ACOUSTIC GIG A BITE

sitting in an english garden waiting for the sun
but the sun don't come...
it is classic british bbq weather
the damp grey drizzle is almost unremitting
but at least the british are used to it
the turnout for the fundraiser is good
and people are undeterred
huddling in groups undercover
munching their way cheerfully
through plates of tasty vegan grub
burgers
couscous n green salads
cakes n muffins
soya milk tea
ah! such inclusiveness!
some even venture out into the drizzle
to check out the lovely community garden
allotments bursting with organic veg
the small orchard
the woodland area with a pond and bee hives
the shipwreck play area for kids
built out of cob and woven saplings
meanwhile in a little marquee beside the bbq
replete with midge bites
from the previous evening's rehearsal
and nursing a sore throat
fireseed provides the music
with no sense of irony whatsoever
proceedings start with 'sunny afternoon' by the kinks
'singing in the rain' would be more appropriate
i mix it up a bit
a few relatively familiar covers
('i'm only sleeping', 'america', 'high & dry')
alongside a few slightly more obscure ones
(the church and jack frost)
i debut the new 'all seeing i' songs
which lend themselves well to an unplugged rendering
despite bum notes aplenty
i get a positive reaction from the punters
and am plied with food by the organisers
while i do my thang
mrs f and hannah make some new friends
among the transition city brum crowd
and even get to explore the gardens
once the rain lets up a bit
a good time is had by all



garden gnome

OLYMPIAN

i have taken the lumpen clay i was given
and moulded it into elegant form
my muscles are well toned
my physique is lean and hungry
i work hard to maintain a healthy mind and body
i eat only plant based foods
fruit and vegetables
nuts and pulses
wild herbs and berries
i decline to eat the flesh eggs or milk of animals
i rise at dawn to limber and stretch
i exercise for three hours a day
i cultivate an alert and controlled mental state
as my muscles and sinews strain for the starting gun
i focus only on victory
i filter out the merest inkling of defeat or negativity
i run through the whole race
over and over again in my mind
meticulously rehearsing each stage
the sprint to the first bend
the turn into the straight
the final bend
the gradual acceleration into the home straight
i run my own race
i do not let others put me off my stride
i visualise myself stepping onto the podium
arms raised aloft
as the gold medal is placed around my neck
i sit atop a mountain in thesaly
my motto: citius altius fortius
faster higher stronger

REJECTION

'the pain of knowing that you weren't quite good enough'
to steal a line from my own discography
today i have been doubly spurned
i am persona non grata
little davey no mates
my incisive line of questioning
will not be illuminating pan or armour
nor am i destined to be
the new camp pains support worker
at brum fiends of the erf

my carefully preped questions for mr cameraman

fall dejectedly by the wayside:

did ya marry her for her looks or her money?

how were the hols on yer father-in-law's yacht?

bet ya felt a right plonker about the bike n chauffeur incident?

(and that was just the friendly warm-up banter

before the cameras started rolling!)

worse
my fledgling environmental career lies in tatters
gatecrashed by young pretenders half my age
who have already amassed enough relevant experience
to see off this mangy panther...
now that's how yer fireseed could be feeling
the mangy panther sulking and licking his wounds
but what has experience taught me
if not the importance of equanimity?
do not let a setback break your spirit
for perhaps it is not a setback at all
but a useful stepping stone across life's rapids
que sera
whatever will bee will bee
this time i have not achieved my goals
i will not be going to wembley
but i have learnt valuable lessons
gandhi encouraged us to cherish the achievements of others
for as others flourish so do we
the success of others inspires us to better ourselves...
btw
almost forgot
i've got a gig this weekend at a barbie queue
yer fave blogger acoustic n intimate
unplugged n unfussed
at the martineau gardens edgbaston
in aid of transition city birmingham
there'll be one or two golden oldies
a smattering of new numbers
including 'icarus'
hot off the fretboard
and the odd cover or two
watch this space for a review

MET A COGNITION

tonight
as on a thousand other nights
i am thinking about thinking
that most mysterious of processes
the constant forment of the mind
the product of the electrical impulses
that zap along our neural pathways
the cortex tick tocking along like a clock mechanism
or boiling away like a kettle on a hob
anais nin said we see the world not as it is
but as we are
in other words
the brain is a powerful filter
editing the information received
moulding
reshaping
distilling
distorting
as we correlate it
with pre-existing experiences and attitudes
unless that is
the input is totally incompatible
in which case we either choose to reject it
or assimilate it
hence gaining new insight
different intelligences come into play
verbal
spatial
aural
kinesthetic
musical
interpersonal
intra personal
tools that open up new angles on the world
spark our curiosity
suspend our wonder and mystery
encourage us to pose questions
play with ideas
make connections
seize opportunities
and generally
be right nosy parkers!

