Tuesday, 24 August 2010

In answer to the lighhouse...

~ There are no definites...~

There are no definites, no absolutes,
Or rather, there are, but very few.
Mainly, there are a series of possibilities
Each with its own likelihood of being true.
The probability of likely truth varies,
As much for each individual as for each theory ever posited.

No-one has all the answers,
No one person knows everything for sure;
Anyone, anyone at all, that claims such omniscience
Should be first to be summarily dismissed
From your list of trusty consigliari.

We’re all seeking knowledge,
On a quest of curiosity;
From the day we’re pulled,
Mewling our indignation,
Into the cold, harsh light of here,
The original rude awakening;
Until the time we’re returned to darkness,
Softly slipping or sharply shoved,
Mostly unprepared for our final earthly transition.

And so it is, why we question,
Why we take elements of every day, and dissect,
Always rooting around for the root cause,
Forever attempting to satiate that innate urge for answers.
And given that life is apparently a journey,
And we its unwilling but, nevertheless, intrepid travellers,
Then what more natural questions to pose
Than those of our origin, and our final destination?
How can we ever expect to arrive at a place unknown?
And surely our present can never achieve full meaning
If we’ve no idea of the past on which it is built?

Sunday, 15 August 2010

because sleep didn't seem to be the answer

~Catching up~

for you i will stay awake and ignore
night's call to surrender
fretful it sirens sleep, begs me to my bed til almost
i could succumb, but just
a breath from you
the merest hint that you are or have been
awake and in this world without me
and i shun slumber, shrug off buzz of doze that drones
return to puzzle how i ever can make up
every moment spent unaware and
without you

Tuesday, 3 August 2010

One I read last week

This is an old one, written after an argument with an old friend about what he referred to as 'football banter'.  And I don't mean terrace chants or the actual team/fan-related putdowns.  I mean sweeping negative comments that go beyond the game - "ah yeah, well you know those scousers - they'd nick anything not tied down". That kind of comment, that's attributed to 'banter'.  I do get a bit het up about it...

But the hate makes sense
You have no idea
you see yourself
reflected in them
their chants, their jeers, their cries
sea of heaving masculinity
repulsive, compelling
attractive if you're honest

You see yourself
you have no idea
their red your own
strident love, rising anger, fury, rage
blazoned bias
passion stamp out reason
no room for equanimity
apathy the rival

You see yourself
you have no idea
pride in partition
pity the uninitiated
embrace the hate
refuel partisan past
in this pathetic quest
for another man's glory
another man's downfall

You have no idea
you see yourself
in them
but try to fool the world
to assert misplaced superiority
no jaw-smashing glass-throwing blood-letting match-stopping
your fury insidious
emanate cold
bloodless passion
crescents bloom in soft pale palms
unconscious sneer
you spit and choke
profess your love
your hate

You see yourself
you have no idea
reasoned defence
rationale for hate
in the right
so infiltrated,
mind warped
father to son
life long belief

You have no idea
you see. Yourself
Disgust misplaced
self righteous hypocrisy
inner yob cloaked in suit and tie
undertone a litany
your genteel chorus of hate

You see yourself
you have no idea
your red is their own
your love is their own
your hate is their own
only, their own is true

See yourself
you should
just like them
just like him
you have no idea