Time life conundrum

Snatching glimpses from the window of a speeding train.
Life flashes before us much too fast for our tiny brain.

In our vague attempt to latch onto the tangible. We create our future, crude or something rather incredible.

If the accelerating blur becomes definite,
We step off the train and into the infinite.

Watch as the blur accelerates towards oblivion.

Interpreting patterns, signs of our limited vision.

Interpret we must the exact moment of absolute clarity.

We will understand the full extent of our incredible ability.

Focus all sight on the far off horizon line.

The blur will all unite and start to clearly align.

Get used to the blinding speed of lifes events.

Later there will be much time to think, lament.

Take it slow, focus your vision on all the detail.

You will then decipher life through a complicated veil.

2006. 

VICE

WHAT IS THIS THAT WE CALL A VICE ?
THAT FOULS OUR MIND LIKE LEGEONS OF LICE.

A TINY INSIGNIFICANT THOUGHT,
OVERWHELMS OUR MIND AS OUR SOUL IS BOUGHT.

OUR PALMS SPREAD UP OUR HEADS FORWARD BENT.
AS WE AGAIN HEAD TOWARDS FROM WHENCE WEVE BEEN SPENT.

ONCE MORE WE LOOK TO CAREFULLY PREPARE
THE BLACKHOLE WE KNOW WILL LEAD TO DESPAIR.

THIS TINY PROBLEM IS UNDER CONTROL WE THINK.
AS WE SLOWLY STRETCH OUR PALM FOR THE NEXT SMALL DRINK.

QJD – 2006
COPYRIGHT

BITTER

BITTER MAN , BITTER FEARS
BITTER THOUGHTS , BITTER IDEAS.

BITTER MOUTH , BITTER VOICES
BITTER EYE , BITTER CHOICES.

BITTER OUTLOOK , BITTER SPEECH.
BITTER PERSON , BITTER PEACH.

BETTER IGNORE, BETTER SHUN,
BETTER LEAVE, BETTER RUN.

QJD – 2005
COPYRIGHT

PASSIVE BEAUTY

WICKEDNESS BREEDS
WHERE ARROGANCE SUCCEEDS.

JEALOUSY CONTEMPT
LIFE FORCE SPENT.

WITH ANGER AND HATE
DEATH YOUR FATE.

WHIMSY DECIDE
GO WITH THE TIDE.

GO AGAINST THE FLOW.
ENEMIES YOU WILL KNOW.

CONTENTED KIND
YOURSELF FIND

SIMPLE IS PURE
THE MEEK ENDURE.

QJD – 2007
copyright

INSOMNIA

The mind won’t switch off thought runs deep.
Between soundly awake yawning wide asleep,

Ideas float past like a ship in a storm,
unaccounted rows of sheep dejected forlorn.

Concepts dissolve mind struggles to conceive,
Persevere we must , rest we struggle to achieve.

"annihilate don’t procrastinate" chants through the mind
driven forward for solace, sleeps elusive summit to find.

The oppressive air is now sparse very thin,
the night reaps closer prospects appear grim.

A new day emerges beyond night’s swirling storm.
Thoughts, the mindset every decision seems torn.

The pasts future challenges opportunities missed.
One foot must simply pass the next, as we plod headlong into the abyss.

QJD : 09 / 2006. - COPYRIGHT

Earth Dust Mother

"Oh Earth Dust Mother"

Are you not itching and scratching now
with the open sores of the terminal mankind virus.

As they all callously crawl over your surface,
with their thick tar concrete encrusted carbunkles.

Harvesting all your resources and destructively setting them to work against you.

The scourge of his many cities, flake on your surface. Like scabbies and boils, blighting your virgin soil.

Man's taming of the wild, is to now simply massacre absolutely every single living creature, plant & organism. As he destructively deep mines your depths for perceived feckless value. When Mankind's altruistic balance of his collective, is much, much greater than his current innate destructive nature. We will start to overthrow this vicious mankind virus deep within your psychic and our veins.

Now simply, we awate the antidote of understanding with patience, as this viscious collective virus runs its imbecelic destructive course. 

Until the inevitable ancient written cure, i currently feel your deep pain.

"My Earth Mother"

Tarquin J Oarsmad. : 2008.

DERELICT SEA COTTAGE

OH WHAT SECRETS AN OLD SEA COTTAGE COULD TELL.
SALTY WALLS WOULD KNOW THESE SECRETS WELL.
WHISPERING TIMES OF HEAVEN & TIMES OF HELL.
A DECAYED AIRE ALONG WITH A MUSTY SMELL.
AS I AMBLE THROUGH YOUR DELAPIDATED SHELL.
IMAGINING WEARY TRAVELERS RINGING YOUR BELL.
TO THE FAMILIES LIVES BEFORE THEY HAD TO SELL.
THE JUBULANT CRY OF A CELEBRATED YELL.

