Category: ethics

When we speak but do not look

When we speak but do not look upon
The person we address, we are undone
We miss the tiny signs, the looks, the lines
We treat them as mere object we define

We treat them like a post of wood or stone
As if we cannot hurt nor cause them shame
We hit them with sharp words or thoughtless rot
And on and on until hate is begot

All want to be acknowleged,seen and heard
But must approach each other with great care
For most of us are thin skinned, nervous beasts
Who fear they are not asked to the great Feast

And in a thousand gestures we declare
We are not speaking merely to thin air

Force

Denial worked for you for many years
When you nearly crashed when turning right
You give no hint that you had any fear
Denial worked for you for many years
Real though is the body,real the tears
As I sat beside you,well prepared
Your smile was not imagined,nor the light
Denial worked for you for many years
Once you nearly crashed, that was not right

When we turn our face the other way
The roving car will hit us with its force
No time for any thought,much less a prayer
When we turn our face the other way
We will feel the impact or we die
No new day will dawn for those who care
When their eyes are red, their voices hoarse
When we turn our face the other way
The speeding car will hit us with its force

Space to be alone

My presence gave him space to be alone
He concentrated on the world I could not see
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

We may marry but we do not own
Every spirit must feel it is free
My presence gave him space to be alone

At the end God makes his own Self known
His Word hangs like a Light upon a tree
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

I sat there in silence,overthrown
There is no need for money nor a fee
My presence gave him space to be alone

And as for the hereafter, that’s unknown
As is the port when ships cross a new sea
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

No need to pray or make a heartfelt plea
Sitting by his side,I let him be
My presence gave him space to be alone
Dying is for humans, not for stones

Blinded by the past

The old man and the seea were calm as glass
The Cafe was surrounded by mixed blooms
He was listening to a lady who described
The flowers, their colour,name all afternoon

He could not see at all yet was relaxed
Indeed he was delighted in the sun
I thought blind men were piteous,full of fear
That tells you more of me, than of the men

Below the steep cliff path, in ran the sea
I can’t imagine how our Airforce fought
Barely trained young men went out to war
Is Brexit Britain worthy of their Cause?

Now the blind man gazes out to sea
Was he one of those who kept us free?

The mystery of love and what we sing

The proper conscience does not wound our hearts
But tells us truly when we have done wrong
It does not injure love before love starts

Its voice is still and small, it is not sharp
Sometimes it impresses us by song
The goodly conscience does not wound our hearts

Yet conscience is no angel with an harp
Unheard when minds are crowded, with thought thronged
It does not tear up love before life starts

It does not use great force, no threats shall rape
But talks to each in their own native tongue
The moral conscience does not wound our hearts

But what of evil men,Satanic sharks,
The mysteries of genocide and bombs?
Do they tear up love’s roots from their hearts?


Even good folk suffer like the lambs
We must enter darkness with blind hands
The proper conscience does not wound our hearts
It does not curse our love before life starts

Dried flowers

Unconscious of our cruelty, we sin
Yet pride ourselves as worthy and refined
Those who know themselves are modest souls
Who do to those around them little harm

Blinded to our our faults we strut about
Causing pain to others, oh what charm
If we break the rules,we have no doubts
From our errors we can never learn

So I look on your insults and smile
Self image admits nothing makes a change
I shall not keep your sentences in files
Unlike dried flowers in vases well arranged

Yet though you now evade a little pain
Your company will never be the same

Now there is no road

No rought beast shall slouch to Bethlehem
There is no track or pattern to our fate
Once Jesus’ feet were bathed by Magdalen
Now communities of love disintegrate.

