Standing on a ledge

We’re all standing on a narrow ledge.

                Any moment we could fall.

On the edge of an abyss

                Could be at the end of it all.

On the brink of nuclear holocaust.

                We live every single day

As if it was our very last

                As we work, rest and play.

Nothing is at all secure

                Though we pretend it is.

Swerving death every day

                In this game of hit and miss.

We expect every day to repeat

                As if there is no change.

But increment by increment

                We mutate into the strange.

Opher – 2.10.2022

Life is short and fragile. The time when we are young is fleeting. At every turn danger lurks. It’s a wonder anybody lives to old age.

One moment of inattention. One instant of bad luck. One push of a button. One pull of a trigger.

Poetry – Distraction


A fuck   A film

A smoke   a joke

A smash  some hash

A pill  a thrill

Is all it takes to distract you

To stop you from having to think

And life goes by

Outside your window

As you pour another drink

A grab  A deal

A leer  A feel

A Crash   A Bash

A Breath   A Death

Is all it takes to fill your mind

Like a tennis ball in a vacuum flask

Bouncing in your head

Disturbing nothing

So you don’t have to ask.

15.7.96  Opher

It would appear to me that there are pressing issues that we should all become involved with.

A small number of people are setting a tone, guiding us down a path of growth and profit. This is devastating the planet.

Politics is not pointless. We are not impotent. We can make a difference.

This poem was written in response to the shallowness I saw around me – the distraction that prevented people from engaging with anything that had depth and meaning.

TV and fun can be worthwhile and expanding; they can also create airheads.

Poetry – Bullshit


They told me I’d go to heaven

When I strapped on that bomb

That paradise would be mine

And everything would be fine

In the bus on the way to market

Fidgeting with my change

Cherishing each second and trying to mark it

As the end comes into range

They said there was no other way

It was hidden in the genes

To draw attention to the day

The end justifies the means

But I’ve thought about it

And I’ve weighed up the blend

There is only ever just the means

And there never is an end.

Opher 11.3.96

The whole spectre of suicide bombings, religious fanaticism and violence has taken on a greater and greater significance.

The extremists seem to be pushing for an all-out war with the West. It is a clash of ideologies. They want to impose their religious beliefs on the world. They see it as a battle between Islam and Christianity.

I do not see it that way at all. For centuries Muslims and Christians and Jews have lived together in harmony. Every now and then a fanatical element, or politically inspired prejudice, or seeker of power, uses the religious card to further their ends.

We have to put the present situation in context with the past.

There is a battle going on. It is between the people who wish to live in a world of diversity and harmony, where all people’s views are respected and we learn to accept our differences, or a world of fundamental intolerance.

I know which I would fight for.

This poem was written from the perspective of a bomber who woke up to the fact that he was being used and was merely a pawn in a power struggle.

Poetry – Change


Got any change Mister?

Change is all there is

In this fragile life

Nothing real can stay

Our atoms stick

Then melt and part

And travel on their way

Opher 27.5.99

There was this kid with his obligatory dog and sleeping bag at the side of the pavement asking for change. That is what set my mind going.

All this universe knows is change. The laws of thermo-dynamics are going flat out.

We’ll all be dust!

Sometimes I think the rate of change in our society is madness. My Grandmothers grew up in a world that had dirt roads, gas lights, horse and carts and no cars. They lived to see men on the moon and space-stations.

The world we live in is changing so much as the world population spirals to seven billion on its way to ten, the forests disappear and wilderness is destroyed. Progress can be extremely negative.

Poetry – I am Quantum – A poem about reality.

Poetry – I am Quantum – A poem about reality.

Poems & Peons BookCoverImage

This is my latest book of poems.

But this is my latest poem.

I am Quantum

The reality we hold within our heads is created by the neuronal net we each possess. Our consciousness is the result of billions of electrical impulses.

It is not real.

Our senses fire and relay their messages to the brain. The brain interprets these and creates sight, touch, warmth, sound, smell and the elements it uses to create our reality.

It we were dissociated from our nerves and different messages were conveyed it would create a different reality.

The world we see is not real; it is created by our brain.

My world and yours are completely different. We cannot imagine the universe our pets inhabit.

At the same time my mind fantasises and dreams, creates poems, visions and ideas.

They are not real.

They are the product of my neuronal net.

In Quantum physics an electron can exist in two places simultaneously. The whole universe is a product of unreality.

I think I have a quantum mind.


I am Quantum

I lead a quantum life

Flitting about

Here and there

In the world

And in my head

At the same time.


Two worlds


And who can tell

Which is more real?


My ideas exist

In two places

As they shunt

Their strange paths

Across my synapses

To my dreams.


My senses fire –

Send messages

Along neurones

To make picture,

Solid and concrete,

In my head.


All the world,

Inside and out,

Is the same –

An electric fog,

A quantum leap,

Into the creation

Of a universe

Or two.


Opher 6.12.2015

My Weird Sixties Surreal Book – Chapter 40 – mystical poem 1



I am the distance between any two points

I am the greatest size you can think

I am the point that has no size

I am the paradox that dissolves beyond logic

In me is contained all things


I am the Truth that defies all laws

I am the glimpse that can never be seen

I am the centre of all things

I am the fear from which men turn

Without me there is no meaning.

Poetry – Bums in the Air – A poem about religion

Bums in the Air

People are great joiner-inners. They go with the majority. I find it quite startling to see how conservative and fundamental things have become. Back when I was a lad my Muslim friends were all westernised. They didn’t take their religion to extremes. The girls did not go around in head-scarves let alone burqas. In Islamabad University in Pakistan the students wore jeans, T-shirts and listened to the Beatles, Stones and Pink Floyd.

How things have changed.

The children are taken off to their Madrassas where they are subjected to religious indoctrination.

I see families walking down the street, in the summer heat, with the poor woman completely enclosed in heavy black robes, breathing stale air behind a mask, while her husband is cool in T-shirt and jeans.

I am a believer in freedom but I hate misogyny, indoctrination and superstition.

In my view spirituality is about harmony with nature and the universe. Religion is about power, indoctrination and division.


Bums in the Air


Bums in the air

Indoctrination everywhere.

Allah and sweet Jesus,


And God above.

How absurd they look

With their array of holy book.

Spouting words

From Neolithic lords

Dressed in fancy costume –

Medieval bride

And modern groom.


Opher – 14.9.2016

Poetry – Miniscule in Reality – A poem of awe and wonder

P1110933 (2)

Miniscule in Reality

I am always in awe of nature; there’s a wonder at work. Infinity with its swirling galaxies, spinning atoms and amazing mysteries of consciousness is inspiring, is full of majesty, is uplifting.

There is a harmony in a sunset, rainbow and the glow it produces. There is a spirit in the rocks, trees and seas. To sit beside the crashing waves and feel the breeze in ones face connects us to the universe. To feel the sun upon the face and bask in its benevolent warmth is to feel the congruence.

There is a mystical force that is natural, beyond religion, and integral to that dynamo of nature through which we are all one.

Calm and peaceful, without barriers as the vibration of energy flows through and on, forever.

Miniscule in Reality

Glowing dawns and standing stones,

Mystic storms, vibrations in the wind

And majestic trees.

Skies that swirl with stars,

Chasms of glowing rock at sunset

And crashing seas.

There’s a wonder at work –

A celestial spectacle of awe.

There’s a mystery in the mind

That’s knocking at our door.

Standing before the horizon

Outlined against infinity

Feeling large against the sky

But miniscule in reality.

Opher – 1.8.2016