It is not easy to sympathise with the victim
and not blame his oppressor.
It is not easy to sympathise with the oppressor
and not say that the victim was asking for it.

If the inescapable future is seen, however,

Verily I say unto you, they have their reward;

there is only room for compassion.



How glad I am
that I am here
and not somewhere else.

(If I were
somewhere else,
I’d be here.)

No escape, then!


Posted in Gnomonic Verses | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Censorship is no substitute
for Education.

creates duality
and ultimately
opens the door to Force.

allows unbiased information,
maintains harmony and Unity.


Posted in Gnomonic Verses | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


People differ in awareness of Time.
Brazilian Indians have no word for tomorrow.

Time is the measure of things
moving through space.
Where there is nothing moving,
not even thoughts,
there is no awareness of Time.

When a dog sees you after a gap of years,
he does not remember you.
He re-cognises you immediately.


Posted in Gnomonic Verses | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


If the Head leads,
it breeds a web
in which the ego lurks
to catch its prey.

And the Heart pales away.

If the Heart rules,
the sticky web
transforms into a safety net
through which the Ego
shrivels into the Void.


Posted in Gnomonic Verses | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment


God sees with the same eye
you see with, says Meister Eckhart.

Do you live your life,
or does Life live through you?

Do you breathe
to stay alive,
or does the Life-breath
breathe you?

Life lives and blossoms
through Nature
and thus Nature can heal itself.

Man tries to live his life
and opens wounds
that even Nature
struggles to heal.

Who lives man’s life
and is it any more than
what we have come to call the Ego?

Is Ego any more than a bundle
of thoughts and feelings
spawned by an insatiable quest for more?

A pinpoint of Desire,
smaller than a globule of blood,
that has flooded into an ocean
of craving and passion,
which parches the tongues
of those who drink from it.

When you say “my life”,
who is I and what is this life?
Is “I and my life” any more
than an intruder
that slipped in between the sheets?
A tapeworm fitting snugly
between your food and you?

When I ask you how you are,
your tapeworm answers,

He has been answering on your behalf
for so long that you take him for
your true abiding Self.

See him for the interloper that he is.
Let him slide out
as long ago
his proglottid of eggs slid in,
unnoticed and unremarked.

The ego slides in
between your divine eye and what you see,
like the rose-tinted lens
between your fleshy eye
and your world.


Posted in Gnomonic Verses | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Magdalen’s grounds
are full of life,
full of space.

Space, which is mown
and cleared,
tended and enclosed,
its waterways unchoked,
brown and sparkling clear.

It is home to ducks
and coots,
to dragonflies and deer.

Grass and paths and gates
and streams
and yesterday’s undergraduates
are waiting.

Not for the return of the past
nor the coming of an awaited future.

The past once gone
is a steadily fading photograph.
The future, once conceived,
is never as imagined.

No. They wait
for someone
with an empty heart
to play his part
without reluctance
or reserve;
to acknowledge
all this labour

of hand and eye
and the genius of the green and living.

To see
and bless
it all
and say,

Then it can all begin,
the breathing out of being,
the eternal sigh,
the letting go at last
and surrender
to the sleep
of not being planned,
of not having to remember,
of not having to hold apart
future and past.

Of being at peace again.


Posted in Oxford Blues | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


April was hot and dry.

The red earth responded
by blowing as dust in the wind.
The green earth responded
by smothering itself with flowers of a thousand colours.

The Water Board responded
by banning hosepipes
and promising to charge more
for redistributing the rain
(if it comes).

Butterflies appeared early.
A full moon hung above the ocean like a portent.
A comet lit up the north-western skies for two weeks.

in truth
absolutely nothing

slid across
the shining screen.


Posted in Blondin | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment