Big Beard

Facial hair
Persistent push
Through tiny pores
Grows that hairy bush
That itches with static
A scratch or a rub
Matting continuously
From shadow to shrub
The wilder it gets
The more of a pain
Woolly bugger maintenance
Smothering the face
Shape it like a hedge
Into a goatee style chin
If you cant stand that look
Try a Quaker style trim
Or maybe let it go
To sprout where it will
Help to trap food
That we normally spill
Let it cover the face
When you need to hide
A feeble attempt
With mans oldest disguise
One thing is certain
With all facial hair
Is from the moment it starts
It will always be there
The maintenance goes down
With the longer it grows
Of course cutting is mandatory
When it gets past your toes

In the dark

In naked flame
A shadowy grain
I etch a verse

The wind bullying trees
With a forceful breeze
It could be worse

No electric flow
Only candlestick glow
A more calming sight

No convenient switch
For the electron itch
No instant light

No current control
From the power pole
Nothing left to turn on

No cyber life
Only oven strife
When the power is gone

Difficult lines

Trying to squeeze into spaces
Well crafted phrases
Mellifluously separating
Sequences of thought
Against a backdrop
Of chaotic meanderings
Receiving reality with static
The picture not always clear
Which is why we try
To focus the emphasis
On the simple facts
Since they are not tainted
With the ideological emotion
Of another typical insecure ego
Unable to judge
Just how the quality is being received

Sound sleeper

Old Rip Van Winkle is a bit of an insomniac
When compared to the way I sleep
In modesty I'm the perfect calculator
For counting those annoying sheep

If the Who decided to play
At full tit outside my door
In blissful dreamy ignorance
I would still continue to snore

Not even a "yeaaaaaaaaaaaah!" from Roger
Or a swinging power chord from Pete
Could make me bat one eyelid
Or wake me from the depths of sleep

Park a jumbo jet outside the window
Rev its engines right to the red
It wouldn't stop me chasing those zees
In the dream zone of my sleepy head

Gather a chorus of the noisiest cockerels
They could crow until they were hoarse
Mic those roosters with some amp-type booster
Their din wouldnt break my astral course

Since it is evident that I'm such a deep sleeper
As plainly illustrated by the state of this blog
Two and a half months without a word
Hard to write when I sleep like a log!

Cold city

Manufactured shadows
Fall harshly in cityscapes
The earth here is bound to conformity
Through straight lines, rigid structures

Effigies to a man made vision
Their hard cold surfaces
Repulsing the amorous sun
In silent frigid ignorance

Unyielding to the weather
Nature is banished here
To small manicured spaces
Controlled and orderly

Evolution dictated by design
In a tailored environment
With no room for the randomness
Or curvature of natural chaos

Delicious dream

The alarm just kept on ringing
Time so persistent in its call
But too much fatigue and ear wax
Meant he didn’t hear it at all

He slept right through breakfast
His stomach in ignorant bliss
Snoring his way on through lunch
Oblivious to the nutrition missed

Flying his own astral airway
Fantasizing about all sorts of food
Over indulging in his cataleptic state
While his body continued to snooze

He dreamed of food in black and white
Sometimes they were colourful and almost real
Like gorging himself on gigantic marshmallows
Such apparitions were also very surreal

Until he finally awoke the next morning
Feeling that something was very wrong
His stomach was full, and his neck was sore
And both of his pillows were gone…

Couch contemplation

Crawl of the couch
Into a new frame of mind
Bound fast by the drudge
Of the everyday grind
Its hold is fearsome
Beyond normal belief
Pinching those days
Like the stealthiest thief
Wondering in a daze
Where possibilities went
Too gun shy from the past
For any future intent
Take it one day at time
Is the best way to go
So get up of the sofa
And on with the show

Whose the driver?

It is a common predicament to feel insecure
Our hands simply to small to hold
All of the variables in this big wide world
To many factors beyond our control

Unfortunately it’s just a fact of life
That we really don’t have a hope
Of having everything turn out the way we want
So its pointless trying to hold that rope

Since there is another 6 billion or so
All looking for a perfect happy life
It’s something that we share in common
So dont stress about this being your personal right

Realise that we have control of our bodies
And in most cases our minds
Use this power to steer you through
All of the hassles and problems you find

Remember that well worn phrase
You have control of how you feel
So find security in that simple fact
You’re actually the driver behind the wheel

While the world might be an unruly beast
And life can often try to run you down
You can actually limit the personal effect that it has
By expressing a smile instead of a frown

Since the way you act is always reflected
In the way that life treats you back
Even if at times you just want to cry
Hoping it will cut you some slack

Although the old golden rule is not a panacea
In obtaining the peace of mind we all wish to hold
It will certainly help to limit the damage
Caused by others actions who you cant control

Tangible truth

Moments of revelation
Of finding the truth
Comfort in a discovering
Some tangible proof
Since speculation or theory
Never holds the same ring
As the reassuring melody
That only truth can sing
Common and reproducible
For all to see and hear
Rather then mythical guesses
Based on faith and fear
Or flights of fantasy
From a delusional mind
Using personality and persuasion
To peddle the illusions they find
No wild and crazy ideas
To fill in all those knowledge gaps
Just the uncomplicated simplicity
Of another well proven fact

Absent August

Absent from inspiration
Please excuse the delay
August has been a vacuum
In lots of various ways
But through the quagmire
Of the day to day grind
I finally found some light
Inside this apathetic mind
Whether it will be fulfilling
Is a subjective question of course
But at least it is something
No better and certainly no worse

