Poetry – Once Upon a Time – A poem that is a fairy tale for all life on the planet – with a happy ending.

Poetry – Once Upon a Time – A poem that is a fairy tale for all life on the planet – with a happy ending.

Prose Cons and poetry cover

Once upon a time

A fairy tale with a happy ending.

Life’s slow evolution from such unlikely circumstance to the triumph of intelligence has to be the most remarkable story of all.

How life grew from slime to mankind without a pumpkin in sight, no fairy godmother and no wish. More remarkable than any genii in any bottle. More incredible than any story thought up by man. More wonderful than can be imagined. We are alive to look out at this incredible celestial infinity with minds enough to gasp and wish to understand.

That is my gift of a fairy tale. It is really called chance creation and evolution but I prefer to call it …. Once upon a time.

 

Once upon a time

 

Once upon a time

There was a tiny green jewel

That circled round a beautiful golden dawn.

It was on this viridian gem

That mankind was born.

 

Through multitudes

Of chance and death defying stance

Stretching all imagination

And every circumstance

We created this fascination.

 

Riding the realms of fire

Through the aeons of fury

Minds were forged that led to you and me,

Created this fantasy

And brought all life to be.

 

Step by slow step

Up the ladder we climbed

Blind, ignorant and by instinct primed

We sought to break the bonds

Through which we were confined.

 

With sight to see

We looked around with awe

At the celestial majesty outside our door

And sang a refrain upon the wind

From all the days of yore.

 

This is that song

Of wonder and delight

Sung to the rooftops of every resilient rafter

That we finally get it right and

All live happily ever after.

 

25.8.2015

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Poetry – Nothing is Sacred – a poem about the establishment, justice, freedom and hypocrisy.

Poetry – Nothing is Sacred – a poem about the establishment, justice, freedom and hypocrisy.

Book of Ginny cover

Nothing is Sacred

This is the world of hypocrisy where the establishment preserves itself and wields its power.

Religion is used to control the people and our children are taught the rudiments of violence through play. This is the world where money talks. The last rhino, gorilla, chimp, dolphin, whale, lion and tiger will likely be purchased by a trophy hunter. If you have enough money you can buy a jet-fighter or even an atomic bomb.

We are living in the free market and we’re up for sale.

The whole planet is becoming a Disney-world tourist trap and we are stuck on the paper.

The media control our thoughts, tastes and dreams.

The media produces an endless diet of distracting, mindless trivia.

We can be bought if the price is right.

The rebels are incorporated into the consumer package.

Morality?

Morality is a victim of the system. It speaks where the money is and is quiet when the victims scream.


Nothing is Sacred

There’s a plastic Jesus on the dashboard,

A toy gun on the floor,

A poster Bosch upon the wall,

All bought from the local store.

 

If you pay the price

You can buy everything

From a rhino to a bomb.

No one cares about anything

They’re all going for a song.

 

Nothing is sacred

Anything can be bought

Including every one of us

In this world

Morality counts for nought.

 

Opher 2.9.2015

Do Planets Dream? – a Poem.

Do Planets Dream?

 

Do planets dream as they embrace their moon?

Are galaxies dancing to a cosmic tune?

Is our sun prancing in great glee

As it hugs us with its gravity?

 

What is this beautiful music of infinity?

Something sublime including you and me?

I think I can hear it as I stare up into the sky.

It vibrates through me as I quietly sigh.

 

Opher 17.9.2019

Poetry – The Tumble Drier – a humorous poem about the world within our heads.

Poetry – The Tumble Drier – a humorous poem about the world within our heads.

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The Tumble Drier

I’m not sure if the humour comes across enough in this. I’m a bit too close.

I liked the idea of my mind being like a tumble drier with scintillating thoughts as bright sparks being swept around and joining in new ways. I liked the idea of them chuckling and being naughty. I liked the idea that when you get them to slow down enough to make into words you can never fully capture their brilliance. The black and white symbols are so much less than the brilliant flashes.

If only I could encapsulate the firework display inside my skull and translate them into symbols that glittered and spat their sparkly fire.

I’d change the world.


The Tumble Drier

There’s a tumble drier churning in my head.

It’s tumbling the sparks that are my ideas.

If there was a window in my skull you’d see

Blue and yellow electric flashes of electricity

Spinning,

Falling,

Endlessly,

Like the swirling of the sea.

 

They swirl and flash

As on my skull they bash

Knocking sense

Into my brain

So dense

That it feels

No pain.

 

It’s a washing machine

Geared to cleaning up the sparks

So that they can see

To join themselves

For further larks.

 

As they tumble through the space inside my head

They chuckle as they fall

And join together in endless new ways

Like children giggling in a school.

 

I have to capture them

And make them stand still

So I can record in symbols

And get my fill.

 

Sometimes they spin like a hurricane

And light up my eyes with an inner firework display,

Generating emotions and dreams, anger and fury,

And conjure up dragons to slay.

 

These are those bright sparks

Reduced to black and white

No longer shiny bright

But still lighting up the dark

And sometimes giving me a fright.

 

There’s a tumble drier churning in my head.

