Ripple On Our Radius

In vast countries where a billion different voices

Murmur in their work and mull in thought

Are the seeds of revolution because choices

Lack the freedom, doing what we ought.

In the stitching of the garments and the ploughing

Fields we furrow for vague greater good

There are questions as we bow our heads to tasking

Asking if we’re doing all we should

To be the one, the only one, we’re born to,

To realise the goals, the greater aims,

To be the actions that may speak because we owe to

Selves and world, justice in our names.

In the factories and countries wide where souls ache,

Trammeled while we’re working for the man,

Eked existence slowly lived while hearts break,

Years swiftly bypass doing, as we think, the best we can.

In the motion of the moon and yearly tidings

Howls inside are rising, seeking sky,

Portents of a future, bands of wildness,

Growling in the question, why me, why.

Dare we risk, in idle speculation,

The what ifs, should I’s, didn’ts, not my job,

Plodding on, a controlled automation,

While frustrations muster, gathering in mob.

Can we be the changes in our lifetime,

The only voice we’re given for a while,

Can we work and think, still being active,

Ripple on a radius within our mile. 

Evolving Seed

Virtuality,

New earthbound dream,  

Nothing quite as it would seem,

No one seen quite who they are,

Virtual reason, virtual stars,

Pictures painted,

Landscapes viewed,

Ungestured words believed, imbued,

Compelling world of make-believe,

Open, honest or deceive.

Venture where

Once footsteps trod,

Meet your nemesis or your god,

Faith in all enacted there,

Hidden ascension excluding stair.

No eyes to search

Nor touch convey

Friend or enemy, predator or prey.

World where judgement matters most,

Five senses voided, sooner lost.

Uploaded sixth,

Evolving seed,

Certified at point of need.

Embrace, escape, first sanctify

With power disclosed from inner eye.

Connect the bytes,

The matrix really,

See the feel, virtually.

Cogs

Just a very tiny cog in a very big wheel

As it spins and it spins on its axis,

Rotating, denoting what is truth what is false,

Woven with power raised in taxes

From the very tiny cogs, located at the hub,

Forgotten, though pivotal, components,

Grinding anew, as lubricant dissolves,

Fracturing framework, strong proponents

Of a different machine where each cog can now become

Part of a wider evolution,

Rolling down the road, in the ether, through the sphere,

A nuts and bolts reform of revolution.

Wheels of machine are hanging by a thread

Made of iron, corroding, cannot last.

Cogs now formed of steel have longevity, purpose new,

Collective memory of all the futures past.

Positive Power

Now, Jack and Jill provided stuff for scores and scores of kids.

Mrs Jones cooked ingredients in pots and pans with lids.

Mrs Jones, their mother, oversaw the plan,

Used profits for their holidays, made sure they had a tan.

She quite forgot reinvestment to keep business afloat

So sold the lot for little and let others in to gloat

At all the deals they offered kids, though none as good as hers,

But, what the heck, they had some choice or they could wrap up warm in furs.

Kids grew ill from poorer deals and begged for energy,

Mrs Jones just sighed and said, ‘It’s nought to do with me.’

 

Now parents who were watching this formed a cunning plan.

‘Let’s make our own and share it out, profit everyone.’

Mains suppliers grew quite cross and threatened retribution,

We’ll pull the plug, through others, prior to your distribution.

Some parents feared the threats they made and shunned alternate ways,

Gave license to the bully boys, regret would cloud their days

As pollutants poured in atmosphere from every kind of harm,

Couldn’t see the benefits of water or wind farms.

Instead they let a mighty few, fraught with greed and power,

Reclaim the day, the night, the world, the minutes and the hours.

 

It came to pass that wars were had to protect the source supply,

Kids sent out, on pretexts, to maintain, reclaim or die.

Some there were who saw the ill of world in domination

To power supplies and oil cartels and bankers, multination.

That such a plan so simple, though requiring thought and vision,

Should wrest their power political, their purpose, point and mission

Drove the owners crazy, lost to right and reason,

‘Lose revenue, supremacy, to whims of nature’s seasons!’

Scuttled to the bunkers and scarpered for the hills,

Parents, kids and governments sighed and swallowed pill.

Tholing status quo as if blinkered by deceit,

Change a liability, back falling at their feet.

