Poetry – Once

Once

Once grasshopper jumped with every step

And ponds were full of frogs.

Once there were stag beetles

That lived in rotten logs.

Once there were huge flocks of swallows

Wheeling through the sky.

Now they are all gone

And we’re left to wonder why.

Once great forests covered every hill

Bears and wolves hunted the deer.

Once people lived in harmony with nature

And the seasons of the year.

Once there was a balance

Full of bounty for the gleaning.

We lived a natural life;

An existence full of meaning.

Opher – 23.1.2021

We live in the Anthropocene, in a landscape designed by man. The wilderness has gone. Nature is tamed.

All that lives only does so through our benevolence; vestiges of what once was.

The forests have given way to green fields of crops, sprayed with death.

Now we life an artificial life and search for meaning.

Poetry – I am a Number

I am a Number

I am a number

I do not know what I think;

Fed with all my preferences

And narcotised with drink.

I am a statistic

Analysed in the think-tank,

A consumer with no purpose

To put figures in their bank.

My needs are measured

As I am fed with dreams,

Thoughts and aspirations.

Nothing is as it seems.

A plastic universe

Surrounds me in full 3D.

A ring in my nose

Dances to its melody.

What I feel

And who I am is guided

By a group of businessmen

Who have decided:

They know best.

What if everyone was free?

To think and do as they might

Wish?

Who would know what products?

To stream through their satellite

Dish?

It’s best that someone thinks for me –

Keeps me happy,

With a head full of air,

Entertained

And distracted,

So I don’t have to care.

I am merely a number;

I do not do what I would dare!

Opher 16.8.2015

I am a Number

I was always enthralled by the Patrick McGoohan TV Series – The Prisoner. Roy Harper did his brilliant McGoohan’s Blues about it.

We do not know how much we are controlled by the State and society. We seem to be a gullible race. George Orwell in 1984 presented a chilling picture. I think it’s subtle but invasive.

If you rebel life gets a lot harder. It’s easy to go with the flow, consume like a good boy/girl, and not think about where it is all heading.

I am a number but I hope to evolve into a letter one day! Then, if we all got together we could make words that spelt out a warning!

Poetry – Life

Life

Time in seconds

     Tick   Tick   Tick

Passing slowly

     Quick   Quick   Quick

Filled with longing

     Sick   Sick   Sick

And hopes, fears, dreams

     Pick   Pick   Pick

Rushing past now

     Trick   Trick   Trick

Gathering speed

     Lick   Lick   Lick

Crashing out now

     Kick   Kick   Kick

Time in seconds

    QUICKKICKTICK

Live it

Opher 4.8.2015

Life

It seems to go so slowly when you are young. There is an endless summer to get bored in. There are days full of nothing.

Then you leave school and the days are full. You look behind and find years stacking up.

You have a career and family and there isn’t time to breathe or energy to breathe with. But you promise yourself the things you will do tomorrow.

Then it is tomorrow and you are doing those things. It has sneaked up on you. It is like you never really got going and now it is almost over.

Time. Life.

Poetry – Consciousness

Consciousness

A flash, a pattern, lighting up the skull.

A construction of identity for us to ever mull.

A sense of reality that forms within the mind.

A delving into mystery to see what we can find.

I am alive.

I think .

I feel.

I thrive.

I am aware of what I think and feel.

I am aware of you and me.

I have memory

To give continuity.

My prized possession;

But I like to change it now and then,

For insight into other worlds,

But always back again.

Chemical and network,

Infused with electricity,

Polarising views

Of our eternity.

For consciousness is all I have.

It is the essence of me.

When I’m gone it will dissolve

And I will cease to be.

Consciousness is ephemeral

Not a spirit or a soul.

It is a physical construction

That begets our rock to roll.

I am conscious

I can see.

Imagine the universe

Without you or me.

I’m glad we evolved consciousness

In the face of such majesty.

Without the eyes to see it

Would be a waste of such beauty.

