Genesis – Chapter 1, Version 2

pillers
The Pillers of Creation by NASA

 

Genesis – Chapter 1, Version 2

In the Beginning there came forth the bursting,
With ev’rything rushing from ev’rything else
And which is still pushing on all things today,
Though no-one can feel this occur.

Then came the clouds that would slowly grow bigger
By drawing in other clouds, adding their bulk,
And the bigger they got, so the stronger they drew –
For all things attract and concur.

Then the clouds shrank, but not in their weight,
Till they’re thicker than stone and they’re thicker than gold –
Their centres grew hotter and started to burn,
And that is how stars were begun.

And in with the stars came there light and came heat,
And those parts of clouds still left over became
The planets that circle them, round and around.
And thus, although later, our Sun.

A ball of great fire, a sibling to stars,
But much, so much closer – with planets with moons
All smaller by far than the Sun at their centre.
And each, not a disc, but a ball.

And the third planet out – why, here lies the Earth !
In its earliest days, so another young planet
Collided, and flung out much debris and rock,
And the Moon was thus formed from it all.

The Earth was still hot, with no water upon –
But one day it started to rain, and to rain,
And to rain, until leaving its surface entire
Now covered by one endless tide.

And the seafloor was cracking up, carving out plates –
Floating around on the runny, deep rock,
Barging around, bringing quakes and volcanoes –
So slow, yet relentless their slide.

This caused for the granite to well from beneath –
Far tougher than seabed, this new kind of rock
Would form up the heart of the massive landmasses
That rose on up out of the sea.

Life in that ocean was also beginning –
So tiny and simple, and so it remained.
But ev’ry new offspring was just slightly diff’rent
And ev’ry slight diff’rence was key.

The better did better, the lesser did less,
The better spawned greater, and so did their young.
So slowly life changed into myriad forms.
Then life got much bigger and complex.

For came there a time when these tiny lone beings
Did better by working together, by losing
Their selfhood – to building a single large creature.
And some gave up budding, for sex.

Some became plants, who could not move themselves –
And some became animals – these ones, they could.
So many animals, so many strategies –
Hard shells and soft shells and backbones and more.

Shellfish were rampant, they’re moment had come.
Many would die out, they did not survive,
While others still thrive – and small is the diff’rence.
They filled all the sea from the waves to the floor

The first on the land were the plants on the beaches,
Spreading thence over the virgin terrain,
And bugs were soon following, creeping and flying,
As coal was creating from dead tree and fern.

The fish had grown out of a wormlike beginning.
Some pulled themselves out of the water with fins,
At first only briefly, then longer and longer,
Until came the time when they didn’t return.

Unlike the insects, these creatures grew larger,
And larger, and larger, and ever more so.
But when the Earth changed, they could not survive it –
Except for the birds, who flew on.

Now came to prominence more fish-descendants,
Who bore their young live and who nursed them with milk –
They filled up the landscape the giants had quitted,
But stones still remain of those gone.

Some were the monkeys, who lived in the trees,
And some had grown larger, and some had come down,
And walked on their hind-legs, and upright, and tall –
These were the humans.  So now you all know.

And all this had taken so many years, many.
More than a thousandfold thousand of lifetimes.
And still it continues today, and tomorrow –
And so days will come, then, and so days will go.

But all that I tell you is not the whole tale.
Parts have been left out that need to be told
Parts to be sought out, to draw back the veil
And parts yet to happen, that wait to unfold.

 

 

No True Scotsmen

tartan

 

No True Scotsmen

When the news is full of more beheadings,
Bombs on busses, boots on deserts, holy war,
And drones attacking family weddings
From Benghazi to Lahore,
I turn to senator and mullah both,
And ask them, have they any peace to barter ?
Is there any hope for growth
From Casablanca to Jakarta ?

But each calls the other a shirker:
Says the senator “Ye see that Ayrab ?
He’s nae Rab, he’s a dirty Sassenach.”
The mullah snorts in his tartan Burqa:
“That Yank’s nocht but a flithy Irish !
Aye, aw pish, an’ a plastic Mac.
Now, I am a Jackobite rightly through,
As ginger as the white-on-blue,
From Samarkand to Timbuktoo !”
At this, the senator gives laldy:
“Listen, pal, I may be black,
But I still can gie ya heid a crack,
And I’ll see youse, Yaqub, if ye lookin’ a’ me !”

To His Cold Mistress

sophy
Sophy Gray by John Millais

 

To His Cold Mistress

Shend me not, my mistress,
Send my not to Coventry,
Attend to kinder business, pray,
To mend and soften me.
Defriend-me-not, my darling,
Let me tender and atone.
Unbend a little, starling,
Ere we spend our years alone.
Shend me not, my mistress,
Send me not distressed and listless, pray –
O, end this plot, unblend us not,
Engender nor us misbegot:
For we have kenned such tenderness
And we have wended as we went –
We can re-friend such splendour, yes !
We can ascend and be unshent.

 
To shend is a wonderful if now archaic verb meaning ‘to put to shame’ or ‘to reproach and scold’.

 

 

A pyrrhic gift (3)

frame less eyeglasses on newspaper
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

A pyrrhic gift (3)

A crossword book with a pen attached –
Now isn’t that thoughtful…there must be a catch…
Of course !  It’s a pen, not a pencil they proffer –
It’s starting to look like less of an offer.
We have to commit to the answers we choose
No try-this-for-nows or perhaps-that’ll-dos.
Just black squares and white squares,
Such tiny wee white squares,
And make one mistake and the whole grid will sink –
So pencil-pussies best beware,
This game is won by those who dare,
By those who leave their mark on life in ink.

 

 

Nosedrip Headtrip

funky virus

 

Nosedrip Headtrip

This virus has me in her grip,
But hey ho, I’ll survive.
I tell myself she’s just a blip,
A cocky pirate boarding ship –
I’m wrapped-up tight against her nip,
But very much alive.
She’s in control and letting rip,
And I must join her on her trip.

And whoa, here comes the whooziness –
Don’t panic, take it steady.
This floozy ain’t so doozy
And her poison ain’t so heady.
My thoughts might be a little hoarse,
My sleep a little sore,
But best to let her run her course –
She’s nothing I ain’t seen before.

She comes at me in jumbled dreams
And thoughts that slip and glitch.
Her technicoloured jump-cut scenes
Are selling-out my mental screens,
With fevered swirls and acid sheens
That quickly skip and switch.
She won’t sustain a metaphor,
But throws them off and coins some more.

Her visit’s sure to last all week,
And while she’s home, she leaves her streak
With red of nose and pale of cheek,
And watery of eye –
But I can shrug and I can wait,
And slowly, slowly, decimate,
And slam the door and bar the gate,
And bid the bitch bye-bye.

The neons and fluorescents
Are more swimming than they’re dancing,
The hubbub throb is muzzier,
The tinnitus is buzzier –
But sweats are less incessant now,
And dreams are less entrancing.
The fever breaks on which I surf,
My bones are bumping back to earth.

 

 

Berlingo

several gift cards
Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

 

Berlingo

Berlin – City of the english Language,
All Thanks to Hollywood and Touristdollars –
With bilingual Signs to ease our Angst and Anguish,
And fluent Secondtonguers and subconscious Scholars.
From Burntborough Square to Prince Elector Way
Welcome to Berlinnington-on-Spray.