where art collides philosoperontap

In Wray the pigeon is dead,
Martyred on a loop of fibre,
His old and inefficient ways,
Killed off by Doyle of cyber.

The ways of farmfolk perceived:
Rustic whirr of disaffection,
Dawned now the age of Internet,
Enlightening connection!

Oh city boys this killer,
Was 30 Meg symmetrical,
An epitaph, in words of rhyme
This last post, poetical.

For @cyberdoyle

If the road is closed and we get to our destination
Did we need it in the first place?
If we didn’t need it, why was it built?
What came first, the road or the demand for the road?

No Time
I saw it, yesterday
a romantic, bloodshot, clearview eyeful
was good, strolling comfortably by,
fat bellies in life absorbing tall grass,
careless, laughter filled country lanes;
four seasons of mud, snow, pollen and dust
of footprints and wet feet,
open fires and steaming socks
open windows and breathless nights,
slow passing cow curious days,
of tireless church bells
and life and inevitably death

elusive, in my grasp, but then gone
A dwindling presence reduced to a dribble,
dried up torrent,

it’s here now
no time show time
stop time go time
live for the finger snapping moment
in a high speed shutter blink life time
no room for musty routine,
cobwebs of convention
blow open windows of change
rattle cupboard doors and
spill empty glasses of conformity

but no, time has gone,
I should have quit while I was ahead.

The cosmos will die
A scientific certainty
I will die
The story of humanity
The ultimate question
A constant of futility
Temperature and pressure
Energy and entropy
Poetical expressions
Of irreversibility

The abandoned sandy shoe
Tells it’s own story
Though I never learnt
The language of leather

Cast off, lost
Confusing choice with
Carelessness and
Calamity it was

Washed up
Washed out
Wearerless and
Without a partner

The abandoned sandy shoe

inspired by a funkypancake photo