how long it’s been (25/July/18)

how long
how long
how long it has been since
this happened then and that happened when
and for what I was there
and for what I was not
it seemed such a long
such a long time again ago
and just getting longer and further away
and further
and further away
becoming a memory, history, past,
a time when a time was different from now
when then was the now
but now it is not
collecting dust
preening in rust
forming a crust in the back of my mind
what was I
where was I
who was I then
and am I the same since how long it’s been
I thought I would write
a semblance of prose
without any reason, planning or rhyme
but now it’s become
a trickle of lines
in search of a hint of
the curse of the verse
when all that I wondered was
how long it’s been
since this happened then and that happened when
surprised by the years
flowing like water
troubled and otherwise
under the bridge
but now I don’t know where I started.

© 2018 robert greig

trippin’ (20/July/18)

I’ve been trippin’……

… down memory lane, that is, not sure I’d recommend it especially as a form of therapy although to some rebirthing seems to be and isn’t that just the same thing, following the breadcrumbs, retracing ones steps only to find some bugger’s got there first with a clean broom…. it’s a double-edged sword though, mind your step, mind the gap, and while you’re at it mind your manners and most definitely mind how you go, it’s a veritable minefield of remembered, half-remembered, half forgotten, long forgotten, woebegotten, ill-gotten fancy-free and fanciful and oh my god I really had that hair… though not so much the latter in my case having lost most of mine slightly prematurely…. in fact it’s not unlike trying to find follicles on a bald pate, few needles or even straw in tis haystack…… wondering where they are now, not my follicles, they’re gone with the wind, names, how many are even still alive (again, not my follicles, they’re dust to dust)…..
… I suppose it was the sudden appearance of this Alumni magazine from my old alma mater in the heady days and daze of the ‘undergrad years’ …… it was fairly intense, much a blur, manic and wayward, starting as one thing and ending another, a constant battle of balance between academia and hedonism… I definitely gave the scales a headache… all the best intentions became increasingly unintentional as I stumbled and fumbled and bumbled from one clue to the next not really wondering what would happen next until it happened next and by then there was another next on the horizon lurking and looming……
… I went as a mature student, the only way given the normal path of educational attainment wasn’t shiningly educationally attained so I slipped in under the wire on age while feigning maturity, or a definition of…… I suppose I’m just nosy, wanting to know what happened next with anyone I knew, even though embarrassingly I don’t even remember all their names… shocking!…… faces yes, mostly, sometimes I never even knew their full name, just a first or a nickname so reclaiming them from my wonky historical hangover would be somewhat Herculean… who am I kidding, there’s little hope really but… you never know… actually it’s the obituaries in the back of the magazine that spurred this, not an auspicious beginning to a quest I realise as time crashes inexorably onward they become increasingly going, going, gone….
… but why even bother?… I should kept notes, a regular diary perhaps, details, dates and yes names, took more photos… hindsight is a wonderful if not annoying reminder to what’s irretrievable…… they say we should always learn from the past, well, this is mine, the good, the bad, the ugly, or part of it anyway…… they also say curiousity killed the cat, though I am puzzled as to why that should be the case, but reason, logic, definitely overrated……

© 2018 robert greig

a change is as good as (13/March/18)

the mountains looked quite solemn tonight…
as though they were mourning… what?… who?… I couldn’t say, and neither were they instead choosing to stay stolidly mute…
I don’t think they care if I know or anyone for that matter, or not… it’s their thing, their weight, their burden……
I can’t believe those who when asked if there’s anything in their life up to this point that if they could go back they’d change will answer, “not a thing”… really?… not one thing?… not a jot?… have they lead such a charmed life or perhaps wrapped up in some smug delusional perfect imperfection?…
no one can be that content…
this is then often qualified with, “if I did I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I did change anything”, with a strangled self-satisfied smile and quite possibly at the same time thinking the polar opposite…. I couldn’t think of a better reason to go back and change a musty shed-load of things accompanied by a groan, a wince and a grimace… Groan, Wince and Grimace, sounds like a firm of solicitors… or undertakers!… not to mention Mr Sigh, entering stage left tripping over his own impotent exhalation…
perhaps these contentophiles are much better at self-delusion or merely surrendered to the inevitable, that of the unchanging and haunting fossilised past… perhaps change itself is the delusion (oops, sweeping that statement under the carpet methinks)… you can’t change the past, obviously, but also you can’t change the future as some claim, because it hasn’t happened… all you can do is manipulate possible outcomes, and this isn’t changing anything…… can you change the present?… ah yes, the holy grail, the here and now, the what is happening right now… and now… and now… you’d have to be quick, fleet of foot, faster than sound and light and even thought (can anything travel quicker than thought?),less than split seconds, seconds split finer than your split-ends to tinker with.. but it’s too late!… you missed it… and missed that one too… maybe wait for the next one… nope, you missed that one too…… how on earth is one to change what’s happening against these odds?…
the mountains know this, sitting there all confident and stern and wintry grey, decidedly unmoved by such frivolous foibles…

© 2018 robert greig