The information superhighway
It is a heavyweight
Data, redundancy
Processes
Alerts
Objectification
Frames
Presentations and investors
Response
Time
High availability
Validity
Technical, radical, practical, logical
Balancing load
Stresses
Testing
Testing
Test
Craving
Simplicity
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Cheese, onions, bread and beer
Like it or hate it
Sharing an experience
Over thousands of years
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
A spokesperson
That one who speaks
Has their own agenda
And will render
Your will
To theirs
There’s
A truth
To ponder
Every buzz and chime
On the phone
Is a worry
Something has gone down
Something is wrong
Another demand
On my time and my brain
Which are both drained
Something
Must change
A little more give
And a lot less just taking
More uplifting hands
If we just stop competing
Ivory towers will fall
In life’s tournament
There are Kings and Queens
For whom the suffering and pain
Is entertainment
There are fighters
There are spectators
There are hawkers of wares
There are thieves
But most of us
Are picking up
The horses shit
The wild is calling
Feel the breeze
The scent of trees
The hunt!
Feel the ground
Rise and fall
Feel heart pound
Heed the call
But tomorrow
I will sit again
At my desk
And fear
Mistakes and failure
Do my best
Do the right thing
And the wild will still call
Until
I answer
There
A girl called midnight
A fighter
A lover
A spy
Danced free and deep in the valleys
Beneath a dark starry sky
She hailed from the lands
Of our fathers
With hair as dark as the night
And eyes a grey as the water
Where the bones of her enemies
Lie
No knight would come to her rescue
The dragon she rode upon high
Would burn every dreamy lover
With the glance of a fiery eye
What became of
The girl called midnight
Led by her passion and hate
Some say that still, she is dancing
In the icy heart of the lake
Bound to serve
The master that we crave
Enduring the pain
Not struggling in the ties
That bind
Taking the punishment
Utter submission
Belittled
Stripped
Of dignity
All for the reward
The release
The coin
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Deterrents
Silently waiting
Mighty weapons
Hushed death
Deterring
But who will deter
The stupidity
That made them
Necessary
Deep red
The varnish of old wood
Worn by years
Of rested elbows
And beer mats
As red as the liquid
In the glasses
Rich with age
Hobbit
Brave Brandybuck
Bringing sense to his friends
Finding honour in Rohan’s ranks
Small knight
#cinquain
Passion
Wanes while years pass
Becomes something finer
Matured, refined, rich with wisdom
Mellowed
Do not be fooled by its calmness
Maturity and depth
Do not weaken
Passion
#Cinquain #Butterfly-Cinquain
A new clutch of chicks
Awaken to a cold dawn
The fox scents a chance
A silver sylph slips silent through the trees
Spreading silver stardust upon the trees
Disappearing into the deep shadows
Where foxes hunt
Image from Pixabay
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Potential new life
Excitement when waters break
New life brings us cheer
Six forever hours
Caressing a fading pulse
All cheer drains away
The darkness where the heart beats fast
The shadows where no moonlight’s cast
The deepest dell of starless nights
Gleaming eyes the only light
The sound of cold and ancient breath
On the breeze the scent of death
A rustle from behind the trees
A snapping twig the blood to freeze
The conflict of the fight or flight
But where to run on icy night?
The frozen legs the burning fear
The certainty of danger near
Imagination births these fears
But even as the presence nears
Pointing out what we must mark
Why do we so fear the dark
Image from Pixabay
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
I sit upon my bed alone.
Thinking thoughts of you.
My heart sinks slowly like a stone.
In a pool so blue.
The pain grows greater every day.
Need I make that cut?
Alas, it is the only way.
All other doors are shut.
So take the knife and cut me deep.
I know it must done.
Though this pain will make me weep.
Relief will soon be won.
So now at last I say goodbye.
I need you now no more.
You must believe me, I did try.
My efforts though, were poor.
We could no longer stay as one.
So you were cut away.
It was the only thing to be done.
To take the pain away.
Farewell, my dear appendix.
A deep green canopy
Back-dropped by a swathe of gold
Corn
Swaying in the wind
An overwhelming urge
To dive into that green sea
The climb and swing
And scream
With primal joy
But there is a mountain of time
Between me and that green
Eden
Made of commitments and constraints
Burdens and dependencies
So it dwindles
In my rear window
A deep green canopy
In mist
The traffic slowed
We were all following a hearse
Today
In respectful frustration
I took the time
To look around
At the rivers and fields
That normally
Speed by
We are all following a hearse
Humanity reduced to a bottom line.
Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.
Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.
Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.
One one level this is a story about how different people react the ever growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.
At another level, it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.
Read an excerpt here.
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Shake!
Awake!
Shake!
Awake!
The sun.
Is up!
Rise up!
Rise up!
Open eyes!
Beneath
Blue skies.
Cast off
Sleep’s reins.
See!
The plains.
No sleep!
Breath deep!
Sun warms.
No storms.
Stretch arms.
Take arms.
Run!
In the sun!
Take bow!
Go!
Take spear!
Disappear!
When
Wind blows.
Lift nose.
And scent
why they sent
for you.
They come!
They run!
See!
The birds.
Speak.
No words.
Watch
them lead.
They
will feed.
Feel
the land.
Trust
your hand.
See
grass sway.
They come
this way.
Feel
the ground.
Hear
the sound.
Thunderous sound.
All around.
A mound
of meat.
Trust
your feet.
Spear
and bow.
Blood
will flow.
With
one voice.
We
rejoice!
And the buffalo pass,
to greener grass.
