Bobs Balderdash

A partial autobiography in observations, and poems.

Carried along by the flow

of events and my own uncertainties. Unable to call a halt. I barely manage to duck and dive to avoid disaster and dissolution. A pilgrimage many are enduring: few with reliable guides. Currently fog-bound, still afloat but expecting shipwreck any second. This voyage is unexpected: some incomprehensible lottery win? Not detailed in any brochure. I hesitate to call it life.

Sunshine. Shade: Holidays.

You come into the world alone.

You leave the world alone. In between you bump into lots of people.

Three in the morning.

Fridge busily humming. Clock tick tock ticking. Cat emphatically purring. Silent night. 2

The pattern is broken,

the rainbow has gone: the prisons still standing (the bars are too strong). The darkness is coming and obstacles loom: perspective is narrowed in the sickening gloom. The exit is hidden, the entrance is closed. You trip, fall and stumble on the problem thats posed. Theres no hope for no-one; no answering call; always the question Whats the point of it all? A chain of new heartaches brings a mental recall: the nightmare conclusion theres no point at all.

I asked for a stiff drinkThey served me ice cubes.

Fill in the _______ word.

A more frequent use of the term

NO, will enhance everyones lifestyle.

The clock behind me

ticks in the corner: Empty room.

I switch on the coal fire:

No heat. Comforting reminiscences: Inner glow.

The washing machine was on.

Tray filled with soap and Comfort. Drum filled with clothes: male and female. Theres something soothing about the flop and slop of washing accompanied by the electric motors hum. Perhaps an association with old fashioned Saturdays and a busy Mum. Whatever. I feel comforted.

Haiku:
Waiting to get into a cable-car?

I saw that life

was unpredictable, verging on the chaotic. So I closed the window.

Man is born free. But everywhere he is in comfort.

SHORT POEM P..m

I went to the enlightened one.

He enquired if I was earnestly seeking truth and wisdom. I agreed that I was lost but I was looking for the nearest MacDonalds.

Completely and utterly

OTT and over the limit. Passed caring and beyond redemption. Stressed liver and befuddled brain. Another sip. Another swallow. The teeth of pain forgotten in a gentle numbness. If only there was another way to feel comfortable with oneself.

If I die,
think only this of me...... Hes gone!

........................and the gods are silent

Pages turn empty

in once written books. A torn face with torn tears nobody looks. Still a yearning and striving to run the good race, but no echoed salvation nor awareness of grace. Just babbling thoughts; memories melodic; second-hand hope; circuitous logic. Ephemeral morsels: nothing to sate. The gods keep their silence mans ubiquitous fate.

I thought she was magic

then she disappeared into someone elses arms.

Like a fishing rod with no line:

I go through the motions.

Why do fishermen make good computer programmers?

Theyre used to networking.

It was a case of the magnet calling the kettle back.

Here I Sit
Touched by the wind (a mere garden breeze) they flex and bend effortlessly. Shivering with life as though more than green foliage and stem. Now immobile just standing as though waiting, until caressed to life again. Suggesting more than dumb vegetation.

If I didnt know any better,

Id say that I was sane. Its just a nagging doubt remains when confronted by such pain.

Soul searching when you cant find your shoes. I cant act: therefore I ham.

In my head
Im a gallant knight in shining armour, an organic farmer. In my head.

In my head Im the star of every drama, a bon vivant and charmer. In my head.

In my head Im the hero with many faces, winner of Olympic races. In my head.

In my head Im a husband like no other, a perfect son with perfect mother. In my head.

In my head Im a man of many talents, whos restored the cosmic balance. In my head.

In my head I find answers to every question using god-like comprehension. In my head.

In my head I think Im out of my mind.

She was bored on Tuesday afternoons.

But she kept it a secret from her husband.

The look of the world

through the bottom of a glass Fuzzed and distorted. Mind elsewhere and preoccupied. Clarity of perception Is not my middle name, Nor dreamless awareness the goal of the game. What sort of state will a mirror make when musing on lifes improbable and uncertainties?? Dare you venture into realms where literature only spawns nightmares and the living dead? And youre left to feel your own intransigence / will to live as an aberration? What if.... What if.... What if.... You hope so hard and yet know the CONSEQUENCES. Life with death Rock with Roll Swings with roundabouts. Funny...... Really sort of weird..... But life Is JUST LIKE THAT!! Dont let them tell you otherwise Theyll lie... And pretend to Ordinariness.

