I was meaning to ask .......

Mum….
I meant to ask you.
But you being dead
These 22 years made that
A little hard and before
Well, thats another story

I wondered you see
Since I am so uncertain on the matter
As to whether you ever loved me?
When little I tried to show you
That I loved you but
You pushed me away, stopped me talking.

I thought it time
To ask: I may be
Coming by quite soon
And knowing that
You like to think about
Things, I ask ahead of time.

I know, when you were dying
I was only 500 miles away
I could only visit once a month, no money,
A new wife, pregnant with our first and only child.
Ironic, don’t you think, that you find me
Crushed under the wheels of karma

This is another of those "best not to publish" works 17:10 Sat 30th Jan 2010.

A Funny Old Life

Fin de cycle

The cooking of food for your father, eating food prepared by your son - these are important events in a man's life.

I never cooked for my father .... given that he was a chef of some renown, and terribly demanding of the kitchens of the hotel's he ran, I would not have dared. There was a time when I was getting to know him well enough to think of mustering the courage but then he died, very suddenly. I have always, somewhat wistfully, regretted that missed opportunity.

Tonight my son cooked the dinner. He tackled a dish I have never tried to prepare, Gumbo, and made an excellent job of it.

I feel very proud of him and extremely glad that we had the opportunity to experience this joint rite of passage.

The Gumbo weren't bad either ........

A Funny Old Life

Attack of the killer green blobs

I see her name
With Green beside it
The first time in many months

I jangle with emotion
Twice I open a box to type
Twice I close it, message unsent

I am blocked on
All her accounts
Bar this one, rarely used

Is she trying to tell
Me something
Or chatting to a relative in Oz

I gave my word

I shall not

A Funny Old Life

The end of a funny old life

I felt the chill in my bones way back in early December. It no longer disappears when I am warm and has become an ache. Tonight its uncomfortable enough that I cannot sleep. I know this for what it is.....

The disease, it would appear, has not gone dormant but has spread to its other favourite haunt, the bone marrow.

This also means that time has become short. I don't know whether to post this or not. Do I spare my friends from what may just possibly be my fears? I shall not post it but time and date it below. I suspect it may be one of several.....

Written 05:05 Sunday 17th january 2010

Musings during connection deprivation Part 1

I have come to love
This child inside of me
I love him since he has this enormous
Sense of fun, almost devilment

He cavorts in my thoughts
Making mischievous suggestions
At highly inappropriate times

The protector, well
A bit difficult really
Respect the competence, the relentlessness
But I don't always like it
My conscience drives
Which when you know how I drive
Is quite worrying

I think ethical self determination might be the best word
Twisted by the need to stabilise, to survive
Self Control Freak, I salute you

So in amongst this, who am I
This integrating meta-being
This will o the wisp
This analogue cipher
In a digital life
This spirit oft damped
As playfulness fought with duty
The collateral damage?

I do know I am a calming voice
When my thoughts are tumultuous
It is I that calms me, not adventure, not control

For I am love

A Funny Old Life

Dont try this at home ..........

The M74 in a dangerously slippery condition at 2 am.

If you don't know how to drive on snow at more than 5 mph, specifically: if you haven't been taught how and don't have the right vehicle (hint - this isn't a 3 ton 4x4) - don't try to learn on the highway. In fact.......

Just don't do it.

Someone sent me this a while back.......

SONNET XLV
DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,
because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here,
dying?