I spend most of my time writing song lyrics but often I have ideas that would work better as standalone verses. These are a collection.
A quick word about my approach. I think simplicity is the key to all good writing. It’s treating you as a reader with the respect you deserve. Who wants to waste their time deciphering a poem that’s more like a crossword puzzle than a piece of communication. I wouldn’t presume on your good will to put you to such efforts on my behalf. I have no time for complex poems from writers who want us to equate obscurity with depth. The two rarely go together. At the same time, we shouldn’t equate simplicity with shallowness. That is rarely the case either.
I generally find that the more complex a writer is, the more obscure and vague, then the less or worth they have to say. I’m not suggesting I have anything special to say, but whatever it is, you’ll get it at first reading.
Thank you for your interest.
Sinead O’Connor
Sinead I could weep for you
For the traumas that you faced
This world owes you an apology
For the way you were laid to waste
Neilson or Gloria Gaynor?
If my love should leave me
I doubt that I would die
It would be traumatic, that’s for sure
I’d probably crumble and cry
But I believe I’d come to terms with it
Given support and time
Though I accept that’s not a story
That would sound good in rhyme
“I can’t live if living is without you”
But is Neilson a man of his word?
For he can live without his first two wives
And now he’s on his third
Spare me the flowery devotion
For the truth is so much plainer
You’ll find it in I Will Survive
By the glorious Gloria Gaynor
* * *
They say Age is a State of Mind
They say age is a state of mind
But in truth it’s the state of your back
The state of your ears, your eyes, your knees
And joints that are starting to crack
It’s the growing irritation
Of forgetting so much that you knew
Looking for where you left things
Amid increasing trips to the loo
They say age is a state of mind
But clearly that can’t be true
Because in my mind I’m only twenty
In my body I’m two hundred and two
Beware young people. Age comes quickly
Some think of it as a curse
But you won’t hear me complaining
…the alternative is worse
***
Just Listen
Some talk for hours in hopes to impress
But one crucial point, they’re missin’
The people we wish to be with most
Are those who know how to listen
***
Young man, young woman
Young man, young woman, if your aim is true
A word to the wise from someone older than you
You may know people my age who like to criticise
Whose world view comes through tired jaded eyes
Make sure to ignore them and go your own way
Do your own thing and have your own say
Believe in yourself, strike out be bold
And let this be the last time you do as you’re told
***
My Free Will Software Needs an Upgrade
Was it God or evolution
That provided me with choice
I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me
Who made my inner voice
We all make mistakes
We slip up now and then
Free will means it’s up to us
To stop or do it again
For example, when dealing with idiots
We can choose to be gracious and kind
Or we can let ourselves go
And give them a piece of our mind
We all know drink can be harmful
It can even give us a heart attack
Free will says we can abstain
Or go ahead and knock it back
The trouble is, my supposed free will,
Is hard wired in my brain
It means if I do something wrong
I have to take the blame
Sounds like a manufacturer’s cop out
So that whatever the endeavour
If I commit some sin or crime
It’s not the design at fault…it’s user error
God or nature will wash their hands
And insist I’m free to choose
It was me alone who misbehaved
And it’s me alone who’ll lose
Hold on, let’s think this through
Before I’m to hell confined
How can I exercise free will
With equipment I didn’t design?
Free will was made in the stars…or heaven
Which makes it sort of pliable
Perhaps if it had been made in Germany
It would be a lot more reliable
At least there’d be a helpline to phone
Hello, am I free to be bad or good?
Are you sure you didn’t wire in some bias
I wish I understood
But my brain lacks computing power
To understand my software system
It’s so full of bugs and glitches
It would take a year to list ‘em
So I can only grasp at this strange notion
My free will…can I upgrade it
To guarantee it’s truly free
Of the programmer who made it?
***
To be admired or liked?
I much admired Carl’s strength of mind
He was destined to succeed
He mostly tried to do things right
Just the man we need
Greg was made of weaker stuff
With many faults he should address
His work was only just good enough
And so often his life was a mess
Despite all this I was drawn to Greg
For this simple crude criteria
He made me smile and feel at ease
While Carl made me feel inferior
***
What’s All This to Me?
The right plot to grow their wealth
The left plot to thwart them
While papers spout the pungent views
Of billionaires who bought them
All claim to be my champion
But that could never be
So I watch and wonder
What’s all this to me?
I feel the right don’t think enough
While the left think way too much
The papers just divert attention
With this and that and such and such
Is it really any wonder?
We feel abandoned, all at sea
As we ask ourselves this question
What’s all this to me?
They need a rocket up their assumptions
They need to understand…to feel
We’re not abstracts in their arguments
The lives we lead are real
If they could find the humility to listen
Who knows, we might yet agree
If they addressed this simple question
What’s all this to me?
***
In the Nicest Possible Way
She said she thought me wonderful
And I would surely find another
There was a host of women waiting
I’d have to run for cover
She said she found it upsetting too
And shed a tear, perhaps for effect
As if that might make me overlook
The broken heart she’d wrecked
It wasn’t me it was her, she cried
She was impossible and rash
But when women saw I was free again
The stampede would cause a crash
I was handsome…for my age and well paid
So, I was really quite a catch
Women would be lining up at my door
I could pick my perfect match
She urged me to believe in myself
And I would soon forget her
And it really got me wondering
Maybe I could do better
Her arguments were eloquent
And quite generous, I have to say
For though I was being jilted…it was
In the nicest possible way.
***
What Would They Have Left
Some seem to live to find offence
In those with views of a different shade
To create division where none exists
Until their mischief games are played
Is something missing in their make-up?
Are they victims of some theft?
If you took away their hatred
What would they have left?
***
A legend dies
A legend dies who meant so much
Our hearts are swelled with sorrow
We pledge they will be sadly missed
But they’re forgotten by tomorrow