 

Unless, of course, a chance should come to harness once again

The energy from better source, Mother Nature and Just Men,

To seize the wind and fly once more, to aid and water all,

Humility in simplicity, no pride before our fall.

Reduced imprint in ownership of Gaia and all nations,

Positive power in every way, no less than heaven’s creation.

 

 

I couldn’t figure out how to write this post. No poetry came to mind at first and I don’t know enough about the intricacies of certain subjects to speak on them without getting into a fankle.

So I figured I’d go for what I’d do with my class or my kids when I’m trying to explain a point where the concept is better served by analogy. I started a little story about Jack and Jill Jones, personifications of the two power companies that once existed in the UK under national ownership until, in its wisdom, the government headed up by one Mrs T (can’t really bear to say her name) decided to sell them off for a song to private ownership. This has happened with all major utilities once owned by the people, now serving shareholders first and ultimately corporate finance whose heavy hand wields the stick capable of influencing decision making in the corridors of power, rightfully belonging to the citizens of a country.

A few months ago I was an undecided voter in the referendum due to take place one week from today. I was waiting to hear something that would convince me. I knew what it was but no one had spoken about it that I was aware of. Then I saw and heard this. That was it for me. Someone else was speaking my vision for me.

This morning I saw and heard this. I thought about it all day and couldn’t shift the belief that with investment, foresight and autonomy to do what is right, the people of Scotland have within their grasp the potential not only to decide their own future but to influence the world in a more positive way. That is what this is about. Positive power.

 

Soul Seekers

Yesterday the only blogger I’ve ever collaborated with…sounds rude, doesn’t it?!…reblogged our collaboration and inspired me to ask for more. Watch this space!

In the meantime, one of my other favourite people, Mark, wandered out from Australia’s bush territory, haggard and drought-ridden, in need of nurture by a Scottish handmaiden – ok, get with the programme, it’s not called poetry for nothing! – and has been settling in to a new way of life with the promise of his healing gifts being used for the benefit of many.

We got chatting…as you do.

And lo and behold, something he said triggered a response in me that led us to this collaboration in the comments section! I’m chuffed as f…anything. There’s a little magic in the moonlight and some wanderlust in souls that seek to find.

Soul seeker,

journey far in waxing, waning moon…

 Heart healer,

words of healing, life in tune…

 

Believe then, in magic,

writ by silver’d stars…

 And belief within,

Life open, without bars…

 

Hush, spirit, listen well,

heed that aching need…

 To find the truth,

the beginning of a seed…

 

Be still, in the knowing,

Let silence fill your mind…

 A gift from up above,

a wonder you will find…

 

No magic be cast here,

Mere souls in perfect tune…

 With love and a sharing,

Perfect harmony with the moon…

 

Be faithful to the aching…

The voice that cries within…

 For in that understanding,

is a love that’s always been.

 

And so it goes….

The plans changed.

We adapted.

That’s life.

Six became four,

then five,

by technology.

Presence begat

seven.

Two absent by

choice,

circumstance.

Seven embraced nine,

then many.

Growing conversation

included the world,

its entirety,

its meaning,

purpose,

subterfuge,

conspiracies

and realities.

And realities of conspiracies.

 

Gallons of humour.

Tears

of laughter

and understanding.

Hugs and kisses of short farewells

and longer journeys.

Dismissives of maternal worry

enclosed in comprehensive travelogues.

Tickles of

tender teasing,

rude, graphic, enacted

diffusion.

Undiluted,

concentrated

love.

My family.

More growth.

And so it goes.

Ragnarok

No twilight here

of gods

in surrender

but battles raging,

ending

longest winter.

No hope apparent,

wounded,

raging thirst,

godless, manless

world

consumed by lusts.

No skies above,

no earth

or hell below,

emptiness,

forgetfulness,

old ways forego.

No end in sight,

each dawn a new creation,

old worlds

evolve and die,

rebirth nations.

No fear, despair

in prophecies 

foretold.

Emerge, arise,

fire purified,

warmth from bitter cold.

Closet Companions.

Now my gorgeous, and I do mean gorgeous, daughter came to visit tonight with her equally gorgeous girlfriend. Yeah, gay. The two of them. Just as well I suppose. It would be really awkward if only one of them were.

MK

I mean, can you imagine?

That would be like kissing some guy you didn’t fancy. Or sleeping with some bloke just because he’s a bloke.