The world does fall apart, the centre’s gone
There is no named War, but armies kill
Or single, abject men who carry guns
On other nearby folk will shoot at will

There seem to be no ” better” sort of men
But all lack much conviction,common good
They follow gold with bent accountant’s pen
Calvin’s “way to heaven”, Noah’s flood

Now there is no road nor path nor beast
Confusion,chaos,populism will feast

Revealed by love


A beam of light passed through my eyes
And showed to me a world disguised
So near,yet far,we do not see,
Unless by gift of grace redeemed.
That world is full of peace and calm
Its colors mingle,like a balm.
In such a moment all thought dies
Revealing Love which underlies.
Colors caress my naked eyes.
Sunlight blesses new designs.
I stand enthralled,and do not wish
For one delight,other than this.
My breath slows down, and filled with joy,
I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.
Everything is just itself.
This is now my living wealth.
Beneath the noise of city cars,
This mellow joy in love endears
This depth and peace, is always near
When we choose Love and turn from Fear

Tread right on the holy human face

The way to be successful is now clear
Deny your shame,humiliate the poor
Have no friends or mate whom you hold dear
The way to be successful is right here
Control your cronies with a hint of fear
Tread on the lowly, who can but endure
The way to be successful, shed no tears
Repress your shame,humiliate the poor

Accidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again
Make sure their features are unclear,erased
Knowingly tread on the human face
It’s not evil, it is just bad taste
The devil is a clown, we feel no strain
Incidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again

The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked

The end of values, kindness, earned respect
The loss of wisdom,history and truth
The pillars of democracy are cracked.

The centre of the heart,who can protect?
Conspiracy and madness unseat proof
An end of values, kindness, earned respect

Violence is admired though lives are wrecked
The lasting triumph of the folk uncouth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked

Their minds unfurnished seem bereft of tact
They tread on others words like horses’ hooves
The end of values, kindness, earned respect

How can such opponents make a pact?
The calculating crucify our youth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked


Yet Western Empire builders had no ruth
They tortured those they conquered group by group
On such ground just madmen earn respect
The altars of the Western Mind have cracked

The words evoked what no-one could conceive

With the Mass in Latin,I believed.
The words evoked what no-one could conceive
The women in their hats looked like proud queens
What was, what is, and what once might have been

The men came late,hung over, full of dreams
They took no Wafer, drunk from living streams
I did not mind confessing made up sins.
Nor did I mind beans found in small tins.

Religion gives fresh themes to those obsessed
Guilt and sin,but scruples are the best
I went to church and told God I was through
He said, hang on,I’ll send my Light to you.

Thus it was that I was saved from death
I had worshipped Satan in duress.
After that I took a job for health
I am rich in love, though not in wealth

To me there is a White House of the Soul
We shall meet again there when we’re whole
A place of beauty, space and coloured light
God won’t boast, and neither will the mice


Rehab is not kind when nearly dead

To get you fit for death they took you in
The Rehabilitation of the dead ?
They got you up and sent you to a gym

You had a bed, the light was very dim
So those new books I brought were never read
To get you fit for death they forced you in

You fell onto my lap, it was no sin
Your face as black as Satan’s in his bed
They pulled you up for torture in a gym


They taunted you like Nazi’s, what’s to win?
Tell me what the liars wrote down or said
To get you fit for death they forced you in

When Christ was killed, they hung him on a hill
If God is tortured, where should man be led?
Who imagined dead men in a gym?

When the trouble came the nurses fled
You died in A and E , there was no bed
To prepare you for you death they asked me in
You cried,I want to die, but they just grinned

God with you

Bring your own God with you, you can’t help it anyway
I have heard you singing, don’t tell me you can’t pray
We’re strung like beads along a chain, we’re linked with none left out
Every time that someone dies, there opens a new mouth
Mouth brings voice, the people’s choice, there is no faking Truth
Eat and live, speak and grieve, give and so receive
Eyes to see and ears to hear,grace may be about
Still the Sirens wail and moan, leave them, they can’t count

Keep safe

He kept his tongue in his cheek too long so he couldn’t eat
Starved to death

She  had her head screwed on the wrong way
Lack of light

He wouldn’t wear his glasses so fell down a well
Unconscious suicidal wish or vanity led to error

She wore shoes that were too small and developed 100 untreated corns
Died of stupidity or poverty

His brain got stuck on the underground as his head fell off his body.
The glueless disease