It’s tumbling the sparks that are my ideas.

If there was a window in my skull you’d see

Blue and yellow electric flashes of electricity

Spinning,

Falling,

Endlessly,

Like the swirling of the sea.

 

Opher 5.9.2015

Poetry – My Culture – a poem about the struggle for freedom and equality.

Poetry – My Culture – a poem about the struggle for freedom and equality.

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My Culture

The society we live in did not come about by chance; it was fought for every inch of the way by people with vision and aspiration. The peasants and serfs were kept in poverty but they were not stupid. The robber barons stole the land from under their feet and they were powerless. The wealthy businessmen stole their products through guile. The State enacted laws to protect the establishment and keep the poor in their place.

With the coming of the industrial revolution ordinary people were kept down. They were paid a pittance in order to keep the profits high. The bosses creamed off huge wealth while the workers slaved. The owners and aristocrats lived in mansions and palaces with servants while the producers of the wealth lived in poverty and working conditions that were scandalous.

Gradually the ordinary people fought for representation, fair reward for labour given and justice. Ever so gradually the work conditions improved and the wages rose. Each step on the way was met with bleating and violence. The establishment was loath to give up its luxury; they feared the result of suffrage for ordinary people. They believed we might change the laws to create fairness.

They give us as little as they think they can buy us off with. Only through the unions was a living wage grudgingly conceded. Their fear is revolution.

This society we live in is the result of struggle. The freedoms we have are tenuous. The establishment claw back all they can. The wealth still sticks with the elite. The trickle down is as meagre as required to keep us docile. Zero hours contracts, austerity, unemployment and pay freezes are deployed while the rich get richer. We are all in it together is a lie. Information is biased and distorted – the Daily Mail and the rest of the press, even the BBC are all part of an establishment. He who tells the story controls the minds. The media moguls have a vested interest.

Democracy is a fragile thing and bought with blood – lots of blood.


My Culture

This is my culture – the wisdom of my ways.

Suppression and oppression – the order of past days.

Freed into the sunlight – on a democratic wave.

Released from penury – and the status of a slave.

 

The blood of my forebears sinks heavy in this soil

They paid dear for a share of the profits from their toil.

They fought for their rights and freedoms against a selfish few

Who garnered all the wealth away and propped up many a pew.

 

This is my culture – the result of battles fought.

Standing up for rights – against a great onslaught.

Liberty and equality – to stand tall and not in fear.

Freedom from King and God – is a right that we hold dear.

 

From the wealthy, the bishops and the kings

We wrested back our freedoms, among a host of things.

They grudgingly relented to give the very least

And we seized the goods on offer from the Baron and the Priest.

 

This is now my culture – value it we must!

If once our eyes do stray away – they’ll fling it in the dust.

Rights and freedoms – are febrile in the light.

They’ll rip them away – they have the power and the might.

 

I give thanks to the Levellers, the Chartists and rebels all,

Without all their struggles we would not have a life at all.

The suffragettes and Wilberforce struck blows for equality.

They chipped away at oppression and left us democracy.

 

This is that culture – worthy of a fight!

Free of church and monarchy – valiant and bright!

A culture to be proud of in which I take delight.

Proud to be an Englishman and put the world to right!

 

Not as an exploiter, a victor or an owner with his fee

But as a friend, a fellow traveller, a champion of the free.

Together we could stand to create justice without tyranny

Take the best from all our cultures and live in harmony.

 

I offer the hand of friendship

But keep a wary eye.

Freedom is a very rare thing,

But seize it we must try!

 

Opher 18.8.2015

Poetry – The Meaning of Life – A celebration of intent and possibility.

Poetry – The Meaning of Life – A celebration of intent and possibility.

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The Meaning of life

There is no other reason to life other than the living of it. The living of it is an art. You experience every second; the whole force of the infinite universe pressing in around you and in the midst of the fury, the quiet. The appreciation of the greatness of a word, the nuance of a smile, the wonder of holding a child.

The meaning of life is nothing to do with where you are going; it’s all about the journey and what you make of it. It can be sensuous and creative, altruistic and benevolent, or selfish, cruel and vicious.

Your choice

The Meaning of life

Sunbeams breaking through clouds,

Trees, rocks, sea and mountains,

A nice pint on a mild afternoon,

The soft fur of a warm life,

A cuddle and a love,

A dance and a tune,

A helping hand,

A poem and a shared moment,

A cool breeze on a hot day,

A gentle touch,

Sunlight glinting on a lapping sea,

Sunset and sunrise,

Love, friendship and birth,

Hoar frost shards on twigs in the morning glow

The hues of feathers, wings and crystals,

Ravines, gullies and rocks,

Tiny creatures,

Big animals,

Great, green plants,

And wild places,

Giving and receiving,

A smile, a handshake and a meeting,

Flowers in all their magnificence,

Differences and argument,

Laughter and accord,

Sex, fun and frolics,

Everything young and new,

Holding hands,

A kiss in the dark,

Ice-cream and chocolate,

Wonder and discovery,

A good film,

A realisation,

A creation,

A painting and a dance,

A good play,

Play,

Clever words,

Good stories,

Sport and skill,

Books, records and pictures,

Travel to exotic lands,

Infinity and vertigo,

A joke and a chuckle,

The vulgar and profane,

Having family gathered round,

The seasons,

Snow on trees and hills,

Colours,

Sounds,

Feel,

Scent,

The Blues,

Rock and Folk,

Walking in the quiet,

The trill of insects,

The song of birds,

Thinking,

Pondering

And wandering,

Sharing,

Above all ……… Sharing.

