We all spend
our lives now
trying not
to become
data points
on a graph.
Category: History
Lifting veils
The process
of ageing
is one of
lifting the
veils, one by
one, that hide
the number
of stupid
people
in the world,
until you
see clearly
the horror,
then you die.
Excavations
Fragments of
time just keep
emerging
from my brain
like finds from
archaeo-
logical
digs brought to
the surface
for study.
I turn them
over in
my mind’s eye
but they seem
to form no
pattern, no
clues to a
lost dark age.
Losers
The sign at the
Supermarket
checkout proudly
said “new winners
every day”,
which is a much
better deal than
we all get at
the Life checkout.
Dustbin
I am as
certain of the
non-existence
of a god
as I am of the
non-existence
of mermaids,
werewolves,
goblins,
yowies,
easter bunnies,
pixies,
bunyips,
jack frost,
unicorns,
yetis,
tooth fairies,
minotaur,
leprechauns,
father xmas,
nessie,
gorgons,
poltergeists,
dragons,
aliens,
and ghosts.
Payment due
Writing a
memoir is
a life’s work.
It has to
be earned
by the lines
of your face,
the wrinkles
of your hands,
the night fears
of your sleep,
the weariness
of your brain,
the failing of
your body,
and finished
just in time.
Philatelic thoughts
Sometimes,
when I am
sorting my old
English
postage
stamps,
I wonder if
this one or
that one was
a stamp my
great great
grandfather
might have
used.
Seasons
Plumes of smoke
on a cold
Winter’s day
bring thoughts
of warmth and
community
and human
busyness and
achievement.
Plumes of smoke
on a hot
Summer’s day
bring thoughts
of destruction
and terror
and loss and
anger and
failure.
Mine
I wonder what
he was thinking,
that first man
who chewed a
mouthful of
pigment and
then blew it
over his hand
pressed tight
against the wall
of a cave?
Look through any window
Whether I am
seven and
a half or
seventy
five, the I
who looks out
of my window
is the same I,
no matter how
he appears to
those looking in.
