Palfrey Park DH 1965

Which is the way to Palfrey Park? I used to know,

I used to go.

And under all weather conditions. Two by two we marched, under the watchful Kellys’ eye. Comb over and all. Boys for the football, no change, no kit. Our Football Boots were all that we needed.

On green grassy field we played the game. In that urban park, planted in the middle of nowhere. We were about nine years old.

Once when walking I heard my first shaggy dog story, told by my marching partner, Adrian Tams. It involves a mouse and a two tone white number seventeen London Transport double decker bus. I listened and remembered the whole story, for all the twenty one minutes it took to tell.

Adrian was killed nine years later, crushed under his car whilst fixing a fault, when it collapsed off the jack.

Copyright 2020 Christopher Thompson.

All rights reserved.

Red – Yellow – Black

This poem is a repose to the death of  Mr George Floyd in Mineapolis MN. So again tonight the blackness of smoke is rising to the heavens all across America. And Heaven knows the reasons. The red is flaring, it is updated and hot. Nowhere is safer than the land of the brave and the home of the free. The crackle of flame illuminates my point. Yellow is the conflagration, the heat is being drawn. Are the people being treated like they are naturally targetable? Is it inevitable, all this black death? We saw it in horror, we didn’t believe our eyes. A person being stifled, and no doubt not for the first time or encounter. And the fire and the mayhem are a self inflicted wound, a man is unjustifiably killed openly and on the street. Everyone is suffering on the inside. This is an ache for justice. Let the scales fall from our eyes. Everyone is precious, everyone one has a life to give, everyone has a right to live. Offer an open hand to lift up your brothers and sisters. Surely it is better to be blind then to judge another by the sight of their skin? There is wrong, there are wrongs to be corrected. There are people and there are streets, there is much yet to do. The Oxygen of forgiveness and equality of truth is the simple soul solution and the way of life is love. Each in self examination needs to help bring about all that is true. Let’s replace this red, yellow and black, with a red white and blue. C G T Devon, England.

HISTORICAL NOT HYSTERICAL

Is it due to the immediacy of the touch screen and the ephemeral nature of modern communications which so concentrates the moment? There is, so it seems, little which has the power to distract. Palm up, neck bent, finding, covering, finding conferring, searching; but for what? Even a child in a stroller is insufficient to draw its mothers attention from her screen. The ease of communication is dissolving it’s very value. Effortless eyeball and digital retrieval of a plethora of information means there is little incentive for retention. There is a sequence of instant messaging and inconsequential reaction which precludes the absorbing of meaning. This in turn results in a lack of understanding. Now as understanding is a primary driver of discovery and learning the resulting outcome is widespread ignorance.

It is a somewhat frustrating tendency of some modern thinkers and communicators, even bloggers, to draw conclusion without reference to, or knowledge of recent social history. Frustrating for the observer of such fundamental gaps in comprehending what has gone before. In an era of repetitive hollow sloganeering it would be amusing to witness the empty echoey clanging of rhetoric from these so called enlightened ones, if the stakes were not so high. It may be worthy enough to desire equality of life. It is however dangerous folly to be empassioned of a cause which, in ignorance and delusion, one advances as if to be trail blazing. The truth I’d venture to suggest is that there is very little new thinking, however much it is felt, that the times are changing. This isn’t to say society is in a state of stasis. Far from it, society is by nature organic and dynamic. The mistake resides in the belief that social change can in some way be successfully Engineered. Unfortunately, as in the discovery of the delights of sex, ideas of radical social reform are among the horizons that young people are mistaken in their view that their role is something of that of the pioneer. Almost all reforms, systems or revolutions have already been actioned. Recent history of the twentieth century alone illustrates the point. There are few successes which have resulted in benefits for the masses. Revolution brings not change but a return to the starting point. Advancement is achieved not by revolving but by incremental linear improvement to a persons social condition. As yet the concept of mutual trade has not been made redundant. It is therefore by exchange the individual finds the means to meet the needs of living. Unfortunately not all exchamge is of equal value. Achieving equilibrium at this level is where the true challenge for society is to be found.

(C)2018 Christopher Thompson

A Captain Speaks

As a bit stream,
Into which river would you flow
If given the choice?
All is ahead, it is all there for you
Yet to be discovered.

You have motion and you dreams.
You burble some times with love.
And the restlessness of youth
Drives the conviction
That You alone hold the power of the future.

You concentrate in droves
And Placard your demands for change, 
And march with a stupor.
You refuse to revisit our past,
Having no time for history.
How will you learn?

We offer ample time to be understood,
But the precious wisdom
Is not accessed, not even a byte.
Afterall who can look up the future?
Who would dare?

Our engine shares with all
Because of life.
It speaks and will listen to all
Because of life
It will forgo for all
Because of its own imminent death.

There are a myriad reasons
To fear the past,
It haunts in the chromosomes,
It leaches from the skin.
It forgets nothing.

And the time table of truth
Tests the water in which all drown.

There is nothing as unsure
As the certainty of youth.
Life is total or nothing.
But the ransom of worthiness
Is written in the hearts of people.

And the Captain recalls everything
As the ship is sucked under.
That the avoidable plot line
Was too rich for the young.
Too sweet and too sickening.

Whilst the tables had been turned.
Unfortunately,
The Baton too was dropped.
And as the Delta is approached,
The dead dangle.

© 2018 Christopher Thompson. All rights reserved

I am who you are, we are who I am.

It may be advisable to brace yourself.
What I announce here may be 
Received as something in the nature of shock.

I have just decided
To throw this poetry
To the Wind.

#There is no guidance in board.

View it as a literal form, 
A type of psychological ejaculate,
For it too contains a message.
Yes,
It is as important.

#There is no see-saw on which to ride

Feel it if it touches,
A sense of connection, communication,
For it bares a type of truth.
Locate,
It will help.

#Understanding is not always required.

For all poetry contains some order of light,
In air or on paper or on screen,
By which it informs, it acknowledges truth.
Receive,
Illumination comes from within.

#I know, you know, we knew all along.

Poetry is brought into existance to be shared,
The poets share themselves wholly,
The poetists shares their moments of inspiration. 
Take,
Emotions are given freely.

#I am who you are, we are who I am.

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©2018  Christopher Thompson