6 May 2014

Poems from The Bubble of Now

Ploughing on

From this moment on
in the bubble of now
only the future
can be cut by my plough
The past was all furrowed
and blurrowed and messed
but I'll just blunder forward
and try for the best

Move over, move on

Don't be defined by what you used to be
and the disappointment of what you are not
nor constrained by where you wanted to go
but move on now from what you have got.
The choices you made could be wrong
the path that was travelled not right
but move over, move elsewhere, move on
if a path looks inviting, tonight
The old you can still be abandoned
or some bits be retained, some forgot
The person your history suggests that you are
could well be the person you're not
Today and tomorrow, tomorrow
is all that need bother you now
Take the reins of the way you are thinking
and divert it from bad thoughts, somehow

The Bubble of Now

Trying to live life
in the bubble of now
cut off from the past
and the future somehow
living what is
not what has been
nor fearing things coming
that cannot be seen
Outside of the bubble
find worry, regret
Safe in the bubble
is the best we can get


One tunnel just leads to another
it seems to me these days,
and are they harbouring danger
or shelter in gloomy ways?
And that light I see at the end,
is it trouble or is it my friend?
From tunnel, to tunnel, to tunnel,
until the tunnel at the final bend

Today's I

My age today
is the only age I will ever be
for today is the only day
that the I of today will ever see
Each day is a life
and each evening I die
it's hard to remember
but I really must try

The morning battle

The voice in my head
get out of bed
The syrupy mind
in a bind
the will couldn't find
Get up
Can't be bothered
Get up
What for?
To live
You'd rather die?
The mental cogs clashed
and crashed
and ground
until at last
I rose
and found
until tomorrow
comes round
the voice in my head
will have once again said
get out of bed
The syrupy mind
in a bind
the will will not find
Get up
Can't be bothered
Get up
What for?
To live
You'd rather die?

Fighting age

Fighting bad memories
and thoughts of the future
trying to bind sanity
with thin mental sutures
It's the battle of aging
the struggle for the old
worrying about rust
but still hoping for gold

The Badness

Waking up,
feeling bad
full of every problem
I've ever had
Looking forward
feeling dread
of the journey on
until I'm dead
Looking for positives
finding none...
but then a glimmer
of an internal sun
Sit up.
Feel better,
drain away
Cope and handle
just this day
Do I need a doctor?
Do I need a pill?
Or can I get better
with my own will?
I hate this badness
I hate this mad
This waking up
and feeling sad

It passes

When depression comes
remember it goes
it's here and gone
in ebbs and flows
You feel so awful
it's hard to remember
that a miserable August
could bring a happy September
Or a desperate morning
can be gone by the night
A struggle to get up
then soon feeling alright

Change the Day

I am prone to bouts of gloom
indeed deep depression
that falls over me
like a thick sticky blanket of hopelessness
and yet inside of me there is a little voice
that tries to persuade that if I could only try
I could change the day
and bit by bit cut the bastard blanket away
which is what I think I did, eventually, today
with slimy ribbons still sticking to my head
as I run away
And as for tomorrow ?
Who can say ?


Antidepression is about controlling your thinking
Turning off negatives
that can fast have you sinking
Focusing on positives
about only the day
Living the now
is the simple safe way
Good memories are welcome
the bad ones can rot
Live for the moment
with tight rein on each thought

What if?

What if this is all there is
What if this is "it"?
No hidden mysteries
or extra dimensions
Just us, alone... Oh shit!
No parallel universes
or Gods or aliens
rocks are just rocks
with no mysterious matters
and life short and meaningless
and just for a bit?
Dead, alive, dead again,
nothing then something
with comings and goings
that mean nothing at all?
It's something to think of
a point for our focus
that wet wednesdays and boredom
are about the sum of it all.

