Ben’s Ghost


The spirit
that graces me
with its passing
has no name.

And stems not
from thoughts and words
though it gathers them up as it flows
but from feeling.

Poet’s Morning


Sipping early tea
Savouring another’s words
Fresh inspiration
Old farmer ploughs his meadow
Rich tang of freshly turned soil


I was really taken by this.

Reena Saxena

There you go…..
once again
carrying my dreams with you
sketches on that notepad
frozen shots entrapped
in power zones
with glue
ideas that flew so smooth
stopped mid-air
unaware of destinations
I await my fate
hanging at your mercy
I come again
-yet another meeting
notepads, screenshots
scribbled thoughts
of the future
to be stolen
a little later
You come with baggage
all dark for me
you do not share
but I see you stare
at my light
locking it away
forsaken jaded dreams
mock enthusiasm
find their own level
-like stored water
in branded packages
…going for a song

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Where ever did I put that gardening hat?
The one I wear for pottering and that
In my aimless though quite agreeable way.
Before I know it I’ve whiled away the day.

“What have I been doing?” I wonder aloud.
Can’t quite recall, start looking around.
I can see a few crumbs there on the floor.
By the sink several mugs, three or four.

There’s a paper back, only partly read
Lying face down on the chair by the bed.
There’s another open on the window sill
A funny kind of travelogue by that Bill …

So I must’ve sat by the window for a bit.
When the sun’s out it’s a good place to sit.
And I’ve had something to eat and a nap.
Still can’t think of the name of that chap.

I’m wearing my gardening hat I realise.
The one that keeps the sun out of my eyes.
It looks like I didn’t even set foot outside.
But I did put the hat on so at least I tried.

It’s getting dark so it’s too late to start now.
There isn’t anything urgent to do anyhow.
What time is it anyway? I’ve begun yawning.
An early night, I think, and in the morning …

Itchy You … Bless You


Nothing feels quite right
The spiritual path beckons
You pay at the door

Down the road apace
Looking into this and that
One rebecomes all

Another Another


Reaching out for …
… no response
Left in limbo
Hung out to dry

Fed on assumptions
Clutching at straws
Mighty thin gruel
Sans nourishment

The best? … Insufficient
While not at all sure of
Understanding the rules
(A longstanding habit)

A kindly silver lining
When the smoke clears
When the pain has dulled
A poem lurking in there



Ctrl Z
Ctrl Z
Ctrl Z

Ctrl Z
Oh how I love
Ctrl Z!

What a shame
It only work
on my PC.



“Training is simply valuing compassion that arises from pure awareness. There are no hardships and it’s not complicated. They don’t tell you that, do they?” 😉

BUDDHA IN THE MUD by Tony Barrs. There are two truths: the real and the seemingly real. Their connection is the negative emotions. On the path of the seemingly real, the emotions imprison us. On the path of the real, the emotions liberate us. There is a secret life to the emotions.

We Really Do Need To Train Our Mind … First!

If we don’t train our mind to be still and silent, it will lack the clarity needed to recognise and realise the truth of the teachings. With training, we experience and gain inspiration and then, subtle questions arise from realisation. Teachings are generalised, and theory is black and white, static and fossilising; it is only through authentic experience that genuine questions arise. If we cannot form a precise question, we will not receive a precise answer.

Reading about, discussing and studying the reality of the nature of mind will not help in realising and experiencing this. We need to still the mind into silence by focusing our attention and inner energies, otherwise the nature of mind will remain merely as a theory. In training the mind, we also have to refine our conduct to be more attentive to others’ needs…

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Dumb And Dumber


Don’t fiddle about
Tinkering with dire outcomes
Nail and fix the source

~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~

Harvard scientists funded by Bill Gates plan to begin spraying particles into the sky in an experiment to dim the sun. (

What the???

Red Light

Updated. Only Betty from among today’s followers has seen it before, I think. Sadly the “reblogging” process has clipped off the final two lines and the “Notes” so you need to click on”View original post” to get the whole thing.

Ben Naga


Driving in to work this morning
Up by the traffic lights
There they were

Still in their teens looked like
And between them
Covering both ends of the spectrum

Perfectly staged archetypes
Artfully fashioned
To hit all the right buttons

One with the ample coal black curls
The easy grace, the confident stride
Already marked down, I’m sure

To receive a special mention award
For her outstanding contributions
Come Breast Awareness Week

The other with the straight hair
The slightly dippy look about the eyes
And the face furniture to die for

(Did I mention my thing for glasses?)
Christ, I’m nearly sixty
Will this never end?

I remember years ago
When Pain first moved in with Desire
Until now they’ve become inseparable

They tell me I’m only the landlord
And can’t do a thing about it
Something about an assured tenancy

Told myself it didn’t matter anyway

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