Tag Archives: #thoughts

I have been thinking lately upon why the sky is blue – and other serious questions.

When I walk

I think –

Or, at least,

I think

I think.

Or, do I?

Staring at blue skies

is hardly committing my brain

to the act of work.

And putting words together

in a stream of consciousness

could be done

by anyone.

I consider the big issues,

the pertinent topics,

the—

and, then, I see

a butterfly,

and my thoughts turn,

on a sixpence,

to the trivial,

the trite…

the aerodynamics

of a butterfly’s flight…

which, thing, actually,

isn’t trivial,

or trite –

am I right?

Well, am I?

“Tuesday’s Gone!”

“Tuesday’s Gone!”

‘Tuesday’s Gone’ sang Lynyrd Skynyrd back in nineteen seventy something.

Well, I don’t know which particular Tuesday they were alluding to, but, it seems to me, writing this on ‘a’ Tuesday, that Tuesday’s come and go, and whilst that is happening they stop for a while and say hello.

The fact that it can be Tuesday here, and Wednesday in Woolamaloo, or Monday in Montana, is also a bit weird.

I was listening to a radio programme recently where the narrator of the story (I think it was a TED talk) was saying that when the Millennium changed from 1999 to 2000 a lot of religious people foresaw the second coming of Jesus on the stroke of midnight. In the narrators congregation they sat and waited, praying and foreseeing, until midnight quietly slipped past. They were very upset. Then the narrator commented that it was strange if Jesus had to arrive at the stroke of midnight in all the different time zones in America. If makes you think. That was on a Friday, by the way, although it had long been Saturday already in Sydney.

’twas on a Monday Morning.

image

A train delayed
A vehicle stolen
A plan that needs a rewrite
These are the things
That Monday mornings are made of.

The week ahead,
Lies told, like bells
At once cold
And burning like the seven hells

Of some forgotten text
Laying in stupor
In a cardboard box
Whose only identifier
Is: ‘c’est non fragile’
Which clearly nods
To my humorous youth
When days were long
And Dandelion and Burdock
Came as a shock
When Cola was my expected tipple
Of choice.

Penny For Your Thoughts

one-penny-picture

If I had a penny… (well, for a start I wouldn’t be ‘penniless,’ but, that’s a story in itself – and for another time)… If I had a penny… I would be able to ask you for your thoughts – and be able to pay you for the pleasure of your innermost meanderings; and knowing you, as I do, I know that ‘you’ would ask for that payment upfront – and test the coin with a slick ‘bite’ and, maybe you would have a set of scientific scales about your person with which to check that the coin was within an acceptable degree of weight perfection – maybe.

But, I don’t have a penny; and, nothing is for free in your world.

So, we sit here in silence; while I try to look as if my mind has something interesting upon it, that you may be inquisitive about. I know that you have a whole pocketful of pennies; just one, transferred to my possession, would allow me to ask you ‘that’ question.

A penny for your thoughts?” I would say – casual, unaffected, just a caring friend wishing to share their concern for your silence and its cause.

That’s what I would say.

Another thing – as your name is ‘Penny,’ you might think that I was being flippant; that I was taking the proverbial out of you (which I do, far too often of late).

So, we sit here in silence.

And the silence drags.

And I have to say something – some thing.

But, don’t.

You start to pull at that wristband again; twisting its emotive words into a distorted message of concern.

I watch the detailed moments of an inconsequential action.

I consider them too deeply; associating the twisting with your tortured soul and the distortion with your mental anguish.

I was always one to over-analyse.

You always told me that.

You do realise that I have always loved you. Would do anything for you. Have taken breath from the air to keep alive – just for you.

You don’t even know that I am here – you have no eyes for me; no thoughts upon me; no pounding heart to me.

You are not someone who can love another; as they would love you; as they do love you; as I love you.

We keep the silence between us and just exist. Just.

If I died now – would you notice? Would you utter a brief requiem upon my passing? Would you break this vow of nothingness?

I won’t test this out to see the reality of it; unless you ask me to – as I said ‘anything!’

Time passes. You remain unchanged; whilst I age perceptibly. My youth leaves faint traces; my status as an elder forms lines upon my face.

-/-

I think that I must have slept; for upon opening my eyes, I understand the feeling that you had gone… to be a truth.