I was sitting in the dark
and wondered if it was a metaphor
or whether I was just too lazy
to turn on the light
when I realized
that it was a metaphor
for laziness.
truth
The passing place
What is this? A passing place
a space with room to manoeuvre
and remove the prospect of collision
not the correct space for turning
but if that yearning be pressed
it would pass
A pause, a glance
something heartfelt that you can’t articulate
the deadweight of a stone
in the belly of the wolf
Is this not a love song?
To have a proper gander
at the state we’re in today
we need to sit still,
keep quiet,
not enter into the fray.
A senseless series of suppers
I wouldn’t normally reblog my own post but this seems relevant today after the murder of a Member of Parliament outside their constituency surgery. The silencing of those who tirelessly advocate for others is something that I find truly abhorrent. Another voice lost, another sad stain on our society to sicken the soul.
Would you have chosen the same
if you had known? Blown by the winds
of change and dissatisfaction.
A little goat’s milk, perhaps
some hard boiled eggs.
Would you take direction
from those who would document
your campaign or refrain
from hot sauce and hot topics
to settle for some corned beef?
Would it be a release, a relief
to know of your ultimate consumption?
Sit me up, turn me loose
the proof is in the pudding.
The Angst Trilogy
Angst
part 1
can a thing be a thing
if it does not exist
beyond the mind
I persist
…
part 2
redigere
…
part 3
“yes Mum”
Angst (Part 3)
“yes Mum”
Angst (Part 2)
redigere
The Heights
Neil Gunn basking in the sun
waiting for the warm deception of the sun’s rays
to tempt the passer-by out of their stone-cold hibernation
into the hard morning frost.
Angst (Part 1)
can a thing be a thing
if it does not exist
beyond the mind
I persist
Liathach
The ray of light that broke the cloud departed.
I descend; the pace increasing, the pulse
steadying after the shock.
Sat in its shadow as evening draws a close on the chapter
I survey the soaring ramparts, searching for the return
that will never come.
A joyful ache takes away the pain as I sit
staring at the pieces, pondering the next move;
upward glances marking time
in the silent lullaby of Liathach’s lament.
the jericho roads 