a vignette of a moment in time up the gwyndu

 a vignette of a moment in time up the gwyndu 

don’t look but 

there it is the behind path

below the earth field

a stream gutters

footfall uncertain 

but the way is known

it was long ago

but the dark path

wanders still in my mind

with a certain sadness 

the reason for which i cannot recall

other than the usual childhood reasons 

my regrets these days are a house of cards  

remember the punch & judy man did not show

where rumour had him

in the earthen park with the high wire fence 

rusted holes

back on that behind path 

stopped

all the back gates locked against the dark

the chapel a silhouette against the moon 

by my right ear the school bell

above the cobblers shop

opposite john shops

who kept chickens 

the tadpoles have arrived

maybe this year

just maybe

memories of one’s memories of one’s parents

 memories of one’s memories of one’s parents

they were memories

even before they were

they were growing memories 

in an indefinite proportion 

to their child’s aging 

you would think their basis

for the role of a memory 

ended when they died

but during their telling

by their children to their children

they metamorphosed

in the grit of an eye’s blinking

 

THIS

 THIS

one

sorrow 

pulled up

beached like a seal

sunning on the rocks of

your rapidly drying tears

no man is an island

so many moons

but this

one

ever thought about the thought that

 ever thought about the thought that

the self-awareness switch 

does it laugh at itself

for turning itself on

and the replicator

named procreation

what a laugh that started

something might think

again and again

being aware that there is no point

might just be the point

redundancy is such a waste

don’t you think

perhaps

 perhaps

i think sometimes 

that perhaps

i am a little weird

i sometimes think

does that make me 

a little weird

perhaps 

i sometimes just think that

perhaps

i am just perhaps 

self-bastardisation

 self-bastardisation 

the ambivalence of man’s

love hate relationships

with his inner depravement

and the depravement of the gods 

that his depravement chooses

for there is no road down

from the volcano 

damned if you do

damned if you don’t

upon the horns of the devil

a true dilemma bleeds

stand up or be discounted 

oh i forgot

 oh i forgot

sooner or later 

after you are dead

no one will remember you

or me

the sun is a fickle friend

later or much later

its will be done

now where was i