we’re all born geniuses
every baby is a genius

as children we are geniuses
then as youths we begin

to worry and to covet

we try hard to be like everyone else
we try hard not to be like everyone else

we lose
our genius


she to me sings
and hope i
that never she does stop

without her am alone i
am i what?

the pen am i
the hand hers
anothers again the song

of metaphors mixed
between betwixt
the other and the one


in my travels
long and hard

sad and frightened
i was

on and off

many times in great company
the wildest tales of even wilder lives

in my travels
long and hard

i lost myself
and found others

my tongue curved and carved
from the new shapes and sounds

survival forced upon it

in arabia i was arab
in spain i was spanish
in france i was french
and in germany i was… follow the pattern!

returned i finally to old england
which now was a new old england
my tongue regained the english shapes and sounds

but my english i was lost forever

alone and separated from the worlds
and delights

that had forced from me

i look up
and greet the stars
in all the tongues i have

none express the beauty
and yet all

perhaps lead me closer

to the stars language

the shapes and sounds my tongue will learn
when finally i am lost forever
and something new and old refound again
(for the first and last time?)

language is all
language is all

language is all we have


we are yogis
we are ascetics

we are hedonists
we are libertines

and bound by nothing

a wild unfettered discipline

and a tightly held freedom

our lives
the canvas
the paint
the paintbrush

ours is not the job of the hand

we steady ourselves
within the chaotic whirl

and unbalance
the perfect structure

the hand that paints
and its eye that we never see

need all colours for their masterpiece


my dreams reach up
much further
than my hands can

my eyes follow my dreams too
but weaken
and fail

my dreams continue on
beyond my reach
beyond my life

where they go
only dreams
can ever know


we call out

in joy
in lust
in search

a plea

we scream out
in fear
or despair

our shouts of praise
and amazement

of hate
and other things

reverberate in the mountains
and the returning echos

our own voices

confirm to us
the words we spoke


how i love you
you are everything to me
without you i would have nothing

no matter how i try
i can’t take my mind off of you

to see you happy
to see you fulfilled
my ultimate goal…


the delegate of the holy temple
arrived one morning

to the surprise of the couple

astrological signs
had indicated
that their son

was the chosen one

he was taken from them
trained and prepared
in the arts of chosenness

crowds flocked
to touch
or even see
the feet
of the boy

miracles were reported
wherever he went

a halo could clearly be seen
by those who could clearly see it

the boy was a phenomenon


by all

one day
the priests realised there had been a mistake
with the atrological charts

the real chosen one
was another

some wished to avoid scandal
but the purists won out

announcing a mistake
human not divine

the boy was officially unchosen

the other chosen in his place

many accepted this
as they would accept anything

but there were some who were

of these
believed that
the first boy
must have been
the chosen one

why else the miracles?

they rallied to reinstate him

a smaller group
saw that


the divinity
of the boy
had been

not real

maybe divinity itself

a very small few
who were the temples
natural enemies

seized upon events
prised open the growing crack

and the edifice of the temple

crumbled and fell


a journalist once ask the famous man
‘do you ever wish you had had children?’


replied the famous man

‘my books are my children.
my films are my children.

i raise myself and teach myself like a son,
and the community at large is my daughter.

so many have flesh and blood offspring
yet lack what i have.

the real nature
of parenthood

is lost on them…’

One thought on “MINI POEMS”

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