Bard Stuff - I, Poet Series, Vol 2

Bard Stuff

  I, Poet Series, Volume Two

  By Anthony North

  Copyright Anthony North 2012

  Cover image copyright, Yvonne North 2012

  Other books by Anthony North

  I, TRILOGY INTRODUCTORY VOLUME

  I, STORYTELLER SERIES

  I, Adventurer: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/305210

  I, POET SERIES

  Inmate Earth: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/237329

  Mind Burps: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/272508

  Verse Fest: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/302837

  I, THINKER SERIES

  I, Paranormal: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/237339

  I, Essayist: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/259928

  I, Society: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/272861

  I, Unexplained: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/303478

  I, Observer: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/304480

  CONTENTS

  Introduction

  Scary

  Philosophical

  Love

  Life

  Humour

  Green

  Criminal

  About the Author

  Connect With Anthony

  INTRODUCTION

  Welcome. I Poet, Volume Two, with lots of poems for you; there’s life and humour and even a scream, I’ll even try to turn you green; and make you think anew.

  SCARY

  Slowly … Him … Stories Round and Round … UFO … Regretful Cloud … See the Light … Twilight

  SLOWLY

  The faster I run, the slower it goes,

  Always ready to repose,

  In front of where I want to be,

  Look this way, it’s there to see,

  Never will it leave me alone,

  Never allowing me to atone,

  Always ready to frighten me,

  Always changing my destiny;

  Damn it! It just isn’t fair!

  Slowly, slowly, it’s always there,

  Pulling me back, offering a scare!

  Will I ever escape this nightmare?

  HIM

  It’s him, I know,

  He’s caught in the glow,

  Fuelled by booze,

  Blood will ooze,

  It always will,

  When he gets the thrill,

  The murderous rush,

  A person to crush …

  And after the fight,

  He feels alright,

  The demon is tamed,

  A person lamed,

  But that’s alright,

  He’s shown his might,

  And now he’ll flee,

  And I’m back to me

  STORIES ROUND AND ROUND

  We think we change but I’m not sure,

  Advancement is maybe not so pure;

  Consider the alien, our modern friends,

  Abducting people, their body he lends,

  Taking them to his ship to test,

  Then returning them home without a rest;

  Later they return and you’ll never guess,

  They’re pregnant, a hybrid, bless!

  Of course, we scoff at stories so,

  Deciding it’s rubbish, we’re in the know,

  But consider the ancient fairy friend,

  Snatching people, a medieval trend;

  Taken to a magical place to play,

  They’re returned a changeling, and parents pray;

  See how similar these tales can be,

  Whether the past, or right up to me,

  The only difference is the culture we’re in,

  Round and round, just stories we spin

  UFO

  Up there! Look! It’s in the sky,

  You can see it if you try,

  Shining brightly, it’s there, no doubt,

  Dashing – zooming – merrily about;

  Is it from Mars or further afield?

  Is it invading? Shall we yield?

  Or is it really not there at all,

  Simply an illusion to enthrall?

  Sceptics think this is the case,

  Shadows of our psyche, we forever chase,

  Mankind’s greatest handicap;

  But, hey! Watch out!

  Zap

  REGRETFUL CLOUD

  From where it came no one knew,

  A cloud so thick, obscuring view,

  Not remaining in the sky,

  But down it came, on the ground it lies;

  No weather came from this strange cloud,

  Rather, a psycho-malaise did enshroud,

  Everyone in its swirling mist,

  Invading their thoughts – get the gist?

  A question it asked of everyone,

  Is there something you’ve done that’s oh, so wrong?

  This fog is here for a specific reason,

  To put it right – make things even;

  So everyone thought of their greatest regret,

  Wanting to hide, make amends or forget,

  But the cloud was a trickster, making other thoughts bereft,

  So when it lifted, there was no one left

  SEE THE LIGHT

  I’m in the gutter,

  Nonsense I utter,

  Not sure where I am,

  Knowing life is such a sham,

  Burying my mind in drunken stupor,

  Nothing has ever been super,

  No career to feel fulfilled,

  No woman, no seed is tilled,

  Nothing but an empty hole,

  No stories of success to extol,

  All I want to do is die,

  Here, now, where I lie;

  Then before me, slightly above,

  A light, as beautiful as a dove,

  I try to see what is really there,

  Never before such a stare,

  I raise myself, standing tall,

  Why did I think I was so small?

  The light, it fills me, makes me new,

  Can I go on straight and true?

