From space to void
from womb to bed
from thought to soft
mewling cry.

I wait in queues
nuzzling long teats
of soft warm fleshy
motherboard.

site searches
reveal myself to
myself, growing
changing.
Reaching with eyes,
shitting voracious
words into napkin
white pages.

I spoke first words
monosyllables like
Manna and Amma.
Then fell reinvented
cyber-born from the
electronic womb,
cerebral plasticity
remolded.

Neighbourly Are We…..N.A.W.

Do we really care if Mandela is dead,
just another news item we’ve had a lot.
That a soldier shot his prisoner in the head,
they get our ooh’s an ahs but soon forgot.

Have we become saturated in raw death,
seeing it daily on telly, computer or phone.
No second look or sharp intake of breath,
acknowledging that in death, we are alone.

I walked in the quiet,
where the mist swirled,
stretching the mind.
The mist retreated.

There in my view,
a placid pond.
My mind Jumped,
becoming aware.

I thought of you,
yet could not see.
In my glowing hand,
a pebble round and true.

I tossed it into the water.
There from the centre,
wave on wave grew.
My thoughts followed

Then I remembered you.

The hell and heaven aren't the same,
one's cool, the other burns in shame,
the heaven's faces grin with smiles,
while hell's lost souls are strewn in piles.

The choice is ours which end to choose;
we either win or else we lose,
the roads we took have always led
which eternal lives we loved to tread.