Poem – Pointless Singularity – A poem about purpose in the face of a meaningless universe – love.

Poem – Pointless Singularity – A poem about purpose in the face of a meaningless universe – love.

I wrote this poem in response to the questions from religious friends. Religion gave them purpose. They cannot live with the knowledge that the universe happened by chance and our lives have no ultimate purpose.

I can.

The meaning and purpose in life comes from what we believe in and fight for. I believe in creativity, love, justice, freedom and equality. My morality is based on those things too. I do not need religion to give me purpose or morality. Mine morality is clearer because it is rational and has reason. It makes sense because it is for the greatest good. I respect all life, people, the planet and myself. I do not require a god to furnish me with instructions.

My purpose is to create love, happiness and make the world better. My art, writing, travel, wonder, reading, love, enjoyment, awe, social work and politics give me fulfilment. I do not need eternity nor heaven.

This poem is about love.

POINTLESS SINGULARITY

Pointlessly crawling and scrabbling up the beach

To question the wind and stars

In a universe that is beyond the scope of sighs.

 

Meaninglessly scribbling and cajoling through the ideas

To challenge the sense of nothing

In a dream that is full of where’s and why’s.

 

Using the sky as my signpost

The countryside as an endless poem

I tend the fires of desire

Recording the lies of the facts I’m knowing

If you pass me in the meadow

Strangely smiling as the cows chew cud

Stop and exchange a pleasant thought

In awareness that we share the same blood

Though meaning may escape us

And the idea of destiny is quite absurd

We’ll know more than teeming masses

Of the transient human herd

And the love we share will provide the purpose

 

Opher 16.1.96

Buffy St Marie – Power in the Blood – Buffy’s new album has all her old power

Buffy St Marie – Power in the Blood – Buffy’s new album has all her old power

 

Buffy has always been a positive force. Her songs about Native Americans, the genocide and her heritage, hit right in the heart. She is a major force.

This new albums pulls no punches. She aims at the bankers and tycoons, the government and policies that are creating war, exploitation, environmental destruction and suffering. The world is being polluted and raped for profit. The establishment are lining their pockets and selling our future.

There is power in the blood. We have to speak out. There are injustices to fight. There are issues to address. There are animals in need of protection. There’s a world that needs caring for.

Buffy shows that the older generation still has it. She’s pointing the way! Standing up for what’s right! More power to her!

Power In The Blood
© Words & Music Alabama 3.   Modified words Buffy Sainte-Marie.

GMO GMO has got to go
Power in the blood Power in the blood

No time for spin-doctors’ medicine
Corporation government selling me some cover-up
Weaponizing pesticides; poison in my groceries
Nothing but another drug, a license they can buy and sell

I don’t mind dying
Well I don’t mind dying
I don’t mind dying
But when that call it comes I will say no no no to war

No time for backhanded compliments
From television anchor men desperate for an incident
Real estate assassins exploiting our predicament
Everything depends upon it being in their interests

No I don’t mind dying
I don’t mind dying
I don’t mind dying
When that call it comes, I will say no no no to war

There is power in the blood, justice in the soul
When that call it comes, I will say no no no to war
Power in the blood, justice in the soul
When that call it comes I will say no no no to war

There’s military interest, GMOs in paradise
bio-weapons high up on the call sheet
Young soldiers driving tanks
but old thieves they drive the banks
and you never see a uniform on Wall Street

There is power in the blood

I don’t mind dying
I don’t mind the dying
I don’t mind dying
When that call it comes I will say no no no to war

Anecdote – Slith the snake meets the taxi driver

Anecdote – Slith the snake meets the taxi driver

Slith the snake

Slith was my pet boa constrictor – all six feet of him.

I bought him on the spur of the moment for £40 that I really could not afford. But he came complete with vivarium. It was a bargain really.

Slith had had an interesting life in the entertainment industry. It appears that large snakes have some erotic import in the glamour industry. Slith had adorned the naked bodies of many lithesome ladies. There are probably a number of his photographs out there in cyberspace.

Slith liked people though he was not so keen on some women. He bit two of them. We think it was the perfume but perhaps it was a throw-back to his past life in the erotic industry?

Slith had to be fed on live mice.

