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989) Published: Poem: Pay Attention! August 31, 2009

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Typed and written 12:20, Monday, 31st August 2009 CE
.
989) Pay Attention!
.
So there’s this three year old
bored to the core
wanting interaction with people
and not content
with listening to music,
watching TV
finding that The Net
will not talk to him,
the sound having cut out
as if he’s deaf to what The Net is saying,
and if he’s got ADD
will not settle down to read a book
no matter how stimulating;
he wants ATTENTION!
from people;
“me, me, me!!”

988) Published: Poem: The Leach August 30, 2009

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Typed and written 23:18, Sunday, 30th August 2009 CE
.
988) The Leach
.
The Leach
sought out victims
full of juicy blood
to suck out the life force
as a parasitic cancer;
like the alien female
taking the form of McCoy’s long-lost love
in the 2nd episode of STOS,
“Star Trek” the Original Series,
“The Man Trap”
killing beings for their salt
by sucking it out of them
to satisfy it’s insatiable craving;
like the vampiric demonic Englishman
in Sinead O’Connor’s damning indictment
of all things English
her song, “Bomb the Bass”
sucking the life-force out of every human being
or any non-English nation
to satisfy English appetites;
The Leach has no empathy
and no thought, no caring, no feelings
for any other human being,
only a craving, an insatiable craving
for attention
and once a source of attention is found
will leach, suck, extract, mine every vestige of life
from that person
as if a voracious Black Hole
who needs everything from others
and gives back nothing in return,
take, take, take,
like an immature 3 year old
obsessed with it’s own appetites
unable to contemplate
even for a moment
the needs of others
unless a hook, a ruse
to get its suckers out
to leach the life-force out
once it’s prey is caught
in it’s Black Widow’s web of steel.

987) Published: Poem: Anna, The Boxer Dog August 30, 2009

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14:33, Wednesday 13th June 2007.
.
987) Anna, The Boxer Dog
.
When I was a very small,
my father bought a huge boxer
a mad bitch
called Anna
who later had 8 puppies of her own.
This “mad Dog”
may have loomed large
in my infant life
though all memories are lost
except via hypnotherapy
in the late 1988s
and even then
not memories I could have access to
my only through my spokesman
“Part” of Pete
who in the very last session
before I ran out of money
and the Department ran out of time
to employ me in London
and before Peter the hypnotherapist
moved to Brighton,
informed these two Peters
through answering yes and no
by moving a finger
unbidden by the other part of me
the conscious Pete
that indeed there was something down there
lurking, dangerous
a sleeping dog to be allowed to sleep
undisturbed
if woken
would threaten my sanity
so this warden of the horrendous secret,
“Part”
withheld permission for Pete
to remember the horror.
As I grew up I was scared of Dogs
stimulating their canine intuition
as would a Cat
to cause to bark
furiously, viciously, frighteningly.
I grew to fear Dogs, hating their vital passion.
And as I was a Dog myself,
simple, honest, loyal, strait-forward, uncomplicated,
I feared myself
feared my own Shadow
.
until now.

983) Published: Poem: One flew August 29, 2009

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Typed and written 16:14, Saturday, 29th August 2009 CE
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983) One flew
.
Anti-psychiatrists attack
the mental illness industry
led by R D Laing
and David Rosenthal
in the rebellious 1960s
“mental illness is a logical response
to an insane world”
so was I mentally ill in 1976
to feel anxious and worried
after being a Baha’i for 1.5 years
that I was not at peace
and not right with God.
Such an anxiety is to me normal
though when I told a nurse
that I was concerned about such issues
the nurse simply indicated
that taking the tablets
would relieve me of such anxiety;
that sums it all up,
that to be concerned with religion
is a useless mental illness
to be suppressed with neuroleptic anti-psychotic drugs.
The NHS psychiatric industry is anti-religion.

