The Confession Of An Unpopular Person

Nowadays I have a very few friends
and few more people who are confident
when they tell me how and what to think,
based on what they tell themselves.

For any person prepared to live on less
that is plenty to be going on with.

Whilst those with plenty to say,
who enjoy playing status games,
can, and will, repeatedly fill the air
with their opinions, and never tire
of filling the silences around them
I would rather the silence I live with
fill me and make me more replete in myself.

I wait, but I don't know on who or what
I wait on, certainly not the end of the world,
but the beginning of self sustaining quietude.    

The Fear Of Silence

 Is not new, and not even recent.

Since the earliest broadcasts,   
over a century ago,
the engineers of analogue radio
knew that broadcasting silence
was practically impossible;
the transmitter systems
would simply shut down
if they had no signal to carry.

What is less considered now,
and is how humans respond
to the immersive orgy
of information and choice
that is online, just waiting for us
in an infinite stream
or repetitious doom loop
that we have to learn to turn away from
if we are to be allowed to think clearly
and recognise each other.

Home

is a place that is more,
much more, than the sum of it's parts,
which becomes so drab when we take it apart,
which we sometimes have to, the better to resettle....

Tactile Dialogues

Noise often overwhelms me.
I feel lost in some silences too-
disengaged from who I am
by what I have to do.
Failure is what I taste
however much I try to apply myself.
I am most at ease in quiet engagement
with a physical materials. It is still not rest,
but a beginning of being calmer.
If the fruits of my small labours please some
and calm others after me what else matters?