The Willow Tree

The Willow Tree stands by the water, not the tallest, never stronger -

Than mighty pines and oaks that grow taller and live longer

Yet flexible her branches, her swaying limbs as the wind blows

-That stormy destroying wind which picks up larger trees and downward throws-

Is cut into a thousand pieces by the whipping branches and reduced to a whispered hiss

By the little leaves resistless motion. The storm is stilled by this.

I've been there

I've let the side down
Gone against the tide - down
From where I had their trust
To grovelling in the dust
From Alpha to Anathema
From healthy to a carrier
Of disease and I have been
In solitary quarantine.
I've been there.

I've been on the other side
In me the others can't confide
'Cause I'm not Kosha anymore
And I must wait outside the door
Until my penance is complete
And I can stand upon my feet
I have betrayed those that I serve
And I have got what I deserve.
I've been there.

And there I found him
Smeared with other people's sin
And mine - I know he saw, he knew
The pain that I'd been going through
Did what I'd done even evince
From his bruised soul an extra wince?
I'd nailed him up, joined in the kill
But I knew, slowly, dawningly,
He loved me still.

Composed whilst helping in Bridge drop in 16/7/14

                                                    Better than nothing

 I live somewhere, it's not home
It's just somewhere to be
I suppose I should be grateful
I'm not on the streets
It isn't special
But it's better than nothing.

I go to a place in the mornings
And eat beans on toast
Bread from Sainsbury's
That they couldn't sell
It's not my choice
But it's better than nothing.

They give me clothes
I can get a shower
Use the phone, talk to people
They aren't my friends
Just other people who go there
But it's better than nothing

I'm on Benefits JSA
I've been inside
I won't get a job
But I pretend to look
So I won't get my money stopped
The money is a joke
But it's better than nothing.

I've got a kid, don't see him
His mum's a bitch
We split up
I've got a new partner, she's a pain
I don't love her
But it's better than nothing.

I drink a bit, but don't take drugs
I'm not a junkie
I'm better than that
I drink this cider
It's never seen the inside of an apple
But it's better than nothing.

I'm not happy
But I like the footy, I used to play
But it didn't work out
I didn't fit in
I only watch it on T.V. now.
But it's better than nothing.

Why do I keep going?
Something won't let me stop
I duck and dive
Watch my back
I wouldn't call it life
But it's better than nothing

I'm not special, noone cares
My Dad left, my Mum died
I don't see my family
They don't like me
I have acquaintances, not friends
But it's better than nothing.

The eroding of the dream

It's getting on for a year since I blogged anything. Not without event but without comment. The most significant happening in the year was the death of my Mum on 12th April. Everything seems more looseley attached since then and I marvel that anything ever carried an air of permanence. Existence has changed from an endless land fading into an unseen horizon light years away to a fast burning fuse crackling towards the inevitable bomb.

At Mum's funeral I was told by my cousin that my favourite home of my childhood had been bulldosed to make way for 3 luxury houses which together would cost 1000 times more than what my parents paid for the house in 1959. The old house is still on google earth....for now.

In 2001 when Debbie and I were on honeymoon I photograped her in front of a massive cedar tree at Watersmeet. last week we visited the same place, but, no tree; in its place a circular wall with a lid covering the stump.

With the passing of the years, more and more things seem to drift from the essential to the futile. Those things which seemed urgent and vital the causes we embraced, the vision we carried seem more like a frantic grasp at something which is moving away from us at ever-increasing speed.

I can understand the hermits going off into the desert away from the decay, where time and effort can be put into the seeking of the imperishable and unchanging, although I believe it can be sought anywhere; it's not the geographical location which is important rather the absence of distractions. Hearing the love song is easier when someone isn't operating a road drill 30 yards away but the song is there for those who manage to filter out the racket.

In an antique shop recently there were some coal shovels similar to the ones we used at home when I was growing up. Junk really but ridiculously expensive as they were old. Today's stuff is tomorrows antiques. My smartphone in the british museum with onlookers chortling at how primitive it is.

What is to be done? Still restless, still dissattisfied still hungry. That doesn't go away. I am a hermit in babylon seeking to find out how to drown out the noise, to turn from the glitter, link with the eternal. To see it in colour rather than black and white.