before the advent of the internet
nuclear families played KerPlunk!
or worshipped false gods on TV sets
before all of this and meanwhiles
people played plinky-plunky pianos
and sang sing-songs with jolly smiles
before pianos were hewn and tuned
we circled fires and drummed up beats
or hacked with flints at meaty wounds
before the fires and drums and flints
we huddled by hydrothermal vents
to make our first and lasting imprints
thinking as only single cells could thunk
of ways to evolve into brainier lifeforms
that one day might invent the KerPlunk!
and before we knew it we were born
a befuddled spunky mankind mess
emerging from the primordial porn
golden rays of sunlight fill our eyes
every newborn sunrise from the dawn of time
captured in the blinking flick of a lens
time immemorial. shuttershocked.
a video framed evolutionary existence
encapsulated in this blood beat gaze
primordial. prehistorized. passing.
a journey back and a glance forward
every stillborn sunrise from the dawn of time
eroded by the wash of infant tears
blushed naked fear. photosnapped.
a moving mastery of previous lives
ancestors suspended in a torsioned vacuum
floating. familiar. future famished.
place your hand in mine and feel the warmth
every burning sunrise from the dawn of time
branded in the dna of chromosomed memories
double helixed. magnetic resonanced.
an x-rayed nuclearoid double vision
twisted on a tendon thread of apprehension
spectre sacrificed. ghostly galleried.
we move onward each day never knowing why
every clouded sunrise from the dawn of time
masked in the blinded misunderstandings of man
war torn. bastard birthed. heartbroken.
what lies beyond our sunlit eyes?
what golden rays fill our brilliant minds?
eternally everlasting. understanding nothing.
(sometimes I wake up with a line in my head repeating over and over and then another and another and I have no idea where each line will take me but I have to jump out of bed and crank up the lappy and take the journey if only to find out where and why and whatever. It doesn’t matter that it makes no sense at all or will never change the world one iota or even be widely read. A friend recently told me: appreciate what you do with this mangled stepchild we all dub poetry. Ha! I love his words and mind and inspired whackery. My cursor arrowed finger hovers over the publish button afraid to let this one go. Click. Gone. Published:)
we need to come a little closer
a little closer even still
understand what we are saying
the words the meanings
we need to talk a little softer
whispers rather than shouts
understand our brothers and sisters
their cultures beliefs
what makes them laugh out loud.
we need some more compassion
holding hands not dropping bombs
understand the fallout damage
in our minds our hearts
our children’s wounds.
we need a new revolution
in a world that sets us free
understand our future evolution
peace love and unity
a lasting hope for you and me.
(original artist unknown. From a display on Worthing pier May 2016, West Sussex, UK. Photograph by Colin Hill. I seem to have lost my thread of connections between posts and poems and lost myself in peace poetry. I guess the world needs some more of that right now. Where are all those 60’s poets when you need them most? Make love not war! Bread not bombs! Give peace a chance!)