In the case of armed conflict:

The biggest biceps always win.

She shot herself so many times in the foot,

she no longer had a leg to stand on.

At 12.25 am on the 20th January 1950, I dropped out of my mothers womb.

And its been downhill ever since.

My angel sleeps
curled in nocturnal comfort Oblivious of tomorrows demands and contingencies. Sleep on, my noble compatriot. You deserve more not less of my attentions.

What do they make of us

big and loud and brash. Creatures bound to the earth unable to swoop and soar? What do they make of us As they peer down from chimney, tiled apex and swaying bough? What do they make of us Purveyors of titbits, hauliers of abundant harvests from land and sea? What do they make of us Creatures of plenty but unwilling to Share the air with them? 10

Graphic Poem 1

Begin...

...End

11

Graphic Poem 2

blank page few words: a meeting place 12

Midnight kitchen
Party over Somewhere, dripping

Winter bus stop

Silent queue Haiku arriving

Rhythm of the clock

Pulsing blood Headache

I open my eyes
First thought Its morning!

Early December
Broken washing machine Why now?

Soaps on TV
Such intensity My cats sleeping

December afternoon
Cigarette smoke The same colour as the clouds

My cat
Eating his biscuits Thinking of sparrows

Half-asleep
Noisy neighbour Acrobatic gnat.

13

Graphic Poem 3

START
or maybe

STOP
or even

continuecontinuecontinuecontinuecontinuecontinuecontinue

14

Graphic Poem 4 :

Scandinavian poem

START

FINNISH

15

Graphic Poem 5

My life: Strictly compartmentalised.

Who said that?

16

Graphic Poem 6

Im a man of few words

also few letters

17

House asleep Stirring coffee So loud! Back door open Cats in then out Hidden agendas Warm summer rain On the patio A bedraggled worm Autumnal morning Everything still Except a Magpie Faint music From another room Languid thoughts Damp grey morning Visitor with flowers Someone re-assured Grey dusk Garden growing dulled greens Mid-December Grey hair down toilet Trimmer on charge Spending cuts! Seeing the words appear As if by magic Writing! Writing on the page Talking to myself Now talking to you

18

Proud and upright and unrecognised our rooftop sentinels. Spaced against the sky, Stiffly silent in their unquestionable duties. More than brick and mortar, more than architectural style, more than domesticated functionaries: unacknowledged urban guardians.

19

Clearly not connected:

Wires broken, pipes blocked. No battery for the radio, the connecting door is locked. The aerial has long been missing, the screen is white-noise blank. The handset doesnt function, its Snafu to be quite frank. Time to shut the curtains. Time to close the case. Time to pay the ferryman and to see the other place.

Self mutilation: A cut above the rest?

We are born
and we will die. The question is: What happens in between?

To be human
Is to know what you cant have.

If we were always happy,

the drug companies wouldnt make a profit.

20

Entranced by the melodies of

dishwasher and washing machine, I sit alone.

Its easier to be
miserable on your own.

I was under the apprehension

that I must be somebody. But I looked in the mirror and reflected...... An image. No icon. A transparency. A disturbance in the ether. Here now. And then: Gone. Like countless others Visitors only.

Monochromed horizon.
Agitated skeletons. Discarded golden flakes. Autumn.

TO HELL

NOW NON-SMOKING

21

Orange cat
On orange carpet. Safe from eagles!

Midnight kitchen:
The tap drips to remind me Im alone.

Two a.m.
A coffee, a cigarette and a purring cat

The scalpel cuts.

The flesh responds to its insistent demand. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Speak to me only with thine eyes shouted the deaf teacher to the pupil.

I spy with my little eye

something beginning with monocle.

I shop therefore I am, said the poster being very economical with the truth.

22

Snowdons summit.
Waiting for the train: High queue.

I thought filofax was knowing about pastry,

Until I visited a stationers.

I arrived
not knowing what I was looking for. Inevitably I never found it.

In the land of the blind, a one-eye man is king.

But not if hes deaf.

How time flies when....

Youre an astronaut.

A grain of sand on the beach of humanity.

Even with his eyes closed,

he couldnt see in the dark.

