You may think you’re just a ripple in the ocean, but to the phytoplankton you are a tidal wave…
Tag Archives: lifethoughts
That old chestnut?
when I grow up ( again ) I won’t be such a pain but I shan’t be just a grain of sand, I shall be the shore…
Thinks on
Finding the mind in amazing configurations, a million and more calculations in the blink of your eyes which are also amazing, but it’s sometimes a maze which we navigate through and amazing or not whether we mind it or not we’ve got potential…
The pattern cutter
The thought is I think the link and each thought that we think adds to each link and each link to another to our sisters and brothers uniting us all. The square route of everything is anything that makes something bearable and we are durable, aren’t we? Do you think you’re alone? do you think…
Back to the sixties
Remember those demented discotheques where we broke our necks dancing to the latest? weren’t they the greatest? And now we break our backs making tracks to the bathroom. Time that knows us slows us and no use in us complaining. And those that ‘cut a rug’ doing the jitterbug went long before us. I’m not…
#Foreverfalling
There’s a danger that when you see her you’ll find yourself as you fall in love…
Pixels
..and the spin begins each orbit, eyes. and time lays soft along the parallels. There are constant murmurs in the foreground which are whispers to ignore. And more to see universally speaking, but like an unwound clock my minutes are leaking away. At the beginning when time was a drawing on the celestial chalkboard, I…
Corporate lies
Global? we are not, we are and always have been Tribal, it’s in the DNA holstered as a memory…
Picture cards
Some other time the alphabet would get in the way of what I really want to say. It’s making a prisoner of the abstract, the reflex thought, the mirror caught in a reflective mood. Like echoes off the walls my shadow calls to me, garbled A’s and B’s and C’s he’s just like me my…
The disciple
It is the knowing right from wrong and how long it takes to make the distinction. When you walk in dead men’s shoes losing track of time what was and no longer is becomes forever mine. I only touch on truths by chance they usually stay well hidden, but when I set my mast to…
Nibbles at biscuits
Frustration is no pretense when the words that you form barely form into a sentence, but writing is a life sentence, isn’t it? I need to get away, take a holiday, somewhere far away from the paper and pen, but what would I do then? When I am smudged against the sky and all things…
Snakes and adders
What defines us is the minus and we’re on a sliding scale, some will rise above it all (Kilroy on the garden wall) some will sink into oblivion which leaves the rest to carry on. Mindlessly we sit and stare bearing in mind we may not be there, but someone is. This is like a…
Talks to the reflection
What did you want, more? something better than the former? something later than the letter that was never sent did you want heaven sent? I have lost and it cost me I have won and it has done nothing for me so I remain still faithfully yours, strange? life is, thoughts are, but funnily enough…
Getting off
Incidentally I have not bobbed for apples in a very long time ago when I was much younger, (you know how that feels) right? when the stars of the night held me spellbound and the ground that I walked on was virgin (to me) and the future was, well the future was what it would…
Magic lantern Mk 2
Outside the doors of eternity where time laughs at itself upon seeing the absurdity of man making plans for the future. I hear sounds from the cloakroom which I hoped not to imagine but the picture lingers long in my mind. There’s a saving grace if you can face it, if you’ve never lived life…
The reality pill
Stability? probably, but we all balance precariously on the edge of reason…
Ticking over
No one needs a PhD to write poetry, you just need a pen and sometime you can just use your mind as a notepad. But sometimes when poetry calls and I get in a tizz I just write on the walls, (Banksy you can thank me later)…
The music of words
Poetry is the pulse by which we measure how alive we really are, the heartbeat of the street the rhythm of the road…
Rag and bone man
There is an ocean in this scrapyard that is laughingly called me and I’m wading through this fractured hulk somewhere all at sea, but even junkyards have their uses though they’re difficult to find, I have lots of time to waste and really, no really I don’t mind. A souvenir shop by a cafe who would place…
After Omega
What if it’s a closed fairground when we get there? what if a good God didn’t care enough to put out candy floss? but what if it’s a citadel? I don’t know not that I ever did I think about it though. There’s still time and still time and I am quiet most of the…