A life is an imaginary concept

When reviewing a life becomes daunting
remember it's never about your whole life
It's about living the next few minutes
to find fun and avoid pain or strife
Yesterdays and all your tomorrows...
Don't dream of reviewing that way
Why be swamped by imagined totality,
when your 'whole life' doesn't exist,
I'd say

Living the day

My life began this morning
for I refuse to accept ''getting old''
Each day is a new beginning
A life with one day to unfold.
Then I die yet again in my sleep
as consciousness dissipates and ends,
to be reborn to a new life tomorrow
for whatever that new life then sends


Awake until 5 am
Lying with mind turning
wondering when
the neurons will rest
and a fevered brain
will sleep again
But awake, awake
until 5 am...
Then gone quite sudden
to return at 8
Not enough sleep
so back off again until late
Then trying to get up
as the head fills with madness
Trying to get up
to drain off the sadness
Awake, awake
trying to say
'get up, get up'
and live the day

Same thought, different day

Thinking about the future?
Remember that man said 'that's mad'
Anything beyond this here minute
is the place where the thoughts make you sad
This tea
this moment
this night
Stay in it and you may be alright

Me on Meaning

What does it all mean?
I was asked early today
My answer is nothing
I heard myself say
Things proceeded without you
before you were here
and will march on relentless
after all you hold dear
I am dying this evening
in the moment called sleep
and dying for good
is just sleep but more deep
If it happens tonight
do you think it will matter?
The wind will still blow
and the rain will still patter
A meaningless cycle
without any deep reason
spinning and spinning
through season and season
While some talk of God
I just find that odd
Big beings there may be
but they won't care about me
Maybe I'm stupid
Maybe I'm wrong
But I won't have to ponder
these issues much longer
A tide is approaching
that will wash us away
try to enjoy its encroaching
and live for the day

The human condition

Oh… Just there…
these past few moments…
my mind was calm
and focused on now
The past was gone
the future was absent
as both are always
but that's hard to remember somehow
That girl is young
That man is old
That book is open
Its lie is sold
I have a suspicion
as I ponder submission
that frail mental chemistry
is the human condition

Mind Me

I am a Mind
So search within me
What will you find?
What will your science see?
Chemistry, moving, making thinking?
or mystery leaving science just sinking?
Atoms, molecules, ions, all matter
swirling around in nerves that chatter?
A place for freedom?
Some scope for chance?
Or a fine but predetermined dance?
A soul?
A hole…
with nothing in it?
A persisting essence?
Or something made just minute by minute?

Every day

Every day,
in recent time,
I wake,
and feel just fine
Then as I lie
I remember, and I worry...
I have to try
not to recall,
at all,
or just not to lie.

Infernal Internal

It doesn't last
remember that
it doesn't last
Well good
but that's the problem
It doesn't last
Ah yes, I see
but the problem will pass
trust me
I do
but then another one will come
or perhaps another few
I know
Just hang on, hang on
this one and that one will just go too
everything is so soon in the past
don't you know?
I do
That's the problem, see?
What? Things lasting but things passing?
Yes, I know, there's just no pleasing me
Ah, I see
And you are?
Eh… You… Well… Me

Armistice... Fight on...

The 12th day of November 1918
was not what some might allude
as humans fighting humans
actually just continued
and carried on, and on
with some war waging every dawn
Wars are always with us
never gone
And at the going down of the sun
and in the morning
we still fight on

Head Ahead

I am living in the dead times
I sometimes think
the empty in the head times
in black mood sink
with proper living done and gone
standing after end of song
A song that even when sung fully
was never really singing, truly
So looking back to wasted land
then gazing on at paths in sand
lifting feet, lifting head
another song
or quietly dead?
a different way?
A place to sing
another day?
So now, my man
what is the plan?
The plan is yes…
is yes, you can

Writing Rubbish

Writing rubbish
keeps me sane
I've ever been thus
and will never chan…
Poetry, prose
or mixed mush in the middle
If a rhyme is needed
it can always be fiddle…
Maybe I'm crazy
maybe I'm mad
maybe just dreadful
maybe just bad
But cheerful
not tearful
is a good way to be
and writing this rubbish
keeps cheerful in me
I may think better of this
and delete in the morning
that's not a promise
it's just a clear warning
One thing about writing
is don't trust the night
never submit until looked at in light
But rubbish
gets published
That's easy to see
So if others write rubbish
then why not me?