She wore a yellow bikini on the beach which attracted a lot of wasps
Need I say more?
Died fighting as men wept

She was baking bread but got into the oven and was roasted with a potato
Bad luck.Only do one thing at a time
Died of hyperactivity and lack of concentration

He was writing a blog post and got sad as it seemed too poor
Then he drowned his sorrows [ and himself

He got chilblains which stopped him from walking so his blood froze

Verdict: Bad weather and lack of housing

Arthritis made her so stiff we put her into a coffin and accidentally buried her
Verdict-Misadventure and human error

She fell over the cat and hit her head on the fridge
Verdict? Misfortune as skull too thin

She got off a moving bus as the doors opened
Verdict: Died of conceit

You could not understand

If you came back you would not understand
The death of virtue ,truth and beauty too
And to advertise it,tell lies on demand

In my childhood, that bewitching land
Respect brought out good character to view
If you came you could not understand

Writing with a stick upon the sands
Up the tide will rush and wash out truth
So ,to advertise it,tell lies on demand

Evil,slick , obedient Eichmann stands
No human is as mighty as the noose
Coming back you would not understand

We can split an atom, yet be bland
Drop another bomb on human youth
To hide our sin we tell lies on demand

Once we worshipped Pan with horns and hoof
Now we worship Satan,God’s own proof
f you came back you would not understand
Media will tell lies and make demands

I


The silence glows

Aldeburgh,Sizewell,Dunwich Heath
The nuclear bomb shall bring eternal peace
Housed between the town and the Reserve
Its blackness is ignored by little birds

If force deters, then we shall all be saved
Or this our world will vanish without trace
Innocently playing on the shore
Children find old marble unrestored

Birds may sense the blackness of our hearts
For, even though unused, the bombs take part
They are here where Britten once composed
And so the sanctuary ends unsaved,destroyed

In between the lover and his rose
A screen electric in the silence glows

Ironized

Your eyes are sharp as razors boiled in wrath
It’s easy to provoke but less to soothe
My hair is protein, do not rip it off

You think you are above us yet we laugh
Your hair curls tightly. men don’t like it smooth
Your eyes are sharp as razors boiled in wrath

Though my hair is tangled I’ve no moths
I have no lice, nor eggs,so do not brood
My hair is protein, do not cut it off

You’ll catch nineteen germs if someone coughs
Stay in Lockdown, banish those who feud
Your eyes are sharp as needles boiled in wrath


,

Take your steely look and make it love
Our eyes can with such kindness be imbued
My hair is protein,I must be a Goth

Life is wasted when we start to feud
Or stick like needles in the rounded gtoove
Your eyes are sharp as hawks sent up in wrath
O tragic world,men hate more than they love

Everyone is bleeding

Everyone is bleeding but we won’t stop fighting wars
We even sell our weapons and the torture tools make gold
Europe a disaster for more than several hundred years

We will not watch the News as this sort of stuff’s a bore
My heart is beating faster and I’m feeling freezing cold
Everyone is bleeding but we won’t stop fighting wars

We’re defenceless little creatures with wicked central core
With our many nuclear weapons, maybe we are over-bold
Europe courts disaster for more than several hundred years

Jesus hangs defenceless outside the liquor store
I wonder how much longer those Roman nails will hold
Everyone is bleeding but we won’t stop fighting wars

The pain of living here is that our swollen hearts will tear
God picks up a paperclip, his lips are cold and closed
Europe a disaster for more than several hundred years

Now the Day of Judgement comes, we stand arrayed in rows
The Jews are singing Kaddish while the tortured children freeze
Everyone is bleeding but we won’t stop fighting wars
Civilised disaster for the last two thousand years

Before we were dead

Before the referendum
Before I rang 999
When I didn’t know how near the end you were

Before Nigel Farage
Jo Cox
The lies of Michael Gove
Before Boris Johnson’s genes left Turkey

Before Leonard Cohen sang,save the last waltz for me
Before I heard Suzanne
Before you haemmoraged the bathroom into wine
Before you consecrated the bread
Before you were dead

