Can you think of a once strongly held conviction, belief or ideology on which you have completely changed your position?
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Five favourites from this week’s photo challenge from The Daily Post.
Tag Archives: society
Weekly Photo Challenge: Lunchtime
Five favourites from this week:
Weekly Photo Challenge: My Neighbourhood
I am hopeless at taking photos with my iPhone. I’m one of those Luddites who prefers to use my phone as only that, so make no apology for the quality of my entry to this week’s (actually, last week’s) photo challenge, which required us to do some phoneography.
I live in the ‘burbs, and a cacophony of cultivation culling machines pretty much characterizes my neighbourhood on a Saturday morning.
Dementia
Image via http://www.sxc.hu
So many days
we are beyond bereft
at some ancient
god’s puzzled mumbles
beneath the night lamp,
his tremulous finger-fumbles
with jigsaw fragments
of our lives,
his fearful look of surprise
at the countless missing pieces
of his Master Plan,
unaware of the devil dog
chewing at his feet.
http://jmgoyder.com/2012/12/15/children/
http://nrhatch.wordpress.com/2012/12/14/an-unblossomed-bloom/
http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/2012/12/15/no-humour-today/
Oxytocin: energy drink of the future?
The Man in the Street
Image via http://www.sxc.hu
How often
is he there
in front of you?
Just another bloke
like you
except, perhaps,
a lack of personal hygiene
or its pathological opposite,
his way of regarding you
far too directly
without blinking
for the longest time.
When he asks for a cigarette
do you oblige
in spite of yourself?
Because in this stark room
you cannot reconcile
the rhetoric
on the face of it -
just another human being
in the silence,
no manifest difference
to teach the rookies,
no monster in plain sight
to slay with a bedside light,
just this banality
of evil
sitting in the corner
of your nightmares.
————————-
Dilettantes of Disaster
Image via http://www.sxc.hu
The shadows draw long
through our limbs,
impoverished pulses from
indolent hearts carve us
tragic sinkholes for eyes; we are sallow
spectres in the night-
mirror, painting ourselves
in dishwater tincture
for dream-time, a sludge palette
of effete sorrow.
Until abstraction
manifests from the canvas
and chokes us by the throat,
we do not know gratitude.
Chewing on this
Image via http://www.sxc.hu
I read this wonderful post of Kate Shrewsday’s
before going to sleep last night and it got me thinking (they always do)
of
Six impossible things before breakfast
A world without the power of money,
a sun-powered world
Journeys across a borderless globe,
Inter-universe journeys
Born old, growing young,
Spinal cords
growing in a window box
——-xx——-
Impossible possibilities? What are your thoughts? 
The Bird
Image via http://www.sxc.hu
The bird
doesn’t mind
the indifference
of passing feet,
tossed flint-eyed scraps,
nest of a broadsheet
The bird
doesn’t mind
cold-hearted weather,
garbage-can dining,
piss-soaked shelter,
one-eyed sleep in the underpass,
the ubiquitous predator
The bird
doesn’t mind
existence
on the streets
He’s just a bird
Weekly Photo Challenge: Between
Between
is the breath between Continue reading
Weekly Photo Challenge: Self-Portrait
They say
we know
who we are
in adulthood -
sister,
not brother,
wife,
not mother -
a prosaic mosaic,
fragments of a self
but don’t ask me
to complete the picture -
time has lost
more than a few pieces
No Jacket Required
Cannot
draw, paint, sculpt,
create symphonies, move to
mirth or action,
enthrall,
sing with the voice of angels
(or the sublime Ms Fitzgerald),
cure with digitalis,
build to withstand
the aftershocks of a billion
humans,
yet,
can,
in an instant,
locate true north
of a moral compass,
see the colour of a
beating heart
In the Ring
Like a champion, he takes the blows,
And they keep on coming,
left, right, uppercut, and…
(Commentator) “Ohhh, that was dirty, but LIFE
hasn’t blown his whistle!”
..punch-drunk, reeling, but he’ll not lie
down for a TKO -
never give the schadenfreude crowd
their satisfaction
1 + 1 = ?
golden opportunity -
wormhole to a smidgen of
the universe -
squandered
in too much big
hair, Kate Bush
and Saturday Night Fever,
and,
who cares to know it,
an absence of self-trust,
So,
mathematics – the Ark of the Covenant,
and I – just another stupid girl
The Writing on the Wall
So, you went to a place you don’t belong,
knew, of course, that it was wrong,
spied troubled waters, jumped right in
with fatuous thoughts that you could win
Wild force unseen, current strong,
roared out to sea, swept you along,
dragged and drowned you in your whim,
City Style
Midday,
it’s lunching,
suited in boardroom sociopathy
By 3pm, its black sartorial
boredom hangs
in downtown coffee bars
The city, at 6, loosens silk ties, casts lustful
stares across crowded pubs
Its throaty, pashmina’d laughs drift
over footlights at 8,
Around 10, it’s sporting fusion-cuisined
energy and scent of MSG
Overtimed road-crew neon reflects
stumbling stillettoes,
come midnight
And at 2am, it’s pyjama-shuffling
its drug-coma’d streets,
mad-haired, in the darkness
But you’ll find it
just before sunup,
reposed against periwinkle sky,
at its naked
best