The verdict of a visitor who has seen enough

Spaceship Earth?
A ship of fools
Fools of opinion
from nonsensical schools
What rubbish they speak
What mad belief
What blindness to ignorance
What delusions they seek
No point discussing
or writing or reading
as they anti-evolve
with intelligence receding
I'm done, I'm gone, I've had some fun
I'll find somewhere better
around some other sun

The Torturer

I torture myself with my mind,' he said to me,
as we sat together, waiting.
'Oh, but you are your mind, aren't you?' I asked.
'Oh! You feel that too? Well yes, it's true I torture myself by thinking then.'
'Which is what minds do.'
'And who are you? I don't know you.'
'Neither do I, really,' I smiled.
And he said, 'Sly… That's you,' and he smiled too.
And the clock ticked on above his head,
while he continued with, 'My pills don't work, I think.'
'Ah, pills to stop you thinking, might be the best.'
'My mind just needs a rest,' he told me.
Then his name was called,
and I wished him all the best,
and pondered what had brought me there
and thought, 'just cuts and bruises,
damaged swollen flesh,
is much better than a damaged mind that's desperate for rest.'


I may be you
and you may be me
if our consciousness rises
from the same consciousness sea
and every half aware creature
from dog and cat to platypus
has a mind arising from the same deep thing
as you and me and all of us
your individuality an illusion
like a photon from electric waves
a temporary protrusion
that enlightens
but never stays
So be good to me
and I'll be good to you
because we are the same deep person
held in the same sticky conscious glue


The galaxies are moving outward
it seems
but anything more is guessing
almost dreams
of origins and endings
or in and out eternal wendings
Life has lived a very long time
the fossil record tells us
but tales of origins
and tales of ends
are thinkings too adventurous
We are burning fuels
like wanton fools
and pumping out dioxide
but nobody knows
if our activities pose
a genuine threat of suicide
There may be gods
there may be none
and nothing new beyond our sun
We try to reason
and draw conclusions
but false certainties
are our mad delusions

The Dark Tide

Purpose or purposelessness?
Point or no point at all?
Thoughts that allow appreciation
of why religions were invented
even with chance of truth so small
Blinking in the glare of reality
which really, surely does not care
Having the courage to face inevitability
there's probably nothing for us there
Whether true or false
the fight continues with this thinking
that interrupts
the daily routine
and leaves the spirits sinking
A cup of coffee
time out for a rest
forgetting future and past
just for a while, is best
Then a stubborn smile
a small rekindling of satisfaction
with an invented reason to move on
chasing some illusion
trying to ignore it's just distraction
A frail Venice of some contentedness
now glinting in sudden surprising sun
while still creaking on its sodden shaky stilts
as the dark tide recedes again
and you return to things you still want done

My father in me

When I reached an age that I could remember my father at
everything changed
and from then on I had to measure my life
against that of him…
Am I really the same age as when my father did this?
Am I really the same age as when my father did that?
Am I really the same age as when my father began to look old?
And so, soon to come, when senility took hold?
And each day in the mirror
there he is looking at me
and am I ever so slightly stooping now
as did he?


'He's off with stress, for two months now.'
'Off with stress?' the man returns,
'I'll tell you what stress is…
Stress is standing in a sodden trench, aged 19
and waiting for a whistle's blow
to send you running towards raging guns.'
'Hmm… well yes,' the other one responds,
'but stress is in the head,
and in the head,
in the mind, sometimes
just moving on, though doing nothing,
can be as bad as running into being dead.'
'It's nonsense.'
'It's not.'
'We disagree'
'We do,
and I only hope that one day
stress in the mind does not visit you.'
'Aw stress… Boo hoo…
He needs to pull himself together man,
and you do too.'
'Maybe yes. Maybe no.
Unless you are inside his head,
how can you know?'

