Wednesday, 10 October 2012

A Fleeting Moment Fading Fast


A fleeting moment fading fast,
Was present, mind's eye cast to future, but soon enough was in the past.

A fleeting moment ebbing, soaring freely, fading fast,
Where hopes and dreams dwell and merge and time moves all too fast.

A fleeting moment ebbing, soaring freely, peaking joyously, fading fast,
In the remnants, always shifting, and never destined to last.

A fleeting moment, glimpses, a vast spectacle of scenes,
Yes a fleeting moment emerged, flaming furnace to a gleam.

I'd Be Righteous


I'd be righteous in my ways if they lasted more than days
But something hinders progress or it's cyclical atleast.
I'd be righteous in my ways if they weren't a skimmimg gaze
Before another phase seeps and dwells
Within and without, inside and out.

'To thine own self be true' and 'Know Thyself'
Shakespeare and Joyce knew the drill.
For what else can we be? Whatever we may be.
Yes I'd be righteous in my ways if they weren't in such a daze
And if I knew exactly what they were.


*Disclaimer 'Know Thyself' is inscribed on The Temple of Apollo at Delphi and it's origins are thought to be Ancient Greek, but what can I say, this is what came out in a 3 minute spiel – James Joyce referenced it well enough to be the first thought that cropped up.

Bustbowl?


The 30s saw the Dustbowl, the catastrophe that ensued, over 2 million rendered homeless – crops failed, faceless banks took over, mass migration, camps set up, credit stores creating further traps.

The 80s saw the Rustbowl, across the waters, mines and factories closed down, workers laid off, mass migration, for jobs, for homes, for security, for necessity.

And we're back there again, except this time it's global, mass immigration. In London at this very moment, men in camps set up under bridges in Harrow, 3 years or more homeless. In Ilford, temporary shelters in camps. In pockets everywhere. Where are we now, the Bustbowl?
It has happened and happened before and before and no-doubt will arise again.

Logged On


The phone is on the counter, the laptop on the table, logged on, logged in, switched on, but really? 1000 unread emails sit idle, peering out at the bottom of the desktop – 1000 things to do, to read, to absorb. We're downloading, streaming, updating. Never have we communicated so much and said so little. Personal catastrophes hitting, beautiful things too, but we figure we have insight from a post of a YouTube clip, a funny anecdote, an inspiring story. Never have we communicated so much and said so little. We post, we message, we text, we chat, we tweet, we share. Never have we communicated so much and said so very little.