23

Is a shop a currency converter?

Especiallyinthecaseofpoetryspacesbetweenwords
mediatedifferentnuancesandsubtletiesinmeaning

The correct English is not

who knows, but whose nose.

Roses are red,

violets blue. For this to be haiku, theres more work to do.

Existentialism is the pause

between choices.

Small is beautiful.
Big is large.

Truth is stranger
than friction.

Cash. Bang. Trollop.

24

Make
the present a present to yourself.

Mapping the contours of heartbreak.

The circle is a curious thing.

It has no beginning nor seems to end, and always insists on going round the bend.

There is a book entitled 101 things to do before you die.

Easily simplified to LIVE!

Two swallows dont make a summer

But they may cure hiccups.

That was zen this is now.

25

Who, what, where, why

tell me, tell me before I die? Am I a husband, parent, son. Executive earning a tidy sum? Am I a lover? Am I a friend? (A deluded fool going round the bend?) Am I a neighbour sharing the view? (Who sometimes lends his tools to you?) Am I a failure and a boorish fart? (Considering my life as a work of art?) Telling jokes to earn a smile. Happy? Well for a while. So, on this earth will I leave my mark or is this thought to counter the dark? Do you call this confusion being alive? Tell me please, Im now fifty five.

Too much and too little to say or tell.

Memories peer round unguarded moments, thoughtful minutes, introverted hours. Regrets for actions done and missed. Questions without redemption. The pencilled page betrays the whole: Words and sentences, all false trails. The phone promotes the trivia of accidents: inoffensive veneers. Is it possible to send ones love silently through the ether? To cherish without touching?

26

Many hands make light work.

Many feet make a mile.

Haiku: the art of compression.

Nurdle: stupid person blocking your progress.

If you have your wisdom teeth extracted,

does your IQ suffer?

Roses are red,

violets blue. If youre colour blind does it matter to you?

THOUGHT FOR TODAY: Im awake.

If you left with nothing

You came in with too much.

One ego short of a religion.

27

Dont volunteer unless you have to. Ice is just water thats
having a rest.

If you give things away

You make space for more.

Trousers on the washing line

awaiting my legs to be fulfilled.

He communicates with me
purrfectly, but he still cant go out.

I collect broken pencils

pointless really.

I only asked a farewell kiss

to take away with me A memory of our time of bliss and subtle ecstasy. But as you have refused to give just a little peck. I want to take you by the hand and wring your faithless neck. So, from now until eternity to cure my aching heart. My diet will be beans, beans, beans. To remind me youre a fart.

28

I cried and cried

And the world was busy How could they not hear me? It seemed so OTT: To slash my wrists Stub out cigarettes on my hand Smash my head against a wall. They must think I can cope But They cant know how hard it is: To see ones failures Mistakes Embarrassments Rejections Defeats Paraded before ones minds eye Over and over again.

I..........
ignored my intuition and fell off the cliff . . . . . . . ......

29

Heart to Heart
I asked my heart, Please stop beating.
(I was in despair). It listened, considered my request but regretted it couldnt comply: It had agreed to a fixed term contract and was unable to make unilateral changes. I meandered and reflected - wed been together now for over sixty years. I felt guilty and apologised for not paying due care and attention, even, being rather careless with my health. My heart smiled and said he bore no grudge. It was the way things were in the modern world. He would keep working until his contract ended. No more, no less. I dared not broach the question of how much longer, but commented that when he retired, so would I. I said I hoped had enjoyed his work, although I doubted it. He simply smiled and replied that he did his job, sometimes under arduous circumstances. Nevertheless, he wouldnt change it for the world. He didnt look forward to retiring nor to our parting.

30

ENCRYPTIC

No-one
Nobody No Know

The smooth lines of your contours

Hold me in their spell. Without that touch and soft caress Life seems an endless hell. The warmth, the scent, the hormones Excite my timid heart, And cause a sense of longing Which words can ner impart. I always want to whisper words Of loving and of care. Of holding hands and kisses, Exchanged in summer air. But now the time is over To show you what Id like. Your final words were clear enough Get on your bleeding bike!

I imagine
Im an undiscovered philosopher. But then who isnt?

The Virginia Creeper is avaricious:

Half the garage has gone already.

