REM-Blind

beige wooden nightstand with white desk lamp brown wooden bed with grey comforter set
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REM-Blind

Ev’ry night I close my eyes
And enter in your world of lies –
It’s not your scary ones I fear,
But all your fantasies and memes –
It’s not the nightmares, but the dreams !

I swear, this time, as sleep comes near,
I’ll keep my wits and vision clear,
However logicless the plot –
But how can I, when ev’ry time I doze,
My eyes must close ?

And suddenly I’m unconcerned,
With senses overturned and shot –
As wish- and fear-fulfillments trot.
And thus, I find myself a slave
To ev’ry passing alpha wave.

So all those lovers, all those highs,
Those treasure troves and dragonflies –
And all for what ?
It’s not to make me sadly wise,
For lessons learned are soon forgot.

You took my hope, you took my trust,
And strung me on without a fight,
Before you vanished into sleepy dust –
My innocence once more was sold
For mem’ry holes and fairy gold !

And willing dope was I, alright,
My self-awareness all a-snore –
The fool you fooled the night before,
And who you’ll surely fool again,
To lead astray down lackwit lane.

Was this your prize ?
Was this the reason for your lies,
To bring this naive mortal down to size ?
But then, when stranded in the dark,
I must have made an easy mark.

But worse than that, deep down, must be
That knowing all along
The one who plays the piper’s song,
Who does me wrong with such a glee –
It’s all myself and only me !

Nous Sommes Charlie

plantu
I Must Not Draw Mohammed by Plantu

Nous Sommes Charlie

Mohammad !  Yo, Hammad !
Say, what you so scared of ?
You won’t let us see you in pinkie and brow ?
What makes you so special
You get to be spared of
Our constant surveillance from cam’ras and eyes ?
The truth is, Mohammad,
We’re all of us spied on –
We’re all of us public and databased now.
So Jesus and Shiva,
And Thor and Poseidon,
Must get used to gawkers, or dress in disguise.

And as for your theory
We’ll worship your likeness –
I doubt that we’d give it much more than a glance.
For these days, we shrug at
The holy or righteous,
We’re far too anarchic, and sneerful and clever.
We see you, Mohammad,
But don’t see your proof.
But who cares ?  Stop sulking and join in the dance !
Don’t tell us you’d rather
Be veiled and aloof,
For these days all neighbours must rub by together.

Can gods and can mortals
Not laugh at each other ?
We’re all of us stupid – the flesh and divine.
So let fly the insults –
Don’t censor and smother !-
Say lard-bellied Buddha and pigeon-faced Ra.
From temple to steeple,
From Mecca to Delphi,
Your noses need tweaking, and so too does mine !
So smooth down the beards
And smile for the selfie,
And show us your best sides, your je ne sais quoi !

I know, Mo, I know !
When they’re thrusting their lenses,
It’s hard to keep posing, it’s hard to stay still.
But best grin and bear it
And drop our defences –
I feel a right charlie – but hey, c’est la vie !
When we lose our senses,
Our common and humour,
We end up with killjoys who actu’ly kill.
(Hey, I once heard you smiled,
Though that’s only a rumour…
But anyway, Mo, can you take one of me ?)

The Gifts of the Magi

magi
detail from The Adoration of the Magi tapestry by Edwin Burne-Jones, Wllliam Morris & John Dearle

The Gifts of the Magi

The Magi came to Bethlehem
As guided by a rising star,
And there a newborn greeted them
Beyond the busy brisk bazaar.
So three wise men each bore a gift –
The other nine just looked-on, miffed.

The first brought gold – a solid lump –
An ingot, so the paintings show.
That must have made young Mary jump
As Caspar flashed his gift aglow.
But prizes prising gasps aghast
Should surely be withheld till last.

Then Melchior with frankincense
To sweetly burn at times of prayer –
The sort of thing we all dispense,
To hosts and strangers ev’rywhere.
Safe and useful, just the thing
To give to clients, in-laws, kings.

And finally there came the myrrh –
Embalming oil for the dead.
A tactless gift to give, for sure,
That only brings a parent dread.
Poor Balthazar had left them cold –
And wished he’d also thought of gold !

Leftover Sprouts

sprouts

Leftover Sprouts

The first discarded tree on the pavement,
The first house not to turn on its lights,
The first fallen card not to be re-hung
And we still haven’t reached Twelfth Night.
Yet the Tudors partied the dozen-long,
But we’re back to work by the Second of Jan –
Once New Year’s hit, we’re done with it,
We’ve season’s-cheered as much as we can.
But the Magi had to go the long way –
A little less gold, woulda made it in a week !
I don’t think our waistlines will last to Epiphany,
This really is no season for the meek…

Starve the Addiction

color colour fitness health
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Starve the Addiction

And I’m never gonna smoke again –
I’m gonna be a Mormon, or a rescued beagle,
No more roll-ups, as high as an eagle,
Till the wheezes, the hacks and the rasps have taken the hint –
I’m gonna survive on placebo patches and mints,
Till I can’t stand the pain.

And I’m never gonna drink again –
I’m gonna be Methodist, or a prude,
Resisting the caffeinated and brewed,
Till the migraines, the slurs and the shakes have loosened the strap –
I’m gonna survive on organic smoothies and tap,
Till I can’t stand the pain.

And I’m never gonna eat again –
I’m gonna be a model, or maybe a monk,
Working out the body and cutting out the junk,
Till the ounces, the pound and the stones have fallen away –
I’m gonna survive on wholemeal carrots and hay,
Till I can’t stand the pain.

Y2 A-Okay

Y2 A-Okay

Nothing happened, and ev’rybody laughed
The calendar had clicked all four digits over
With not a single meltdown or mem’ry overdraft
Indeed, the new Millennium was very much in clover
We ridiculed the doomsayers, tarred and feathered verbally,
And claimed we’d never for a second fallen for their con –
Our tech was indestructible, whatever their hyperbole,
And got on with our daily lives as if the sun still shone.
And the calendars clocked, and on we went,
All thanks to the graft of the geeks we smear –
The lack of excitement their greatest testament.
We’re welcome.  Happy new year.

New Year’s Day

red fireworks near body of water
Photo by ViTalko on Pexels.com

New Year’s Day

Well, that’s another year gone by,
So chalk him up and write him down,
The first and last, the low and high –
He’ll have to earn his own renown.
So many births, so many deaths,
And passing thoughts and careless breaths.

He’s faded from the deadlines
And he’s faded into yesterday
By chart and stat and trend.
He leaves a little wiser,
If a little scarred and greyer,
In the end.

Then in the ledgers he’ll remain,
In fact and myth, in curse and grace.
We won’t be seeing him again,
He had his chance, he ran his race.
He spun us once around the sun,
And we went on, but he was done.

He’s fallen from the calendar,
And fallen into memory –
A half-neglected friend.
So many urgent choices,
So important, so forgotten,
In the end.

Happy 12020.