Thursday, 27 June 2013

Ties That Bind

A huge thank you to the good people at Cannon Poets for publishing this piece in their Quarterly 'Cannon's Mouth'. X



It has come to our attention that a significant period has lapsed since you reconciled your balance. We would like to rectify this as soon as possible. As you are a valued customer, we have provided a temporary overdraft and are wavering the daily charges to date if a deposit is made within the next 7 days to balance the account. Please see enclosed documents outlining the Terms and Conditions on this Agreement.
We advise that you contact us as soon as possible re: payment plans and we will ensure that your records are updated and any necessary amendments made.
Yours Faithfully...

It has come to your friends' attention that you have not corresponded with them recently. They have enquired amongst each other as to whether their texts have been received or if they are somewhere out there floating in the great ether of digital communication. Their calls too have not been returned. Enquiries have been made as to whether there has been a change of number, a late payment on the bill, a temporary freeze, or a malfunction in connection.
We advise that you contact your close friends and associates as soon as possible to alleviate their deepening concerns.
Best Wishes...

It has come to your employers' attention that your punctuality seems to be slipping and your general demeanour in Work is withdrawn and unresponsive. Due attention has also been paid to the large quantity of sick days you have taken in the past annum. Additionally, all annual leave time has been taken within a few months of the start of tax year and according to our records there have been erroneous additional days taken in TOIL as they have far exceeded the records of overtime from previous dates. Further to this, we are concerned about the amount of applications you have submitted for leave days on compassionate grounds - in fact we feel duty bound to enquire whether you have any friends, relatives, partners, ex-partners or close acquaintances left?
We advise that you please contact HR as a matter of urgency to discuss disciplinary options from this point.
Many Thanks ...

It has come to your extended network's attention that you have not visited social networking sites in quite some time. As a generally active user your abrupt lack of connection has been duly noted. The previous continuous stream-of-consciousness narrative of the inner machinations of your mind shared readily on Status Updates have ceased. Further to this, the YouTube links to obscure tracks with clouded vocals on fuzzed recordings that were submitted on a weekly basis have come to a halt.
We advise that you reactivate your account asap for continued contact and to keep in touch with friends and relatives around the globe. We are also currently providing a number of applications, groups and fan pages that are likely to be of interest.
If you have any questions or enquiries please do not hesitate to contact.
Thanks...

It has come to your Mother's attention that your visits have become very infrequent, replaced solely it would appear with occasional abrupt calls between one 'meeting' and another 'conference'. She has reported your dialogue as 'evasive and vague' and the general reception as 'disengaged'.
We advise that you call your Mother at your earliest convenience to organise a visit or excursion. We feel this would be very beneficial  and can share numerous Research Papers that confirm that familial bonds are a key part to personal development at all stages.
Kind Regards...

It has come to our attention that there is a soul who is deeply concerned instinctively (for we are all insightful sixth-sensers when it comes to the ones we love) They expressed concerns about demonstrating their affection for you as you have reportedly recently separated.
We advise you. Actually we don't know what to advise with this one.
Yours Faithfully, Best Wishes, Thanks, in fact Many Thanks, Kind Regards,
Yours Always,
Ties That Bind.

No More

St. Mungos have launched the 'No More' Campaign for people living on the streets. Their work and statistics informed this piece.


And on London's streets tonight a man lies, 
He has eyes much like yours and mine, only tired - 
Tired of the things he's seen that haunt him,
Tired of the faces he sees that taunt him, 
Tired of not seeing what lies ahead.
The glaze on his eyes of bewilderment and dread.
And he's just a number.


And on London's streets tonight a young guy lies, 
He has ears much like yours and mine, only alert. 

For the things they may hear, 
As night's blindness brings on fear,  
And he's never been alone before,  
Always had a room behind a door.  
It's his first night on the street.  
Clothes still got their shine but no sign of anything to eat.  
And he's just a number. 

And on London's streets tonight a woman lies, 
She has a nose much like yours and mine, only blocking. 
She used to love the sweet scent of roses,
But now they're apologies for a knocking.  
Of the doors that were slammed, 
And the walls that were slammed, 
And the times she was slammed for love.  
And she's just a number.

6437 people on London's streets. 
4353 spending their first night on London's streets.
39% of women there because of domestic violence, on London's streets. 
13% more in the past year on London's streets.
Numbers have doubled in the past 5 years on London's streets.

So I hope you and I don't have our fate twist, 
I hope we don't become a number in the midst, 
And I wonder how we can justify that anyone is.



