A parched breath of morning

my brain is dead
a numbskull
an imbecile
a rotting lump of lard

it wakes this morning
in the throes of emptiness
it has drank my coffee
and nibbled a nibble

it has opened the curtains
dived in the shower
drank another coffee
and nibbled another nibble

so here it is
writing an empty thing
a parched breath of morning
a slice of cake
without the cream!

Time

Sitting here watching a spider as it’s being blown by the wind while continually building its web.

It falls againt my window, gets blown about and dangles but time and again it carries on its repairs.

It’s a thing they do and not just the spiders but all those creatures out there. They just do stuff oblivious to life and its reasons.

They feel, but not in the same sense we feel as humans with our compassion and hatred, our anxieties, empathy and those maddening questions of life and the reality of it all, the reasons of being, of time and of religion and all those things we have no control over.

The spider is there still doing its thing and I’ve forgotten how to be something other than a failure.

If I just carry on regardless while being buffeted, and with those turbulent feelings in my gut of fear, love and something other that i can’t explain then maybe time will come to my rescue.

Perhaps the universe, in her wisdom, has a message for me in the spider, and as I write these last words the sun breaks through and I realise sometimes there is nothing we can do to change or to help so we have carry on while trying to bring our own light upon the world.

Thank you.

clouds

to understand
to be aware
to acknowledge

clouds
those blankets
of peacefulness and violence

we reach beyond
to that shroud
whence we came

perhaps to understand freedom
perhaps to be aware of love
perhaps to acknowledge our failures

And there are those clouds
gone in a whisper
in the time it takes to write a poem