Yet Still More Poems


He taught me to think
When I stood on the verge of ignorance
Helped me to see things as they really are
And not as they merely seem to be
Gave me the power to read the messages of wonder
That now bring light to my darkened way
Showed me the paths of writing
That now and forever will let me be known
How can I thank that person from my distant past
Who understood my needs and shaped my deeds?
Shared his wisdom in a gentle way
Understood my struggle and stayed resourcefully calm
Too late now for words
But they were not needed as he did what he did
For love of me as a child of destiny
Placed in his care by the gods of authority
He is long dead anyway, and yet he lives still
Every time I find the right path through the forest of learning
Whenever I decode a written word
Or learn from a page the wonderment of the human mind
I am thankful to him
As I write I confirm the benefit of his life
Which reaches out across time like a lighthouse in a storm
And lets me share his wisdom as well as my own
A teacher can never measure the outcomes of his labour
Their echoes are infinite, but one result is clear
That hand that helped that child
And gave him the power to read and write and think
Wrote and still writes on the wall of eternity

The Doing Of A Deal

A bank is a place that will lend you money
if you can prove that you don’t need it
. Bob Hope

Have you ever been lost?
Nowhere to go, threatened by the world, and panicking?
Join the crowd
There are so many of us torn apart by circumstance
For example
Fragmented by the market where lies are bought and sold
Money is the drug abounding there
The exotic, erotic narcotic that stultifies reason
And takes so many on journeys of no return
This addiction is very widespread
Have you heard the cries
Echoing in valleys of despair
Where investors have gone astray?
Errors have a strange place in free competition
Make a mistake and you’re dead
Make two and you might find yourself a CEO
In the shifting sands of business opportunity
Freedom is the adage but often
It’s freedom to fail
Usually at the hands of a potent and ruthless rival
A magnate who rejoices in profit
Gets costs down and wages lower
This the defining spirit of private enterprise
So what can be done for relief?
Is there a solution, a way out for the loser?
The key to every conversation is money
Because money talks
And what makes addiction work in the world of hallucinogens?
Why, for all intents and purposes it’s the dealer
So gather around all of you lost souls writhing in penury
Follow the lead of presidents, impresarios and robber barons
Have something to sell that somebody wants
Stand tall with the glint of victory in your eyes
Get real, affix the seal, and with a commanding flourish do a deal


You were close to me in a dual alliance
We trusted each other
A willing acceptance of obligation built on love
And the sharing of existence
How the world changed for me in your company!
Life was a new experience
Once colourless, lifeless, jejune, bland
I was changed by your influence
Into a thinking reed who spoke a new language
And cared about what you thought of me
You gave me a newness that would surprise my old friends
And a spirit of enquiry you had set on fire
I walked with you to so many places
Learnt to observe with a critical discerning eye
What previously I had gullibly praised
That world that you gave me lingers on
A part of my awareness
Still with me at times when fate promotes despair
A memory that refuses to fade
That is it then
You have gone your way now with another
Beguiled by seduction to destroy the world that we knew
Found a new broken icon to repair
And I am left alone
Yet solitude is not my destiny any more
That momentum I achieved with you
Has let me wander pathways undreamed of before I met you
New friends and other love
I have found on that new and exciting journey
We shall never meet again
But for all that, you still walk with me
Not ahead of me but beside me
With me yet
In your rightful place, still a cogent part of my existence

The Drums Of War

To Whoever Is Responsible For This

I hear you beating that empty vessel of disdain
I read your mind and the print is very clear
In bold and italics
To stress your deadly dream of death
Hatred is in your blood and stirs the venom
Of your deadly lust for war.
Your reasons too are obvious
You need distraction from your failures
Attention diverted from your misdemeanours
To hide the chaos wrought by your incompetent hands
In your economy of poverty, sickness and unrest
Your folly that haunts a world you ruin with so much zest
So let disaster reign
Add distraction as your warped solution
Single out an enemy
Not real but created by your twisted mind
The solution to the troubles you have created
Beat that drum O musician of dismay
Recruit the would be soldiers
To die young for a cause you have created
March them off to Hell
To the sound of your sham percussion anthem
Inject them with hatred of a contrived foe
Teach them how to abhor
And how to kill
Give them medals for all untimely death
Glorify their virtual obedient suicide
Build a monument to their unwitting bravery
With bells sound the knell of death
At an annual celebration
Play the last post on that day
Then smile as you accept the triumph of political duplicity


For Greta Thunberg

Desultory barriers to reason are everywhere today
You can hear the wind moaning in despair
And Thor thunders his anger in the heavens above
Death is in the air yet some demand freedom to mingle
Rising temperature is a warning of illness
And the earth has a fever
Yet voices like sounding brass demand getting on with business
Change is in the air
Not balanced, logical, planned progression
But destruction of a world once blessed with infinite beauty
In harmony with all living things
On the plains, on the mountains and in the deep ocean
Sirens, half man half burro, have their voices
Echoing in the air waves
Luring mankind to destruction
With the pathetic feasibility of their songs
The rods of extreme tyranny now beat on our doors
Demanding entry and crushing resistance with violence
The lust for power diverts normal discussion
Into tirade, diatribe, polemic, rant and fulmination
People talking and not listening
Sounds as barbs stabbing the silence without mercy
Within the chaos of this existence
Privileged oligarchs rule with power supreme
Our lives are their tools to manipulate as they please
We are the paving of their paths and they walk on us
Shaping our destines according to their needs
From criticism they are relatively safe
As the press and other media pretend integrity
Masquerade as agents of truth
And so the world crumbles seemingly doomed to die
An ugly death
Yet as sometimes happens, a single voice may dominate the din
It has been so today and the voice of a child rings stunningly clear
With the eternal strength of truth and is heard by the great numbers

Needed to make us think: perhaps all is still not lost


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