982) Published: Poem: There’s a coldness in The Air August 29, 2009

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Typed and written 15:11, Saturday, 29th August 2009 CE
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982) There’s a coldness in The Air
.
“There’s a coldness in The Air
but Life goes on
feeling strong
Bring it on!”
(“As The Rush Comes” (Armin Van Buuren Universal Religion Mix) Source: http://www.youtube.com
#55 – Most Discussed (Today) – Music – Japan (11/6/07) #84 – Most Discussed (Today) – Music – Japan (11/7/07)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_hrTH9-8Wo)
In The Air, which is mutable and changeable
that is Gemini,
there is a coldness
a scientific, intellectual clarity
a knowledge and understanding
which has no warmth of heart,
but my life goes on
and I relish the prospect
of the future’s struggle,
the battle is lost
but the war continues
against the odds
and I say, “Bring it on!”
as Gemini disappears into a lost unknown
and this Scorpio survives, surprisingly,
called a survivor,
and adopts Gemini’s coldness of heart
to enhance his own survivability
in a dog eat dog world.
.
“Embrace me
embrace me
embrace me
embrace me
surround me
surround me
surround me
surround me
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
rush comes
.
embrace me
surround me
.
Traveling somewhere
could be anywhere
There’s a coldness in The Air
but I don’t care
We drift deeper
but Life goes on
We drift deeper
Into the sound.
.
Traveling somewhere
could be anywhere
There’s a coldness in the Air
but I don’t care
We drift deeper into sound
Life goes on
We drift deeper
Into the sound
Feeling strong
So bring it on
So bring it on
We drift deeper into the sound
life goes on
we drift deeper into the sound
feeling strong
so bring it on
so bring it on
we drift deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper. deeper, deeper…
.
we drift deeper into the sound
life goes on
we drift deeper into the sound
feeling strong
so bring it on
so bring it on
bring it on
so bring it on
bring it on
so bring it on
bring it on
so bring it on
.
Embrace me
Surround me
as the rush comes
Embrace me
Surround me
as the rush comes
Embrace me
Surround me
as the rush comes
Oh Embrace me
Surround me
as the rush comes
Embrace me
Surround me
as the rush comes
Oh Embrace me
Surround me
as the ruish comes
Embrace me
Surround me
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush goes
as the rush goes
.
Deeper
life goes on
we drift deeper
drift deeper
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes
as the rush comes.
as the rush comes
.
as the rush comes
.
as the rush comes
.
as the rush comes
.
as the rush comes”

981) Published: Poem: Past and Future August 28, 2009

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Typed and written 00:11, Saturday, 29th August 2009 CE
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981) Past and Future
.
I was blind to her words
and saw in her tone of voice
her demeanour
and her actions
my own fantasy’s reality
though illusion
that she loved as I her
When I saw her,
I saw behind her facade
and thought I glimpsed her inner pain
or was it my own pain
that I saw mirrored
in her soul?
She seemed undecided
watching me intently from a distance
saying nothing
withholding judgment
waiting to gaze on
as my reaction to stress and uncertainty
showed my weakness
Our fates were alike
replete with the agony of love hunger
and the pain of separation;
this was our winter
and the dream was the spring of possibilities
that we might satiate each others hunger;
but though it was my dream,
was it hers?
Or was I on a fool’s errand
chasing after a mirage
of my own vain imagination?
I perceived in her
endless courage against misfortune,
brilliant logic and perception
to leave my musings
as the babbling of a child,
her wisdom and maturity
as if of The Goddess herself;
I did not see her vulnerability,
her hidden issues, her mortal wounds
only her strengths
blinding me to her weakness
as she ran for cover
away from her own unpalatable truths
away from my eyes
in danger of revealing
her own Pandora’s box
of terror and fear
that cannot be born
by a heart and mind so mutilated
by violence
undreamed of by me
I knew things between us
were far from perfect
but my naive idealism
believed love would heal all
and consultation
would solve every problem
and wanted to talk with her
about everything
but she kept her silence
and said nothing
until finally
she said “Do not contact me again”
Was my path my own
and was I doing the bidding
of those who had sought
to mold and forge my own compliance
with their tyrannical ways,
the traditional ways
of The Old World Order
that I had vowed to reject
forever and at whatever cost?
Hope springs eternal in my love-sick heart
and dreams of her light-hearted intoxicating laugh
her effervescent spirit
but although my heart still yearns for her
hope that she still likes me
now lies dead in the water
and despondent, turns away
all hope lost, of winning her affection
after fate has landed so many fatal blows
to our dreams of love.
The image she forged of my possibilities
that future of mine
that she conceived
is now lost
and the virtues she saw in me
on which to build her future of me
are now squandered, spent and wasted
in the destruction wrought
from the uncertainty and stress
of my unknowing her true heart.
She cannot tell me anything
through her silence and refusal to talk
and yet a new dawn
born phoenix-like from these ashes of a cruel fate
is still to be seen
while both of us have lost faith
in our dream
and sought an alternative future
without the other
seeking God’s Love and Will
in Other paths.
And in her silence I perceive her success
and a fulfilling happy life away from me
and no nothing of her pain
as her dream lies ruined
and I am still ignorant
that she ever had a dream of me,
convinced my vain imaginings were mine alone
unshared my her
and seem destined to remain ever unaware
she ever liked me at all.
What did we do wrong
to bring on ourselves
all this emptiness and pain?
Was it her lack of words
or refusal to consult
or my own childish immature unwisdom
which was aware only of it’s own needs
and wholly lacked the empathy
to perceive her need of diplomatic privacy
her need of time to weigh things up
trampled underfoot
by me, a bull in a china-shop?
It seems we are both ordered
by divine command
to forget our dreams of each other
and seek His path elsewhere
and let our wishes
be relegated
to the limbo of obsolescent doctrines,
and makes me question
whether God loves human beings at all.
His wisdom is impenetrable, incomprehensible
and appears contrary to every human instinct.
Only the future can explain
what wisdom lies
in this emotional desolation.

