As Easy As Dreams

Eugene Polley died today,
he invented the remote control,
the device which makes the armchair
life more luxurious, and television
viewing as easy as dreams.
Many could say his invention
was a nifty bit of engineering,
if they cared enough, or
knew how these things are made.

He did well to make inactivity
so enticing, and passivity
so quietly passive to the point
that by merely pushing buttons
we can instantly summon,
and dispose of, millions
of temorary, faked, worlds.

He could have been a figure
from a Philip K. Dick dystopia,
he has remade us that way.

It Takes Grit To Get Through Life

If you see the planet as your oyster
you may well see yourself it's pearl.
As you, do appreciate you are made
of the dust of the earth, made round
and bright, for being polished under water.
Reflect long and gently, with humility,
on the duller forms of sand, who
for lack of shine muddily reflect
each other. They are as dependent
as you on that shell, for their shelter.
 
.

The Dyslexia Fairy

One of my best friends
is my dyslexia fairy,
who before I could write
used to give me a sixpence
in exchange for the baby teeth
I left for her under my pillow.
Now I am grown up
her job is to transpose
my letters as I write online-
where my words are easiest read-
and bless me with her typos
when my concentration flags.
Long may we have
a fruitful relationship.

The Comforts Of The Night

Saint Augustine prayed nightly
to be freed of 'the glue of lust',
or nocturnal emissions. He did
not even pray for a person to be
glued to, in affirming companionship.
His prayers were answered
by his coming to believe that since
he could not control his emissions
the way he controlled his prayers,
by intent, his ejaculations were not sin,
and his prayers were aspirations
to absolute celibacy were as beyond him
as grace was beyond human virtue.

Praying as an everyday wanker
I would say to my maker
of the nightly emanations
of my imagination 'Thank you
for them being where they are,
in my head, and for the grace
of what I see not being real,
nor in front of me wanting
breakfast in the morning. Amen'.
I admit my unease
in up close relationships.

The nightly emanations I trust
the most are from the BBC,
World Service Radio
telling me what I didn't know,
that when I wake up I won't remember.

Sophistication

is to sophistry what charm is to lies;
both make what would be better
resisted all to easy to accept.

Representative Democracy;

is fog and mirrors,
writ large on public life.
It is at best it is a circular
motion, like pork barrel politics
where people exchange
the passivity being kept
for the active hope
of being listened to,
for having the vote.

A politician acting
against the pressures
of their media advisers,
their gate-keepers, on
a platform of reform
will never last without
appeasing the old interests
they are trying to act against.

At The Cliches Olympics

millions of brain cells
died like lemmings
as people's eyes were glued
to the screens: Television
was everywhere, in private
and public. It regurgitated
ad nauseum every familiar
tick and twitch of the everyday
culture of the last sixty years,
where The Queen of Banalities
and dysfunctional family values
had ruled. Now her reign,
which was going on and on
and on seemed so much longer.