And finally…

Some of these were written for He Who Must Not Be Named but are too good to waste.

Scream of consiousness; “aaargh! I’m awake!”

(as in “gracious living” which in our house means “gracious! I’m still living!”)

Sayings of Sarada No ???

How far from the track

they travelled

purely by imagining

they were the ones

laying it.

……

If America is one nation under God

Britain is one nation underdog

– we are anagrams of each other.

……….

They have banned the pun

and my punishment

is banishment

……….

No meeting

there is none

but let ego resolve

into love

then there is melting

……….

If you don’t like this,

it’s too late

don’t complain at heaven’s gate

The devil has already sung

by the steeple bells is swung

in the world’s arc

– let’s give tongue

The genius of Mark

This just in…

“blackbeth – the Scottish play on horseback”

“Morris mining – extraction of retro cars from under the ground”

(presumably by Morris men)

I’m doing OK.  Recovering fairly well from psychosis.  Recent thoughts include – “I need a guru to help me deal with all this stuff – the challenges of training teachers plus dealing with insanity”.

Reports of my genius may or may not have been greatly exaggerated

(That was going to be my line on stage)

Chinese

They read my poems

(they jest)

harvest the fruits

of cleverness

leave the rest

“Not bad” they say.

“But like the Chinese

twenty lines later

I’m hungry again.”

……..

I

I write my poem

then it’s done

I hunger for

another one

…………

You and I

We chase each other

tail to nose

that’s the way

the money goes

……….

These poems express a couple of things: firstly, a complaint about the way culture is understood and discussed primarily on an intellectual level without any discussion of the heart. The heart is relegated to the level of sentiment and romance – in fact it is bypassed altogether. Don’t know if I posted this one:

These days

intellectuals

have all had

a triple heart bypass.

…..

So there is a tendency to harvest the fruits of the intellect and leave the rest. This is a kind of greed. The second poem is a recognition of the phenomenon that, whatever I accuse others of, is also in me. It takes one to know one (no-one). So that writer and reader are closely linked in this scenario, chasing one another’s tails in accusation and counter-accusation.

That’s it – thought for the day

thunk!

(that’s the sound of the thought for the day dropping into the brain!)