How Did That Happen?

Here we are
on a Sunday morning 
going out for coffee and cake 
buying trinkets from a gift shop
a nice loaf of bread for lunch
all because of a cosmic accident 
we
an accidental biological soup 
prepared just right
all the correct ingredients 
tossed in a pot
cooked at the correct temperature 
stirred for just the right amount of time 
not too hot
not too cold
jigsaw pieces which were thrown at a distant cosmic wall
and came together to form the completed puzzle
matching the picture on the box lid
and here we are
all sat on a lump of spining 
cooling 
dust and gases
which itself only came together by accident 
a series of mishaps after a very careless explosion - the cause unknown
and so an unstable fragment of rock
formed
evolved
developed
into an insignificant planet 
a spec of dust
circling around a tiny inconsequential sun
not too hot
not too cold
in a tiny inconsequential galaxy 
just one of an infinite number of galaxys
nothing amidst everything else
nothing to anyone
or anything - nothing!
A pin prick on the timeline of "being
a teeny-weeny scratch on evolution 
a single grain of sand on a sandy desert floor - a fly on the arse of an elephant!
And here we are
on a Sunday morning - not too hot
not too cold
going out for coffee and cake 
buying trinkets from a gift shop
a nice loaf of bread for lunch!

...how did that happen?


Never Gonna Happen

Like the time a seagull didn't crap all over your freshly washed car.
Like the time the dog wasn't pleased to see you when came home.
Like the time the secondhand car sales man washed one of his cars in a carwash.
Like the time England won a football final.
Like the time you said you'd rest on your day off and ended up doing more work than on a work day.
Like the time the British nation didn't moan about the weather.
Like the time it didn't start raining when you'd just lit the barbecue - despite the weather forecast.
(Despite the train going by - when you're trying to - dictate a poem)
Like the time there weren't queues on the motorway on a bank holiday Monday - amazing!
Like the time you didn't stub your toe on the end of the bed - again!
Like the time we didn't slate the footy manager for his performance and then say we'd miss him when he stepped down.

...like the time you started writing a poem with no idea how it would...

... end


Two Worlds Now Entwined

A rebel to an upbringing 
the daughter of a vicar
Sundays - church; prepare the lunch
Mondays - beer and liquor 

Raised in service not in self
to their God their debts!
Sundays - homework; study hard
Tuesdays - boys and cigarettes 

Taught to give and not receive 
the community her flock
Sundays - the vicarage to clean
Wednesday - music; pop and rock

Study hard - 'straight A's' required
a pressure to achieve
Sundays - tend the graveyard plots
Thursday - parents to deceive

Jobs that underpinned it all
work; no time for rest
Sundays - the rock of ages sing! 
Friday - for the nightclub dressed...

for on Saturday a women bloomed
who left it all behind 
who's Sunday's now a day of rest
...the two worlds now entwined 







An Explanation

Indoctrination.
Determination through implementation.
A coronation proclamation. 
Maybe a cremation?

The externalisation 
the computerisation of personal information.

Not extrication
nor hesitation, 
the relation of fascination 
a revelation - no resignation 
nor full explanation 
just undervaluation.

No corporate integration
the conformation 
an assignation
to hell with the vacation!

No resignation 
the congregation
merely sent a presentation!
An abomination!
Total ab-lit-er-ation
discrimination
not extermination
a real irritation 
a total fabrication.
No deviation
total domination 

the proliferation 
sweeping our nation.
An illustration  
without specification 

What am I on about?
...have you - an explanation?
to this crazy - narration?







run out of rhyme

What do you do when your world won't rhyme
when you can't find the words
and you can't find the time
and your feet weight heavy
and you're on your last dime
and the darkness is yours
and your poem won't chime
and every hill that you face
is a hill you must climb
and your only hope
is a world of crime 
but you're much too old 
and you're way past your prime
and your poem won't rhyme
and your world don't chime
is a hill you must crime
is a way past your climb
and you're on your last time
and you can't find the slime
try and crawl from the grime
cos your world won't dime
and your words don't rhyme
cos your world won't chime
have you got enough time
for a tonic and lime
mix a blend so sublime...

...then you run out of rhyme







The Magpie


One for the folk law surrounding this bird
Two for the devils blood under his tongue
Three for the deathly omen he brings
and four for a thief of shiny things 

Five for a mischievous insightful breed
Six for capacity to remember your face
Seven for cognition an ability to think
and eight for "Morning Captain!" - a salute and a wink!

Nine for these are not necessarily true
and ten - so I'll leave the conclusion to you