THE GATES OF EDEN

It is now two millennia since
the Security Seraphims
were withdrawn
and the Gates of Eden reopened
to the General Public.

Free Admission
to all children,
(before their parents succeeded
in banning them).

Free Passes
to those adults who agree
to leave their baggage outside
(as strongly recommended by JC)
and successfully passed
the Camel’s Eye of a Needle Security Check.
(C.E.N.S.C.)

This will detect even your bikini
and any other thoughts
left over from heavy addiction
to the fruit
of the Tree of Knowledge.

It is surprising and chastening
how few (excepting children)
have availed themselves of this
Once-in-a-Lifetime opportunity.
Especially
as it is rapidly approaching
its Expiry Date.

Outside the gates,
are innumerable camper vans,
over-flowing removal lorries
and the charred remains
of dead animals (holy sacrifices).
Together with a jostling crowd
of fashionably robed
Bishops and priests,
some artificially bald;
some with original designer beards.

They are selling
genetically modified,
original cuttings
from the Tree of Knowledge,
together with heavily translated
instruction manuals;
each with its individual
Stamp of Infallibility.

These guarantee to give you
instant and privileged entry,
via a back door (with donation box)
to the Garden of Life
(as soon as you are safely dead).

Once the Expiry Date is reached
(determined by when Planet Earth
can no longer cope
with man’s inhumanity
to man and nature),
the killings by man
will be replaced with
the cullings of men;
controlled, systematic, cosmic.

Then the Gates of Eden
will be closed once more.

Seraphims will be reinstalled
with suicide bombs
(make your own),
missiles, and drones
instead of flaming swords.

The discarded cuttings
from the Tree of Knowledge
will grow into a concealing forest,
peopled by a race
of test-tube-originated primates.

And God will try again elsewhere.

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USAIN BOLT

Usain Bolt ran exactly 100 metres.
To be there before the others.

Josef Klein ran exactly 100 metres.
To catch the bus.

Usain Bolt won
and is engulfed by cameramen
in Beijing.

Josef Klein missed the bus
and is slumped
on a bench by a bus stop
in Clapham.

Usain is recognised
by everyone world-wide
and lives in luxury everywhere.

Josef is unrecognised
by his neighbours
in a block of Council Flats in Clapham.

Usain Bolt is an entertainer.
Josef Klein is a refuse collector.

Exactly 100 metres
is exactly 100 metres.

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HE THAT EARS LET HIM HEAR

The buzzing in the Brain
forms a screen
so that what is really quite plain
is hardly heard or seen –
ubiquitous and trans-eternal Pain.

Voices
drifting on the winds of space,
leaves from the Tree of Time;
telling the Seasons,
warning of disasters to come,
(or already here),
of evil lapping at the threshold,
of the omnipresent worm,
of the spider spinning his web
in the palaces of kings,
of the need for mindfulness;
and purity.

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THE HAPPIEST OLD

The happiest old
have nothing and don’t mind.
The happiest young
are old before their time.
Few these.

The others are behind their years,
suffer thirteen-year-olds’ fears
into their twenties,
and in their forties
have appetite
for sins of twenty.

But not the bite.

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LORD OF THE JUNGLE

In the Jungle of the World
and the tangle of the Senses
we build us huts
of mud and heartache
and make (and mend) our fragile fences.
“This is ME! This is MINE!”
is the burden of our song.

We cannot see, still less define,
that pain and sorrow prove us wrong.
This is NOT mine, this is NOT me,
is the beginning of our Sanity.

Letting go of what does not concern us
leaves that alone which, meddled with,
will burn us.
The Law is mirror-like in its precision
and its simplicity needs no revision;
that Good breeds Good
and Evil has its price;
that Virtue is its own reward.
And so is Vice.

That all things pass away,
from butterflies to stars,
and though the World’s a prison
it’s the Mind that makes the bars.

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AS YOU SOW SO ARE YOU REAPED

So if you see
you’re hanging on a tree
as someone else’s pear,
how did you get there?

Solitary Rose.
How come it doesn’t realise
it’s the one and only?
How come it isn’t lonely?
Or even a little melancholy?

Exemplary Rose!

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VIRGIN STURGEON

Of French descent,
Madame Estourgeon
has made the ascent
of Ben Neverist
to look down from the clouds
at the crowds
of neo-Scots
marching to the banner
of their newfound Queen.

Meanwhile,
from a disused dungeon
in St Andrews,
the spirit of John Knox,
of Scottish descent,
can still be heard intoning,

“Monstrous Regimen of Women!”
Monstrous Regimen of Women!”

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GARDENER’S NEWS

Newspaper headline in a “Democracy”:

PARLIAMENT VERSUS THE PEOPLE

Have you noticed how world-wide
A versus B situations are becoming
more and more confrontational?

Stoking up the fires of hatred and dissatisfaction
in more and more areas of human activity.

Sport, politics, arms sales.
National and international.
Racial and domestic.
Marriages, families, medication, religions.
Even sexual identity.
Even educational.

Just like a heating compost heap,
getting ready to burst into flame
and unify its contents
into next year’s fertiliser
as we sleep.

Are we getting any the wiser?

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HEDGEROW FLOWERS

The more I label
the less I am able
to see…
The more I see
the less I am able
to label.

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WHY DON’T YOU WANT TO KNOW?

Not knowing is a barrel
tumbling over Niagara:
darkness within
danger without.

Knowing is the full moon
at midnight
splashing light
in the darkest corners.

Wanting to know
is taking responsibility
for the good
and the bad.

Not wanting to know
is a skeleton in the cupboard
and a bloody knife
under the floorboards.

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