We learn to point it's strange
Baby thinks the toy is gone
But it's just behind a book,
Take the other from under your hat
See the joy in baby's look
What does she think of that ?
If you take the book away,
Baby now can see there's two,
What will baby learn to say ?
Is that the world or is that you ?
It's just a game,
That's fun to play,
Does it somehow shape a brain ?
Or will babies always have
Their own individual way
Of thinking
Time
A song
Which or whom came first in all the every
things like eggs and chicks and stuff and dust and
When did people start to feel so empty
sensing life is running away like sand
A notion in a dream once showed it’s self
And asked what if the stuff of life could be
undone like all the letters on a shelf
Just swept away and we like birds were free
to fly with songs upon our newborn wings
and carry twigs like words away to make
Some other worldly home where sadness brings
Its bags upon its weary back to break
the cycle of destruction so to bring
A steady state of joy where birds can sing.
Dicho tomy
two parts cutting
The beautiful mystery
that leads to growth.
A division of parts;
branching and branching.
The one that cannot be the other,
or part of it.
The essential nature of life.
Not Yin Yang, more the moon in
its first quarter, then its third quarter.
The one that complements the other.
The dance of a couple where neither touches.
The one place here and the other one there.
The never the twain shall ever meet.
Unless the universe reveals its other laws to us and growth takes on
an other
p
a t t
e r n
In the veggie cafe,
He sits infront of her,
Telling her like it all is,
Like she doesn't know.
He thinks she looks revolutionary,
Kindred spirit, with
Newly cropped hair,
Big Doc Marten boots, but
She's just getting ready to jump.
A dice with death let's say.
What do you want she asks
Smash the government, he replies
fist demonstrates his depth of feeling.
They both need healing,
Something to change.
Next week sees him running round
Knocking on doors and shouting
For someone to join him,
Help him
She's in the back of a landrover
on the way to an airfield
where she'll see the sunset,
Four thousand miles up.
*
Being Here
It’s ghia here in Kelter
There’s nothing to filter
It’s clear that here
is wild and pure
And Nobody owns her
No need to protect her
We all learn to love her
You’ll find your kilter
When you come to Kelter
You won't ever leave her
cos she'll always be with you
The Ocean
Throws up a stone,
Flattish, nearly round,
Found by a child,
Who feels it,
The rasping nick,
It's nearly a heart.
Salt water laps at their feet,
Hungry for the stone back,
It's incomplete
The child skims the stone,
It bounces along
Waves trying to catch it
Hearing their name called,
Child,
Looks back to the land,
Each wave draws the stones back,
The sand slows our child's progress
towards the sound,
Loving each step,
The depth of the course, grey sand
pulls down like quicksand,
A lovely sinking feeling
Lulling
The little sojourner performs a strange
slow dance
when laughter from the voice
beckons
Come on you,
It's time,
Race you back
You must be specific with wishes.
A genie has already spent one hour paying close attention to the details of a special teddy bear whose fur must be a certain shade of pink, whose smell be a specific kind of sweet and whose voice be an absolute replica of a deeply loved one.
The child, though only six years old, knows not to ask for the loved one to be returned in full, having fully understood the concept of death because of experiencing it first hand.
People cannot be wished back to life. That's something fully understood by the child who has prayed and wished for this over and over again and been held in her despair by others who dearly love her but not, perhaps as dearly as the one the child has wished for.
The child who knows what happens in life when a dearly loved one dies, loses hope but gains experience and understanding which goes very deep into their soul.
When the genie has granted the child's three wishes, the colour, the smell, the voice, the teddy bear itself is the gift from the genie, encompassing the three wishes, after which, the genie has little time or patience to listen to the wishy washy vaguely articulated wonts of the ones who come begging after.
It'll wear off, or at least fade no doubt. Genies have a job to do. Genie will return to work and pay more attention, but perhaps with a little diminished enthusiasm. Which is totally understandable.
**
We learn to point it's strange Baby thinks the toy is gone But it's just behind a book, Take the other from under your hat See the...