977) Published: Poem: Three August 27, 2009

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Typed and written 21:24, Thursday, 27th August 2009 CE
.
977) Three
.
As suggested by a MIND worker today
I asked Three what he wanted to do
and he was happy to do whatever I felt best
though he DID enjoy “The Proposal”
starring Sandra Bullock
especially her wedding dress and hairdo
so reminiscent of that dream of Sunday 3rd June 2007
at the Liverpool Baha’i Centre,
such false hopes
being at Three’s core
and given spurious credibility
by dreams such as “73 to 75”
and “recovery on 25th November”;
but while Three is waiting for the dawn
that may probably never come
he’s happy now to be looked after by me
and now home
is taking pleasure in a BBC4’s Proms concert
whilst tucking in to boiled minced beef
with pasta sauce, onion, peas, garlic, coriander and tarragon.

976) Published: Poem: A Matter of Balance August 27, 2009

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Typed and written 17:25, Thursday, 27th August 2009 CE
.
976) A Matter of Balance
.
“Anything taken to excess
ceases to exercise a beneficial influence”
This includes intense activity
which causes “burn-out”
and nervous exhaustion
and can only be sustained
by a regular intake of megavitamins,
a healthy diet
and an adequate balance of regular relaxation,
time devoted to the self,
and NOT to task oriented activity
but to mindful being in the present
and being aware of the needs
of my inner core
the three year old
who is real
and exists only when the “false self”
the fifty three year old stops
to listen to what the inner child
is saying, wanting, feeling, desiring;
devoting all my energy to the “false self”
is self defeating
and is an out-of-date coping mechanism
which has outlived it’s usefulness
and it’s now time for “Three”
to be heard
and his needs to be met.

975) Published: Poem: An Attack of Lassitude August 21, 2009

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Typed and written 16:17, Friday, 21st August 2009 CE
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975) An Attack of Lassitude
.
After a period of intense activity
possibly hypo-manic in character,
a feeling that that intensity was too great
to be healthy came to me
and I anticipated a crash;
and as predicted,
the crash came,
a debility of having no “get up and go”
a tiredness that made the recent intensity impossible
a lack of brain activity
that caused all creativity to cease
and I wondered why this dramatic change
had come over me;
.
21:32, Thursday, 27th August 2009 CE
.
Now the analysis is complete
and all the answers are in
and there’s a list;
1) not taking regular intakes of megavitamins
2) not pacing myself and allowing a hypo-manic surge of adrenalin
to seduce me into being a workaholic and getting exhausted
3) the Indian Head Massage from the Kidlington MIND Centre
forced a balancing reaction of sleeping almost solidly for two days
4) I’m habitually task-oriented and neglect relaxation and pleasure
5) adrenalin fueled activity is an escape from my emotional ills
namely love hunger and separation anxiety
6) in thinking I need an other as a source of love
I neglect to seek it from myself;
but the tiredness has now passed
and the depression and despair
and as false hopes start to invade my imagination again,
Three is content enough
in his naive expectation
that one day, perhaps soon,
SHE will return;
Big Pete knows better
but is keeping quiet
for fear of hurting Three’s sensitive heart.

973) Published: Poem: Cruising Speed August 18, 2009

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Typed and written 17:46, Tuesday, 18th August 2009 CE
.
973) Cruising Speed
.
The analogy of being an aircraft
seems appropriate now,
as I seem to be enjoying a cruising speed
which hitherto
would have me buffeted
threatening to destabilise my flight
filling me full of anxiety, stress and nervous exhaustion.
NOW, however,
I seem to have attained a cruising speed
much higher than I have ever dreamed of
and all with a demeanour
at once, calm and collected,
and enjoying a relaxed rational appraisal of each new situation
unthinkable
amidst a welter and chaos
of hypo-manic, and ocassionally manic
frenetic desperation and panic;
my emotions, my ego, my self
and my insistent, nagging ache of “Three”
to have his love hunger satisfied
and his separation
from the object of his inordinate affection
to be ended
once and for all,
seems to be no longer tormenting me;
what has changed
I do not know,
but something is afoot
and it FEELS good!