5min pressing a day (#187)


There is a special ward in the hospital
it is for
slightly crusty gentlemen
who imagine themselves to be
much younger than what they are
slightly crusty gentlemen
who don’t want to believe
that they are getting older

You’re not kids anymore

That’s what their wives and older siblings
and mothers all say
in unison

There is a nurse
who operates in this particular theatre
she is of a similar generation
nurse Brierly
look how grown-up she is
how seriously adult
she meets and greets them at the door
notes their specific injuries
and triages them to the appropriate area
for treatment

There are skateboard injuries
injuries sustained doing stunts on bicycles
climbing trees and adventure sports
surfing on dangerous waves
and the old favourite
of motorcycle accidents
playing vigorous sports against younger competitors
over-exuberance in martial arts

There is also a special kind of
psychiatric facility
for those that don’t want to believe
they are getting old
their flexible green twiggy days
lie lost behind them

Out the back is the seminar room
they are taken there in small groups
where nurse Brierly will provide
she will bring photos of the patients
when they were young
see how old the photos look now
and hold a mirror up before them
look at all of those grey hairs!
and they are the parts where there is still hair
obituaries of your friends and cohort
and testimonials from sisters and brothers
then to finish the day
children – and grandchildren will visit – lots of them

Put the skateboard away grandpa
and all of your other silly toys
wipe the ice cream off your chin
until you can no longer
remember your youthful days

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5min pressing a day (#186)


There are some who are unsure
about the abyss
whether it has a bottom or not
is the to-be or not-to-be
of our time
if no bottom is found in the abyss
then it might be that
only the walls are to be seen
every day looking at the walls of the abyss
one can be sure they are grey
if one were to make the abyss more comfortable
more homely
then one might knit some wall-paper
decorate the sides to brighten your day
sitting and knitting
colours that will never fade
consider the bottom of the abyss
if it does not already have one
knit one
it might have a collection of cushions and sponges
and any type of furniture
this can all be knitted too
perhaps try knitting a chair that can fly
if going to that amount of effort, then knit a spacecraft
for traveling far
adventures will be guaranteed
these, too, can be knitted
just remember to get some brightly coloured wool
grey spacecraft are so boring
and it is difficult to tell them apart
from the walls of the abyss
as you board your spacecraft
don’t forget to take your knitting
for the journey will be long
and you will never return

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5min pressing a day (#185)


towards the end of a grand drama
after it has finished even
someone takes everybody to the pub
and unfurls a long scroll
this is it –
the script, the score, the exact dimensions
of the story that would unfold
unfolded as it was foretolded
after being told this – who would believe
not I and not you
it is a lie and a hoax
an elaboration
a distorted presumption
a conflagration of fibs
a contorted distortion
but it is true
says one of the team
I set-it-up
I arranged the whole event
from beginning to end you were
drawn into this drama
it was all pre-scripted

Needless to say,
no-one believes it
it could not be so
not possibly so

A confused dream
a critical confusion
an unfortunate delusion
this life

So, after some vigorous debate
in which opinions are passionately aroused
as if peoples lives depended on them
the publican comes to the table
for he will close this establishment for the night
he needs some sleep and we
should go home
just as everyone goes through the door
over the threshold and into the night
someone turns to their neighbour
‘I knew this would happen’

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5min pressing a day (#184)


There she is at the door
with a great big comfortable chair
she found it on the way home
in small shop hidden away
amongst small obscure shops
selling small obscure things

But here it is
a great big chair
from a small obscure shop
one of the understated wonders of the world
it might seem

And she carried it all of the way here
in spite of the wind, the rain
and the risk of being struck by lightning
here it is

I have just the place to put it
over there by the big window
the window that overlooks the sea
you will need a pouffe to put your feet on
so make a note to get one

You will also note that next to the chair is
a big pile of books
this chair is only for reading books
and listening to music
it cannot be used for anything else

Starting to read that pile of books
with the Mahabarata
from the pile that is called
‘classics and things that you should know’
there are, of course, other types of books
but we will start with that one
and as it gets saucy and spicy I cannot help
but think
gosh heck this is made for me
it is exactly the world that surrounds us all
maybe it is made for everybody
today and now and for all time

Going through the books there are some found
to be wanting, lacking,
not quite the full quid
of value, they might have other values
like helping us to get warm in winter
or pasting over holes and cracks in the walls
or chopping out the words and letters
and using them to express more interesting things

The chair will have it’s place
to sit there is a special privilege
when all of the daily tasks are done
or until one begins them…
or instead of doing them…

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5min pressing a day (#183)


For one long moment
standing free of time
the clouds stand still
the cherry tree
waiting for its flowers
to be blown off
as the day barks its commands
to be rained off
in the tears of life
to be crisped
in the baking sun

Free of time
the cherry tree waits
all sorts of people pass through this scene
in the afternoon
a group out hunting
for tulips – any colour will do
they will take whatever the gardener has managed to obtain
another group walks past this group
the magnoliaites
they live together
on a single pathway
winding into the upper canopy
another group are tree climbers
they always start a climb with a big hug
before asking the tree to carry their weight

Somewhere at the end of the path
by the duckpond
a group of warriors lie
as if dead, such is their exertion
their weapons lie around them
they will never lift them again
even in timelessness
they will rust
and eventually fade
the dream of war will fade
something better will come to take its place

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5min pressing a day (#182)


Somewhere near the heart of urbaninanity
as if representative of the centre
of the universe
of everything that matters
of everything that is

Beginning at the centre and walking outwards
a single line of footprints walking
through all of the shades of human experience
it goes spiraling out towards the fringes
the region of what lies beyond the known

There is a village populated almost entirely by single men
they live in small dwellings
get up every morning and work
work and work until evening
they will return
play sad music
as the vendor pushes his cart
selling crispy hopes in a creamy dreamy sauce
they absorb themselves in stories

On the opposite side of the city
opposite and yet the same
a village populated almost entirely by single women
they read books and listen to music
not far away is the chocolate factory
chocolatey clouds often waft by
as they gaze out from iron windows

Each alone reading stories of exotic adventures
rollicking amongst the mythical and legendary
the sensuous and the sublime
where everyone is absorbed in vital activities
matters that matter in the world of matter
it occupies every bit of their life
there is no need for sustenance nor rest
and every moment counts
in its silence

Walking even beyond these fringes
there is a place where the homeless and hopeless dwell
in their great happiness
out beyond the fringes
it is just a few steps to the wild
the place to taste
the most gloriously spirited existence

When all parts have been explored
returning to the centre
fresh eyes looking

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5min a day pressing (#181)


Somewhere in the middle of the days work
a surgeon wiping a sweaty brow
thinking a refreshing beer might hurry this complicated task
hoping that this procedure could be finished soon
the operation, a game of cut it open and stick it back together
there is still, however
a plate of miscellaneous body parts
left over
no one is sure where to put them
no one can remember where they came from

Somewhere in the previous evening
a gathering of minds
political prisoners busted out from their cells
who now walk free
escaped the idealists
who had somehow come to rule
and who became the persecutors
all were gethered together
composers, entertaining themselves with tone clusters
before retiring to orthodox music
poets who would paint pictures
with the imagination
a few words thrown-in
for good measure
an artist in disgrace
for using non-approved styles
and a philosopher, recently expelled from academia
all had escaped the clutches of idealism gone bad


The surgeon cannot dwell long on this
there is the plate of parts
something needs to be done about them
bury them in the garden
a wound to be sewn-up
a long walk home
along a narrow path
yesterday has gone
and tomorrow will never arrive
a snapdragon grows in a crack
in silent protest
a slither of light reaches over
to touch it

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