Before by a journalist we were led
Before children said,fuck everything
Before Cohen died
Dylan got the Nobel Prize

Before aspirations were merely for another shag and a new denim hat
Before marriage was for licking each others’ groins
What poems fell dead
And the snow fled
Before the hatred of slow reading came and glued itself to our minds
Then we had the hottest September
In December
And the ice cap floated down the globe
Observed by toads

When you were still alive
And the lawn was unmowed


Cliches for all

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https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-squeaky-wheel/201306/the-seven-hidden-dangers-brooding-and-ruminating

It was the best of times, it was  the  worst of times in a very real sense.
Mary  dreamed Stan was in heaven enjoying the company of Wittgenstein,Jesus and Pascal , not to mention Lady Jane Grey Ann of Cleves,Juliet,Cleopatra and an angel.
At  least  at this point in time he can’t sleep with them  ,she thought as she woke up.Though did that matter? Can men be faithful and monogamous?
Look at Leonard Cohen.Was he better off flitting from flower to flower? Was he so stunning that women threw themselves at him and he could not resist?Sometimes people are actually afraid of intimacy or feel life is short and want some new experiences.Was he a wolf? It t akes one to know one
It was indeed  almost the worst of times when Mary remembered she had no food in the house except cat food for Emile.He was all she had now as  her daughter Lyra lived in Australia and Stan was in heaven, she hoped.
Here I am, she thought, pondering unanswerable questions and not looking after myself .It is probably  best to err on the side of buying food and going out rather than lying in the bed wondering  if life has any inherent  meaning. or  if we must create our own.
Even discussing that with someone else would be better.But men folk don’t want to discuss serious topics with their lovers.
It was an even worse time when she recalled a man who once  loved  her leaving her because she asked him if he knew what post-modernism was one night after going to the cinema to see a comedy.She realised then that she would have to play a part,To act like a woman.So far it was but moderately successful owing to her myopic view of life
If only I had kept quiet, she told herself,I could be  lying beside  him now enjoying a few kisses and hugs and asking him how to light  the electric fire.Still ,there’s many a slip twixt cup and lip
Now then, said a  loud voice.Stop   ruminating and get  up. One stitch in time saves nine.
Who are you to say that to me, she called nervously ?
She wondered of stress  had driven her round the bend.She had begun reading a book which said mental illness in not an illness like flu.
It is a reaction to bad events and  other life strains.
It doesn’t matter who I am,just do as I say, came the answer
Mary recognised the voice.It was her dad who had died when she was 9.
Dad, she called, why are you here now?
Because Jesus told us to  love our family, he revealed pleasantly.
Why now after all these years? she persisted.
I have missed you.
I always did have a bad sense of direction,he told her.But do as I say.You won’t recover easily if you never get up.Stan is here but he is busy cleaning the gold cutlery for an angel.
Alright, but I never knew there was cutlery up there, she murmured as she put on her  new clothes.She had bought some purple trousers and two new jumpers.One was pink and one  was teal.The trousers were exceptionally comfortable  being  in a last years’ sale  by a famous label..She  then found some Weetabix in  the cupboard and some long life milk.As she drank her tea she admired the acer’s brilliant red leaves.
Almost too bright, she thought.It’s  due  to the hot September.Plants are affected by their environment and so are we.Especially by bad or hot tempered men and women
Poor people may have  more than in the  past but they tend to live in the ugliest areas of the town with no gardens nor parks.
And seeing the better off walk by wearing expensive clothes it is surprising there are not even more muggings.
She recalled seeing  a man with a Rolex watch and gold earrings on  talking on his new iPhone as he wandered through the Mall.I suppose we think everybody else is like us; we don’t mix with  very poor or very rich people on the whole.Unless we are one of those two types.
Mary went outside and found a neighbour wheeling in her bins.
Thanks ,Tom, she cried.I wondered who it was.I am very grateful.What is post modernism,by the way?Nobody will tell me.
Emile was watching from the window sill.
I knew it was Tom, he mewed.
But you didn’t tell me,Mary replied.
You didn’t ask.
Tom wandered off ,while Mary admired the autumn trees lining the road.Tom turned  back and looked at her but she didn’t notice.
Time for coffee, she muttered and went inside again.She was embroidering a  table mat which said “Rumination is for the birds”.Where it had come from was a puzzle.But it may be a good thought

