Newton’s Cradle

Isaac Newton as a Child


Newton’s Cradle

A child is born in dead of winter,
Child to bring the summer in:
He teases rainbows from the sunshine,
Lets enlightenment begin.
He brings us universal laws:
For as above, then so below;
He shows the path that we must follow,
Teaches how the heavens go.

Brightly shines his star above
In both his eyepiece and his eyes;
His clockwork earth perturbs the sun,
His motion never dies.
He shows us how all things must love:
We all attract and all obey.
So promises the savant one
Who’s born on Christmas Day.

A child is born in dead of winter,
Child to set the world alight:
He mechanises all our fluids,
Magnifies the heavens bright.
He stands atop the giants’ shoulders,
Calculates the cosmic story –
From the leastest fractions upwards,
His the powers and the glory.

He wants to save the human genus
From the couterfeiter’s haul.
Apples are the fruit of learning:
Worlds shall rise to meet their fall.
He shows us how the warmth between us
Never really goes away;
Hark the one who keeps us burning,
Born on Christmas Day.



A Fate Worse Than Death

white graphing paper
Photo by Pixabay on


A Fate Worse Than Death

Forget all choice, forget all thought,
Forget responsibility –
For ain’t you heard they’re worth as nought;
Our will is broke but sure ain’t free.

For all the world is but a stage,
And all its folk are actors thence;
With scripted lines on unseen page,
Directed by the Higher Sense.

For take one atom, set it stray,
And watch it ripple, interact –
With those it wasn’t meant to play,
Till all those careful plots are wracked.

But if our input’s fake and stripped,
Then thinking such seems wry to me:
For saying thus, we speak a script
With wicked sense of irony.

My words, my moves, my thoughts ain’t mine –
The puppeteer, he runs the show.
It isn’t me who writes these lines,
For they were written long ago.


Ah, predestination – the only downside of time travel.



Hallmark Horticulture



Hallmark Horticulture 1

Roses are red,
And violets are blue…
Except to a bee
Who can see in UV –
Who knew ?



Hallmark Horticulture 2

Roses are red,
And violets are blue –
Or so it is said,
But I wonder if true.
Perhaps in the future;
But for a while yet
Most roses are fuschia,
And violets are violet.



Into the Future, Shambling and Mumbling

Star Wars Zombies
Star Wars Zombies by Fredrik Edén


Into the Future, Shambling and Mumbling

Lookit all you zombies, living lives like you was thinking –
But I know you’re just the puppets to the Codebooks in the sky.
Lookit all you androids – yeah, you don’t fool me by blinking;
Cos I know you’re really dummies – and the suck is, so am I !
Ev’ry single doll of us is following the Script
With its plot for ev’ry atom all controlled in all its jazz:
Gotta keep ’em tight in line, you can’t have strays or space-time’s ripped,
And then how can the Future come to pass like it already has ?
Of course, it’s all that Albert’s fault:
Him and his flash equation.
Had to open up the vault,
Loose the tachyon invasion.
Had to prove, and quite routine,
His theory for the time machine.
And whoops, he’s sent our free will sinking.
Hello zombie.  Goodbye thinking.

Now when it comes to sci-fi, I can take a little licence –
Like your artificial gravity – we know all that’s all bunk;
And beaming-down and warp-speed – well, the concepts have entice-ence:
We all so want to so believe, like any cyberpunk.
But daddy of them all, be it phone-box or DeLorean,
Is scorching up the past when it ain’t so dead and gone.
Sticking-up two fingers to the know-it-all historian,
And making sure our parents got to meet and get it on.
But don’t you see the problem here ?
The Future is already there –
And all we do must all adhere
To make it happen right and square.
So ev’ry choice is just a lie
We’re ruled by Codebooks in the sky
We’re puppets with our choices stripped
We’re zombies to the Master Script.

Unless, of course, old Albert’s wrong, and time is just a line instead –
Then could in fact causality, just like us zombies, be undead ?



Seismic Sirens

Vesuvius in Eruption by Joseph Wright


Seismic Sirens

“A senior Iranian cleric says women who wear revealing clothing and behave promiscuously are to blame for earthquakes.”
– Geology Now

It only takes an ankle,
Or the merest hint of wrist,
And oh, calamities abound !
These wenches shock the very ground:
The seething earth they rankle
With each rendezvous and tryst.
It only takes a look or pout
To make the boiling magma spout.