pinball (25/April/18)

light falls aching from the heart of the sun
bleeding, feeding
space is open for business, in-filled,
filling in the blanks and gaps, oozing it clogs the arteries, almost,
wrapping holes in tangible veils, trails
of streamers, streams of trailers, traffic jams,
no room for errors, no country for old men, random
nests scattered orderly in canopies
to the left of me
the right of me
stuck in the middle, tolerate thy neighbour a branch away
branching out it sways disconcertedly in solar winds,
solar sails, solar plexus puffed up in mock display
chlorophyll fingers of yellow and green, green to gold, brown
to dead for everything a season, reason, rhythm
and rhyme, rock ‘n’ roll long-lived aging bark as
night falls aching from the heart of the moon
and all too soon it’s all over now baby blue when
it had only just begun
and it’s not even June
wane, wane, done and dusted, ash to ash, hand to mouth
time stubs its cold remains out on a convenient arm, a scar
regarded as a spoil of war, a brag, a boast, a toast, boiled
in oil a sky pours down like mercury another century and
we’ll be born Methuselahs, sensory overload infiltration, bloated
deprivation, expectations dashed, a pinch of salt
over the shoulder
off the shoulder
off the cuff
over the cuckoo’s nest
ends are lurking in beginnings, loaded guns, unexploded bombs,
day falls louder than the ear can ever hear,
that deaf, dumb and blind kid sure played
a mean pinball.

© 2018 robert greig

recycling sleep (24/April/18)

napping, in the middle of the day… it’s recycling sleep, unused from the night before or the night before that, or eve from the week gone… sleep isn’t lost, just stored, like apples over winter for use later when times are hard or you really have a craving for apple sauce… apples that is, not sleep……it’s likely to have lost some of its vigour (sleep that is, not apples), even lustre, and may or may not come with a dream, but if it should then it too will be largely if not entirely recycled… deconstructed and reconstituted into something not quite but almost…… a night-dream wouldn’t fit into a day-dream, the scale’s all wrong… like trying to squeeze an elephant into a thimble: the elephant would have to be mighty small or the thimble mighty huge and that would just be surrealism gone mad and as surreal as day-dreams can be, sometimes disturbingly so, none can realistically reach those giddy heights and would be taking recycling sleep far too far…

© 2018 robert greig

grexit to brexit (20/April/18)

I’ve written a lot recently about the dreaded ‘Brexit’ and the pantomime it has and continues to be since the day the word ‘brexit’ was regrettably coined, it’s a comedy of errors that will it seems run and run, like one of the TV soap operas that are well past their use-by date but continue with mind-numbing banality… a word which derives, as much as it can, from its original context in ‘Grexit’, which referred to Greece proposing and then ultimately leaving European Monetary Union, though they do remain a member of the EU (European Union), the governing body that grew out of the Common Market established in 1957 from the Treaty of Rome and morphing into the EU in 1993, a year after monetary union was enacted as a voluntary Europe-wide replacement currency union (hence, the ‘euro’) of any member State wishing to join…

phew, ok, we got that out of the way (for now), now where was I… oh yes….. the term Grexit is a catenation, albeit clumsy one, of ‘Greece’ and ‘exit’, in part as exit isn’t a Greek word but derived from Latin and now commonly an English word… Greece joined the monetary union at a time their economy was on shaky ground thinking it would bolster it but over a very short time find it ineffective, not least because taxes are anathema in Greece, so they then decided to pull out and reinstate their own currency and still their economy remains shaky, not least because taxes are anathema in Greece… a simplification admittedly but essentially so… and from this evolved the even more so calamitous catenation of ‘brexit’ and although I’m all for language evolving and being fluid this is a word I wish was never born…

… the UK, which includes Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, Isle of Man, England and Gibraltar joined in 1973, or the Common Market as it was then, and last year in 2017, largely on the submissive whim of kowtowing to right-wing extremism and a vociferous anti-immigration lobby held a referendum on whether to remain in the EU or leave which, among a 72% turnout, resulted narrowly to leave, 51.9% to 48.1%… and so was adopted the term ‘brexit’, which sounds more like an unsavoury breakfast cereal overdosed with sugar, over-processed with preservatives and padded-out with dried milk…

brexit itself being a misnomer as it implies just Britain and not the UK, but I suppose ‘UKxit’ wouldn’t have been as catchy, as like I said previously these islands contain four distinct countries and not simply as some in other parts of the world believe is all England… and ‘brexit’ has since been expanded from its Greece origins to imply leaving the EU entirely and not just a monetary union, of which the UK has never adopted….

… the word has grown linguistically and culturally like a disease, a parasite, a divider of peoples, a behemoth of destructive proportions, and is simultaneously used as a verb, “to Brexit”, “brexiting (the act of leaving) Europe”; a noun, “a Brexit deal”; an adjective, “a Brexit approach”; even a collective, “brexiteers” (advocates for leaving)… not to mention ‘brexititis’ (Brexit as seen as an illness, likely terminal), and ‘brexitologist’ (one who studies Brexit)… although I did make up those last two, but they could be……

… writing about it is like a purging, trying to get my head around the whole Brexit sham(bles), at the same time I feel my whole being groan and ache and crumble inwards at its pyroclastic momentum and corrosive fallout… it’s like trying to contain a jack-in-the-box as this tiny word is turning increasingly synonymous with immigration, intolerance, racism, insularity and worrying nationalism… worry not dear reader, not all my blogs from hereon in will be so burdensome, now time for coffee… … …

© 2018 robert greig