And so say all of us

Confess again

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May I confess my sins online,Father?
If you must.
Well, I don’t like Boris Johnson
Is that it?
Sorry to be so boring.
Everyone today is confessing the same thing
I just saw him!
Yes, he hates himself too
Is he a Catholic?
Well. Hitler was.
But was Johnson brought up as one?
Well, he knows how to confess sins
That’s no use unless he stops committing them
Right, he has no firm purpose of amendment.
He  compliments Trump for his racist outbursts
He may even complement Trump.
Stitch them together and there is still something missing
What?
Humanity, humaneness,caritas, agape,care,kindness
I  see you went to a good Seminary,Father.I used to like the Latin Mass
But not Latins en masse
I prefer them to the English
That is a sin.We must love equally
Can’t we hate equally instead?
I am  ambivalent about that
You’re a Paradox
Where do they  originate? 
Somewhere Unorthodox.
This is getting rude
No it’s not!
Don’t contradict me
That’s Latin!
It’s an order
Or a disorder?
Stop playing games
Who’re you? Wittgenstein?
He’s dead
What a shame
Actually would he  enjoy living in England now
No, because he was Jewish.
So are lots of people.
Somehow they get hurt  or even killed at times
What times?
Nazi.times
Stalin-times
Tsar-times
GoodFriday-times
Greedy-times
Allthe-time
In the Times
Of the times
Oh, time!
Well it’s about time we stopped it.
About time
On time
In time
After time
Time and Motion
Soon we’ll have the Flood
Why has Boris not built an Ark?
Because he doesn’t Noah how to
Because God didn’t see him
Because there was a  full stop at the end of the sentence.
Is that not normal?
Not on WhatsApp!
What is up?
What is down?
I don’t know, where’s the Eskimos snow


The eyes see what we fear or what we need

He thought I was an enemy , he said
The eyes see what we fear or what we need
I gave him love,but hate grew there instead

If you need to hate, try someone dead
Do not say cruel words that make us bleed
He thought I was an enemy , he said

Do not dwell where people hate the good
If they curse, it’s best to pay no heed
I gave him love,but hate welled up instead

Emotions mingle, wanton like fresh blood
Let them be till form can be perceived
He thought I was his enemy , he said

Do not confront the paranoid nor mad
The agony of their minds has them deceived
We give them love,but hate wells up instead

Never take such people into bed
Let them run away, they’ll be relieved.
He mistook me for an enemy , he said
I gave him love and care now I feel bad

Is evil de rigeur?

Why should we do evil if we care
Care about the world and humankind?
What is evil, what is good, what’s fair?

To feel we’re God, implacable our stare
Igniting terror in a human mind
Why should we do that if we do care?

Some do evil deeds to show they dare,
Making their own heart a place malign
What is evil, what is good, what’s fair?

The truly strong are anxious and aware
Letting their love flow in reason’s time
Why should we do that if we don’t care?

The good are like the tortoise not the hare
Slowly with perception ,impulse reined,
Acquainted with the evil ,good prefer

The true mind is the one refined by pain
Seeking no revenge,but to so learn
Why should we do evil if we care?
There is evil, is it de rigeur?

