Act

Act
Be quick
Do like
Practice makes
Don't think
Be ready
If this is advice
You failed

My Loss

you don't try hard for the lines, the marks, the notes

that slip, that glaze, that perfect choux

because the ego is gone and that means death

(approach friend etc)

Another fishy Chelsea Monday

among the parrots and art fair paraphernalia

The Geography Trips

and every careful following of care,

be it Vezey to the haystack or

a magnanimous offer of assistance in tyre fixing

(how you gamed me)

Im sorry for being a joyless bastard

Hats off to Richard Williams..

Who only sits here - too large -

unbeknown to mist.

Probably under a tree

Probably got my teenagers dancing tonight

Probably drove to Nottingham to make spaghetti

Probably one of a few possible folk

I missed.

it doesn't matter what marks you put on paper - sorry

remember when I stole his gun and ran around ?
it's all in the hips
I am shania...

Shakira Shakira - oh baby when you talk like that...

the only time i drank rum was when Cody bought it

it's just not important - and neither are your pictures

and picturings

you fucking picturer

---

a death and some old flyers

the juxtaposition of ephemera

is not so inappropriate

time, by vantage, moves

without and with us.

---

God, that's so deep dad.

----

Moments of friendship in life.

all there is.

So While You Point Your Fingers Someone Else is Judging You

Merry Christmas My Men
and Love to all the ladies
Single bed shelters
bus stop bliss

Is this love that am feel in?
Ah, Wanna Know.,
Ah, Jah, The Googley
Peter Bonetti the cat

Geoffrey Boycott
and god. No competition.

Geoffrey wins.
Save us a bit of bacon rind
For dem Birds
compost carriers
and shiny hats

rule de world
and dem love cats.

Jess Glynn: £2.50

Please -
and the words come in
all undressed
like a cliche
confessed,

all alone. cliched...naked.

and if nakedness weren't enough
it's waistline is wider
than the truth
and clichés inside her

all the skinny world waits
soul less for...
a song? Hope?
maybe we need a singalong?
Nope. That'll be two pounds fifty please...

Sleep Easy

CPC

I am sorry not to have got productively lost in the old language but this is all I can see:

PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC PC

what you have forgotten you don't need

J'Accuse

passata

well tip my wooly hat
and make me macaroni
single cream with pork
and  mascarpone

Use good tomatoes

St Viton and the Syrian Diaspora: Google Translates...

Did the wind mind and
did your daughters of the sea
pay for the grapes left over from this
invasion or that - bombing campaign is too harsh
a beauty to comprehend - occupation?

Did your fully trained sales agents have literally years of experience
when you dished out the kalashnikovs from the back of your Renault Traffics and Humbies?

Did the questions that never got asked matter to any of your descendants
when we tasted the unintended bonus of wine over centuries
of blue sea and mafia movies?

Oh, Sicily, Alex Polizzi is so POETIC...
and how she loves your ceramics.
Go to the north western tip and its traditional fishing villages

Still African. One road in and one road out.
Cous cous everywhere.

Garlic, onion Cinnamon and flakes of local fish -

utterly delicious St Viton.

No Syrian refugees were mentioned in the making of this poem.

Farcinoff

there was nothing new to be said
at the moment of infarction all words stopped
as they do and all was clear: You farkin infarction

Infarc off you farkin fark.

In fact all infarctions farked

Off they went far kingly and well farked.

Off.

The Magic Bomb

I was outside. There was a flash and then a noise which made everything silent.
Then I was inside. We were all together and no-one was lost or scared. Colours
were so vivid and each of us had no distance we did not want and space in abundance.

Homes were created anywhere - in our minds and physical need and suffering were gone.

It had once been Waterloo station where the dirty old river kept rolling, in to the sun.

But now, the sun had come to the river and all was one. A boat, a sky-ride a swim in the depths of the sweet Thames. Anything you want  forever. We promised you paradise and we promised you damnation. In the wake of our magic bombe - you can choose either. Anytime and forever.

Never be stuck for choice again. never live in fear of eternal damnation or seek eternal salvation. you can have either with one of our magic bombs. Thank you driver, for bringing us here.

Kings 4:29

1 Kings 4:29And God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding exceeding much, and largeness of heart, even as the sand that is on the sea shore.