ICARUS

icarus arced his feathered wings
and sprang from the ground in breathless flight
daedelus watched his precious son
scarcely concealing his delight

icarus
he loosed his bonds
he loosed his bonds
icarus
he danced above the sea

icarus reached to touch the clouds
riding upon a wave of joy
daedelus watched him in dismay
'you fly too high, oh foolish boy'

'know your place in the universe
respect the power of the golden orb
can't you see the wax will melt
can't you see you're bound to fall?'

icarus soared up heavenwards
ignorant of his father's words
daedelus gazed on powerless
as icarus circled with the birds

icarus
he flew too close
he flew too close
icarus
he fell into the sea

PEACE & LOVE

banke holidaye mondaye
we take hannah to kenilworth castle for the arvo
kennelworth is a romantic civil war ruin
vandalised like so many other english fortifications
by cromwellian forces intent on discouraging uprisings
the place is full of history and herstory
constructed and embellished
by such mediaeval luminaries as king john
john of gaunt
and robert dudley
earl of leicester and unsuccessful suitor of elizabeth i
who turned her nose up
at the first potato brought into britain
ungraciously spitting it out of the window
into the castle court
what a fine sight the place must have been in its heyday
with the castle ramparts still intact
and its great mere flooded
to defend the western approaches
and keep the seige engines at a distance
it being banke holidaye
there are ranks of white tents
staffed by fine gentlemen and comely wenches
dressed up in mediaeval garb
they demonstrate contemporary artisanship
stained glass window making
and boiling up ink from ground oak apples
vinegar and rusty nails
a none-the-wiser woodle takes part in a kiddies' battle
as a member of salisbury's private army
the english send the auld alliance packing
with the french and the scots in disarray
some of the kids get a bit too excited
and start thwacking each other with their sticks!
afterwards there is a dramatic reconstruction
of a real attack on the castle
involving an attempt to abduct the earl of gloucester's wife
on the flimsy pretext of her being a suspected witch
soldiers in broad helmets and opposing colours clash
giving and gaining ground
grunting aggressively as they brandish their staffs
volleys of arrows arc menacingly through the sky
loud explosions echo around the ramparts
the air is thick with dense gunpowder smoke
the whole thing is very convincing and well done
as we excuse ourselves
before the grisly execution of the prisoners
a passing wag spots my sweatshirt
with its 'peace & love in the world' inducement
'now that's not the best thing to be wearing today, is it?'
he chuckles

CASTLE IN THE AIR

THE GLASS

'oh dear rain again' said bert
'good for the garden' said doris
'must sort out that problem with the car' said bert
'the exercise will do you good' said doris
'this house is chock full of nothing but useless old junk'
said bert
'time for a spring clean and a clear-out' said doris
'things ain't what they used to be' said bert
'and a good thing too' said doris
'you can't get the staff nowadays' said bert
'not if you pay them those kind of wages' said doris
'damn! missed the news!' said bert
'it'll be on again in half an hour' said doris
'mustn't grumble' said bert
'not too bad at all for my age' said doris
'not as well off as the neighbours' said bert
'better off than poor old beryl down the road' said doris
'it's a bit small for us' said bert
'own our own house' said doris
'we can only afford one holiday a year' said bert
'we had a lovely time in somerset last summer' said doris
'the grandchildren live 200 miles away' said bert
'they come and visit us once a month' said doris
'this government's done nothing for pensioners' said bert
'i'm glad they've tried to help out people with families'
said doris
'sorry, i've only got half a glass left to offer you' said bert
'enjoy it son!' said doris

