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Biography is either masked ball or epitaph. As you find me, so we are.

Saturday 14 September 2013

i, Person


Found some code
And made a bird
They’re singing louder
Near the city
I turn up the remote control
The feathered thing obeys the programme
Makes an egg
And somewhere they will cook an omelette
It’s all Nature

Wednesday 15 May 2013

Metanarrative


It’s just another tragedy.
Not first, not last.  I know
Its algorithmic frequency;
A back page tale of woe.

With other lives, and other grief,
All bones in a mass grave
Of stolen years.  Prodigious thief
Who cares not for the brave.

The birds should stop.  The sky should fall.
Yet planets turn as though
The world sees nothing changed at all
By how that deal did go.

Is it a joke?  If so, it’s poor.
Cruel Bard, please change the plot.
I am not laughing anymore
(But you care not a jot).

And this will pass as age old pain
Will also pass and fade.
Not noted Queen, but rather rain
That falls on our parade.

Wednesday 27 February 2013

Hot Air


It could have been a flight of crims
But boldness beat the Monarch’s whims
And saw a Marquis in the air
With valiant de Rozier.
The Laws of Physics hold this gift;
When things get heated, we get lift.
Crowds hotting up.  They’re on the rise.
The Social Aviator’s prize
Comes at a price.  Agitations
Create distance.  Atoms.  Nations.
So are we Men or molecules?
Perhaps we’re both.  Perhaps we’re fools.
Perhaps we shouldn’t aim too high –
Look up, not down, from that Big Sky?
We could try sideways and sustain
Another’s loss as our own pain,
So on our journey we might see
The sight worth seeing:  You as Me.

Monday 11 February 2013

Black Triangle


Anarchist arrow. Pointing down. 
An hourglass frame contains 
My Muse. Perhaps 
Pythagoras would 
Frown to ponder 
Her hypo
Ten
Use

Sunday 10 February 2013

H5


So long, John
Whose tick lives on
How far we’ve gone
Past old London

How long, John?
Tick tock and gone
So far, so long
Long done, London

Long done, John
The sea was strong
Still time ticked on
And gone is long

John, watch long
The Harris son
Wind up and on
Your hour is gone