 

Opher 18.8.2015

Poetry – Far Horizons – a poem about the wonders of humanity.

Poetry – Far Horizons – a poem about the wonders of humanity.

 

Far Horizons

I’m always amazed by the creativity of humanity. Our minds are incredible. We are so new yet we have harnessed our astounding minds to create the world we live in. We exploded out of Africa to dominate the world. We overcame obstacles and destroyed our enemies. No creature has ever been so resourceful. The original ideas and solutions come flooding out of that jelly in our heads.

We are a duality: a strange mixture of compassion and altruism and callous barbarity. Future history will show which of the two sides is the greater. I believe in the caring side. I believe we build the zeitgeist that will see us through.

Our intelligence came out of such mundane things as an opposable thumb and binocular vision. Our amazing ability to question why and find solutions, we conjure them up out of nowhere. Our imagination is our only limit.

Far Horizons

Far horizon, curve of sky

Thumb and finger – wonder why?

Out of Africa – black as pitch,

Ever pondering – which is which?

Hunting, gathering – wandering far.

Following on high seas the only fixed star.

Spreading outwards, like a vivid splash.

Overcoming obstacles in a neuronal flash.

Devising, solving, challenging the how

With ideas and inventions for which we take a bow.

Arrogant and vicious yet gentle and kind

Honing the body, instruments and mind.

Vast cities, many colours, the bomb and the gun,

Religions and cultures, music and fun.

Sources of hope and scattered profanity

We are the animals we named ourselves

Humanity.

 

Opher 17.8.2015

Poetry – My New TV – an ode to the 21st Century – It’s enough to turn you to religion! (Only kidding!)

Poetry – My New TV – an ode to the 21st Century – It’s enough to turn you to religion! (Only kidding!)

Anthropocene Apocalypse cover

A New TV

Our whole culture has gone soft. It’s obsessed with trivia and distraction. There seems no depth or purpose.

We are fiddling while the world burns.

 

A New TV

I’ve got a new TV

It’s bigger than me

It tells me who I want to be!

 

It’s got 2300 channels

And all of them crap

In super 3D

HD with Soap overlap.

 

I can watch the Game Shows

Sport and MTV,

Filling all my hours

With tasteless gravy.

 

My new TV is great

It feeds my head

With everything forgettable

Where absolutely

Nothing

Of any consequence

Is said!

 

Opher 15.8.2015

Poetry – I Aim – a poem about a dissident who refuses to swallow the story presented to him.

Poetry – I Aim – a poem about a dissident who refuses to swallow the story presented to him.

 

Life could be totally wonderful if it was not for the greed that creates war, poverty, inequality and environmental degradation. I fear we will destroy it all along with ourselves out of sheer stupidity.

I suspect we are manipulated on many levels by many different groups with vested interests.

The politicians lie, promise and cajole.

The religious indoctrinate with false dogma.

The businessmen seek your gold.

In amongst all this manipulation, false facts, lies, deceit and indoctrination we are expected to believe.

I do not. I am sceptical about everything. All I know is the evidence of my eyes. It is sufficient to inform me that we are being exploited.

I aim

I aim

To speak

The truth.

I seek

The evidence

Of proof.

 

I want

To live

In peace.

Without

Fear that

This may suddenly cease.

 

I am not content

To believe all that I am sent.

I am agnostic

About its portent

And content.

I feel manipulated –

A thought

That cannot bear

To be contemplated.

 

So what

Is the aim

Of those that lead?

Self Gain?

But leave

The world to bleed?

Surely not? But Pol Pot

Hitler and Mao

Tell another story.

They hardly cover the

Human race with glory.

 

History reveals

The lies

We believe

To be false.

We are

Indoctrinated

With the rules

And beliefs,

Of course.

 

He who controls

The media

Controls the minds.

We are victims

Of the

Ruler’s crimes.

 

I do not know

My own mind.

It has been

Otherwise defined.

 

Go quietly into the market

To purchase all you can.

For the world is a supermarket basket

And a tantalising tan.

 

Religion is a morphia

Politics a scam;

Life the whole world over

Is based on a sham.

 

It’s all run for profit

Without regard to the future.

I despise all of it

As I seek a meaningful culture.

 

In vain.

 

Don’t give me the religious

Stance as real and meaningful –

Indoctrinated garbage

Controlling the sinful.

 

I reject its human creation

As contrived and primitive

Attempts to seek power

And apply the inhibitive.

 

Life should be free to wonder

And delight,

Not a fear to ponder

And an everlasting fright.

 

Give me life –

Make me free.

All I want

Is to be me!!!

 

Opher 9.8.2015