I stand half-apart
My heart
Distanced, from the fray.
I love the night.
But, sometimes, I pray
For the light
Of day.
Do I play
At art?
My heart
Does say
“Long
Before civilisation came
There was birdsong.
The birdsong
Will remain”.
Yesterday evening, Owen Jones (a Guardian columnist and supporter of the former leader of the British Labour Party, Jeremy Corbyn), posted the following tweet regarding books displayed on the shelves of Cabinet minister Michael Gove:
“Why does Michael Gove and his wife own a copy of a book by David Irving, one of the most notorious Holocaust deniers on earth”.
Whilst Jones is correct that Irving is a “holocaust denier”, ownership of a book in no way implies that the owner subscribes to the views propounded therein. As Stephen Pollard points out in “The Jewish Chronicle”, to understand views with which one profoundly disagrees, one must read works that express those opinions, (see https://www.thejc.com/comment/comment/one-stupid-tweet-by-owen-jones-confirms-all-you-need-to-know-about-the-hard-left-1.499433).
Other than poetry and works of fiction, my own bookshelves contain:
V. I. Lenin’s “The State and Revolution”,
Karl Marx’s “The Communist Manifesto”,
Engels “Socialism: Utopian and Scientific”,
Lord Kenneth Baker’s “The Faber Book of Conservatism”,
Lord David Willetts “Modern Conservatism”,
J. S Mill’s “On Liberty”,
Herbert Spencer’s “The Man Versus the State”
And various other works of politics, including writings by the Anarchist theorist Proudhon.
What should one conclude from the above? That I am a Anarchist/Conservative/Marxist/Libertarian? or that, as a student of politics I have an interest in political theory?
My bookcase also contains “The Selected Poems of Rudyard Kipling”. Does my possession of this book make me a racist/imperialist or whatever other word careless people might choose to fling around with gay abandon?
In short, the possession of books does not imply that the possessor agrees with the views being expressed. Indeed (in my own case) where I to subscribe to all the opinions contained in the books on my shelves I would be a highly confused individual in need of serious psychological help!
If anyone of my readers would care to share what lives on their shelves, I would, of course be interested to know. Although I promise not to draw any sweeping conclusions about you!
When a young lady of a philosophical bent
Invited me into her leaky old tent,
And she said, “men are full of lust,
And we are all but whirling dust”.
I said, “you should fix this leaking tent!”.
Physicists say
That all this
Will, one day,
Fade away.
”Tis
A sobering thought,
So perhaps I ought
To stay
In bed today?
But the universe
Is still here
And, I fear
That verse
Does not pay.
Therefore I must
Put aside thoughts of whirling dust,
And go about my mundane day.
In the latter part of this week, London was visited by some heavy downpours.
I have always been a lover of the rain. And the recent heavy showers reminded me of my poem “Raining”, which is reproduced below:
“I awoke to the rain
Drumming on my window pane.
Opening my lattice, I let it in:
The purifying water that washes away sin.
The hypnotic sound
Of rain falling all around.
All my life, I have listened to the rain.
The same drumming
Of water coming
From the sky
Falling on you and I.
The rain has no end;
But you and I, my friend,
May listen for a while,
Smile,
Then pass on by”.
For a recording of me reading “Raining”, please visit, https://soundcloud.com/kevin-stephen-morris/raining-1.
“Raining” can be found in my “Selected Poems”, which is available as a Kindle download and in paperback, and is accessible here, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/.
A cold day in May.
Where has the spring gone?
Yet, the flowers live on.
He confessed:
“She has hair extensions,
And other things best
Not to mention.
And the lays
She plays
Are as old as humanity.
You wouldn’t take her to meet mother
For tea,
For she
Is not that kind of a lover.
And the song she sings,
And other things,
Would cause disention.
She takes cabs everywhere.
And her hair
Has extentions
(As I have already mentioned).
She can never stay for long
And her song
I shall not mention
Lest it cause contention
Amongst those who would object
To, and reject,
Girls with hair extensions”.
I drink my wine,
As evening gently falls.
And listen to bird calls.
Their poetry, far surpasses mine.
At a time meant for dolls
A boy, almost twice her age . . .
Her texts lack many LOLS.
Now they engage
Beneath the quilt.
Should he feel guilt?
She is no girl now,
But a woman of legal age.
He wonders how
And why?
Inwardly heaves a sigh,
And pays.
Those who would deny
That we are all hypocrites to some extent,
Should repent
Of their lie!
A few,
Its true
Maybe naive,
And themselves deceive.
Yet I
Say that most men, deliberately lie.
So I
Will try
Not to condemn
Other men
Lest they should find me out
And, from the church rooftops shout,
“Sir, you also, lie!”.
Some possess the art
To conceal, within their heart,
Their own hypocrisy. But conscience or fear
Does, in their nightmares shout,
“Your fellow man may find you out!”.
K Morris - Poet 