It’s not fair. He started it, I didn't. He called me names. I had to do it to stop him. How come I get told off? It’s not fair. It’s a shameful waste. What they do to our world today. The forests they cut down, the whales they kill. The fields they destroy, the new roads they build. The way they leave their scars on the world. It’s a shameful waste. It’s a bloody liberty. I will not stand for it! I earned my money fairly. I will spend it pleasantly. I will not stand being ripped off! It’s a bloody liberty. It’s a downright disgrace. The way these youngsters behave. They will not heed my words. They will not do as they are told. I will leave my mark on the world. It’s a downright disgrace. He needs no name on his grave. He was a model man. He stood for what we all stand for. He spoke the words we all speak. He was me and you and all those to come. He needs no name on his grave.
I don’t dare to dream
Reality is too harsh
To just brush aside
Shining silver line
Whirling axes high on the hill
The pride and strength
Of the Saxon’s lands
They had hammered back the sea
Eaten up the road
Crossed the kingdom wide
With deeds of valour bold
Unbeaten and unbowed
How could they know
This would be the day
The kingdom was brought low
Little stone church
Nestled on a hill
Overlooking the sea
Watching over the harbour still
The boats nestled cheek to cheek
And those tossed on the waves
The bell rings out a guiding peal
Above the moss stained graves
And every sailor on the deck
Mouths a silent prayer
The church windows watch their pleas
With a cold and empty stare
The settlement around the church
Huddles to the old stone walls
Strong but cold strange comfort their
As the tolling calls
Older still the hill
Watches the fleeting boats
The flighty homes and towers
Their occupants dust motes
More enduring still
The constant shifting waves
Will eat the hill, huts the boats
Even the very graves
A little corner
A little corner
That is my world
Shrunk in space
My only place
A desk, a keyboard,
a screen
A little corner
Of a room
A little corner
of time
Stolen time
from life’s demands
Time to dream
The keys on the keyboard
are keys
Out of this corner
this cage
Into a wider
free form world
and free dreams
Through the portal
of my mind
The little corner
has no end
It opens up
and expands
forever without end
Stand tall on the board
A breeze teases the skin; dive
Slapped by water cold
The dark wide iris
Sparkling bright now, mists over
As it watches time
Stark black against cold grey skies
Black lightning frozen in time
Towering and immense
Spread over the world
The tree of the dead
On the termination of every branch
Every twig
Hang the skulls
Uncountable, unimaginable
They observe
From their cold black sockets
With their chilling grins
They watch
And judge
The tableau
Of life
Ideas
Dreams
Decisions
Goals
All swept away
In the rolling seas
Of other’s
Perceived
Realities
Broken shell
Evidence of new life or life cut short
A new hungry mouth
Or a hunters hunger sated
Either way
Life is given
Evidence found
In our humble garden
A hole in the ground
Still black water reflecting
Meteors above
Special, general
Einstein’s relativity
Beauty and balance
I find myself
Reading a book
A real book
A technical book for sure
But real paper
Real leaves
Turned with relish
With real fingers
Well
Hello old friend
Tales woven over the air
Tales woven in print
Tell you where and how to belong
And to stay there
This is your tribe
This is your way
Here’s your beliefs
The way to behave
But digital lines
Weave different tales
Social arising
Communities felt
So ancient tellers
Beware of the light
Too fast to contain
With old fashioned lies
Sunlight from the past
From where coldness rules supreme
The mighty fallen
Winter is coming
Snow sweeps down from the cold north
Followed by the dead
Height, falling, swooping
Skylarks catching air, rainfall
Drowns the fleeing mouse
Mare Nostrum
We don’t support it
They said
So it is gone
In other words
Let them die
Stopping people dying
Might encourage them to live
And after all
What are they
But the victims of war
And rape and torture
Who wants them cluttering up the place?
A fitting epitaph
Perhaps
For the West
From butterflies in spiders webs
To wandering dogs down country roads
These are just some of the deeds
Of rescue
She has done
And of course
She rescued my heart
From certain single life
And ensconced it in
A loving family home
A Spring of Dreams
365 poems of different forms and moods. A poem a day for a year.
The wolf pack is firm
In a superior class
Hunting the weaker
There is an ancient market square
Where we all spend our lives
And round and round the stalls we pass
Consuming precious time
The gates are closed to hold us in
While hawkers hawk their wares
Criers cry of doom beyond
The solid steadfast walls
In their towers high above
Lords and ladies gaze
Down upon the writhing mass
And counting out their pay
Where’s the farmer in his field
Where the traveller strange
Where’s the road beyond the gates
Or the key to let us out
So on and on forevermore
We circle round the square
In trenches deep from shambling feet
Beneath the icy stare
This is the longest and by far the most complex of the works here. The main bulk of the poem follows a very strict format (the Prologue and Epilogue are purposefully outside this format and there is meaning in that too). Part of that format informs the inclusion of much of the symbolism within and the allegory of the tale. The challenge here was to create a story within all these constraints.
This is the half-light
The magic time
Deep blue light
Fresh born stars
Tales weaving
In expectant air
Firelight dimming
Shadows creep
Tales weaving
Dreams conceived
Past is close
The dead draw near
To hear
Tales weaving
With living breath
Driving home
Fun is done
Sleepy heads
Happy ones
Bed beckons
Satisfied sleep
This is the peace
The turmoil
Aims for
Wood cracks with a flash
Sparks dance in the air, falling
Down to cooling ash
Five syllables here
But seven on the next line
A breakdown of thought
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 