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Saturday, 24 September 2005

The words begin

The words begin

Like something that slips down the page - not sure

And an image
that is all that poetry is
something that we can picture in our mind

like the arrival of god
at a party when he hasn't been invited
and the host is busy pouring drinks
nobody knows the way to speak

so the first person to open the door, says
"sorry, I know we must have met, at some point that is,
but I have no idea who you are, and you’re not coming in here!"

The door slammed shut…and then silence
nothing to say
the music dies away as the guests wonder whether
they have missed something really important
of consequence.

for it is all of consequences
within the chaos of complex adaptive systems
we all try to make some sense.

seek out a god
and then when we find one,
we shut the door, refuse to recognise
ignore the voice in our head
and strike him off the guest list

safe in the company of those we know.

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