TOUCHDOWN

mrs f and the woodle are home
we drive through the drab eastern suburbs to meet them
watching a huge jumbo jet dropping from the sky
and another soaring improbably upwards
flight
one of humankind's great nature-defying triumphs
one of those achievements we can hold up and say:
'look at us humans - aren't we the greatest!'
like the moon landing
heart transplants
in-vitro fertilisation
digital communications and the internet
virtual reality
the bird's nest stadium in beijing
technological wonders contrived by our big brains
we icaruses who fly too close to the sun
one of those jumbos carries mrs f and woodle
safely home from seoul via paris
unlike the poor devils who perished so horribly
at barajas airport the other day
where mrs f and i were a few years back
suffering nothing worse than a couple of delayed suitcases
after taking a wrong turning
and getting stuck in rush-hour traffic
we roll up to see hannah draped exhausted over a baggage trolley
her eyes barely open
after a month i've almost forgotten what she looks like
kids of course have a certain chameleon-like quality
changing from week to week
but h seems to have shot up
while staying as skinny as ever
her new fringe changes the shape of her face
making her look more oriental than i remember
or maybe it's just that my memory is ropy
and i've got used to looking at caucasian features

hannah won't speak to me in english

she just produces funny little mouse-like squeaks

in response to my questions and comments

h and consequently mrs f have hardly slept on the flight

and are ready to hit the sack as soon as we get home
but bright and early this morning
the woodle is up and at em
hitting the ground running
full of the recharged energy of a five-year-old
back on form

GREED

as a small child
i grasped at everything within my reach
food
toys
household paraphenalia
flora and fauna
i claimed all those bright shiny objects as my own
oh i got most upset if another child coveted my playthings
or if an adult interseeded
i would howl and scream
kick and fight
i was indecent
unable to decenter
incapable of viewing the world from another perspective
as i grew older
i became a little more selective in my grasping
but still i coveted possessions
collections of football stickers
toy figurines
model aeroplanes
and i wanted people too
schoolfriends who amused or attracted me
or bought me access to new places or experiences
grown-ups who showed me enticing glimpses
of possibilities i hadn't dreamt of
handsome boys
pretty girls
pretty boys
handsome girls
as i reached my teenage years
the troll spiralled out of control
i craved maturity
respect
bigger toys
cars and guitars
i wanted female adoration
free love
the pleasures of the flesh
another notch on my bedpost
i gorged on youthful rebellion
the fashions
the music
the drugs
the politics
as my adult years rolled around
i was already on a slippery slope
a bigger salary
a better car
hipper more intelligent friends
a prettier wife
fancier holidays
still more exciting toys
rapacious
i wanted minerals and resources
i demanded bigger profits
better returns
i hatched campaigns
invaded countries
fought for control of whole continents
i was consumed by an impulse i could not resist
until one day
i climbed from my limosine
and stepped out onto the pavement
in front of a one-eyed beggar
who sat smiling angelically beside a mangy dog
the beggar winked at me and said:
'you can't take all that with you, you know'

BLOG AT BEDTIME

just clocking off after a late session
working on a new one
'the fourth of july'
a stirring anti-war piece
an appeal for pacifism and gentleness
in the face of chisel-jawed militarism
oh it's a heart-rending tale
certain to yank the emotional strings
(if you'll pardon the pun!)
been having some fun with the arrangement
toying with spaghetti western ideas
military tattoo trappings
synthesised bugle horns
synchronised acoustic guitars
united in gleaming arpeggio
an electric rush
stopping short with a brief acapella section
which brings things to a hushed climax
the whole piece ebbing and flowing
like the river of life and death
i hope you'll appreciate it
when it eventually takes its place
in 'the all seeing i' pantheon

sweet dreams

the sweet dreamer
x

365 DAYS

365 days ago today
a fireseed, his wife and their woodle
flew across the gobi desert and the siberian wasteland
to begin a new life in albion
knowing not what they would find
they had given away most of their worldly goods
save for clothes, books, computer and guitars
which charted a different route
aboard a container ship passing through the persian gulf
they had no jobs or school to go to
only a place to lay their heads
and the love and patience of a family
the woodle acclimatised quickly
slipping effortlessly into the school routine
fitting in with the other little herberts
by rapidly acquiring a brummie accident
the woodle's mother found it harder to acclimatise
the draughty autumn made her shiver
the winter chill dug deep into her bones
the spring gusts stung her cheeks
the damp summer congealed the blood in her veins
she busied herself looking after the woodle
she took solace in the realms of cyberspace
cementing new friendships
across counties and continents
until finally she earned her place in the sun
crossing continents once again
and what of our fireseed?
our quixotic adventurer?
more sure of what he doesn't want
than what he wants?
he cast around for a sense of direction
he castanet far n wide
following his intuition
sometimes feeling his way blindly in the dark
brushing off his critics
taking succour from his supporters
preparing the ground
laying the foundations
mangling his metaphors
looking out for lady luck
biding his time
waiting for them to come knocking
waiting for the fish to bite
waiting like a mangy panther
to spring into action

