Friday, 3 July 2015

Making things

I've got a friend who makes furniture out of old pieces of wood and metal etc he finds in in the hard rubbish left on the street. Last night he was showing me some of what he has made and how he makes it.

It occurred to me that what he was doing would make a great community TV program. It is also a metaphor for how we should treat others.

Since I didn't have a camera on me at the time I wrote a poem instead...............


Every now and then
The fuzz clears from the brain
And you see

Not the illusion of what is
But the reality of
What is meant to be

It’s in the old wood
And rusty iron
Not just recycled
But reshaped
Not loosing any of the defects
That make it what it is
Even perhaps gaining some
A hole accidently drilled in the wrong place
Filled with a spare rusty bolt
Useless as application
But essential for the nature
Of its existence

The hands of the maker
Glide softly over the surface
Sanding lightly
Clearcoat only
Anything else would destroy the patina
Devaluing beyond words
In vain attempt
To make better

Our natural tendency
Is to panel beat the surface
With a blunt hammer
And a coat of shiny paint
As long as it looks
The same as everything else
It’s OK

If you hide what’s underneath
Maybe like the quantum
It’ll cease to exist
At least for a time

But the inconvenient nature
Of the quantum universe
Ensures that it just
Pops up again
At random
Someware else

It’s much better
To help the ladder
Become the table
That it’s meant to be
Than to force it
To be the shiny
Set of steps
That you want

Thursday, 23 April 2015

An addition to the cosmic dustbin

I haven't posted to this blog in almost two years - partly because I haven't written much poetry in a while - but mostly because I couldn't be bothered.
There is probably no one reading this - and it didn't seem worth the effort - but then it occurred to me last night that even though no one may read this now, it will hang around in cyberspace probably for millennium after I have returned to star stuff, and in the far future some alien cyber archaeologist having a particularly boring day wading through the financial documents of countless 20th and 21st century corporations or the equally inane musings of our media moguls and their lackeys of both the print and video and audio variety will come across this and may actually read it before tossing it into the cosmic recycling basket of history

Out of the Dark
Out of the dark
And into the black
As mercy fades into morning
And imaginations spirit
Floats along with the dawn
Through the byways of the world
Among the dust and the darkness
The scared, the scarred and the sacred
The walking wounded
Lost wandering the world
Stuck on one marble
Blue amongst the black
And pinpricks of light
Unrealised destiny
Dust to dust
And back to dust

Star stuff are we
Every molecule
Born in the heart of a star
Sometimes an exploding one
And scattered to the four ends
Of the universe
Along with suffering
And mercy
And the pain of forgiveness
That we must accept
From ourselves
Our scattered selves
Our shattered selves
Individual and collective

For where mercy and compassion
Doth begin in the heart of one
It needith to not stay there
Least it die
But hard it is
And terrifying in the least
To break the hereditary chains
Of ego
And isolation
To accept the other
As the self
And set one free
From expectation, achievement and doubt
The little boy lost
That will never grow up
And maybe should not be encouraged to try
Suffer unto
The little children
The little child

Unless you be as such
As one of these
Lost among the stars
And the dust
And the darkness
From which it was born
Wandering the byways of the universe
Away from the imagined safety
Of the cradle
The marble
Blue amongst the black
Star stuff
Dust and destiny
Life’s promise
And terrible reality
One and the same thing
To be embraced with
Arms outstretched

As we float in the blackness
Punctuated with
Pinpricks of light
Our universe
The universe
Any universe
Every universe
Punctuated with pinpricks
Of thought
And feeling
Wrapped in heredity
And dust
From the heart
Of an exploding star
But still greater
The universe
Any universe
Every universe
Our universe

Locked in thought
And feeling
Arms outstretched
Amidst the blackness
And the pin pricks
Of light
Around us
Our stars