Category Archives: Poetry

Brief Encounter


Brief Encounter

I peeped into the past this afternoon,

left the sun’s bright smile for the grey drizzle

of a Winter, gabardine garbed and smoke

soaked. I stood on the station ramp under

the yellow light and watched the misery.

from here, the dreary scene of passive shame

takes a smaller place in the drama now –

the respectable doctor has become

a predator, a manipulative

abuser of power and dreams. The housewife

is angry and trapped, the husband stupid

and complacent. The story is deceit;

a halo is held around the struggle

for virtue, that in the clear crystal light

of our sophistication earns a wry

patronising smile. Now we hug dark lies

that are nurtured in the human struggle

and hover between scorn and sentiment.

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Divide And Conquer


Spring demonstrations
Like the wind in the willows
Rattle state troopers

Good Friday, 2019



( … 18 … 17 … 16 … )

Hardly a cloud in the sky
No need for this jacket
I discover too late

A tiny discomfort
In the scheme of things
Dwarfed by Spring’s bounty
Overall not a bad day after all

A good day for a crucifixion
Despite all the discomfort
Faith, hope and patience
All’s well that ends well

After all

After all

The Weekly Atiśa


Monday: Dream with lucidity, without interference.
Tuesday: Ruffle any surfaces minimally, if not at all.
Wednesday: Scatter your gratitude wherever you go.
Thursday: Leave off criticism; you are the victim too.
Friday: Let go of any wish, any idea of any letting go.
Saturday: Joyfulness is both the source and outcome.
Sunday: Who is it seeking, acknowledging approval?

~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~

“Consider all phenomena to be dreams.
Don’t be swayed by outer circumstances.
Be grateful to everyone.
Don’t brood over the faults of others.
Explore the nature of unborn awareness.
At all times simply rely on a joyful mind.
Don’t expect a standing ovation.”

– Atiśa, 980 – 1054: “Seven Points for Training the Mind and Heart”


Developing World: Shadorma


Be careful
Not all advance is
In a good
Although this may not be clear
Except in hindsight



Simply slowing down
Is far more important
Than we are generally
Encouraged to notice

Once having done so
Is it not then our duty
To try to pass it on?

Orphaned Vows


A solemn promise
Neglected and unfulfilled
Becomes an insult

Cheep Talk


Talk is cheap
Talk is common
Chitchatting away
Of this and that
Speaks of sunsets
Of suns going down
When it’s backs turning
Obeying a planetary spin
I’ll use plurals here
As each of us
Has a sun

We madmen
Madwomen we
In our hidden hearts
Live in our own dreamtimes
Encircling our own central axis
Round which this outer earth and sun
(With a moon as a loony sidekick)
From birth to death revolve

In truth the sun never sets
Nor does the earth
For that matter
Simply spins
And spins

Metamorphic metaphor
Cloaking the untaught truth
It doesn’t matter if you don’t mind
Take a break for a moment and pause
At the crux – the axis – of all of this and that
Here-I-am & now-is-now & I-am-I & this-is-it
Now where is our next breath coming from?
How do we know that? Actually we don’t
We are an incomprehensible miracle
Given the grace of time to seek
While stars and planets spin

Born Marking Time


Pens stroke paper as
Fingers caress keyboards as
Writers slowly die

Kindly Guided


Surrounding us roads
Eeny, meeny, miney, moe
Destination plain
You succour me in my loss
I succour you in your loss

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