---

The image is very expressive. On the coast both of Palestine and Egypt — the regions with which the Bible writers were most familiar — the sand is unusually abundant. All the way from the delta of the Nile to the most northern point of Syria, a vast sandy tract, penetrating inland here and there from the shore-line fringes the Mediterranean, and separates between the green cultivated fields and the blue waters of the sea. The floor of the desert, which encompasses the Holy Land on the south and east, although usually composed of other materials, has nevertheless in a few places large belts of deep sand. drifts, like those which may be seen on the western bank of the Nile. Let the traveller stand on the seashore near Gaza, where, far as the eye can reach north and south, the tawny sand-hills swell and shoal as if imitating the rolling of the waves. Let him take up a handful of the sand and try to count its grains as they trickle through his fingers, and he will give up the task in despair ere he has counted a twentieth part. Let him try to imagine how many handfuls there are in even one heap beside him, and his imagination will be speedily overpowered. And if he endeavours further to form some conception of the quantity that makes up the shore of a single bay, or the floor of a single desert, the mind utterly collapses under the unequal burden. In analysing it more closely, the image indicates not only the vast but also the varied range of Solomon's wisdom; not only the quantity but also the quality of the largeness of his heart. Nothing, at first sight, looks more uniform and monotonous than a heap of sand. It seems barren and uninteresting to the last degree; and yet examine carefully a small portion of the sand, and you will be struck with the immense variety which it contains. No two particles are the same in Size, shape, colour, or mineral character. No two grains have perhaps the same origin or the same history. A handful of sand is, in fact, a geological museum, composed of the remains of different rocks worn off or ground down by different agencies and at different periods. One grain has come from the granite rocks that almost throttle the Nile at the first cataract, out of which the earliest monuments of Egypt were carved — perhaps has itself formed part of some statue or obelisk that was old before history began. Another grain has been ground down from the marble hills of Greece that have yielded the precious material in which, by the sculptor's skill, the gods have come down to the earth in the likeness of men. A third has been disintegrated from the volcanic stone which the earliest builders of Italy have plied into their gigantic walls and massive tombs. Some of the particles have been washed down by streams from the precipices of the Alps or Apennines; others have been carried by the wind from the eruptions of Vesuvius and Etna; and others still have been ground from the dark northern headlands, those Sphinxes of the ocean against which the waves of the Atlantic — fugitives, all white and reeking, flying from some monster of the deep — hurl themselves with frantic fear. Frost and fire, glacier on mountain crest, and iceberg on Arctic shore, all these have been at work for untold ages to produce the individual grains of the handful of sand. We read in these sand-dunes, as distinctly as we see the tracks of ancient animals on the surface of sandstone slabs taken from the quarry, the evidence of many of the changes through which our earth has passed. We see in them the relics of old continents that have vanished completely — the sole memorials of ancient seas that seem mythical to all but the geologist. The earth is but a gigantic sand-glass for the computation of geological time, in which the sands are falling unremittingly; and which after long ages is turned upside down to expend what it has gained, and to gain what it has expended. Like this sand on the seashore, in its wonderful variety, was the largeness of heart which God bestowed upon Solomon; as a heap of sand, abundance of interest and enjoyment; a largeness of heart which would invest with its own charm the most desert place and the most familiar object — to which nothing that God had made would be common or unclean. Throughout the life of Solomon we see how richly he possessed this Divine gift; how wide was his culture — how deep was his interest in the world around him. God is willing to grant to every human being, in a degree proportioned to his nature and circumstances, what He bestowed upon Solomon. He has placed us in a large and wealthy place. He has given to us the whole creation for our inheritance, and made us the heirs of all the ages. The whole universe tends towards man as its centre and highest point. It finds in him its end and interpreter. Nature is translated in his mind into thought. All the sciences are only the humanising of the things of earth. We name and classify and study plants, and animals, and stones, and thus give our own life to them, and raise them by this association into fit companions for ourselves. The uses of the objects of nature are only their human relations. And all this is because God made the earth to be co-ordinate with man, and in its own degree humane. And just as He feeds our bodies with the treasures of every land and every sea, that we may have a wide and vigorous life, participant of all variety; so He wishes to feed our souls with intellectual food derived from all the objects which He has made, that we may interpret the mute symbolism of earth and sea and sky, and offer in rational conscious form, as the prests of creation, the silent, unconscious worship of nature. As the sand is formed on the seashore, so is the enlargement of heart, which is said to resemble it, acquired. Not in the quiet sheltered waters of the bay, by gentle process, is the sand deposited. It speaks of storm, of waste, and change. Its gain has come through loss. The sorrow or suffering that seems so useless and vain, contending with the hard rocky cause of it, fretting and fuming among the trying restraints of life is, as it were, removing from them lessons of faith, and patience, and love, which afterwards, when the sorrow has subsided and the suffering has become tranquil, will enrich and beautify the whole life. So is it with all enlargements both in the natural and human worlds; the increase in one direction is the result of decrease in a another, as the seashore acquires its sand by a process of continental disintegration. God's chastisements, which seem to limit our joys and to make our life poorer and meaner, are in reality designed to enlarge our hearts and to widen the bounds of our being. And so, throughout the history of Christendom, we find that communities tempted selfishly to confine to themselves their special blessings have been compelled, by external shocks and internal sufferings, to enlarge their bounds and make others partakers with them of their privileges. New ages of larger liberty, of wider vision, of purer faith, of more just and loving relationships between man and man, have been ushered in through periods of terror and pain! The hearts of men everywhere have been enlarged through their fears; and the storms and strifes of the world have been the pains of progress — the birth-pangs of grander liberties. The framework of Society, like the framework of Nature, is broken up from time to time, that out of the wreck may be formed the shore-line that limits the encroachments of evil, and the dry land of truth that lifts the level of life nearer heaven. The sand on the seashore is composed of small particles. It is vast in the aggregate, but the grains are individually minute; and so the largeness of heart, which resembles it, is made up of the fulfilment of little duties and the adorning of little occasions as they arise. The largeness of the Christian's heart is shown, not only by the comprehensiveness of its range of regard, but also by the minuteness of its interests and sympathies. His piety is proved, not by his conduct on great and exciting occasions, but by his conduct in ordinary circumstances. It requires less grace in reality to be a martyr for Christ on a public stage than to be kind and considerate in the familiar intercourse of domestic life, or to maintain a guileless integrity in the ordinary transactions of business. The Christianity that is faithful in that which is least is a more difficult Christianity than that which glows and triumphs on grand occasions. Little love can perform great actions; but it requires great love to present like little children small offerings — and to devote every moment and task of our life to God. A largeness of heart which thus attends to the smallest details of piety — to the little things in which love most powerfully shows itself, which recognises God habitually, and seeks constant opportunities to please Him, will never be oppressed with listlessness and ennui. Without this enlargement of heart we cannot appreciate the broad wide world of God s salvation. Without an enlargement of heart to place us, as it were, on higher ground, from whence our view can take in more and more of God's universe, our life will be centred in the mere spark that animates the body. We need that the grace of God should do for our hearts what the microscope does for our eyes — enlarging our vision so as to see new beauty and wonder in the most familiar objects. We have had moments when we obtained fleeting glimpses of this joy.