Thursday, 29 June 2017

I Don't Understand

What if the space-time continuum is wrong?
What if it is in fact a time-space non-continuum?
What will we all do then?

Probably much the same as we do right now I guess.

Eat chips
Easily resist the temptation to start smoking
Write a report for a dull meeting


If the universe ruptures because we've got it all wrong
Then we won't need to do anything
Because we won't exist

And this poem
if it is a poem
will serve no purpose

which it probably doesn't do now anyway

Tuesday, 20 June 2017


The art of writing

Saturday, 17 June 2017

The machine

The machine that propels us this way and that
has no master.

No purpose or direction sits behind the move.

Like the wind or the weather patterns
as commonly found in Scotland
we cannot predict sun or snow or storms
one moment to the next

The machine that drives the bus
is not the bus

The machine that runs the world
is absent of thought

The machine is what we need to live
we need to love the machine
and live with it
whilst trying to wrest control from it
in the complex pattern of simplicity
from which everything emerges.

At this time of day

At this time of day what matters?
There are no bells to ring
to tell us where to go next
and what to do
and how to do it.

At this time of day where are we?
We are lost like children in a fairy tale woods,
like astronauts cut off from the mothership

At this time of day the exhaust fumes overwhelm us.
We are bereft of direction,
sick to the eyes, blind as blackened smoke

At this time of day what matters?
The clock going backwards?
The man in the pub feeling drunk?
The edge of space spinning inwards,
as we all pray for the bells to ring.

Zen pic 1