Spring of' twenty twenty'
Cars nolonger on the roads
The streets are now empty!
Resturants and bars closed
Nothing but clear blue skies
As nolonger was any polusion
People stocking up on suplys
Admist all of the confusion!
Listening to the sound of nature
Something you don't often hear;
Though uncertain now the future
Rules by which we have to adear!
Because of this global pandemic
That has swept through the nation
Some people were though sceptic"
At the now prospect of isolasion!
But to some how hault the spread
To stop the death toll from rising
As alot of people are now dead"
And still so many more are dying!
If we had first closed the boarders
To try and reduce the contamination
Goverments were given strict orders"
Warned by the world health organisation!
So we were all in total quarantine:
And under a now strict curfew!
Untill they come up with a vaccine"
Awaiting a response from the who!
Being told we all have apart to play!
Though some people for them self"
What often felt like "ground hog day"
The effect on peoples mental health!
Part 1 0f 3 to be continued.....
Fatherly, yes; but distant.
Loving but unfelt.
Except what faith warms up to
Fearing no reproach!
"A friend, also. When from all
Its hurt, life's, kept hid
Confiding such as safe is!
Of heavenly light
As close was, here, roomed one night
Whose likest approach!"
Creatures, the most sceptic-eyed
With quick to fright weakness
Against a little girl's trust
Do rub them. More robust!
I was that squirrel! She, you!
From out whose hiding place
No sooner your hands implored
In whose excited step
Came. That park bench, once jumped up
Stared, sat with; face to face!
If Trump is removed?
Will it be for sound reason?
Or that nuclear; war may ensue?
So there must be, someone sound
Impartial and fair.' A sceptic yet with
Morals, not just charisma and flair
A head for diplomacy would really do
Who would steer well away from?
That most septic eu.)
The pop group Heatwave, it seemed to me
(in 1970)
was dreadfully dull and boring too
(not at all incendiary)
so, with breath control and mind over matter,
(it didn't matter as I didn't mind)
to liven up the act and give it something new,
after much practice and repeating,
using self-made torches soaked in paraffin,
I taught myself how to do fire eating
and late that summer became
(tho' only the drummer)
'Keeper Of The Flame'.
Once, while on stage performing,
some sceptic in the audience shouted, "That's not really hot,"
so, determined to put him in his place
(he deserved all of what he got)
I gave him quite a fright when I flashed the flames in his face.
Then, '77 one fearful night in Bright Eye Band wearing tights
(a.k.a., Smooch on Halloween)
throwing all caution to the wind, as it was gauged just right,
the draft from a fan blowing across the stage set my hair alight.
Although not what I call apropos,
I survived, came out alive, but what a way to close the show.
When people call me an atheist,
I just nod my head.
But never invite any hostility with them.
Perhaps, they haven’t ever seen me in a house of worship.
They may think so.
I puzzle when the same people say, “God is omnipresent.”
Some call me an agnostic.
Even then, I hardly respond.
Perhaps, they haven’t ever found me engaging in religious discourses.
They may conclude thus.
Whenever I express anything seeking clarity about cosmic order,
They won’t stop and call me a sceptic.
To be called a theist; shall we have to go on bestowing hymns?
No scripture has expressed it the only way of attaining Moksha.
What about Ben Adhem?
He urges to enrol his name in the list of those who love their fellowmen.
When everything is His manifestation,
Am I not a part of it?
What is real spirituality?
To me, it’s an endless quest to realize oneself.
Who am I?
Lost in echoes of darkened time
dampened, dithering, dazed
wet withered witches mime a dime
fearful, I’m mazed or crazed
Calling Divinity, voicebox shut
eyelids glued, nostrils stuffed
lips zipped with copper thread
eardrums worrisome waned
Where are chiming confluent clocks
highways and internet ?
shadows dim whisper, “badly blocked,
pointless you bet, get set !”
Surely I paid every debt
learnt my lessons very well
trusted faith, no futile fracas
rose from every slothful rut ~
LOST, part of adventurous life
to find own lucid laws
undoing inner sceptic strife
opens all barred doors …
believer seeks eternity ~ sceptic reckons why’s it always me
By
David Kavanagh
I blinked and rubbed my eyes, then looked around.