FORM

some days i get up
and hit the ground running
i ease straight into gear
cruising through the day's tasks
like a well-oiled machine
ready for anything
bring it on, i say!
i clear the obstacles in my path
like a minesweeper
people are pleasant
they smile
stop and chat
say nice things
bestow compliments
i have time for stuff
i receive prompt responses to my emails
i get the job done
i get jobs done
i expect success
and i am successful
i jump on a bus straight away
i get lucky
i attract serendipity
i radiate positivity
i ooze confidence
i got that can-do feeling
i fly like a butterfly
sting like a bee
i got the wind in my sails
and an ocean of possibilities ahead
i'm on form

other days i get up
stumble
and land flat on my face
i stall
i can't get the clutch to bite
judder out of first gear
never even make it into third
i am a rusty old banger
ready for the scrap yard
stop the bus
i wanna get off!
obstacles spring up
blocking my path in every direction
people are stroppy n sarcy
they scowl
can't be bothered to give me the time of day
they carp and criticise
take me for granted
i rush around
sticky n sweaty
i am late for my appointments
more haste less speed
i make mistakes
then faff around for ages trying to undo them
i can't nail a plank
phone lines are engaged
servers are down
everyone has called in sick
or gone on holiday
i just about wing whatever i'm doing
then feel a pang of guilt
i expect failure
and success eludes me
the luck aint with me
i miss the opportunity
three buses come along all at once
just before i arrive at the stop
i radiate anxiety
sense the tightness in my shoulders
tiredness n stress consumes me
i got that can't-do feeling
i fly like a bee
and sting like a butterfly
i got no belief
no style
no composure
my form has evaporated

today i am bang on form
tomorrow?
well that's another day

DETAIL

THE KING AND HIS SUBJECTS

the king lay troubled in his reverie
bathed in cold sweat
'we have come on behalf of those who work'
said the first peasant
'we break our backs day after day in the fields
to keep the grain stores full'
growled a second stooping serf
'but so much of our grain is levied in taxes
that we can barely afford to feed our families'
'look at my starving children'
a third peasant grunted through his gnarled features
gesturing at the skinny waifs sitting at his feet
'i toil all day while they go hungry'
'enough!' cried the king
'this is a scandal
i will see to it that your taxes are reduced
no one will go hungry in my kingdom'
the men bowed and shuffled away
'we have come to represent those who pray' said the prior
'our magnificent house of god is crumbling to dust
for lack of attention'
'and our monastery will have to close its infirmary
for want of adequate funds'
protested a ruddy-faced monk
'and our church coffers are empty, your majesty'
the parish priest wailed
'an outrage!' cried the king
'how can this be so?
i will see to it personally
that the lord's houses want for nothing'
'your majesty is most generous'
the prior smiled obsequiously
as the three men bowed and left the king's chamber
'we have come on behalf of those who fight' said the knight
'we risk our lives to protect your kingdom
yet our men are without proper armour or weaponry'
'the castles that rise to england's defence are battered
and in need of repair'
a nobleman complained
'how can you expect us to raise armies
when we haven't the coins to pay our soldiers a living wage?'
spoke up a second baron
'you are not without reason' the king nodded
'the security of the kingdom must not be jeopardised
i will see to it that you have the necessary funds
with all due haste'
at last the king awoke trembling from his dark dreams
he had made excuses that had no justification
he had made promises he could not keep
the king crossed his bedchamber to the window
and peered out over the castle ramparts
where armies of serfs, warrior monks and nobles
were massing in the distance
the king pulled on his robe
and fled
for his life

POT OF GOLD

THROUGH HER EYES

my dear mum
how have you been?
how are dad and little sis and grandma?

what is the atmosphere like at home?

everybody must be so excited about the games
i was very sorry to miss the opening ceremony
we were on the coach to scotland
a few colleagues stayed behind to watch it
and they said it was an amazing spectacle
our china has done so well!
when i checked this morning
we were perched on top of the medals table
like a crane on a chimney
do you think we can keep it up?

i miss you

and i miss your cooking

here we take turns to cook in our hall of residence

except for me of course

i don't cook

i just give the others tips!