Tempus non fugit

Time flies?
Where do the years go?
Is it running faster?
Ach no…
Time is always stuck stopped
at the moment of Now
while things move into Now
and out of Now
If they didn't
forever come and go
Now would be very boring
you know

Moving on

Appreciate the pleasure
we can find amid decay
since we pass our prime
in physical life rather early
Our mind spends a long time
in a beaten-up old machine
but if that still moves and still steers
we can still travel and still dream


Walking alone through the lonely old streets
just me, then a cat that my solitude meets
A pat and a snuggle
a start, a retreat
an owl in the darkness
and a breeze through light sleet
A dark quiet village at the base of a hill
where I wandered while young
and I wander now, still

The Struggle

Why do we agonise over things that no longer exist?
Days that are done and people who are gone?
Why do we worry about things that may never come?
Seeking the dark rather than enjoying brief sun?
There just is today, and today and today...
No tomorrow will arrive, no return to yesterday.
Today and today and today and today...
Why do we struggle to live life that way?

Being an adult

Being an adult
is largely about pretending
that you have grown up
disguising the inner child
with words and bluster
and serious demeanour
while inside still wandering
the roads of fantasy and nonsense
that you used to travel openly
but now making sure that nobody notices
until back home alone
in the darkness
the child returns
to laugh
and cry

I do remember

I do remember
some first coming into consciousness
with a glimmer of
"Oh… what's this here?"
but in pure thought
rather than unlearned words
while lying on a bed
looking out of a very young head
that became this much older one
now wondering about being dead
and still pondering
but now with some fear
"Oh… what's this here?"

That Cloud Again

Yes. It has been here before
The one inside my head
"It can just be personality," a doctor said
While elaborating on my thoughts, I tended to agree
"Your thoughts are true, but best not dwelt upon," said she
"Turn away from reality? Is that what you suggest?"
"Sometimes," she said, "That's for the best."
adding, "Look at me, and what I see?"
Which prompted me to offer that she was much like me
"Perhaps," she said, "But I prefer not to say."
And we smiled
and wished each other "Good Day."


A pattern of thoughts
in a head much like mine
was extinguished last night
at too early a time
A fine person has gone
I think not anywhere
just dissipated and vanished
as into thin air
Others may tell me
to hope for his soul
but my sad contemplation
sees a dark empty hole
For what had a beginning
must too have an end
Not that I know, though
but goodbye my friend

Buildings and Birds

Big buildings built from heavy stones
raised high towards the sky
prove life as much as any bird
that flapping flutters by
All improbable constructions
doomed to crumble or to die

Bloomin' Birthday Boy... Bah... 

Fifty-eight circles
around the sun are done
so here we bloomin' go now
on another bloomin' one
I did not ask to take this ride
in life I had no say
just "here you are" and "on you go"
and "do it", day by day
So round and round and round and round
and round and round I spun
sometimes feeling all was lost
and sometimes that I'd won
on fifty-eight bloomin' circles
round a hot and shining sun
I didn't ask my children
if they'd like this journey too
I just eyed up my lady and thought
Oh I fancy you
And thus does bloomin' nature
keep the carousel so busy
with unasked puzzled riders
spinning round and round 'til dizzy 

Sunday School

Here are gathered boys and girls 
and fresh-faced adults too
to tell them to believe in things
they cannot know are true
The atmosphere is innocent
the people seeming nice
but then proceeds abuse of minds
by subtle faith's device
Abused become abusers
as the sinister cycle turns
the brain-washed become brain-washers
and the nonsense onward runs

Stop Thinking

Just stopping thinking is the thing to do
when thinking starts to trouble you
when depression looms and worries gather
and thinking gets you in a lather
Just cease for now
the churning mind and furrowed brow
just wait and face the present only
You will feel better, soon or slowly

The Day Today

Don't think of your life
just think of today
for your life doesn't exist
as a thing, anyway
just the day
then the day
then the day...