  Illumination comes my way,

  Understanding – finally – I display

  TWILIGHT

  Light is going, night comes soon,

  Twilight heralding a coming Moon,

  Casting shadows upon your world,

  And into your mind, thoughts do whirl;

  What was that?!! Undefined,

  Was it real, or in the mind?

  Think it out in the unreal zone,

  No help now; no one to phone;

  Swirling round you all the time,

  Memories past, remembered crime,

  Spectres of deeds come two by two,

  Watch out! It’s behind you

  PHILOSOPHICAL

  Mythology … Mind Manglers … Stains … Message From the Edge of Death … Cogs … The Fanatic … Ode To the Brain … Oh God … Sacrifice … Big … Formu-Nation … He’s Dead … Seeds … Strange Elections … Love In the City?

  MYTHOLOGY

  The sage, he writes from antiquity,

  Leaving myths for you and me;

  Of tricksters, of wonders and Heroes, too,

  To inspire, always, me and you;

  The greatest stories ever told,

  As adventures and miracles, do unfold;

  Defining their world, making it real,

  Offering customs that will entail,

  Taboos that if broken, are beyond the pale,

  So heed this glorious,

  Wondrous tale

  But from where does the splendour of myth come from?

  To whom do the tricksters and Heroes belong?

  The greatest minds have fathomed deep,<
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  Reliving the myths even in their sleep;

  The characters are similar from myths worldwide,

  Is this a hint to which we confide?

  The story of the Hero is so like real life,

  Confusing youth, a mission, amid trouble and strife;

  The trickster, that little Devil, the imp,

  So similar to the voice that makes morals limp;

  So maybe the Sage knew how to unwind,

  The intricacies deep within that bind,

  Our beautiful,

  Wondrous,

  Mischievous mind

  MIND MANGLERS

  It all began with fin de siecle,

  It affected our minds, made them fickle;

  The world was heading for a war,

  Peace of mind would be no more;

  One man realised we had a void,

  His name was Dr Sigmund Freud;

  He invented the unconscious, for us to dream,

  Of the most ridiculous, fearful scheme;

  Picasso came along, with nightmares on canvas,

  Rich in imagery, and oh! so rancous;

  Together, they ripped meaning to shreds,

  Allowing riotous thoughts inside our heads;

  Postmodernism was the result of that,

  Pulling rabbits out of a hat;

  Thoughts and ideas were no longer real,

  Dependent upon whatever ideas prevail,

  In a world that was

  From then on

  Surreal

  STAINS

  I stare at an image and wonder,

  What is this?

  Is it an elephant, or maybe a fish?

  Is it a plane, or maybe a dish?

  Some images are defined,

  Some are not,

  Some require your mind,

  To interpet the lot.

  I stare at an image and wonder,

  Is it a fractal?

  Is it designed, or simply a mess?

  I stare at an image,

  And sometimes it is the mind,

  That places meaning upon it.

  Sometimes it is the mind,

  That creates the reality we see.

  I stare at an image and wonder,

  Is it a stain, or

  Is it a country.

  I stare at an image and, yes?

  It is a stain.

  It is a country.

  So many countries,

  Today,

  ARE stains

  MESSAGE FROM THE EDGE OF DEATH

  I think I’m dying, I think I’m done,

  So much living, it’s been such fun;

  I’m not sure that I deserve to die,

  I’ve been good and vibrant, never sly

  Life’s for living in all it’s glory,

  Literature has told its marvellous story;

  Musicians and artists; life, they adore,

  Damn it! I love it! I want more!

  Life’s a wonder, to be understood,

  I’m not to be snatched through lack of blood;

  Science and philosophy got it to a tee,

  Imbuing us all with curiosity

  But as I face my final breaths,

  I contemplate: will it be the fiery depths?

  Please! I can’t take this thing called Hell,

  To send me ‘up’ – that’d be swell

  Heaven sounds much more to my taste,

  But still don’t send with so much haste;

  Maybe neither exist at all,

  Did we create them, ‘cos we feel small?

  Life seems just too short to take,

  So an afterlife we’d naturally make;

  Without it, then what’s it all about?

  All that knowledge, of which we shout

  Maybe we become universal essence,

  That would be so very pleasant;

  But not yet, not me, my heart does ache,

  For more life, to partake;

  So, God,

  Give me a break!

  COGS

  Turning, turning, turning right,

  Through the day and through the night;

  A machine well oiled, its purpose true,

  Task after task, it gets through;

  A machine is inanimate, that’s a fact,

  From this truth, you can’t detract;

  Human beings are of different stock,

  They don’t go ‘tick-tock’, like a clock;

  So why do we feel like cogs, so rigid,

  Constantly whirring, making us frigid?

