic muck
the gunge
the sludge
the mould
the damp
the detritus
the stickiness
the general mess
that overwhelms chez fireseed
forgive me if you've heard this one before
the chaos that is our 'domestic bliss'
the cupboards and drawers
chocabloc with mixed-up bits of this and that
the half-complete games
toys
stationery sets
jigsaw puzzles
the bookshelves that sag
under the weight of stacked-up paraphenalia
(one collapsed the other week!)
the piles of receipts
bills
notices
photographs
postcards
artwork
scrap paper
covering every horizontal, vertical and diagonal surface
from floor to ceiling
the huge noticeboard-cum-wastepaper basket
which is the fridge
the murky aquarium with its rotting plants
the paint pots
the piggy banks
the jars of fishfood
the plastic animals
the god-knows-what
the felt concoctions that mrs f creates for her storytelling classes
the weeds sprout their tendrils wherever they can take root
oh i know i shouldn't let it get to me, my seeds
that i should try to ignore it and get on with my daily business
but i just can't stand it
after all, an englishman's home is his castle
and even thinking about attending to this overgrown allotment
exhausts, blocks and stifles me
and now i even got blogger's block
i sit here yesterday for an hour
while the house is empty of lovely mrs fireseed
and our sweet little fireseedlet
god bless them
and try to give shape to a poem that will not form
oh it is agonising, dear readers
the forced rhymes
the jarring couplets
the clumsy metaphors
the lot!
everything that a piece of art should not be
after no blog for nine days
is this all i can muster?
i can't help but be frustrated with myself
for part of the art of living must be to keep going
day after day
day in and day out
don't let the bastards get ya down
being one of my main mottos
(whoever or whatever those bastards may be!)
so there's a big part of me that says
i should always come up with the goods
and i did manage it for a while
i had a pretty good january and a great february
knocking out new songs
banging out a blog each day
sometimes even two!
while juggling the roles of teacher
manager
musician
father
husband
and friend
but i didn't have such a good march
and it's been a bleak april
wracked by indecision
self-doubt
and sleepless nights
burning the proverbial candle all ends
but then there is another part of me that says
hey! hang on
give yourself a break
just like you have learnt to give others a break
nobody is perfect
everyone needs a time out
so it goes
as the dear departed mr vonnegut would say
the art of living
is hanging in there
weathering the storm
and bouncing back
hang in there with me!

SCHOOL

back at the old grey school
i don't like mondays was my theme tune
it was high in the charts the day i started there
and in my head until the day i left
seeing how there were precious few other days i enjoyed there either
the old grey school was one endless round of things to be endured
it all started inauspiciously on the very first day
when we were seated in rows by Zoony our form teacher
for some unknown reason
we all had to sit in alphabetical order according to surname
so guess who was stuck on his own at the back
in the corner by the door
isolated from the other students by an aisle
which didn't do much for my shy disposition
and meant that i was always the last to receive things
like the dinner tickets that always mysteriously seemed to run out
before they got to 'W'
one of many indignities
the teachers who called you by your surname
and usually pronounced it wrong
or confused you with somebody else...
the ordeal started first thing in the morning
driven to school by a neighbour
who i never knew how to make a conversation with
solemn dreary assemblies
led by masters in grey robes
dull prayers and hymns
readings by nervous kids up on stage
(a recurring nightmare was that one day somebody would ask me to do it but of course nobody ever did)
the 'latecomers' trooping in after their non-christian services
why were the asian kids always late?
thinking back there were so many of these unexplained little mysteries
the dread set in some time early on sunday evening
the thought of the week ahead
first period monday morning was the subject i most loathed
english with poisonous old Frankie Gadd
who would screech at and publicly humiliate
any boy who had the temerity to sniff during one of his lessons
eyes streaming in the chemistry lab
another connection i never made
stress headaches that came on gradually during the morning
and attacked viciously during the afternoon
at the time the public school pretensions didn't register
the oddly named rooms
with acronyms like JCR
(junior common room)
out on the windswept playing fields
no football
only rugby
ruled mercilessly by the bigger kids
who seemed to have matured prenaturally
covered with body hair by the age of 12
skinny little kids like me just distanced ourselves from the action
hoping we would never accidentally receive the wretched misshaped ball
and then be flattened by a hairy oncoming steam train
fingers and toes turning purple
in the freezing cold swimming pool
finally at the end of all the misery
the long walk home
(the bus routes were not too helpful)
along a dead-straight featureless road by the reservoir
the long road
back from the old grey school

MAGNOLIA

worthless are my words
scattered like fallen magnolia petals
in the april wind
frayed is my temper
ripped and torn
by the stresses and frustrations
of the four-letter word
misconstrued are my motives
twisted out of shape
like a poor abused paperclip
malnourished is my spirit
starved of sustenance
by this cold and alienating society
precious is my time
so jealously guarded
from all who wish to steal it
pale and gaunt is my face
lined by time
unkissed by fresh warm sunlight
unloved is my art
neglected and abandoned
by the side of the road
worthless are my words
blown away like cherry blossoms
in the april wind

BIRDMAN

it's a cold wind that sings in the trees tonight
crying like the dead cry
and colder still its bite
and colder still
oh torn feet and ointment-bound
shod like a runagate
and I’m not proud to tell
and I’m not proud to tell

born to the earth
we are born to the earth
and to the earth we return to dust
barter my pain and rid me of gravity
i would fly
i would fly

plough soothing rain through furrows deep
sore hands and parchment skin
run water from the wound
run waters run
numb fingers rub and kindle catch
crimson-flamed and silver-tongued
and warm in its embrace
in its embrace

born to the earth
we are born to the earth
and to the earth we return to dust
barter my pain and rid me of gravity
i would fly
i would fly
like a birdman in the sky

CEREBRAL

standing at the crossroads
between reality and imagination
the art of appropriating the familiar
and transforming it into the bizarre
i lace up my feet
and walk through the sky
dodging the queues of drones
who shuffle along in single file
i am silhouetted against a white background
by the bright spotlight
a faceless woman drapes herself languidly over a white steed
white clouds are superimposed against a starlit sky
the roots of a tree break free from the earth
its trunk merging into a castle folly
a dislocated head floats in mid air
a mushroom cloud balances delicately on a wine glass
pictures at an exhibition
a celebration for a grey day