31

WHERE ITS AT:

I know no rhyme nor reason

to assign any particular importance to any particular event or experience.

In life all is, as it is: No more, not less.

Assuredly transient, unfathomable in part.

To expect more methinks betokens hubris.

32

Flamboyant dancer:
Candle in the wind.

He watched TV.
She looked at the clouds. Seeing is believing

Consequences
The fruit of life

Upstairs tap dripping.

Downstairs clock ticking: Resonance.

Thoughts on pieces of paper.

Did the trees foresee their destiny in my literary explorations?

He leapt
from one perplexing failure to the next. His articulated intensions were admirable, but his grasp of brute facts, embryonic. Frustration and dissatisfactions were inevitable. Fate had already set the parameters and his life unfolded.

33

Here today. Gone tomorrow.

A life of joy with pain and sorrow. A mixture not in equal parts. The heart is pierced with different darts. For Cupids not the only bow in use, as many know. Arrows of doubt, despair and fear are oftimes more than one can bear. No poultice can prevent the pain when poison reaches heart, mind, brain. These archers unknown, with reasons unclear, persist in exacting a price so dear. For eons they have waged their art, aiming to break the human heart. For those who are wounded (but not with loves dart), who look for an answer, complete or in part. Ill be quite honest and open with you: for myself, I search for one too.

34

What am I doing

burying a bee in a matchbox? Carefully wrapped in a bed of rose petals. Wondering if it is good enough or should I have done more? Dead in my garden, far from his hive. No longer surrounded by his fellows. A focussed life: Buzzingly busy for the common good. No complaints. No slacking, just up and at it from dawn til dusk. I cannot fathom his dedication. Im sorry to see him dead, no longer scooting across the lawn from one flower to the next, day after day. The sunlight seems lessened without him. I guess I simply fail to comprehend the facts of life and death.

Soothing dusk.
Falling asleep on the sofa. Wary of the cuckoo clock.

I was tired
and wanted to sleep but stayed awake to write this ?

35

Does the ant

make a mountain out of a molehill?

Chatting togethera face-to-dial relationship.

She filled
her glasses with tears.

Overhead
the floor boards creak Restless children.

Autumn in the park

I came I saw I conkered.

Crystal clear December morning.

Dusted with snow. Hot water bottle night.

36

As the noise recedes

the night becomes spacious.

Quivering leaves.
What are the plants frightened of? The wind.

Once upon a time.

Alas not now.

What a horrible day! she said as the rain watered the garden.

Hot June,
cool inside: beached on the sofa.

Laugh and the world laughs with you.

Sleep and youre on your own.

37

NOISY POEM

Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello

38

I thought I was apathetic but then I made a decision: I was going back to bed.

You are seduced by the latest gizmo.

Purchased you take it home filled to over-bursting with advertorial promises. But it doesnt work! Talk about deflated You. Are. DEVASTATED once again. Life has let you down: a Walkman and no batteries.

You cant hear a fart

in a hurricane.

Is camping
an intense experience?

The window of opportunity is often obscured

by the curtain of confusion.

39

Creativity Imagination in overdrive.

The greatest test in anyones life

is whether they can die with dignity. For this, there are no statistics.

I have a business card

Therefore I am.

One blade of grass

missed by the mower. So proud and defiant.

Summer invasion:
aliens landing on the grass. Damn Dandelions.

The brain whirrs,

the ink flows: words fail.

She left the training course early her father had died. She had learnt enough.

40

Handwriting
is individual: Mark my word.

Machines do speak
Soliloquies in some unknown tongue.

An August morning
in more ways than one.

The Camellia
ripples its leaves, unencumbered by the life of commerce.

Summer evening recumbent on the patio. Watching two mobiles. One immobile.

Restless clouds
unnoticed. Always moving

41

Cleanliness is next to godliness:

my dishwasher is a saint!

Between the Buddleias

a host of cabbage whites: Butterfly ballet.

Putting pen to paper

a sensuous act. Awaiting a genesis.

I notice changes in my body.

Old age is not a concept.

I always thought
there was an answer to every question.............

My ginger cat
is called Dennis. He doesnt seem to mind.

Thoughts hit the brain.

Words hit the page. Mysterious.

42

Scissors rock on their hook.

I used them to cut Sellotape hours ago.

The dictionary has all the ingredientsyou write the poem.