That Fine Morning


The air that fine morning was tranquil and still, though stillness perpetually drifted.
And Morning hue swung over dew drops on flowers whose heads had softly lifted. 
 I stepped through the passage, felt the dawn break, as the square opened up, and peace shone.
There among the white fences, trimmed lawns, front doors, all concerns of the world were long-gone.

Treaded through that fine morning, and softly slipped through, while breath held captured in chest. 
And morning breathed feeling as daylight was seeping, that feeling consumed the rest,
In me and out, and deep throughout, heading straight to the Morning Sun. 
For the sky opened wide as the birds took fresh flight on that new day that had just begun.

A rabble and rouse stirred the great old trees, alive with the morning chorus. 
A great salutation to awake a nation lifted and blowed the stillness.      
The birds sang their sweet verse, and each chorus echoed through the world that was slowly waking.
And in their competition and of their volition sang of the great day that was breaking.
Their tone overwhelming, spoke wonderful thoughts, of life and renewal and play.
Filled the soul with a stirring that kept on recurring - Something special about this fine day.
Then hit a cold moment of this fine summer morning with a thought that sparked a deep dread,
It broke through the morning as the great sun was dawning 'You're drunk Maguire, get yourself to bed'.

Friday, 21 June 2013

Mr. Cohen

I'd love to speak with Leonard or perhaps to sit and hear,
His tones and incantations drawing the crowd in near.
Each sentence that he utters sounds as stunning poetry.
His wisdom and its humour seem like a prophecy.
And each soul has their struggle for their eyes have seen too much,
Each crooked light that promised a way and ended up a crutch.
And sometimes in the wilderness of what must be growing older,
We build our own fortresses, while wishing we were bolder.
But a man in a suit, centre-stage under spotlight,
Whispers echoes inscribed on our souls that ventured out one night.
And puts language to our stirrings, sparks new journeys we can begin
For 'there is a crack in everything that's how the light gets in'.*
Yes I'd love to speak with Leonard or perhaps to sit and hear,
His tones and incantations drawing the crowd in near.


* Lyrics from Leonard Cohen's 'Anthem' - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_vKFkUHYk14

Sinner's Story

Now whatever you do, don't go making a saint out of me.
For I am a sinner, but this way at least I'm free. 
And standing on the mountain top, looking out to sea,
Skipping through the borderline and fleeing the country.

Don't put me high in estimation, I'll just get vertigo.
I'll try to meet your expectation, downs the only way to go.
And everyone whose lived enough knows the thin line of fool and wise.
The darkness seeps and knows too much and trembles in laughing eyes.

And the prince and the pauper, and the workers in-between.
Making declarations, denouncing who they once have been.
Don't stare too long into the sun, the source of life and light.
Its radiance shines on everyone, its core too stark for sight.

And reaching through the gaze of love and trembling of hand.
The body reacts and heart responds long before mind understands.
Meandering landscapes we walk in life cultivate our own story, 
So I may be a sinner but this way at least at least I'm free.

Monday, 17 June 2013

Up The Narrow Board


 I crept up the narrow board, it was all a little awkward and clumsy. 
The thin strips of metal, creeping, winding the way up, and me lost somewhere in-between. 
Moving to a beat, trying to find a beat, can't seem to get a beat. 
And so up and down I chased timidly, to and fro, to and fro. 
Only focussed on the immediate part of the journey, not the great expanse but mind on the minute, soul on the detail. 
Each transition appearing small, called for internal deliberation and instinct in equal measure – Attempting to combine precision and speed (neither of which have ever been a strong point.) On and on I crawled, down the corridor of grids, content and happy all the same.
 Though, forever plodding, continuously at the same point in progress it would appear.
 In solitude, yet consciously connected to the many other souls on the same journey, or similar at least, that connection formed through temporary separation. (Though they all, without exception, were further along on their journeys in both longevity and accomplishment and most likely discipline, or at least that's how it felt.)
It was starting to stick by this point. 
The composite parts leaving their mark, digging a little, toughening texture, yet with it a sense of achievement. 
And the tone, always seemingly melancholic, through lack of skill not intent.
Precariously placed, perched, alert and at peace, frustrated and relaxed.
And repeat, repeat, repeat to fade.
Then memory slipped and doubt kicked in.
Acquisition of knowledge questioned, retention of knowledge doubted.
Reviewing, refreshing, regaining pace.
And so it continued.
Yes, it turns out learning the ukulele was almost as hard as guitar.