CalMac and Me

I would much rather be on a CalMac ferry
heading out on a glittering sea
feeling the wind and watching the headlands
shifting and flowing in mist around me
with gulls circling hopefully, looking for chips
the sound of the engines, that rhythm of ships
the gentlest of heaving in a moderate swell
the old ferry feeling that all is now well

It passes

It passes
it passes
(and then it returns)
The sadness and madness
anxiety burns
The stress and the mess
swilling inside a head
The thought that the next rhyme
is better not said
It passes
it passes
(and then will return)
but it passes, it passes
Remember the sun

Bubbles of Then 

Bubbles of Then
all gone, again
The practice of Zen
and the powers of ten
The factors of zero
the fiddling of Nero
The heart of a coward
enclosing a hero?
Meaningless words
or a secret within?
The bubbles are rising
as the new ones begin

I want to hear seagulls

I want to hear seagulls
and the wash of the sea
with the warmth of the sun
on the face outside me
as the sounds and the feelings
touch the mind deep within
letting return of contentment begin

To live like a cat

To live like a cat
knowing only the Now
accepting a pat
with a purr
Catching a bird
with a glance of the eye
and thinking of nothing
but stopping it fly
or stretched in the sun
with the warmth soaking in
unaware of the past
or the days yet to run
Just to live like a cat
knowing only the Now
accepting a pat
with a purr


Ignore the past
begin the future
inheriting what's given
from this day on
making further progress
as made beforehand
Enjoy what's here
forget what's gone 

Delusion Illusion

The power of delusion
is the strongest we've got
believing in things
that simply are not
Convincing a mind
to change without aid
dreaming a dream 
then finding it made
Delusion illusion
where nothing is real
except the fine feeling
that delusioners feel
The Force
The Placebo
The Gods
The Power
That sees what's real and while laughing, devours

Our Star

Hydrogen to Helium
that is all
in a big and brilliant ball 
our heat
our light
all that stops the endless night
a different sun
than what was there
when I was young 
Going, going, going
Coming, coming
the end of dawn

To be

How the hell would I know
what is going on?
I'm merely made of atoms
singing their own song
or maybe something deeper
but nothing known to me
my place is just to ponder
and simply briefly be

Not today

When the time comes
but the time is not now
When the time comes
it will be dealt with
but how?
When the time comes
I will find a way
but it is not time
not that time today

Slam down the shutters

Seal yourself off
from the past and the future
slam down the bright shutters
with mirror effect
Look into the moment
and get on with living
accepting what happened
and forgetting what’s done
The bubble, the bubble
the bubble of now
again and again stay in it
Then lift that front shutter whenever you dare
looking forward to see what’s offered out there
but keep the other one slammed tight shut
don’t ever look back
no “if” and no “but”

In the forest of the mind

Walking every day in the forest of the mind
and if sinking in mud having the sense to turn back
thinking, ‘Oh. I don’t like this track’
You can pull your thoughts out
and onto a sunnier way
for the forest offers everything
but your thoughts can seize the day
Avoid those dark wanderings
and seek out the sun
Navigation is not easy
but it still can be done
Everything is in there
but care is required
just avoid the thorny thickets
and find what’s desired

Just do

If a day seems meaningless
you have to give it meaning
by finding something to do
that can become meaningful to you
Easy to say, not often easy to do
But better than being miserable
just doing something slowly
just try to do

Changing everything

When you cannot change a thing
you can still change your attitude to all things

“Everything can be taken from a man or a woman but one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances…” Viktor Frankl

When you cannot change a thing
you can still change your attitude to all things

and in doing so,
you can change everything

Pythagoras Wake

In mathematics
see everything
the waves in bits
and bits in waves
Each temporary foaming too
a metaphor of me and you

The situation given

The situation given
is the place you should begin
as if just born this instant
at some greater being's whim
For every day you waken
a consciousness begins
to last one day then ending
as the day's light slowly dims

An obvious choice

So what are you going to do
when you feel so bad?
Lie in misery and bleat?
Admit defeat?
Or get up and on with something
to slowly beat
the damn depression off
the fog away
and make something better
out of what began as a miserable day?
Rest, if needed is fine
Dwelling in gloom is bad
Get up
move on
and slowly lose the sad…
…says I, the man, the husband, dad
the one remembering the hopeful lad

Too late?

How did I get old?
By doing nothing
I'm told
Just letting time pass
and not getting on
missing my chances
fluffing the song
Starting again now
Left it too late?
Just give it a go
Don't sit and wait.


A place to write rubbish
a tree to see
and all is fine
for a while with me