By Scott Bailey © 2017
Catapults and boiled sweets
Sailing boats and jam jars
Watching tadpoles
Playing in the woods
Hunting newts
Swings and roundabouts
Wistful thinking
For the days
That never were

Catapults and boiled sweets
Sailing boats and jam jars
Watching tadpoles
Playing in the woods
Hunting newts
Swings and roundabouts
Wistful thinking
For the days
That never were
Always descending, never ascending.
Moving downwards, moving down.
I can’t get used to this feeling
Moving downwards, moving down.
Is it really like this? What are we doing?
Do we really want this?
Is this the thing to be?
The chains that pull the valves and the levers,
That drive the steam through pipes of dreams.
Dream worlds falling, morning calling,
Pull the chains on, shoulder the yoke.
Down to business. Down to labour.
Moving downwards, moving down.
I don’t like this, what am I doing?
I don’t really want this, what is to be?
Enter the shaft that takes us downwards.
The light is dimming as our dreams descend
Calm your qualms
It’s all change
It’s all good
Still
The trembling
Still
If ever you are looking for a good and somewhat different biography to read them try Burton: A Biography of Sir Richard Francis Burton by Byron Farwell.
I am not one for biographies myself – I only read this one due to the fact that he was featured in one of my favourite old time Science Fiction series – the Riverworld books by Philip Jose Farmer. A series where every single person who ever lived is resurrected on one world all at once – just a fantastic premise in itself.
Farmer uses Burton as the main character of the first book (and others later on.) He writes him with such passion and paints him in such an interesting way that you can’t help but find out more about him.
So I delved into this biography. Farmer had only painted a small part of his life!
Sir Richard Francis Burton, in reality, was – complicated.
He was a man of extremes. In many ways, he was extremely admirable. On other extremely reprehensible! Unforgivably so.
He achieved more in his lifetime than many of us could on six, seven, eight lifetimes! But is beliefs were bigoted and selfish, to say the least.
For example:
He was an avid supporter of slavery! He believed women’s places were in the home or the bed! He was vehemently anti-semitic and wrote several books that still cause controversy today!
You could argue he was a product of his time but he was an intelligent man and there were plenty of contemporaries who were seeing past the constraints of their society and challenging the established views.
He was a womaniser – had affairs, frequented brothels. He was a brawler – fought at the drop of a hat earning him the nickname Ruffian Dick. He disregarded authority of all kinds and went his own way, expelled from University and often AWOL from his army career.
However:
On the flip side.
He was one of the foremost fencers of the time inventing some new moves.
He was a masterful linguist – he was fluent in 24 languages – and in many of the different dialects of them. So much so he could pass himself off as a local in many places. He learnt much of it from prostitutes!
He was a master of disguise – not just in the fact he could dress up, makeup and talk like the locals. But that he understood them, he took the time to know their customs and etiquette, the foibles without which he would have been betrayed as an outsider. He immersed himself in their culture.
He made seven pilgrimages in his life. Studying and being accepted into various religions – understanding their teachings while not believing any of them.
He was the epitome of an explorer, making dangerous journey in strange lands, suffering illness and injury, going back for more and pressing on.
He explored and brought to light the many sexual practices from around the world. He brought much middle eastern and eastern culture to our consciousness. He brought us translations of the Thousand and One Nights, the Karma Sutra and the Perfumed Garden.
So as I said, complicated.
It brings up a problem we often have with heroes. We want them to be perfect. We want all those good qualities without the bad. But life is not like that – people are not like that.
We kind of know that – we try and accommodate it. Modern day fictional heroes have their flaws, they are dark and brooding and have emotional baggage. But nothing we can’t handle – nothing really reprehensible.
So it got me thinking. I have a real problem with Sir Richard Francis Burton. I admire what he achieved. I dislike what he was as a person. I certainly would not like not have known him personally.
And I see a reflection of modern men in this dilemma. I have written here about how men (and everyone in fact) are demonised in modern media. On the other side, we are brought up with a set of ideals about what a man should be what we should strive to be.
We end up with conflicting views – an ideal – heroic man to strive for, and the wretch the world tells us we are.
The conflict I feel when thinking about Richard Francis Burton is the conflict we feel about modern men – he is a kind of reflection of us.