Opher 25.7.2015

Consciousness

I was taking a break from taming the beast that is ivy on the wall when I started thinking about consciousness.

I have senses that enable me to see the world, a brain to think, a sense of identity and an appreciation of everything.

The world is wondrous. The universe is spectacular. Wouldn’t it be a shame if there were no eyes to witness it, no minds to appreciate the awe and wonder of the whole celestial magic? Evolution is great.

The most incredible thing is that our senses are so limited. Our view of the universe is so partial. What we see of what goes on around us is a small percentage. The universe is very different to how we perceive it. Our consciousness is extremely limited. Most of the wonders around us go undetected.

Not so long ago the wonders of the heavens were not known and microscopic life unseen. Now we have instruments and machines to enhance our senses. It is an incredible age we live in. Our eyes are fully open to all possibility.

Yet what are we? What is this consciousness that enables us to perceive what lies around us? A flash of electricity? A chemical flow? A wave of polarisation? A network of connections?

The sum is always greater than the parts!

Poetry – Rock Your Spirit

Rock Your Spirit

I wanna rock your spirit.

I wanna rock your soul.

I wanna rock our love

Til we’re both whole.

I don’t wanna bitch

‘n I don’t aim to crawl.

I just wanna wrap you

In my Rock ‘n’ Roll

‘n Love you.

Opher 2.10.95

Rock Your Spirit

This was just a little love poem I put together to a little guitar riff I was hearing in my head. Love is great isn’t it? There’s nothing quite like it for filling the head with a warm glow. If you could take a picture inside your skull you’d probably find the whole cortex radiant with luminosity. It’s those endorphins causing all the neurons to fire – just a chemical high.

Music does that too. When you put the two together it’s double the effect!

I hope it doesn’t wear off after a mere fifty years?

Poetry – Cruelty Our Ecstasy

Cruelty Our Ecstasy

A drill through the leg, the liver and the head.

We love it!!

A ring for the bull, the badger and the fool.

We love it!!

Agony

Cruelty

Our ecstasy.

We love it!!

Red hot poker through the eye, crush your balls to hear you cry.

We love it!!

A shock deep in the cunt, a smack with something blunt.

We love it!!

Inject the acid, burn the brain, til we’ve driven you insane.

We love it!!

Agony

Cruelty

Our ecstasy.

We love it!!

Shoot, burn, stab and kick, do it slow and never quick.

We love it!!

Gang rape the little boy, treat his sister like a toy.

We love it!!

Hunt the tiger, stab the whale; saw the head off the little girl.

We love it!!

We love it!!

Tease with a word, a joke, – a lie, a leer, a sneering poke.

We love it!!

Bully for you, another wog another Jew,

We love it!!

Another push, another kick, another threat, another pick.

We love it!!

Display the skin, the horn the head, shoot them all full of lead

We love it!!

We love it!!

Cruelty

Agony

Our Ecstasy

We loooove it!!!!!

Load the nails in the grenade; imagine the mess you will have made.

We love it!!

Pull off every one of the wings, cut off the legs and all the fins

We love it!!

Cruelty

Agony

Our Ecstasy

We loooove it!!!!!

We love it!!

Opher 23.5.07

Cruelty Our Ecstasy

You might not want to read this one.

I wrote this in response to the callous, inhumane way that the sectarian killings were being carried out. There seemed no limit to the desire to inflict pain. If someone could be tortured longer and more cruelly then that was the aim. The electric drill was the favoured tool. The only limits were those imposed by our imagination.

Humanity has a propensity for enjoying the pain and agony of others. At our worst we are vicious, callous and indescribably evil.

Every war sees its range of torture, brutality, rape and despicable violence.

We create tribes and gang up on each other. We bully, use derogatory terms, racial slurs and put-downs to upset and destroy others. We can be so nasty that we cause self-harm, suicides and destroy individuals We create stereotypes of whole races and nations that end up in wars.

The inhumanity shown to animals is almost unbelievable. I watched a film where a crew were catching hundreds of sharks, slicing their fins off and flinging the living fish back over the side. It was not possible to imagine the agony those fish suffered.