I wondered was I going crazy (like,
my aunt who lived in caverns underground...)
but no, the boy was riding on the bike.
One moment he was there - and now he's gone!
I know I wasn't dreaming; he was real.
It took a while for me to cotton on;
I can't describe the way that makes me feel:
I saw a ghost! I know you won't believe
my story, but I swear to God it's true.
No joke! I have no reason to deceive.
Once sceptic, now I've changed my point of view.
written 25th February for Carolyn's Vanishing contest
I remember I roamed on that night -
as a sceptic, I thought it was fun,
but received such a terrible fright,
when I spotted the ghost of the nun.
In the midst of the yard was a tomb,
and she hovered beside it and wailed,
that I sensed her a portent of doom,
and my heart (that was strong) almost failed
as I counted the number of souls,
and the eyes of those spirits were red.
What a stench as they rose from the holes
to escape from the house of the dead!
I was praying and crying in fear;
but by morning I blamed it on beer...
written 23rd February for Julia's Ghost contest
I’m not a great fan of metric
A system of which I am sceptic
To the young it’s ethereal
But I learned imperial
And so I still speak it...
Today
I went down to the hardware store
I’d better not go there no more
An eager young lady assistant
Was maybe a little persistent
How can I help you...
Today
I said I need ten eight inch nails
She sure put the wind in my sails
The nails were near pulleys and winches
And then she said how big’s eight inches
I’m not getting out...
Today
Show me a miracle
Or
Magic trick
And all i can think is how was it done
That is the level of sceptic i have become
With every believer comes a sceptic
Enter front and left Captain Sceptic
Sporting miracle,
Betting scandal
Predict the future,
Calculate the odds algorithm
Magic trick,
Smoke and mirrors slight of hand
If it's to good to be true it generally is
And there is no such thing in life
that's free
That doesn't come with strings attached
The greatest piece of single advice
a burns survivor ever imparts is
Read the small print fastidiously
before signing
Otherwise you are going to need the
services of a very good lawyer
I’m learning to love pink
In bowls;
And boys and girls.
For my bedroom wall
Was claimed
Putrid pink by my volitional Aunt
And thus made me hate
The color of its paint.
And yellow by the way,
The honking, screaming hue
Of a steamroller-child
~~~ i ~ love ~ him~~~
Through my grand’s eyes,
Orange too!
Peel those layers,
Those juicy, goosebumpy —
Yes, scary
Four flame-throwing
Tires of to the moon and back.
I’ve had to draw back
from red...the apple of my eye
for
the
cops
keep a score of tickets in their squad cars
for those
who believe they can pull off this trend
better to keep the Holy Bible in view
We found out, instead
For the eagle-eye of Virginia,
the sceptic of his state
turned to psalm 46:10
You can turn there too
and net your escape.
To summarize, pink is cool for sexes
Love yer yeller feller
And love yer orange peel
Things in the rearview mirror’r closer
than they appear
God is at hand.
7/26/2019
I'll read your funk,
your epileptic word-purge junk,
your chasm magic sceptic tank
of old cliches that happen to make you smile,
or cry.
We can be each others brutal-theraputic,
we'd be like Greeks;
we'd lose all Christian values,
we'd become in Time and Space
a dust arranged against infinity;
a slow heat death,
all the same.
But better in Becoming.
Little girl talking to sceptic
'Little girl why do you believe? ',
asked a man who would soon again leave,
but first had to bring, to a little girl, a little grief.
And she said, 'Does the birds, stars and plants not call out His name' , she asked the sir.
Trying not to create a stir,
'Are you not in search of a cure'.
'Little girl why do you believe', and she said,
'does my heart not say what is true,
hearing it speak and seeing what is due...
for fallen is me and fallen are you.'
'Little girl why do you believe?' and she said,
'Was there not a man,
who called me with a plan,
so that i can inherit his land?'
Then she asked the man,
'Looking at the skies,
people spitting lies,
and the Truth that dies,
Why can't you see His beautiful eyes?'
t.
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