The first time we did this we introduced the mouse into the vivarium and watched with interest. Slith coiled up around his branch and watched the hapless unaware creature. He flicked his tongue out to scent the animals. Then in a flash it was gone. The mouse was dead with a bite to the back of the neck and was wrapped in a powerful coil of snake.

We were relieved that it was so quick and painless. We were concerned that it was so quick that you did not see the strike. That made us nervous.

Slith was strong. If he wanted I reckon he could have broken your arm or strangled you. But fortunately he was friendly.

You always knew when he was getting annoyed; he’d move his head from side to side. He was sighting up for a strike. Whatever you were doing; you stopped.

He liked warmth and would often get out of his cage to wrap himself around the old wrought-iron radiator. Once he was wrapped around it you couldn’t prise him off. Once we found him coiled up in our bed. That gave us a bit of a start.

One of Slith’s favourite past-times was motor-bike riding; he could not actually ride one, of course, but he would wrap himself around me and I’d take him for a spin around London. He’d always hold his head up next to mine and face forward into the breeze. The faster I went the more he stretched out into the wind. He loved it.

I remember once pulling up alongside a London cabbie. He had his window open and looked over to find Slith peering at his from a foot away, his tongue flicking out. I’ve never seen a window go up as quick.

I put Slith with a friend while we went off on our travels. Unfortunately he bit someone and our friend gave him away.

Photography – Incredible beauty of the Farne Islands in Northumberland.

Photography – Incredible beauty of the Farne Islands in Northumberland.

Here’s a few photos I took in June.

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The Fifth Dimension – a poem

The Fifth Dimension

 

I want to live in the 5th Dimension

Where we cherish the chimpanzee!

Oh yes, the fifth dimension

Is really the place for me!!

 

There are those who say it is from the heart

A sanctuary of love, peace and happiness

That could be accessed by all of us

In a place that is most mysterious!

 

I want to live in the 5th Dimension

Where we cherish the chimpanzee!

Oh yes, the fifth dimension

Is really the place for me!!

 

I dream of a place of infinite love,

Free of this greed and cruelty.

A place that exists in harmony

What better place to be?

 

I want to live in the 5th Dimension

Where we cherish the chimpanzee!

Oh yes, the fifth dimension

Is really the place for me!!

 

Some say there are 26 dimensions

That are the basis of reality!

I don’t care about the other 25!

The 5th is where I want to be!

 

I want to live in the 5th Dimension

Where we cherish the chimpanzee!

Oh yes, the fifth dimension

Is really the place for me!!

 

Opher – 7.8.2019

 

 

Thank you to Dewin Nefol for telling me about the 5th Dimension. I’m not one for fanciful ideas but science is coming up with the most amazing things – quarks and dark matter, the quantum world and black holes – I’ll rule nothing out.

I love the idea of a dimension full of infinite love – a place of love, peace and happiness.

I think if we put aside out greed and cruelty we could inhabit such a place.

Dark Matter becomes weirder than Sci-fi.

Dark Matter becomes weirder than Sci-fi.

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Dark Matter becomes weirder than Sci-fi.

It appears that only 4% of the universe is visible, the rest is made of Dark Matter. That’s right – 96% of the known universe is made of something we can’t see.

And as for Dark Energy (DE to us buffs), that accounts for 70% of all the energy in the known universe and we haven’t a clue what it is.

All the ‘ordinary’ matter in the universe is made of atoms and all atoms are made of quarks. Everything is made of the same building blocks.

But Dark Matter (DM to us authorities on the subject) is made of something else. It does not appear to be quarks. So I will deign to name them prior to their discovery. I want it noted that the subatomic particles that make up the ‘atoms’ (or Goodwins, as they are now termed) of Dark Matter are to henceforth be known as Ophers.

I predict that there will be a number of different Ophers just as there are with quarks. Rather than calling them upward, downward, strange and charm as with quarks I want them named after my favourite Rock stars. So, depending on how many we later discover, in descending order, I want them named Roys (after Roy Harper), Dylans (after Bob Dylan) Beefies (After Captain Beefheart), Jimis (After Jimi Hendrix and Woodys (after Woody Guthrie). If there are more discovered then I would like them called Elmores (after Elmore James) and Nicks (after Nick Harper). Hopefully we’ll eventually discovered loads more and we can deploy Howlins (after Howlin Wolf) and Muddy’s (after Muddy Waters) as well as Beatles and Countrys (after the Fab Four and Country Joe and the Fish).