Motivated mind

The stars are the only ears
To hear the mournful lament
A skyward moan at a loss of direction
Those years idle and misspent

Where the universe laughs
With an eternal, silent mirth
At those days we so easily waste
Not using them for what they're worth

This gloomy self pitied introspection
Always a self-inflicted retrospective pain
Fretting about the frittering of time
Those moments never to be seen again

It is already been well versed
The dilemma has already sung
The years that have got behind us
No one telling us when to run

From all the evils of being idle
Those where lethargy abound
All the days spent so cheaply
When no purpose could be found

When we’d be better of seeing it in the now
Viewing each moment as something special to find
Like the promise of a clean blank canvas
Ours to paint with a motivated mind

No reason

The tiny child in the corner
Under the table crying scared
Has no comprehension of the chaos
That has left her mother dead

Why her school is now a pile of rubble
She doesn’t know where her friends have gone
She wonders why her father cries each night
Instead of singing her bedtime songs

She has no awareness of the reasons
For the bullet holes in the wall
Why everyone is running and screaming
As those bombs continue to fall

She has no idea about the anger of the men
Who live down the end of the street
Pointing guns menacingly at all who pass
Plotting a revenge they believe will be sweet

She has no knowledge of the man in the suit
Who smiles for the camera as he orders the drop
From his shiny chair thousands of miles away
His mighty solution to make it all stop

She simply has teary swollen eyes
From the constant confusion and pain
The endless days of carnage and fear
Caused by adults playing their vengeful games

Desperate dog

Barking from behind the window
Steamy breath covering up the glass
A yelp for help with puppy dog eyes
To anyone that was walking past

A whimper of desperation
That white mouth corner drool
A slobbery plea for attention
Losing desperately at keeping it cool

As no one seemed to notice
The whining cries for help
The emotive plea to be set free
Wondering who would let him out

Then suddenly out of nowhere
A figure appeared in view
Finally some form of salvation
Had come with the liberating news

Through the misted up window
A voice spoke that filled him with dread
“Rex could you please back away from the door”
“It’s time for you to take your meds”

Leafless living

Their nakedness
Reveals the season
A deciduous reason
For baring all

Stripped completely
No enticing bloom
Under gray sky gloom
Skeletal is the costume call

Exposed limbs
Spindly fingers bend
Skyward at each end
Defiant digits toward the rain

Weary boughs
Tiring under the relentless will
Of another southerly chill
Quiet suffering till spring comes again

Billy goat blame

When someone makes a mistake
A moment of error in making a decision
It is a common enough situation
Often caused by a lack of knowledge or precision

But to create error is simply human
Since we actually aren’t perfect at all
No matter how flawless some like to think they are
Everyone will occasionally drop the ball

The measure is in admitting
That your not as infallible as your ego thought
To own up to mistakes, and suck it down
Taking the wisdom from the lessons taught

Rather then placing the blame elsewhere
Since the truth is often too hard to take
Take responsibility for your actions
Rather then looking for that goat called Scape...

Cool control

Control what you can
Don’t stress about what you cant
Don’t bite it down to the quick
Stress toys nails aren’t
Breathe in and out
Don’t tear out the hair
Release all the angst
Since only bald spots live there
Fill the mind with calm
Don’t let others rent space
Remember who has control
Over the look on your face
Keep it in perspective
Keep clarity on the problem to solve
Don’t burst too many blood vessels
Or your head might well explode
Don’t play host to bitterness
As it is such an ungrateful guest
It will only bring an ulcer for dessert
Disguised as some kind of sweet revenge

Contimplative Chicken

Man has always pondered the great riddles
That leave us with a questioning mind
Two of these involve the humble chicken
But it’s not actually clear why

The first feathered pondering
A circular cause and consequence type Q
What came first the chicken or the egg?
And why is this bird in particular used?

The second question has to do with purpose
Why did the chicken actually cross the road
Was it as rumor suggests, stapled to something else
Or was it simply trying to make it home

Throughout these modern times
These questions have been often asked
Even though nobody has considered
Taking the actual chickens to task

Perhaps contemplating these perplexing wonders
Is nothing more then a ridiculous waste of time
A paltry excuse for philosophical debate
Just like the reason for this rhyme….

Thoughtful q

There are never any certainties
Except the old ones like taxes and death
Or hopefully that the sun will be present
Every day that you’re able to draw breath

But when it comes to calculating the thoughts of others
You should stop yourself before you even begin
Since the fickle old mind can be a cauldron of chaos
We shouldn’t under estimate the complexities within

Since we’re all possessed with an individual mind
That creates our unique and special point of view
Providing everyone with a slightly different perspective
Helping to mix up the thought process stew

Stir in the lashings of emotion we humans have
And immediately we will see different views occur
Like when a subject means a lot to him
But holds absolutely no relevance for her

Which is why we shouldn’t try to guess
At what others may be thinking in their heads
Since assumptions make clichéd arses of you and me
When we would have been better to have simply asked instead

Alien angst

What time does the mother ship arrive
Will the visitors want to stay for tea
Are they just popping in for a chat
Or maybe a frontal lobotomy

Maybe they are here already
Disguised as politicians and kings
Shape shifting reptiles according to some
Adept at assimilating human beings

Or perhaps we are being farmed
Providing our freedoms to keep us controlled
Where reality is in fact just a drug-induced dream
A false nirvana so we’ll do what we’re told

It could be that we were once alien
Lost on Earth from a time long ago
The car broke down round Mars
The reception too bad to call up a tow

Forget the stories of alien encounters
Most bizarre and unexplained
Whatever the truth is about extraterrestrials
They probably consider us just as strange