Category: The brain
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The Parrot Goes to Glastonbury
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The 2019 Glastonbury music festival is now behind us. The parrot attended, at least in spirit. Then he came home and read this article in The Independent. https://www.independent.co.uk/…/brexit-jeremy-corbyn-len-mc… It suggests that, out here in the present-day world, what goes on in dear old Len Mcluskey”s tent/castle/head-harbour-of-the-past seemed to be having an immoderate affect upon Corbyn’s…
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The Parrot Shakes the Bars
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Instead of “shakes the bars” the author might just as well have written “wracks his brains” – a more conventional image, though equally physical a description. But since the parrot lives in a cage, it seemed fitting that he should do some violence to that, instead of to himself.… continue reading
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A Brexiter Takes Stock of the Dark Star
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I know that, in writing this, I was remembering a scene from an early “Star Wars” film. An ominous planet approaches. And I remember that image occurring to me, when I came across a book by Iain McGilchrist called “The Master and His Emissary – The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World.”…
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One Reasonable Way
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One reasonable way to weigh God’s Creation is to stand at night in open space and look upwards. Infinite dark vastness beyond measure made effectively of nothing. Scattered like dust through this archway of nothing you see pin-points of light called stars. But these, you learn, although substantive, are also dead,…
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Poems in Public
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Poetry once belonged only in open space – the mead hall by a great fire, where flea-bitten warriors sat at table with their lord ; or a place of worship or ceremony, the wedding, the funeral. Not in private, on paper, let alone on screen. Poetry belonged in the air between people, out loud. Accordingly,…
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Dust
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The poem I’m publishing here foresees the end of the world. The false god Me n’ Mine has too many worshippers to be withstood. Besides Greed, the angel which serves Me n’ Mine most faithfully is the Lie and it is the Lie by which the false god rules and will destroy us all. …
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The Flotsam of Frantic Dreams
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We don’t know any more where our lives belong or even where to hide. The walls of home hold nothing up or out and the door hangs slack on the hinge. Where have our lives gone ? I consult the news and the world ended several days ago. Today it’s ending all…