zhong's spicy sichuan dishes are delicious

they keep us warm and glowing when the weather is cold

it doesn't feel like summer here

it's more like november in august

windy rainy stormy

the sunshine we kindly bought from jiangsu

has faded like old cloth

but i don't care

everything here is so different from our china

i have to stop myself from staring like little cousin feng!

the air is so clean and fresh

and there are grass and trees everywhere

but the thing i can't get used to is the peace and quiet

although we are staying in britain's second biggest city

it feels more like a small country town

nobody in the streets

no hustle and bustle

the buses and trains are almost empty

the cars drive quietly along like a little column of ants

and no-one ever uses their horn!

i think i shall have to change the way i drive when i get home

i must be more patient

people here are so funny

they are not as reserved as we are in china

they gesticulate and throw their arms about when they talk

they look you straight in the eye

and talk in loud voices

they seem very passionate

but they are also kind

sometimes complete strangers smile and say hello

i always feel a little embarrassed and taken aback

i don't know what to say

so usually i just bow and smile back

it's still difficult to start a conversation

or even respond

i am tongue-tied

but i think my ears are beginning to unblock themselves

yesterday when i was listening to my teacher

i noticed that the slippery stream of words

was broken by a few smooth rocks

stepping stones

guiding me across the deep water

you can't believe how pleased i was!

this has never happened to me with english before

the boys and girls here are very good-looking

seeing them face to face and close up

i can appreciate their round eyes and porcelain skin

they are so tall and big

like giants

but i think their food is sometimes a little too sweet

because there are many overweight people here

mum

i must sign off now

think of me

and remember that the same moon shines on us

i love you and i miss you

your loving daughter

r

HAWKE

your wings flutter in the wind

but your body remains still

your head alert

your eyes ever watchful

you hover above the bracken

shooting the breeze

sailing the updraughts

making it look so easy

perfectly balanced

on a narrow airy tightrope

sensing the biting point

silhouetted against the pale grey firnament

you are patient

you wait for that moment

that brief instant

when your unwitting prey will break cover

that window of opportunity

when your lightning strike

will most likely reep its rewards

watching and waiting

waiting and watching

now!

you plunge from the skies

dive-bombing the hillside

wings up

talons outstretched

eyes locked on their target

you disappear into the ferns

one second

two seconds

now you rise again

pheonix-like

talons empty

without recompense

cruising upwards

you fill your lungs

recompose yourself

climbing back onto your tightrope

head held high

undeterred

for you know

that your time will come

DARK CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON

ONION

onion
ripped from the soil by your stalk
as i tear open your flaky skin

cut out and discard the rotten bits

you are violated once again
one by one i peel away your layers

your pungent vapour

stings my eyes with tears

i look inside you

but you never reveal your heart

TIRED STONES

we drag them along
our stones
we elaborate grand designs for them
quarry them from the rockface
cut them to size
hoist them up the hill
up that steep steep incline
ah we suffer for our stones
we push
we pull
we pant
wipe the sweat from our brows
curse the blisters and callouses on our hands
and sometimes we falter
lose heart
lack the strength to keep going
some of those stones fall inevitably by the wayside
the mountain is just too rocky or steep
the burden is just too much to bear
the sacrifice too great
our comrades desert us
and the stone becomes a tired stone
perhaps one day it will be retrieved
recovered and dusted off
for the same project
or another grand plan
or perhaps it will simply be left
to be weathered by the wind and rain
to be stumbled upon
by the inquisitive eyes
and wild imaginations
of future generations

SHOCK AND AWE

i wake up to shock and awe
blinding flashes of purple flame light up the darkness
deafening explosions perforate the ear drum
women and children cower in bunkers
flag-waving families laugh and cheer
tearful grandmothers leave their villages
on the backs of trucks
for the first time
for the last time?
ecstatic couples embrace
hearts bursting with pride
a battallion of stiff-faced young men marches through town
a thousand choreographed dancers twirl in unison
a column of tanks winds its way along a dirt track
a fleet of limousines whisks its luminaries into the stadium
the torch is lit
the touchpaper is ignited
the games begin
the battle commences
they gun for glory
they shun defeat
there will be joy and heartbreak
victor and vanquished
the superpower asserts its status
defiant
as the eyes of the world look on

