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