Whereas, they’re in love. And it’s obvious. And it’s lovely to see. The two of them head over heels. Ain’t love amazing?

Except when you’re hiding in a closet.

If you’re forced to hide in that closet.

contemporary-closet All paired off. According to anal retention.

‘Cos there are big scary bastards out there.

Like tigers with elongated canines that want to plough through your flesh.

tiger

Or bears with razor claws that might rip you to pieces.

bear claws

Or gigantic pterodactyls whose only aim in life is to spy prey and zone in for the kill.

pterodactyls

Or people.

people

Yeah, people. Most dangerous predators known. Prey usually consisting of anything or anyone that is perceived to be, ‘unusual, distinct, misunderstood, you-name-it-we’ll-find-a-name-for-it’.

Yeah. So, love. It’s a bugger, isn’t it? Just never can tell where it’s going to hit.

That wee bastard, Eros, has a sin to answer for. If only he would point his wee darts at all the appropriate people.

eros

Just think of it.

No more mismatched unions.

Woman gets to be with ‘Mr. Rich Pants with a fabulous sense of humour who also happens to give great oral and knows where all the tickly bits are and understands endlessly why the time of the month just makes you crazy.’

hugh jackmanWhat?!

And man gets a woman with great bazongas and who just loves to swallow. And knows that man-flu is actually a completely whole other type of flu than the usual kind plaguing other mere mortals of the opposite sex.

wanton venus yep. Sorry, guys. Yours is a comic book. ‘Cos, well it just is. Do you know a woman who really likes swallowing? I don’t know one. And I’ve asked.

Yep. The ideal world.

That would be where exactly? And how much is the ticket? And is it cheaper one way? ‘Cos why would we not want to live there?

galaxy

And in that world there would be no war or pestilence.

pestilence

We would all look great until we died at 640.

(No image possible!)

Grey hair would be something that only Afghan hounds sported.

afghan hound

Wrinkles would be something that tortoises proudly presented as an unusual manifestation of age.

wrinkly tortoise

People would be paid a fair wage for a fair day’s work.

fair day's work

There would be no hunger or poverty.

hunger and poverty

All religions would recognise the one God and accept that there were different ways of travelling.

one god

There would be no need for politicians.

OK, scratch that one. I’m not sure what world that would be. ‘Cos bacteria seems to exist everywhere.

bacteria

But you get my drift, surely?

Love is just beautiful when evidenced.

Now I could just have reblogged Rene’s post here. But I thought, nah! I have two gay children. One of each. I know these kids. They are mine. I get who they are. They are mine. And no one is keeping them from knowing love. Not on my watch.

Sometimes it takes many pictures to tell the story. I only need one. The first one I showed. How many does anyone need? Love is love.

The Jigsaw

Position piece

Upon the paper,

Picture it just so,

I’ll place mine

Upon my page;

Watch the jigsaw grow.

 

Evolving image,

Collective thought,

Flowers in a row;

Daffodils and snowflakes planted,

Plough furrow

Then please sow

 

Images, your views and pictures,

Concepts conveyed

Upon a stage,

Ever decreasing,

Universal

Here, where life is made.

 

Your piece and mine

So reunited

Pictures formed from past

Experiences,

All once divided,

Sculpture

Cast to last.

 

Neverending

Stories told,

Consciousness of souls,

Reconnection bonds, connects,

Amalgamates

One goal.

No Coincidences

Serendipity, synchronicity,

Call it what you will.

When stars collide in heavens,

Halt and feel the chill.

It happens for a reason,

I’m pretty sure of this.

Like meeting for the first time,

Sharing that first kiss.

The strangest interaction,

When life blows you clean away

And all that once seemed normal

Now holds little sway.

Collision course in heavens,

For spirits in the night, who

May, someday, meet upon the earth

And everything feels so right.

Nothing comes from nothing

But so does everything.

Matter matters, spirit matters,

The joy that both may bring.

So question not when fate decides

To throw a spanner in the works

And stops your little factory.

It could just be good luck.

But one day soon, eventually,

The plan may realise

The best for you, you never knew.

It all may make you wise

In world and spirit happenings

Where some things you think you fear

Until the day it hits you. Wham!

And makes everything crystal clear.

 

Yet again, Mark, you got me thinking through the night. 🙂