PANORAMIC

what do these three things have in common?
1) a domestic wind turbine
2) a photo opportunity in the arctic
3) a bike ride to work through the london rush-hour
accompanied by a chauffeur...
that's right
david cameraman
young tory pretender to the crown

flaunting his supposed green credentials

dave take a bow...
today in a downtown cafe
it is mr cameraman i am here to discuss
or rather the possibility of your fave blogger
taking part in a tv interview with the would-be pm
to quiz him on matters eco
over a gigantic americano
courtesy of aunty beeb
patrick the producer asks me for my take on our man
which is it?
genuine commitment to the welfare of the planet
or convenient rebranding?
green to the core
or greenwash?
i say that i'm afraid dc is optional add-on

rather than core business model

(it's the economy stupid!)

p spews out questions
often answering them himself
as if articulating an internal dialogue
but i learn nothing of his ideas about the programme
after half an hour or so of q & a
he takes a phonecall
it's friday evening
and someone wants him back in londinium
pronto
he asks to be excused
the train to marylebone awaits
he says he will be in touch next week
am i the man he's looking for?
i'm left none the wiser...

THE ART OF RIBBING

why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?
because it wanted to get to the bottom
[ed: groan!]
i heard that one told by a precocious 6-year-old
in the circus tent at glastonbury
it tickled hannah
but when she tried to retell it to her grandma
it came out as:
why did the tissue paper roll down the hill?
yep
the woodle has deafen-it-ly inherited
her dad's ability to mangle a good joke:
a man goes to the doctor and says
'doctor doctor
i've got some cream up my bottom!'
[ed: bottoms again?!]
and the doctor says...
'don't worry
i've got a strawberry for that'
er...i mean...oops!
i lived with a guy once in bilbao
nick hasset by name
who had a god-given ability
to remember n retell a joke
perfect delivery and comic timing
not only in english but also in spanish
i don't know what it is with me
but my brain don't work like that
i enjoy a good tale
a witty joke
as much as the next man or woman
but try as i might
i cannae even remember me own lyrics and poetry
never mind anyone else's line in patter
quotations?
nah
plots of films?
hopeless
anecdotes?
forget it!
there must be an art to it
an art to performance in real time
a way to overcome the curse
of the clumsy guitarist
the forgetful vocalist
the punchline-pranging comedian
i dunno
i don't seem to be able to string it together
perhaps it's just a case of letting go
putting a little more of the right brain into it
or maybe simply a case of perfect makes practice

JUGGLING ACT

economists juggle scarce resources
politicians juggle their constituents
china juggles its population
the planet juggles its ozone and its co2

parents juggle their children and their me time

novelists juggle their protagonists

artists juggle their muses

songwriters juggle their melodies n lyrics

rock stars juggle their groupies

dogs juggle their bones

philanderers juggle their mistresses

fashionistas juggle their wardrobes

slugs and snails juggle their sexuality

gardeners juggle their pyracanthas and hydrangeas
the woodle juggles her teddies
i juggle with the art of living

KINGS

jon and i are ushered into a cramped kitchen-sitting room
to wild applause
we are presented with ornamental tibetan necklaces
tokens of appreciation from our chinese friends
the heavy amber stones
the baubles n beads
dangle from our necks
we are bade to sit down at a long table
laden with exotic dishes
dumplings filled with carrot and mushroom
bean and radish and pepper salad
cauliflour with shitake mushrooms and red chillis
cabbage braised in soy sauce
vegan fare for me
gluten-free for jon
my glass is filled and refilled with red vino
multiple bottoms up ensue
i am asked to make a speech
i'm hopeless at speeches
under the influence of the vino
i mumble a few clumsy words of thanks
then sit down again
chinese pop plays from a laptop
the melacholy tone of a bowed stringed instrument
cutting through the music
the formalities over
they decide to let their hair down and play hot potato
a guy with a towel wrapped around his head
bangs a dish with a wooden spoon
as a pack of tissues is frantically passed around
the forfeit is to sing for the crowd
naked without a guitar
i do 'tiny diamond'
then a tongue-in-cheek 'god save the queen'
the chinese girls sing sad and beautiful traditional songs
with a melancholy lilt
others listen with glazed faraway eyes
it takes me back to korea
and the late night norae bahng
i am touched by the group's hospitality
i am privileged to be entertained tonight
by these lively eastern visitors

BOTTLE

MAPPA MONDAY

where south is west
west is north
and north is east
where europe is africa
and africa is europe
where jerusalem is the epicentre of the world
where england is mapped out in cathedrals
where the beasts and creatures of travellers tales
crawl fantastically from the vellum
a freakish camel
a curious rhinoceros
a siren on a rock
bat-eared and foot-headed men

hermaphrodite and mandrake

unicorn and phoenix

sphinx and griffon

the land of gog and magog

sodom and gomorrha

the pillars of hercules
where death and judgement day are all-pervading
where paradise lost is encircled in a ring of fire
where christian morality trumps geography

