Wednesday, 29 January 2025

Haiku, Senryu And Other Animals

 

lily pad-shaped rain
ripples the grass marbling blades
silvery emerald..

flying polar bears
disguised as fluffy clouds
think they have me fooled..

snowflakes on the tongue
grazing comets blaze sun rays
fizzing fractals..

ghost of kyiv
meat-grind nine hundred thousand
zelensky mansions..

past-life memories
nano-second glitter-ball
flash up so fleeting..

sigh of the angels
the dimensionless whisper
dreams and synchrony..

a.i. avatars
troll a.i. influencers
human sheep triggered..

identarians
tilt at windmills as rulers
laugh divide conquer..

the human body
inside your soul overlay
that feather is light..


Saturday, 25 January 2025

Look At What You Could Have Won


back in the nineties
neath the pristine sparkling cerulean skies
sheer argent stars on a magic carpet ride of sapphire
easily admired even near heathrow
as the auriferous sun generously beamed above to us below..

back in my student days of the nineties
where men and women still somewhat liked one another
strange though that might seem now
even positively distasteful to some..

looking back reeling from now
seems somehow like a lost unattainable world
a little looser
not so uptight
not so much to fear
and though by no means perfect
seemed brighter and lighter
where night was not blinded by black mirrors
where thought-crime was still science fiction
where idealised futures seemed realistically attainable
and not only fantasies naively wishful..

there
there back in that time lived a man
lived a man among men
his name was jim
jim bowen..

jim bowen was a teevee gameshow host
famed for showing losing finalists what they could have won
could have won
had that fateful final question not been answered wrong..

and that was the highlight of the show for me
look at what you could have won
look..
look what you could have won..

my stone roses tape pressed on pause..

but because you answered wrong
you did not win
did not win what you could have..won..

deep stuff for my stoner-student self
jim bowen explicating
that because the contestant answered that question wrong
they won a prize
what prize you ask
in front of millions the contestant was given the opportunity 
to see what they did not win
did not win what they very nearly explained jim
very nearly could have won..

the koan-like poetry of it
and all delivered by a man called jim
jim bowen
all without a hint of malice or sarcasm or irony
well none that my stoner self back then could perceive..

look at what you could have won
only showing you this as you did not win it..

the cameraman then pulled in for the final close up
to capture the baffled expression of the contestant
the contestant who had to face facts and realise
they could have won the thing they did not win
as jim bowen reinforced once again those immortal words
look
look at what you could have won
you did not win it
but you could have
and to be fair you almost did..

the gaggle of dart-fisted supportive grannies applauded
applauded their loved ones
for not winning what could have been won
so winning the chance to witness in front of everyone
what they did not win
but could have won
and to be fair almost did ..

a..caravan..

from memory it was usually a caravan
a tiny caravan
usually only slightly bigger than the ancient citroen dyane
a caravan built to be rested in a garden full of weeds
resting on stolen bricks for its stolen wheels..

a..caravan..

and as the end credits began to roll
jim bowen invited us to join him again
for more of the same
more of the same this time next week
and millions could not resist
could not resist the chance
the chance to admire gazing at that same almost-won caravan
this time next week..

jim and all the contestants then waved to us goodbye
waved to us then
are still waving to us now the nineties
the nineties only waving not drowning..

infused with a kinder sensibility
daft but lovable teevee
life relatively carefree
and look at us now
glorious winners of all that is
all that is the unfolding merriment of the early twenty-first century..

final question
would the nineties trade in even a citroen dyane or a crap caravan
for a kingdom of tesla-transhuman superfans
careful how you answer..

the irony
an unintended irony foretold
pull back the curtain
oh..
look at what we have won..
fools gold..




Thursday, 16 January 2025

Beyond The Stuff Of Dreams


the rain scented amber
the never before or after
fragile moonbeams tousle..

a galaxy of mist in suspension
neurons cosmic filaments
scintillate on closed eyelids open..

prairies of soul
align to the mind of light
solace free
a peace so timeless

brimless silence priceless..





Tuesday, 7 January 2025

Amidst The Earth Parallel


i was watering the air-purifying plant
it sits atop the dusted turntable
and overlooks the front window..

outside..
the most delicate rain drifted and drifted
slanting in sheerness
ever enfolding in floating sigh
sidling the towed land-locked air visible
etherifying the earth parallel the lifting lake
limpid kites entwining braided
sentient landing lights teemed the air intrepid

emulsifying gravity streams a moistened kiss
and a torch-lit exit..

in the painterly agentic glow-wormed gloom
sat a parked car near the t-junction
the driver sidelong
half face visible
dappled in sheen
a silk-screen murmur
quickened by the flickering-on waning moon..

windows up
she seemed to be gazing through
through to what i could not see
in shatter-proof aspic glaze
her being sat slivering silvery traces
a las vegas showroom sphinx wavered
behind the ever-dappling steering wheel..

from her sealed vessel xeric music emanated
a wifi-guided wobbling wax warhead
bubbling up reflexive clustered rumbling thuds
in a relay race for one
her windscreen wipers seemed receptive
occasionally duetted a complexified panegyric
reshuffling the received  a.i. corporate composing techniques..

absorbed seemingly zooming inward
i felt my gaze an intruder
and as i turned away
invisible elfin cymbals
brushed by dampened net curtaining shine
echoed as dangled whispers
here in the there somewhere..




Wednesday, 1 January 2025

Walking My Penguin

 

i am walking my penguin
walking my penguin for a few furlongs
walking my penguin
no madam that is not a euphemism
not a euphemism for anything
anything at all..

my penguin requires a little decent gentle exercise
so taking my penguin for walkies is great
and he is unable to lift weights
you ask why
well because my particular penguin has flippers
you try lifting dumbbells with flippers
not recommended..

besides that
and perhaps because he has put on a little weight
his portly gait means his back is bent out of shape
somewhere down there
his vintage blubber is stoically marinating..

when i walk my penguin in the cold winter weather
he dons woolly neon booties with sucker-soled grips
so he does not fall over onto the unforgiving icy concrete
penguins feet are so unsuited to negotiate human concrete..

and please do not get me started
on why pavements do not have under-heated penguin air-bags
so where does all our council tax go
terrible i know i know..

i am walking my penguin
no madam that is not a euphemism
not a euphemism for anything
you have asked me that once already
that makes no sense at all..

and he never lashes on the lamp posts of dogs
he is exceedingly well-mannered
he stays in his lane
and when he takes a shine to a neighbour
he drops an egg in their garden for them
alpha-bloke penguins have an extraordinary skill set
penguin misandrists really need to visit their shrink-vet..

no offence meant madam
i am simply walking my penguin
only for a few furlongs
after all
do you not also walk yours
yes i should hope so..

and madam i hope you know
you should never let your penguin out on its own
common sense is not so common now
gangster pedigree penguin-nappers are everywhere
they even write stupid songs glorifying it all
conceptual double-albums about penguins finding themselves
are a rare and treasured find
the swirly album art work is always immersive and sublime..

yes i know
and alas it is not like the days of yore
when you could let your penguin out
to relax in a deckchair on strawberryfied-krill summer days
in the secure knowledge your penguin would always
always remain in completely rude health and super-safe
apart from when your penguin suffers
the irritating seasonal malady
of mildly fatal heatstroke..