The interesting thing about Dark Matter is that it is probably all around us but we cannot see it or feel it. It is only detectable by its gravitational effect. There is a whole world out there made of Ophers all constructed out of Roys, Dylans, Jimis, Beefies, Nicks, Elmores and Woodys. There are people just like us moving through us right now having a conversation that is a conjecture about what the other 4% of their Dark Matter might be made of.

I told you it was weirder than imagination.

The whole universe is made of nothing!

The whole universe is made of nothing!

atom

I’ve just read an article about string theory and quarks.

All atoms are made of quarks. Quarks are the smallest particles of matter known to man.

The theory is that a quark is made up of a piece of space fabric that is folded up and exists in six dimensions.

My understanding of space fabric is that it is nothing. So all matter is thought to be made of nothing folded into six dimensions. Amazing.

I have trouble getting my head round a universe with three dimensions (four if you count time). I can’t imagine what six dimensions would actually be. My brain hurts.

So the whole universe is basically nothing folded. Shakespeare was right. All life is but a dream.

Isn’t science incredible. I can’t wait to find out more. Ruth is certainly stranger than Richard!

Photographs – Cordoba and the amazing Mesquita Mosque and Cathedral. Moorish is Moreish!

Photographs – Cordoba and the amazing Mesquita Mosque and Cathedral. Moorish is Moreish!

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Moorish architecture on a grand scale! The light streaming in! Fabulous!

Poetry – Freedom – a poem about real freedom.

Freedom

Freedom is a concept that is a compromise

An idea of amorality

That is a landmine for the wise.

 

For one person’s freedom impinges on us all

Without restraints or bounds

It could end making all of us crawl.

 

In reality we learn to rub along quite well

To find a way through the twists

Without creating other’s hell.

 

Some men speak not of freedom but of selfishness

They want it all for themselves

Without a thought for the rest.

 

When I speak of freedom I think equality

Fairness, justice and space

For all humanity.

 

I’d include the planet and all life too

For what is right for all us Is good

For them as well as me and you.

 

I’m all in favour of liberty and tolerance

The rights of us all

To sing and love and dance.

To say what we feel

And vote another chance.

To think and believe

What we like

In life’s great romance.

 

That’s freedom

 

Opher 22.8.2015

Marianne Faithful – The Ballad of Lucy Jordan – Lyrics about despair at how life has become mundane, and suicide.

Marianne Faithful – The Ballad of Lucy Jordan – Lyrics about despair at how life has become mundane, and suicide.

 

We start off we such dreams of what we are going to do with life and then all too soon it is gone.

The reality is that your wild days are soon transformed into career, family and the hectic mundaneity of everyday life. You spend your life cleaning toilets, mowing grass, shopping, dropping kids off, working or relaxing by watching TV. What happened to all the excitement? The frivolity? The endless leisure? The time to laze and read? The dreams of doing all those wonderful things.

They get put on hold.

Not everyone can have an exciting life. Not everyone can explore or create and earn a living from it. The reality of most people’s lives is an endless monotony.

Sometimes it gets too much.

The answer is to always have things to do. I could fill my days three times over with writing, reading, gigging and travelling. All I lack is the energy and time. If I didn’t have that I’d feel like jumping off a roof.

Marianne Faithfull – The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan

The morning sun touched lightly on
The eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom
In a white suburban town

And she lay there ‘neath the covers
Dreaming of a thousand lovers
‘Til the world turned to orange
And the room went spinning round

At the age of 37
She realized she’d never ride
Through Paris in a sports car
With the warm wind in her hair

So she let the phone keep ringing
As she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she’d memorized
In her Daddy’s easy chair

Her husband he’s off to work
And the kids are off to school
And there were oh so many ways
For her to spend her days

She could clean the house for hours
Or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street
Screaming all the way

At the age of 37
She realized she’d never ride
Through Paris in a sports car
With the warm wind in her hair

So she let the phone keep ringing
As she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she’d memorized
In her Daddy’s easy chair

The evening sun touched gently on
The eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the rooftop where she climbed
When all the laughter grew too loud

And she bowed and curtsied to the man
Who reached and offered her his hand
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd

At the age of 37
She knew she’d found forever
As she rode along through Paris
With the warm wind in her hair