What do you call a TV with a broken screen?

A radio.

Life is full
of rude awakenings.

I once used a thesaurus

to write a poem, ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( demonstrated substantiated proved ratified that it was too bore out confirmed turned out affirmed ( ( ( ( ( ( ( ( complicated involved tangled tricky labyrinthine tortuous convoluted perplexing.

but it

43

A Victorian Tragedy in Five Acts.

Act 1 Bubble : It was cold in the fridge. Squeak : Sure was. Act 2 Bubble : This frying pan is greasy. Squeak : Hot too! Act 3 Bubble : That fork was sharp! Squeak : And the knife! Act 4 Bubble : I think were going to be eaten! Squeak : Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhh! Act 5 Bubble : Its dark in here. Squeak : Sure is.

A rag man is an
anagram of anagram.

I wuZ noRTy in mI yuth

teLin lys anD nOt thee trooTH sKived of sKooL thoRT it ELL Whitch is y I kANt spel.

44

Dog falling asleep

on my chest: a semblance of purpose.

You can take a horse

to water but you cant make it think.

Its simple: I breathe therefore I am.

Experience the
allure of alliteration.

Dog
curled on my lap. Moon-shaped, moon-coloured. Hes also a lunatic.

Kitchen confrontation:
Chairs taking sides and facing each other across the table.

45

Now is the winter of our discothque.

I swapped lettuce seedlings for

a fishing lesson. Bargain!

My dogs incessantly lick my head,

hands and ankles. Perhaps theyre washing away my sins?

Its comingnot much lllllloooooonnnnnnggggggeeeeeerrrrrr now.

It was a storm in a teacup

the lightening hurt my teeth.

Autobiography: the history of the motorcar.

46

The truth:
A watched kettle never procrastinates.

Life is like a jigsaw puzzle:

I saw the whole picture once but now I cant remember where bits go. the

Cocaine
Money does grow on trees.

Spontaneity:
Being free of the past.

47

Why are skunks

likened to drunks? They dont drink more until they hit the floor. They wont pinch the bum of their flatmates mum. They dont spill Chinese down their lap and knees. They never ever puke over Nancy, Paul and Luke. They wouldnt think to piss in the sink. They dont sleep and snore on the bathroom floor.

They dont watch telly but they can be smelly. So why are skunks compared to drunks?

Do budding authors
only write gardening books?

The lilac Buddleia and

the lilac mobile pose an inarticulate question.

Fish are constrained by their environment.

Tadpoles will dramatically move to a new life. Am I a fish or a frog? 48

My two dogs bark

at different things. Why separate agendas?

Aphorisms and clichs.

A cut finger. Wisdom in small doses.

A cool August night.

Expectation of rain. Ephemeral desires.

Restless clouds,
Always moving. Unnoticed.

The book
A lattice of meanings. Most escape me.

In the present moment - the past is

remembered and the future fashioned.

49

Red, red and amber, green. A symbolic life.

Words are doors

to the soul. Be watchful.

To read I need my glasses.

The world is encumbered with small print.

Why the debate about poetry?

Words just.......... come alive..

June afternoon.
Flies massed over the lawn: Air traffic control?

Fanciful ideas,
toyed with then forgotten.

50

New Years day.

Fireworks go whizz, bang, bang. I feel the same.

Numeracy:
What comes after eight? Mints.

Vanity, vanity.
All is vanity. I rest my case.

Is it possible to hum
out of tune?

After the kettles orgasm,

I make a cup of tea.

The Sound of Silence mobile with flat battery.

Whats the real

virtue of virtual reality?

51

When I stroke my cat

he purrs insanely. Wheres the volume control?

Bike riding
my mouth a yawning chasm for the fly.

Reading old diaries

my formative youth. Where is he now?

June 21st, the longest day. My life grows shorter.

Morning has broken Must be a design fault.

She was simply divine:

Grapes would grow on her.

52

If you write down all your thoughts does that leave your brain empty?

Round and round the garden

like a teddy bear, one step, two step dog poo is everywhere.

I was offered fresh marshmallow.

Yet we were miles from water.

Drip, drip, drip.

Tock, tick, tock: Life has its own intrinsic rhythms. Splish, splosh, splash. Crash, bang, wallop. And I have mine.

53

54