SUNDAY PRAYER

this is a prayer for the near and the distant
for family and for society

for the friend and the stranger

for the fellow countryman and the foreigner

this is a prayer for the born and the unborn
for the old and the young
for the beautiful and ugly
for the healthy and the diseased
this is a prayer for the good and the bad
for the sinner and the saint
for the rich and the poor
for the powerful and the downtrodden
this is a prayer for mankind
and for the beasts of the field
for the male and the female
for us and for them
for you and for me
this is a prayer without conditions or attachments
with no small print
may your suffering be relieved
may your pain be soothed
may your burden be eased
may your weariness melt away
may peace and calm and serenity
flow through your mind
may altruistic love flow through your heart
and may you be truly happy

CONTROL

dear nonny mouse
thank you for your kind offer
but i have a confession to make
for when i told you i receive five readies
every time a reader leaves a comment
i was just joshing
nah!
blogging royalties remain a distant dream
unless anyone fancies making a small donation
in which case
offers to my comments box please!
until that time
i blog for free
i post for nothing
i seek no financial remuneration
i blog for the love of blogging
for the interactivity the medium allows
for the creativity it fosters
for the buzz of occasionally resonating
with one of you dear readers
[ed: if ya throw enough mud
some of it will stick!]
alighting like a butterfly
on that word or phrase
that metaphor or rhyming couplet
that makes you chuckle
intrigues you
adds something to your day
or gets you thru the night
'the effect of the communication
is the response you get'
so say the neurolinguistic programmers
nlp places the onus on the writer or speaker
to adjust the massage
till the audience responds in the way intended
in other words
nlp cultivates acuity
to nonny mouse
and perhaps you
i unwittingly come across as dissatisfied
freaked by a world out of my control
this is not the massage i wish to convey
but perhaps a trait in myself that i need to analyse
the desire to be in control
to exercise power
to attain mastery
to assert dominance
to hold influenza

the search for importance

permanence
omnipotence

stoking delusions of grandeur

destined to end in frustration and disappointment

born out of fear
humankind's evolution tells the tale of control
from stone age cave dweller
to modern denizen of real and virtual worlds
learning first to live in harmony with nature
red in tooth and claw
then later attempting to transcend it
until it bites back
our friend nonny mouse is right
when (s)he tells us to let go
to revel in the mess
to cherish and marvel at the untamable
the uncontrollable unpredictability
of the vast
writhing
undulating
cosmos

ENTROPY

i am a hamster in a wheel
a maintenance man on call 24/7
whose work is never done
even as i wipe away the dust
more tiny particles gather imperceptibly
recovering the same surface
as i emerge from the shower
and apply the crystal deoderant
to my clean wet skin
the losing battle recommences
against the onrushing microbacterial hoardes
i shave my cheeks smooth
visit the hairdresser to tame my overgrown locks
and immediately the hair sprouts back
albeit slightly thinner lanker and greyer than before
even as my healthy sun tan glows
it is fading away
even as i roll up my yoga mat
my muscles tendons n sinews disalign
tie themselves into new knots
i floss the plaque from between my teeth
i empty my alimentary canal
and more gunge rots between my molars
more shit prepares to hit the fan
i respond to an email in my in-tray
delete a few more
and immediately others take their plaice
i record a song
upload it to mice pace
strive to finish the album
and hey presto
another ditty is jostling for attention
a new album demands to be recorded
i deliver another lesson
a new one is waiting to be planned
i learn a new fact
look up an entry in wikipedia
and it is already out of date
irrelevant
superceded
meanwhile an old fact is erased
from my overstretched memory
i purchase a brand new laptop
and it is already old
half its value wiped off at a stroke
i fill by belly
satisfy my curiosity
sate my carnal desires
answer my urges and cravings
but all in vain
for immediately they regroup
reassemble
recharge themselves
wiping out my gains
like cockroaches
or sci-fi metal monsters
uncrushable
undefeatable
insurmountable
i kid myself
that the nagging will go away
all will be well once i've done x
when y is over
or once z is out of the way
who am i trying to fool?
even as i write this post
even as you read it
the content will be used up
out of date
yesterday's papers
old hat
ancient history
forever consigned
to the trash can of existence