We should, I think – start to accept our flaws more, try to improve and eliminate them, yes, but give ourselves a break. They are a part of us, a part of our nature. Nobody is perfect – natures abhors perfection as much as a vacuum. Perfection does not exist so let’s stop trying to achieve it.
Anyway, ramble over.
We have handed over our passport
Battered down the hatches
In a siege of our own designing
Some feeling smug justification
Others wondering if they should have done more
All responsible
All of us
Remember this
Huddled behind our walls
When the hunger strikes
Fortune favours the bold
Risk equals success
People stop seeing risk
And hand over their cash
Their time
Their labour
Their lives
The minority shine
The majority are mesmerised
While they fall
Territory shrinks
As the walls rise again
And the drawbridge is raised
The world is smaller
The worst of times
From long ago
Are opium
Entertainment
Sleight of mind
Meanwhile
Terry the Tory
Sniggers behind
Fake pride
And cheap beer
Protest
Is the latest sport
Avarice
The virtue of power
The Elixir
Swept through the void
Hunting
Stars glinting off the
Silver skin
The peak of human invention
Empty and silent
I am Herne the Hunter, Lord of the Trees,
and you are a leaf blown on the breeze.
Echoes and whispers inside your head,
set you on the path you were destined to tread.
Head of a wolf, eye of a hawk,
in the forest, the hooded man shall walk.
A man of balance not of gold,
Is it demon or god to whom you are sold ?
So string the bow and take up the sword,
Do my bidding and carry my word.
For you are my son Robin in the Hood.
You are the king of all Sherwood.
I anticipate
The dissipation
Of the all
The scattering
Of goals
The rise of dreams
To ride
Upon the mists
To be blown
Upon the winds
To reside
In clouds
And hide
In trees
To sleep
In earth
Drink water
Sup sunlight
Weep rain
And sigh
In all the bluster and noise
There is lust
Hidden
The secret passenger
Scampers around
Just looking for a snack
Innocent, unaware
Of the death that he carries
Why aren’t we railing?
Why aren’t we mad?
Why do we sit in silence?
In apathy so sad.
Is the sickle blunted?
The hammer dropped and cracked?
Has the guillotine lost its edge?
Has liberty backtracked?
The peasants have moved on
From field to factory to desk.
Is it beautiful progress
Or captivity grotesque
So day after day
after day after day.
We struggle and toil
No time to play.
We hand over our freedom
We hand over our cash.
While the fat cats sleep
on their growing stash.
Where is the spirit of liberty?
The hero in the square?
The lone horse trodden woman.
Defanged are those who care.
Disappearing into the gloom
Undulating side to side
Alien but of this earth
Slow, cold life
In the deep deep dark
So far from the hearth we know
The strange eel like creature
Eases in the deepest cold
Leaving divers dumb
I have seen giants
Striding over the land
Power on their shoulders
Stern and strong their hand
Never do they falter
Never seen one stumble or fall
Always do their duty
Always answer the call
Through storm and wind and rain
The carry their burden true
Though other links may burn out
The giants stride on through
So remember this and tremble
Even the giants will pass
Fall into dust and rusty ruin
Scattered in untamed grass
One day their burden will dissipate
Their purpose will disappear
And the duty they discharged so well
A memory dimmed with time
Dawn sneaks over the hills
Light spills through the vales
And the veils of the window
I see beauty at last
Complicated, unfathomable, mystery
But right and true
Most the world walks by
Seeing a different way
This morning gives me hope
But the light washes out
Shadows darken veils
Traditions bear down
The beauty and the mystery
The reason and the truth
Are left behind again
The door is closed again
As ancient lore and law
Return us to the night
A new clutch of chicks
Awaken to a cold dawn
The fox scents a chance
Potential new life
Excitement when waters break
New life brings us cheer
Six forever hours
Caressing a fading pulse
All cheer drains away
The weak shall inherit the earth
So it is written
Of course
When the strong are done with it
It will have lost its worth
A played out empty husk
A flooded desert
Then the meek can have it
Change
Ushered in with ceremony
To hide
The cracks and flaws
Assuage the fears
Distract attention
From the directors
In response to the daily prompt Ceremony
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I make cars
I always have
As did my father.
