Monday, 21 August 2017

Outcome Immaterial



Looking up I saw a flutter by
Billowed in a windy gust
It wouldn’t look me in the eye
Even though I knew it must

Straining hard to maintain height
With each circle dip and swerve
A show of unresponsive nonchalance
Excessive stress in every curve

Line of sight gave indication
Of how much distance in between
A heavy weighted cobalt sky
Pressing down on emerald green

Suspended in a colour scheme
Amid a battle of the shades
In a force field thrust of gravity
Snubbing triumph’s march parades


Sunday, 20 August 2017

Percy's Pin Money



Hearing seeing making sense
Below the surface of our will
Multitudes of vital signs
Hidden strings of living skill
Learning this absorbing that
Adding new roads to the old
Strange events and conversations
Enjoying stories often told
Amazing brains beyond belief
Such liveliness within
Unless when dining out one night
You have no memory of your pin
A card that holds your key to wealth
Has shut you down no entry in
Your random access memory now
Denies it ever knew your pin
Perhaps that virus flu last year
Left some malware up your snout
Attacking your ability
For drawing any money out
Experts say it’s down to stress
A game of cards one cannot win
In a world of virtual everything
You don’t exist without your pin


If you have ever suffered 'Pin Amnesia' then click here

Saturday, 19 August 2017

Inundated


So fast it rained torrentially
Stripping off the residues
That hung around like worn out rags
A running beat of slapping shoes

Smothering beams of struggling light
Forcing twisted sprites down drains
Coughing in the gutter runs
A monstrous filth of stark remains

Gurgle desperate drowning voices
Pouring out a wretched plea
Into cauldrons of relentlessness
Renewed refreshed and running free



Friday, 18 August 2017

A Hero From Hull



Surrounded in the mountain pass
Ambushed by so many trials
Yet making schemes and action plans
To ride on paths and conquer miles

To stare defiantly at crooked fate
Demanding battles free of truce
Fly the flag of stern defiance
Seek not respite nor weak excuse

For the hero in the raging swell
No turning back on bridges burned
On the oneway road of fearlessness
A bugle’s ‘Last Post’ ever spurned

One last echo near a quiet stream
A cloak of flags a soft salute
One last word determination
Firm resolve without dispute




Thursday, 17 August 2017

Looking Back On Greatness



America’s wealth America’s dream
Made of money minded winners
Who in their wealthy way of much
Demean the destitute as sinners

Someone stole America
We need to place some blame
A country built on backs of slaves
Who now in freedom stake their claim

How dare those uppity others
Proclaim their Rights of Man
Clearly not from round these parts
Among the Right White Ku Klux Klan

Stolen people clamped in chains
Beaten whipped and stripped
Sold off like herds in cattle trades
A hopeless human cargo shipped

Strange fruits of freedom granted
With scant protection from the law
Deprived of  basic dignity
Hanging lifeless they implore
                                                                    
This nation built from everywhere
A continent of human soil
Land rush gold rush piles of meat
Overfilled with spoils of oil

What is it with a murderous mind
Who can hate with all their heart
The people who their lives they wrecked

Segregated kept apart

Apart from massive wealth abundant resource and some of the most intelligent people on the planet, how else will America be great again?

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

If I May Say So

Story Link


Are people starting sentences with "so" more frequently
than ever or are we just noticing it more?
Leigh Wells/Ikon  Images/Getty Images


So! This is what I want to say
So! Much impact using so
So! Listen up ‘So!’ is my cue
So! That you know I’m in the know

So! When I’m being interviewed
So! To speak when on the spot
So! To underline the point I make
So! There you are that’s all I’ve got

Tuesday, 15 August 2017

Look Out!


