Not They

Who are these goons?

These lepers?

Apart and yet controlling.

Ignorant of the common man,

But determined to know

Every secret thought

And action.

Who are these jerks?

Watching my movements,

Listening to my words,

Reading my mail.

Are they representative?

Did we vote for this?

Are all the policies

Pronounced

Prior to election

A blind?

The motives deeper

And more devious?

Who are these bastards?

My mind is my own.

My soul belongs to god.

My words to whom I speak them.

Who are these morons?

Thinking we will accept

Anything

And everything,

Like the

Roman populace,

Grateful

For handouts

And an arena

Where self-proclaimed

gods, decide thumbs up

Or down.

No Caesars here.

Who are these clowns ?

Thinking they are above

And beyond

The acceptable,

The righteous,

The moral.

Who are they?

Is this what we asked for?

Controlled

And controlling.

We are the people.

Not they.

Magpies

One Magpie.

She’s knifed,

Gutted,

Heart ripped out

And devoured.

Pecked at,

Grown back,

Ripped out again.

No eagle

For Promethean

Growth.

A magpie theft,

Stealing silver

And gold.

Golden age

Gone.

One magpie

Alights

To wound again.

 

Two Magpies.

They’re happy now.

Birds in flight

Together.

Bound by

Token

Offering.

Flight discharging

Winged wonder,

Bowing in the air,

Curtsy to earth.

Trajectory

Established,

Plumed to dark

And light.

Elevating,

Floating

Oblivious,

Tied.

My Weans

When my 20 year old daughter said she wanted a ‘family tree’ picture I thought she meant gathered around the Christmas tree. Nope. IN the apple tree! So we did. Down the garden, through the wet grass, up the tree. Not the adults. We’re not stupid! We loitered around the trunk.  My 24 year old daughter and 23 year old son started on their patter and my jaws ached from laughing. All my kids about me for Christmas. Sister and her three, brother, future son-in-law. Magical times. Fifteen gathered to eat, drink, chat, laugh and celebrate. And all to do again for New Year. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I’ll be needing a holiday at the end of this.

To chat a while –

an hour

or ten –

and know you understand.

And in the understanding, know

that you are understood.

An implicit sort of knowing,

born of love’s connection.

Blessed,

Acceptance,

Joy,

Amazement,

Proud,

Privileged.

In awe.

These,

my own.

I am unworthy,

but not.

I must have had

something to do with

who they are,

how they are,

the wonder they are;

their personalities,

characters,

humour.

Thanksgiving,

we don’t have,

as some do.

But I have,

in measure fullest.

Blessed,

Acceptance,

Joy,

Amazement,

Proud,

Privileged.

In awe.

All twice.

And again

tomorrow

and every day hence.

Santa Claus is Dead?

Santa lives forever. Marvellous post. 🙂

Butterfly Sand

‘Santa Claus is dead.’

When Sebastian Phillips finished writing that phrase on his bulletin board he turned around to see what the reaction had been on his students. He was not disappointed.    Because this was a first-year philosophy course he expected them to be a little green when it came to abstract ideas.  After all they were just kids.  Truth be told, Professor N. Sebastian Phillips wasn’t all that much older than his students.

When he looked around the room Sebastian saw surprise, humour and perhaps disbelief, it was also very quiet.  Here he was, a college professor talking about a white haired, fat man in a red suit as if he were real.  Well real and dead.

“When you signed up for this course I am quite sure you were not expecting to talk about a symbol for a religious holiday that has come to mean the excesses of…

View original post 1,108 more words

Forgiven Not Forgotten

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/12/21/prompt-forgive/

Maggie really messed my mind

I couldn’t focus, couldn’t find

She played with my full deck

The eighties were a nightmare ’cause

I hated all she said, no pause

In drivel. Flippin’ heck!

 

Such a feeling in my heart!

My first to loathe, an awful start

To hate another person

Hearing her on my TV

Could fill my soul with misery

I had to stop from listening

 

If only just to stop the tide

Of hatred that I felt inside

So angry at her reason

How could she quote St. Francis when

Her charity was stripped barren

All I felt was treason

 

That such a one should preach to us

Say she knew because she was

A simple grocer’s daughter

Stripped industry, denationalised,

So many hated and despised

When her minions said all ought to

 

‘Get on your bikes! Go find the work!’

‘No shysters here! Don’t try to shirk!

There’s work for those that matter.’

Of course, the truth was underplayed

Really it was not relayed

That employment was all scattered

 

Across the country far and wide

Leave family and home to find

Or else you get no dole

Humble men with working pride

In earnest, they began to fight

To make themselves feel whole

 

For ethic of the working man

Is so important in their plan

To feed and house those closest

Being called a layabout or worse

Felt like Tories had all cursed

Those who work the most

 

In Scottish land the hate was great

We felt it. God, we filled with hate

At woman and her peers

I shouted and I walked the streets

Demonstrated, fought for weeks

And months and many years

 

Eventually I tired of

The hatred fuelled by her because

It drained my spirit so

I stood at last in public forum

Relinquished feelings of all harm

I really let it go

 

Repentance, no, well not as such,

More preservation for self, so much

Hatred breaks a heart

I let it be and fought with might

Focused on a better fight

We got our brand new start

For Now

For now, you’ll see a glimpse of life,

A fragment, just a little slice,

Enough to tempt and titillate.

Any more you wouldn’t cope,

You’d lose all trust and sense of hope.

For now, just watch and wait.

 

For now, my plans are quite concealed,

Later they will be revealed

When time is ripe for you.

Live it now and have no fear,

My eye is watching, hand is near

For now, your life is true.

 

For now, my angels guide your way,

Protect and shelter come what may,

All this, a mystic plan.

Revel in the gifts I’ve given,

Portents of a hint of heaven,

For now, no better one.

 

For come the day all answers lie

Before your mind and inner eye

You’ll know my cause was just.

The truth you’ll see and understand,

I hold all life in loving hand

For tread this track you must.

 

For now, let doubts be cast away,

Trust my love and, in time, sway

To heaven’s blessed chorus.

No greater plan you have to seek,

It unfolds before you, each day, each week

For now, bow to all glorious.

 

For now, this gift of life I give,

Receive it well and fully live

In spirit’s guiding orbit.

Be sure of love and light eternal,

The hub, the core, I am the kernel

Forever, your soul’s conduit.

 

For a better place will still appear,

I’ll comfort you and hold you dear,

At journey portion’s end.

Alchemy, base turns pure,

Be not afraid, instead be sure

For I am your truest friend.