Never store your water in a shoe

Can we change our point of view alone?
What can give perspective to a poem?
Shall I outline what we ought to do?
Shall I sketch the patterns,are you blue?
Move your eyes and you will move your soul
Looking at the men queue for the dole
Do you want to mix the colours first
Oh,I drank the water, what a thirst
I shall use my tea and this gouache
Let the colours wander as they splash
Women nursing babies need good food
If you have no children, do not brood
When Hitler went to Munich in a rage
We got a new perspective of the age
I didn’t go myself for I was framed
I was just encrypted ,it’s no shame
Never use a rubber when you’re wrong
Never kill a blackbird while it sings
Never go to bed with any one
Make it two or three, we need some fun
Never use art pastels on your cheeks
Never use a water jar that leaks
You must be spontaneous as a rule
To produce cartoons, you must be cruel
You must learn techniques and then forget
Never tell the Universe we met.
Remember every line I draw for you
Never store your water in a shoe


Do not ask



Astounded by love’s impact, my tears fell
As if a door was opened up by you
The reservoir of grief, the flooded bell,
The marble on the shore, the hidden view.

I stayed still and by you I was held
In your golden cloud, I felt embraced
You covered me with warmth,I was your child
A candle in the gale,a shining face

I was silent,I was even dumb
They who see a face can not unknow
Love is not a method nor a sum
Nor can logic point the way to go

Do not ask for knowledge or belief
Do not ask reprieve from human grief

No new disgrace

Trapped in home made offices , we work
Reading from our screens, no space for thought
As we type ,our tender fingers hurt
Not the copperplate that I was taught

No commuting, no more fraught deceit
Harder are affairs, no private door
No more kisses unless they are quite fleet
Just daydreams, which will come to be no more

No walking to the station at sunrise
No hour alone to read or look without
All is known, where is the grand surprise?
Where the room for thoughtlessness or doubt?

Work from home but keep some private space
Do not harm your friends, keep from disgrace



Human sacrifice

The sacrifice of humans, slain by will
The death instinct, no accident, the kill
Now it’s done more subtly than with fire
We need the help of cunning and of liars
Propaganda,adverts, image, word
Overwhelm our minds till life’s absurd
Inhabited by ghosts of adverts seen
Saturated minds, for soul no room
Who is in and who is out today?
Mainly white and Western on display
I was born without a screen to hand
The radio was old and had a stand
Little drawers where Mother kept her songs
Sonatas,Mozart,Schumann, was it wrong?
We read each other’s faces and our books
Heard Mother playing as we fell asleep
Time and space and peace, a slowed down age
Now we’re full of data and of rage
Father lost so long ago,we weep
Civil discourse takes a lengthy sleep



of overwhelming people with adverts ad cheap credit in Western Socie



Love will need no trick

In my despair I felt that I was stuck
Paralysed by  grief and guilt I failed
By the end I had tried every trick

From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black
My  life, my engine ,juddered off the  rails
I hated God and of “his” Church was  sick

Starving  and alone I was in shock
The death of one I loved   had made me frail
By the end I had tried every trick


I felt  love’s arms around me,  death to block
I knew   this goodness,  why else would I wail?
I   thought I hated God  but Love had struck

Warm and golden light  that  did me hold
Where are you now when refugees  die cold?
Kind despair  that  made me long time sit
By the end I knew  Love needs no trick

The Iron Fist

I missed the flowering of the maple tree
Where red leaves swell like baby’s growing fists
i fear to struggle there, what shall I see,
Just the doves and sparrows flying free?
Missed the flowering of the maple tree
But watched less subtle human comedy
Saw politicians flounder, saw ships list
Missed the burning of some red leaved tree
I wonder when they’ll break the baby’s wrists?

Holy heart’s affection,beating pulse

One single tear   expresses  love and loss
Dramatic storms  excess may make folk pause
Who  will notice  one tear and its  cost?

A little stone near water may grow moss
But only mountains bring a sense of awe
One single tear   expresses  love and loss

Grief  must not wallowed in, like  baths
Philosophers not hurt  their minds   uncaused
Who  then will  observe   the tear,  the  cost?

To an ant, a pebble is quite gross
To a widow, death has hungry jaws
One single tear  may   show how she is lost

The entire self is  tear-filled  like  a marsh
We weep  till love itself becomes remorse
Let  one tear out and hide its  anguished cost

The heart’s affections use  poetic laws
Holy  circulation,  blood that draws
One single tear  falls down like bladed grass
Who  will care for  this tear, bear  its  cost?