Round the world there are cock-pits, bull-rings, bear-baiting, dog fights, and badger baiting. The crowds gather to excitedly jeer.

In China they are reputed to kill the dogs by boiling them alive in their dog festival.

I don’t know how the torturers of people and animals manage to sleep. I don’t know how they manage to reconcile what they do with any code of morality, inner conscience or religious views. Some of them are doing this in the name of religion. Somehow they believe that their god sanctions such barbarity.

It almost makes me believe in evil. Except this isn’t evil. It is part of human nature. We did not get to be the dominant species by being nice. We are the biggest, meanest motherfuckers on the planet.

I believe we have to recognise this tendency and prevail against it. At our best we are altruistic, pleasant, friendly, loving and kind. That is the side we need to nurture. That ‘Evil’ side needs containing and controlling. We need laws, counselling, education and assistance to be the best we can be.

I believe we can create a better, positive zeitgeist and learn to live without needing violence, division, bullying, cruelty and evil. We can put it behind us.

We can become civilized!

Poetry – This world is run

This World is Run

This world is run on how many books you’ve read.

Those that have read more are better.

This world is run on how many miles you’ve run.

Those that run further are better.

This world is run on how many exams you’ve passed.

Those that have passed more are better.

This world is run on how many meetings you’ve chaired.

Those that have chaired more are better.

This world is run on how many promotions you’ve had.

Those that are promoted higher are better.

This world is run on how many faces you’ve punched.

Those that have punched more are better.

This world is run on how many people you’ve fucked.

Those that have fucked more are better.

This world is run on how many strangers you’ve stabbed.

Those that have stabbed more are better.

This world is run on how many people you’ve shot.

Those that have shot more are better.

This world is run on how much money we’ve amassed.

Those that have amassed more are better.

This world is run on how many ‘things’ you own.

Those that own more are better.

This world is run into the ground.

Opher 12.6.09

This World is Run

This world is not run on intelligence, compassion or love

It has no care, respect or fairness

This world has become a race

This world has become what we make it

We are sometimes stupid, cruel and vicious

Perhaps it is time to respect those that do less well?

Poetry – I Read the Page

I Read the Page

I read the page behind the words

And breathe the air beneath the birds,

In which nothing lives,

Yet it holds all life.

Seeking meaning

Through this mad strife

I search the black between the stars

And touch the skin between the scars,

To find the story

That does not exist.

But in that blankness

Lies life’s gist

I hear the silence between the notes

And trawl the depths on which all floats.

For that alone is true

And contains the tale

On which we grew.

But there is nothing there

Anew

I knew

Opher 21.8.09

I Read the Page

You get so caught up in life that you often lose track of what you are doing. It becomes habit. Life goes on in an unchanging monotony, swamping you with trivia, until it suddenly changes.

A writer hunts for truth, meaning and purpose among the debris of the days.

The truth is that in the depths of eternity all we have are the precious moments in which we live. That is where the best stories are to be gleaned. We defiantly carve them from thin air.

Our stories have the same substance, the same significance, as life. They will outlive us.

There is no ultimate purpose and everything will pass. That is why we write. It is the defiance that makes us special.

Poetry – Covid Blues

Covid Blues

The great ape skulks within his home

Talking to friends on his telephone

All alone.

His cousins live among the trees

Grooming each other as they please

Life at ease.

The Businessman is very pleased

Massive profits from PPEs

Life’s a breeze

The politician disagrees

He’s brought the country to its knees

Brain freeze.

Opher – 9.1.2021

I was out on my daily walk thinking about how Covid-19 has exacerbated the social situations of modern life. Isolation has shown how much we need people, the touch and physical presence. It has exposed how greedy and selfish some people are – willing to exploit the misery of others. It has shown the incompetence of populist, male, macho politicians as compared to their female counterparts.

Basically we’re just apes living in a concrete jungle, isolated and living on social media. This isolation is sapping my energy