Listening to commercial radio
The warblers come and go.
Photogenic girls fill my brain
With the same
Or similar sound.
Autumn leaves strew the ground.
I reach for the off switch.
Oh what bliss!
In the garden a bird calls.
Leaves whirl and fall
And the warbling is lost, beyond recall.
As I walked through the trees
a soft breeze
Stirred the fallen leaves.
A girl was there
with golden hair.
Light as a feather she flew
into mine arms true.
The scent of the forest she wore.
Her clothes blended with the woodland’s russet floor.
“I can not stay
for my father, winter is on his way”,
she did say.
The sky turned grey
and winter did bay
As a ravenous wolf
who would the earth engulf.
I felt her father’s icey hand
laid firm upon the land.
His command
is law.
I must see his daughter no more.
But winter must sleep
And out his children will creep.
The lover I adore
I will see her once more!
The young man preens
And dreams
Of girls in frocks
Who lose their socks
The young girl thinks of fast cars
of fumbling hands
And broken bras.
The middle aged man ponders on his misspent youth
On wonky car seats
and a girl called Ruth.
The middle aged lady takes her husband’s hand
As they stroll contentedly along the sand.
As a blogger I rely on the internet. I don’t think about it often. Rather like the driver who knows very little about cars I just get into the driving seat and drive. As with the driver in the above example, I know little about how the engine (internet) works but I trust that the manufacturer (my Internet Service Provider or ISP) will get me safely, from A to B without incident. Unfortunately as with vehicles, so with the internet, things can (and do) go wrong. In this case spectacularly so – my ISP (TalkTalk) has been hacked, (http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/talktalk-cyber-attack-company-accused-of-cover-up-following-reports-customers-targeted-a-week-before-a6707091.html). The incident is shocking as the Chief Executive, Dido Harding has been reported as saying that she is uncertain as to whether key customer information (including bank details) where encrypted on the TalkTalk servers. As the head of a company entrusted with the data of around four million customers I, in my naivety would assume that chief executives should be cognisant of such matters. That is why they receive salaries which the vast majority of their customers will never see in a lifetime.
The above incident is the third such in a period of twelve months. Either TalkTalk is incredibly unlucky (but not as unlucky as it’s hapless customers) or a worrying degree of incompetence is at work here. I have my suspicions as to which one it is.
A close friend of mine (a former AOL customer, as AOL was subsumed into TalkTalk) is in the process of moving to another ISP and I am strongly minded to follow his example.
I remain in a state of disbelief that a security breech of this magnitude could take place not once, not twice but three times in a time-frame of some twelve months. Stable doors should be shut prior to (not after) the horse has bolted but TalkTalk appear to be desperately attempting to fasten the door long after the beast has departed.
A lack of musak.
No ghost, for spirits are immaterial as the wind
and here is a material world.
Aisles empty as the minds of the robots who patrol
for security has no soul.
Automated tills say
“have a nice day”
in a voice as caring
as the check out girl who is inwardly swearing
at her bloke,
“the guys a f..k joke”!
“Big Issue?”
the girl outside the store asks.
it’s a hopeless task
For the issue has been lost
and tossed
with the needles and dodgy cash
into the trash
Long ago.
Clubbers admire the snow, so pure and white.
It will be a delightful night.
Out of mind, out of sight
It is sometimes remarked by those who do not care for poetry that it is difficult to understand. However this certainly can not be said of the below poem, “The Old Familiar Faces” by the poet, Charles Lamb.
—
The Old Familiar Faces By Chaarles Lamb
I have had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days,
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies,
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I loved a love once, fairest among women;
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her —
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man;
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
Ghost-like, I paced round the haunts of my childhood.
Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father’s dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces —
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Several days ago, I fell into conversation with an acquaintance while enjoying a convivial pint in my favourite pub. During our chat he mentioned that the charity shop in which he volunteers has received a 24 volume set of the 1969 encyclopedia britannica. The person in charge of the shop was minded to send encyclopedia britannica for pulping, for which the charity would receive a small payment.
I (along with my acquaintance) where horrified at the thought of this work of reference being destroyed in such a manner. The book is in good condition. Granted much of the content is out of date but that to my mind adds to the intrinsic interest of the work. It is fascinating to look back at how our understanding of the world has changed. For example anyone opening the 1969 encyclopedia britannica will find the Soviet Union portrayed in all it’s “glory” together with references to Persia which, of course no longer exists. Again the explanation of computers is very outdated which adds to the historical interest of the 1969 encyclopedia britannica.
Leaving aside the beauty of the book (it’s binding etc), the work is a collectors item. encyclopedia britannica is no longer available in a print edition (at least in it’s traditional form of many volumes occupying much shelf space) and has been replaced by an online portal, Britannica.com. Looking online for encyclopedia britannica, I found the 1969 edition is available on Ebay at an asking price of £323. Consequently quite apart from the barbarity of trashing this piece of history the book is, in fact much more valuable in tact rather than as pulp.
I haven’t bumped into my acquaintance since our conversation regarding encyclopedia britannica. I sincerely hope that when we next meet he will impart the news that the 1969 encyclopedia britannica has found a good home on a bibliophile’s bookshelves!
Kevin
“Jump in
and swim.
The water is cold
but the bold
will find gold
in the dank cave
which the brave
mermaid
may explore”.
Mermen adore
the rocky sea floor
and will implore
you to play
as the day
darkens.
The wise mermaid harkens
to the gull
who cries above,
“it is not love.
‘Tis better to stay on the sand warm
than have your heart torn
asunder
by mermen who plunder”.
The waves thunder
And the mermaid does wonder
About gold dust
Lust
And sin.
The reaper moves
In time with the pendulum.
No rush
Or fuss
He has plenty of time.
My patient friend
whose tick portends
my inevitable end.
You rest in state
on my bookcase.
Tick tock
I can not stop
time’s sithe.
None can survive
his cut.
Though in a cupboard my clock be shut
death can not be put
aside
The sickle chops
And the heart will, one day, stop.
The hoary
old Tory
finds glory
in the upper house.
his socialist spouse
drinks champagne
and cudgels her brains
about the renationalisation of trains.
Their Communist girl
Her head in an idealistic whirl
Buys expensive clothes
For she knows
That money on ancient trees grows.
And so the world goes!
K Morris - Poet 