Prestige cars.
The most famous in the world
Made with pride.
Made with precision.
Made to last.
To shine and glide!
Every working day.
All the working hours.
My trusty hands create.
I may be steeped in habit
Tradition and old ways
But I trust in my own fate.
I support my family.
I support the plant.
And I support the land.
I pay my way my dues
while on my shoulders weighs
the burden that I support.
After all these years of toil
All my many dues.
Imagine my surprise, my boss.
I have given more than you!
In response to the daily prompt Famous
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Jealousy
A deadly sin
So we are taught
Over and over
Again
And when
We dare to question
The questionable ways
Of wealth and power
The smirk and hint
Jealousy
And the lessons rise
Prodding our conscience
Silencing our voices
With guilty pillows
Thus
Why we are taught
What we are taught
Is plain to see
The awkward stance
Where does it stem from
A lifetime of toil?
Injury?
Or the weight
Of the world?
In response to the daily prompt Awkward
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UPDATE – I have now started my own! It can be found here
I only found out about this today!
After all this time the Daily Post is sounding the Last Post and bidding us farewell.
Damn!
I need it! I will miss it! I need a push every day – I may not use it – may not do it every day – but it helps. A lot!
Retrospective? Well, all I will say is that there was a tie, a few years ago I came to the realisation that I had neglected my passion. I stopped writing. Once I realised I tried to start again. It was difficult. Very hard to gain momentum. That is where the Daily Post came to my rescue. It gave me the inspiration I needed.
Now it won’t be there.
I suspect I am not the only one sorry to see it go.
So I may start my own. I might just put up a prompt each day. Can’t provide the fancy screen that shows all the entries – if anyone else does use it but I will give it a go.
In the meantime – here’s a suitable poem.
Old light from the past
Is still illumination
Wisdom echoes far
In response to the daily prompt Retrospective
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The news chills today
The child killers found guilty
Will justice suffice?
In response to the daily prompt Guilty
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The assumption
Is consumption
Is needed
The beast needs feeding
So we can all be fed
Let’s
Eat the beast
Instead
In response to the daily prompt Assumption
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Here are my words
Not enough
To unburden
My crushed soul
Or move a mountain
Of stress
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Infected
With weariness
Watching the corruption
Until it becomes
Normality
And we shrug
And move on
Just as they planned
In response to the daily prompt Infect
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Rejecting the crowd
Is the same
Identical
Choice
As following the crowd
In response to the daily prompt Identical
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Ideas buried deep in the mind
Forgotten, beneath the rubbish
The everyday detritus
Fermenting
Until one day
The green shoot
Of inspiration
In response to the daily prompt Incubate
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A wrinkle by the eye
With a twinkle in
And that’s all you need to know
In response to the daily prompt Wrinkle
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Silence is Golden
Because it’s so very rare
Grab it while you can
In response to the daily prompt Noise
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We sympathise
We the victims
Put up or flags
And tokens
Banners on our home pages
All sincere
But nothing changes
No actions
Behind the thought
A slightly modified version of an older poem I did that benefits from the addition I think.
In response to the daily prompt Sympathize
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Words flow profusely
Anger pours freely
Action is stilted and slow
The world needs righting
In our minds, we are fighting
But to battles, we never go
Inaction just reaction
No satisfaction
This is a sign of the times
While all is disaster
We rush at it faster
Chiming protesting rhymes
In response to the daily prompt Profuse
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Try everything
Go on!
You know you want to.
And why not?
Get to the end of your life
And say proudly
I did it all!
I did it my way!
I tried it all!
No matter the cost
Ignore the cost
Such a small cost
Dripping away
Over and over
But ignore that
Don’t be square
Be cool!
Be the future
Not the past
Think of the Pleasure!
Ignore the cost
Think of the Achievement!
The dripping cost
Be cool!
Dripping into our funnel
Be a Winner
Dripping into our Hoard
In response to the daily prompt Conveyor
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There are holes
In everyone’s hearts
Some are big
Made by lives fulfilled
And long
Some are small
Short and brief
Somehow
The smaller
Hurt more
In response to the daily prompt Cavity
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I am drawn
By slightly parted lips
Swaying hips
Twinkling eyes
A smile
I am drawn
By an inkling
A slightly modified version of an older poem I did that benefits from the addition I think.