  Why do we impose this life so bleak?

  Why do we perform, just like a freak?

  Why is it we’re afraid to speak?

  Big Biz, it seems, has made us meek,

  Trivia alone, we seem to seek;

  Wake up mankind, there’s more to life!

  Stop it!

  Stop it!

  Don’t be so weak.

  THE FANATIC

  Fanatics come, fanatics go,

  Bringing man to a terrible low;

  Fanatics rave, fanatics shout,

  Telling us what it’s all about;

  Fanatics lie, fanatics cheat,

  One day they’ll cause a nuclear heat;

  Fanatics, they get in your head,

  Despite the moderate warnings said;

  But don’t worry,

  This time, only ten million dead!

  ODE TO THE BRAIN

  Behind our eyes, between our ears,

  The home of all our hopes and fears;

  ‘Tis our brain that gives us thoughts untold,

  From very young to very old;

  They whirr around inside our head,

  From ideas and experiences, they are fed;

  Chemical messengers they call them now,

  Grey matter taking a dying bow …

  Built in the womb before we’re born,

  When bored, it makes a child forlorn;

  In adolescence, it often fries,

  Hormones dazzling as we grasp life’s prize;

  In adulthood, it settles down,

  Our hopes for the future it does crown;

  At times it goes wrong, as if in recession,

  Beware! This, the terrible depression …

  It thrusts us from our primeval past,

  Giving us abstract thoughts that last;

  Allowing us to ponder what is true,

  It spurred on great art for me and you;

  Realising our world, it reasoned it out,

  Offering us gods for believers devout;

  Philosophy, science and logic, too,

  The brain is our centre of all, it’s true …

  Yet try as we might, our understanding is blind,

  We can’t grasp mind within its confines;

  Mystics tell us it isn’t there,

  Rather, it’s out in the universe somewhere;

  For all of eternity, we’ll ponder how,

  The brain never stops, never takes a bow;

  Until the day when the body dies,

  And the brain registers this ultimate demise,

  And let’s out the mind, which floats up to the skies …

  OH GOD!

  1. I thought of You and it came true,

  there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for You.

  2. I thought of You and decided rot,

  a believer I most definitely am not!

  3. I thought of You and I couldn’t decide,

  this indecision I cannot abide.

  We think of God in many ways,

  The diversity that the human displays;

  Yet thinking one way disgusts the other,

  Breeding fanatics who attempt to smother,

  Our inherent links,

  To each other;

  Oh brother!

  SACRIFICE

  Sacrifice, that noble cause,

  It’s a thing to make us pause;

  Historic deeds, we know so well,

  Soldiers and saints don’t go to hell
;

  We do it for friends without a thought;

  We do it for country, I can report;

  We do it for work, we can’t deny;

  We do it for love, it makes us so high;

  We do it for children, young and pure;

  We do it for God, when we’re sure;

  And when we’re done, there’s nothing left, that’s true;

  But does it matter? I ask of you;

  Sacrifice. It’s what we do.

  BIG

  It’s often said big is best,

  But this is something I detest,

  The very idea I abhor,

  And not ‘cos I’m only five foot four;

  Big is mightier than the norm,

  Leaving others so forlorn;

  It often backfires on the big,

  People always having a dig;

  In business the problem is far worse,

  With contempt for the entire universe,

  Scorn for people and planet to rape,

  Not realising that there’s no escape,

  For there’s something always bigger than big,

  Like nature which won’t give a fig,

  When industry upsets the balance of things,

  And nature’s answer really stings;

  So big should go back to the small,

  Breaking multi-nats one and all,

  And then we’ll be rid of this present fad,

  And know, without doubt, that big is bad!!!

  FORMU-NATION

  Find some people with common cause,

  Living on land that’s yours and yours,

  Give them oodles of integrity,

  Living in peaceful community,

  Then one day some egoist says:

  You’re wasting so much with your ways,

  We can thrive much better than this,

  There’s more to life than simple bliss,

  What we need are people to lead,

  Then we plant an important seed,

  That will make you do what you don’t want to do,

  Turning all to something that’s never true,

  Doing, in future, just what you’re told,

  Throughout your life, until you’re old

  HE’S DEAD

  He’s dead you know, he had to go,

  People no longer bathed in his glow,

  Had their own ways of what to do,

  Inventing things all anew,

  Trying new ideas, styles of life,

  Leading to the same old strife

  He’s dead you know, he had to go,

  For many it came as quite a blow,

  Remembering how he helped them out,

  All they had to do was shout,

  And he’d be there always for you,

  Be it many or only a few

  He’s dead you know, he had to go,