TO THE DEEP DEPRESSION OF A FINANCIAL LULL.
THE CONFIDENTAIL TALK OF A FAITHFUL PALL.
TO THE PLAINTIFF CRY OF A LONESOME GULL.

HOWEVER THE STORIES WITHIN YOUR OLD WALLS BEFELL.
THEY ARE NOW LOST FOREVER, AS I BID YOU A SAD FAREWELL.


QJD – 2007

COPYRIGHT

Perpetual Revolution

IN THE INKY BLACKNESS THIS EARLY MORN
I AWAIT THE LIGHT OF THIS DAYS DAWN.

TO FALL APON MY UPTURNED FACE
WITH ITS WARMTH MY SOUL EMBRACE.

MY NEW BEGINNINGS SLATE SWEPT CLEAN
FUTURES VISION MY ETERNAL DREAMS.

TO STEP IN PACE WITH THE MOVING SKY
THE PATH IS LIT FOR THINE SIMPLE EYE.

DUSK APPROACHES THE SETTING SUN
THE DAYS END, TIME IS NOW DONE.

AGAIN I AWAIT A NEW DAYS LIGHT
RECTIFY WRONGS, TO PURSUE RIGHT.

QJD – 2007

Starving intersection desperado.

emancipation of an unaffected society. 

As our society tries to slip past a desperately hungry man, his imploring eyes are purposefully ignored by everyone in there personal motorised little tin traffic bubble.

Society feels that this intersection desperado is actually a very wealthy fraudster masquerading as a skinny, gaunt, lazy, emancipated figure.

The bulging eyes is all a cunning trick to extract money from the heartless witch in the merc 3 cars down. After all, her trick was to sit on her purse and marry the CEO of a bank. Not for love but a cunning ploy to extract money from the Callous Egotistical, Orifice milking accounts.

You see a man who is forced to starve to death next to a busy traffic intersection, eventually starts smiling at our democratic society roaring callously past.

Society nonchalantly stares back impassively wondering if its going to be take out, or eat out perhaps all about the sour crout, leaving us in no doubt that a man can starve and die in full view of our terminally ill society as it zooms past on its way safely home.

True cruelty is us watching this real life survivor at a traffic light intersection. His challenge on this desperate reality show of his, is to extract a marmite sarmie from a carload of voluminously fat, fleshy commuters, 7 deep from the robots.

MAIDEN’S STARE

The secrets of a newly ploughed field.
Age-old mysteries are now revealed.

Voluptuous hills, silently aware,
young mans fists, his maiden’s sad stare.

The horizons curve kissed a manic sun.
Young soulful eyes upturned should have run.

The pottery chard’s broken and shattered
Earth rows upturned, bones now scattered.

As the plough turns earth to morn full skies.
Unseeing , staring are deep hollow eyes.

Two hundred years the ground concealed. 
Old dead young mans secret is now revealed.

Her bones are broken and brutally battered,
Her name was Marie – not that it mattered.

As the plough mans course is still unaware.
Of the young mans fists, his maiden’s sad stare.

QJD – 2007
COPYRIGHT

Splinters of earth dust.

Nations weld together, powerful cultures unite.
Empire deviates from fusion of the manys might,

Hybrid offspring union melts together,
Blending a new vision future to measure.

Colorful blood mingles into a progressive legacy.
Forming the blue liquid of a new dynamic society.

Borrowing predecessors, always a phoenix, looking for infamy.

People cementing their own fundamental dust cloud legacy.

Purity of one bloodline is filtered through all and the great.
Exciting passage through history’s future visions progressive gate.

The sinister kills this progression completely dead!!
Blue blood of refined vision turns to a mortal red

Inspired visions permanent end now a thorny price to pay!
The phoenix must not be extinguished as flaming passion ebbs away

The lifeblood end of yet another out spoken poet.
The entire fabric of a fledgling society is now ripped apart.

The cold ground looks to envelope the soul of a budding culture.
Rancid the reaper watches salivating, ghoulish, a vulture.

The human spirit is as strong as its optimum collective soul.
A catalyst for a cure must now hurry before hearts turn to coal.

Imune difficiency invites icy waters of cold despair,
Stifling cries dampens a developing nations fragile flare.

Persevere & strive for a great expectation.
Mold, sculpt a new vision a splintery creation.

The lifeblood gift of a poet bequest,

Must not be dust and soot of baleful behest.