In response to the daily prompt Inkling
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There’s an advert running at present (in the UK) for pensions. It shows two of the same person working – with the tagline that having a workplace pension is like having another you working for your future.
If only. Recent history would suggest otherwise. With so many company pensions disappearing into black holes while inscrutable business owners get away with all the cash stashed away in their offshore accounts – you have to stop and question it.
Sure you have to prepare for your future – but it seems like a massive risk. When I started working we paid towards a state pension. But then the government privatised it all – handing it over to the free market. Their argument being that they would not be able to afford to pay out a pension in the future if they did not.
Which begs more questions. Why not – are the government that bad at managing finances? If it’s such a loss-making venture then why the hell would any business take it on?
They just keep inventing ways to screw us out of money. So the image of two of you working is accurate in one way. They can screw you doubly while you work.
In response to the daily prompt Inscrutable
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The trill of birdsong
Echoes down the green valley
Before the ice falls
In response to the daily prompt Trill
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The dominant theme
Of the modern movement
Is just that
To dominate
To be the best
No second place
No room for losers
Crush them
Squeeze then dry
That is is the song
Of our age
We seem to sing it
With joy
In response to the daily prompt Dominant
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One day
Tardy light
Will throw
All we know
Into darkness
And the scientists
Will begin again
With relish
In response to the daily prompt Tardy
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Can we be candid?
No
There it is
Politics
In response to the daily prompt Candid
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What a treat
What’s a treat
Stuck on the street
Tired feet
Treated like meat
Tired feet
Struck on the street
What’s a treat
What a treat
In response to the daily prompt Treat
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You are the land of the free
With your reservations
That shame us all
And teach us
If only you could learn that lesson
In response to the daily prompt Reservation
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The end of the conversation
Is the end of the line
The rising of the fires
Of hostility and ire
So keep talking
Keep talking
In response to the daily prompt Conversation
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Hear the music
Of the spheres
Calling
Feel
The irresistible
Attraction
Of the singularities
Pulling
See the twinkle
The burst of life
Shrouded in the
Nebulous mists
Here the roar
Of the silent yaw
Of space
Here the call
The dare
Will we share
In the song
Or crack
Our own end
In response to the daily prompt Calling
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I am in a quandary – what to do with this blog next year.
This year I set up prescheduled posts – three a day for a whole year! Then I posted each day as and when I could.
This has resulted in two things.
This got me thinking – how do I match it? How do I keep the momentum going?
Then I thought again. Do I want to?
I realised as I was trying to plan out a new schedule of posting I thought about what it meant. What was the reason for it?
Last year I wanted to increase my views – but the reason for that was to increase exposure of my books – and try and boost their sales. Sure I enjoy the writing and enjoy the challenges I have become a part of. It has helped build up a and strengthen a little network of fellow bloggers that I now value.
But it has had detrimental effects too. As mentioned it has filled my blog with reams of duplicate content. But worse – it has taken up all the precious writing time I had. All of it. This means I have done nothing else.
On top of that – it has not boosted my book sales at all. So it failed at its main aim.
So, I have decided that this year I will take a new approach. I will probably try and write every day – do Ronovan’s Haiku Challenge on Monday’s as well as something for the Daily Prompt. But, I am not going to get hung up on stats and trying to reach targets. I am going to step back and try and produce some more books. Another poetry collection, and maybe another collection of short stories.
But I won’t be disappearing.
The scarlet mountain
Hangs in the sky
The scarlet mountain
Lies
Through the blood
Of the mountain
All of us
Relate
This is the place
Dreams instantiate
Where the scarlet mountain
Dwells in the clouds
That is where
Hope flies
In response to the daily prompt Relate
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The compass has no compassion
The waves care not
The road goes on forever
Whatever your feet yearn
Rest is not an option
For the currents will always win
Only those that fly
Will win
In response to the daily prompt Compass
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William had a theory. It was to do with the way people learned. That was why he never told anyone The Secret. That was why he had to lead them to their own discovery.
But was that right?
Find out more. Follow four people who society could not break as they explore the very idea of rebellion – with action!
In response to the daily prompt Theory
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