Everything is changing fast
In the space of clicks and likes
Mind control in overdrive
Your hits and views and strikes

Beware of what you put about
Giving far too much for free
They’re cyber tracking all opinions
We  are their targets you and me

Taylor making food for thought
Pokes and nudges made to measure
Helping you to see their way
They have the low down on your leisure

Where you are and who you’re with
What is on your selfie plate
Your essentials prone’s and partials
Mesmerised in dreamlike state

Puffing up your self important need
To be something else among the crowd
Chasing fame to leave you stripped and lame
Whilst others watch and laugh out loud

Those clever minded psychopaths
Have a thirst to lay you bare
To steal your wish to feed their dish
And leave you desperate in despair




Something in the air and it isn't coffee
If you don't believe me look at the President of the United States #Stolengoods 
STORY LINK BBC Secrets of Silicone Valley

Sunday, 13 August 2017

Just Me



Try this thought experiment
Write a line of text
To see what drops upon your page
Then observe what happens next

For this where the search for you
Begins inside your head
Your game of ‘who, me?’ hide and seek
Where you write wrong things instead

If you ask yourself a question
Like who is really me
The answer may not come at all
For who you are you cannot see

But then again you ask yourself
If ‘what you are’ is more like cake
Fresh and new then turning stale
Then many more of you to bake

So being you is not an easy thing
No one-time truth you might uncover
For every part of you is changing fast
What once was you is now another

Give yourself a chance to say
Whatever hunches come to mind
And if like me you wrote them down
Then you and me are of a kind

Saturday, 12 August 2017

Tales From The Brownie Girl


She was a literary fairy
With a magic wand of words
Writing spellbound melodies
For chorus lines of humming birds

In her worlds of flight and fancy
A colour blush of spangled lights
To mesmerize enchanted eyes
On broomstick moonlit nights

In a glow of tantalising dance
A conjured tale of charm suspense
Visions swaying on the brink
Demand implied with every tense

Each cursive wend became the end
Releasing peals of laughter
As everyone tucked into bed
Dreaming happy ever after

Thursday, 10 August 2017

In Real Time Only



Good day Friday morning
A sense of progress in the air
Closing out those weekdays
To swap monotony with flair

Travel chains have fallen off
As we leap the weekend gate
Indulging time out reveries
On cloudless thoughts we levitate

Time to drop the clutter box
Put the phone in airplane mode
Be real with those who really feel
And hit the weekend open road

What Goes Around Comes Around



The two of them were oddities
Well known in well-known parts
Frequenting lines of streamers
Among the bendy fits and starts

With relish flaunted differences
In concentric senseless style
Combined insanity with vanity
They led the world in single file

Tiptoeing round the cutting edge
Became the peak of what’s the point
Not saying or betraying why
For neither aimed to disappoint

Never ones for taking sides
They were continuous in the loop
Forever getting feedback from
A transformation simmering soup


Question: How long will wine stay fresh in a 'Klein Wine' bottle

A Klein bottle is a non-orientable surface, where there is no distinction between inside and outside. So unlike a sphere, where you cannot pass from the outside to the inside without passing through the surface, in a Klein bottle you can do just that. If you were very small, an ant say, you could start at any point, and keep crawling until you reached the other side of the surface, without passing through any surfaces, and without needing to cross any edges. 

Tuesday, 8 August 2017

The UK Corral


Politicians sing one-sided songs
To serenade the wishing well
Catching pennies floating down
Where the drowning pledges dwell

Tomorrow is another day
For scrubbing old slates sparkling fresh
As rent-a-crowd’s ecstatic cheers
Rattle bones of absent flesh

Calling on the ghosts of chances
To strain a melody worth flaunting
With a clutch of artificial eggs
From where it’s said a goose is haunting

Jack Horner left a vacant space
A corner shop once full of plums
To gather dust in a mine of rust
Where no one waves with upright thumbs

LET'S BE FRANK, BREXIT MEANS WRECKS IT

"Jeremy Hunt is to dramatically expand the number of ‘home-grown’ doctors in a bid to replace overseas medics in the wake of Brexit." Huff Post Link