5min pressing a day (#157)

#157

A group of them
a sitting around
slightly hunched in armchairs
men and women
mustachioed alike
but the men’s beards are longer
their nails more tightly clipped
the women’s knuckles raw
together they read the manifesto
the communist manifesto
one of them found it in an old bookshop
well-worn with notable sections marked
in red pen
there could be no other way really
they swig on unpasteurised vodka
swishing it in their mouth
occasionally spitting a jet of it
into the open fire
which crackles with delight
reaching the end of the manifesto
after a short round of comments
they throw it on the pile
a collection of all the other manifestos
manifestos on art and on animals
manifestos on health and politics
and furniture design
there are many more
with spines that cannot be seen
names only known to those who are searching
for that particular volume
before long this manifesto will be buried
under a pile of others
of a similar if not opposite ilk

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5min pressing a day (#156)

#156

There is talk
of that which cannot be varied
like being stuck in a three dimensional hole
and that which can be varied
like walking across an unencumbered landscape
you can turn any time you want
and face another direction
a new direction
there may or may not be a sun there
there may be a single civilisation
spread across nine stars
or more
a place with no strawberries
and where electricity pours out of the ground
who would go there
for any reason
other than to study distant history
to find lost mathematics
and other things that we had completely forgotten about
remember, however
that it is the human course that matters
mostly
everything else is a distraction
building cities and empires
empire noirs
and any type of idee fixe
it goes nowhere
remember that
if you remember nothing else
remember that

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5min pressing a day (#155)

#155

It is always the end of the day in one place
it is always the beginning of the day in another
the podes and the antipodes
one pole and the polar opposite
truth and the inversion thereof
as the day begins or ends
either way a golden light floods the earth
there on the horizon a gathering
golden boys and golden girls
their moment in the bright light
their cerebral cleverness exposed for all to see
their celebrity celebrated
but always before a long time has passed
blue morning light spreads
evening darkness falls heavily
in the moment of glory
flowers open
suddenly looking up to the sun
when near the fragrance settles around
all life is peace
moving away the fragrance seems more
like mothballs, like prahok, like a hedgehog
expired under the hedge
forgotten, having become unknown
even the golden boys and golden girls
all eventually face this end
they might look at the morning sun with glee
wave to it and say hello
but the wise move carefully
knowing that the sun will sink
on the other side of the day

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5min pressing a day (#154)

#154

One day reaching a decision
made firm
a line in the ground
on this side this year
and on the other side next year
one day
as the guards party
drinking whisky and bourbon
wine and beer
while they are occupied
bursting into a sprint
running in a zig zag
in the still night
shots ring out
volley after volley
climbing the wall in a burst of energy
jumping over the last part
jumping the wall
one might be
a defector
considered defective
then running again
if the volley of shots on one side wasn’t enough
then there is a volley of shots on the other
running and running until finally out of range
finding a place where the bullets will fall
exhausted
looking back
the wall is like a small ledge
the guards run about as if their beards
are on fire

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5min pressing a day (#153)

#153

Somewhere in the middle of the ocean
on or about that spot
muddlesome meddlesome middlesome spot
can be difficult to determine
without the aid of fancy devices
in times gone by one might watch
for a sign of middleness
north this way, south that
observe the sun travelling across the sky
or note simply that the compass is spinning wildly
at this spot everyone might stop
and
come together to debate
how to proceed with their lives
there are those who will hold hard the tiller
and with strenuous effort row
until finally they collapse
there are those who will hoist their sail
jibbing and tacking
and running with the long breeze
with guile and cunning
and clever use of the tiller
eventually arrive where they want
there are others yet again
who will row out and into the current
let that drive them along
eventually finding what lies at the end of the current
and hopefully it is not a whirlpool
in the middle of rocky and shark infested waters
through the afternoon and night they might
argue and debate and struggle
with each others ideas
when they have finished
the numbers for each side
might remain approximately the same
with a few defections here and there
from one side to the other and back again
the sail trimmers will measure the wind
calculate the course and set the tiller
the rowers row
toil and row and toil and row
burning-off whatever fat they might have brought with them
and the current watchers might check that they are on the right current
and cook for their friends
darn their socks and rub their shoulders
read them stories and poems and sing
shanties and lullabies
to fill the night and day

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5min pressing a day (#152)

#152

An editor in the editors suite
chewing on one end of a pencil
writing with the other end
one small window framing the day
what will pass by the eye
today
waiting as we do
for whatever
for whoever
might pass by this afternoon
peering through the window
a shaft of view
a courtyard with various folk passing through
one person drags a heavy load
many others pass
before the load has passed from view
there are other folk pass by
a gang of street youths
their life a very brief heyday
a flash of glory
in the eyes of their colleagues
a wife and child
dragging a sick husband and father
life was just too much for him
an academic with a notepad
looking for psychopaths to interview
another academic
herding a flock of poems
before they escape
running in every direction
hiding in secret recesses
from this position seeing
through the narrow shaft
that comprises our visible world
moving a few degrees
to another position
another view
another whole world
there are still spaces available
on the grassy fringes to view it
when the editor has had his fill of
viewing the world
there are sheets and sheets
swathes and swathes
screeds and screeds
of words and ideas and musings
with which to spend the rest of the day
the rest of the life

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5min pressing a day (#151)

#151

Nobody quite knew what was happening
one minute there is someone
standing before the door
young and filled with sass and spunk
a second later stepping aside
the door swinging open
all manner of stuff lying on the ground
tumbled out from behind the door
a pair of dark glasses
as if hiding from the light
as if afraid of being seen
by the day
an old unwanted tail
some animal had run so fast
unfortunately left it behind
a folded pile of religious
garb and raiment
you might need it on a rainy day
some left-over relics of empire
just throw it over there
there is a pile of similar artifacts
also some tickets to the philosophers ball
more raucous than you might expect
we’ll just tidy this mess of crud
and go to the ball when we are done

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