The Show Is Over

The show is over, but the show is not done.
In one sense, the show has only just begun
Think of this, before you leave this show and me
You've granted "right now" a place in your memory

Now there's a real chance you'll forget this quick
That the thought of this night will just not stick
So all that remains of all you now see
Is a small memory of maybe some poetry

Some of you, may remember what you've heard
Will remember this show, remember some words
Words that follow you home and into your bed
So that when you dream, there'll be poetry in your head

Some lines will have left you smitten
Some lines will beging to be rewritten
New poems will start to form
New ideas will be born

You'll start to write. To create. To build a new thing.
And out of the ashes of the old show, a new show will begin.

Ghosts

I don't believe in ghosts. But they believe in me.

I walk my life as any human was who was free.

I feel the crunch of dry leaves under my feet.

I take two lefts and a right. I turn around and then repeat.

There are drips overhead. That plumbing needs a fix.

Details enter my head. The ghosts enjoy their tricks.

Many footsteps surround me. I am not jostled at all.

At the hint of any contact, I would surely stumble, fall.

A door. Focus now. A door handle is before my hand.

I extend my arm and grip it. This entrance was pre-planned.

I walk over the doorway, across an ordinary mat.

A little bell rings overhead, and wakes a sleepy cat.

I stand, judging it. Do the ghosts have this one too?

I gather myself, walk forward. Many things I walk through.

This pocket contains many perils. I bring forth, unscathed, a watch.

It's ticking is uneven. The gears need check for any crack or notch.

I cannot have this. The lack of regularity drives me insane.

A figure (two?) agree that a faulty watch would be a shame.

Given four hours, they can fix it. I sit. I observe.

Carefully. Quietly. Waiting for any straight line to curve.

Is it done? I only ask when I know for certain it is, yes.

I apologise for my awkwardness, during the time I was watch-less.

I exhale. The ticks. My ticks. Not slow. Not quick.

My time. I turn. And walk. Job done. Tick tick.

I don't believe in ghosts. But they believe in me.

With a working watch in hand, I now walk a bit more lightly.

The power of voices

Good morning, good evening.
Good day. How're you feeling?
No matter what you say or your flavour of greeting
We love to talk - our words give life meaning

But sometimes, sometimes, our words leave us screaming
Wanting to take back what we said, start retreating
Sometimes we're scared of the power our words can impart
We wish we could stop it, cower, go back to the start

See for all the times that we use our words wisely
We also try to get an edge by using our words wily
And it could be a joke that we hope will be funny
Or trying to cope when we know life isn't sunny
And inside you bet we regret what was said
We have died from dismay on replay in our head

We hate the person that said them - even though it was us
We are versed in acceptance - not making a fuss
As it's hard to admit when your unfit for forgiveness
In a bit maybe - but for now I'll live with this

The most powerful word that I've heard is sorry.
Spoken when we've awoken to give an apology.
And it's rare that it's honest, rare that it's true.
Sincerity is valuable, something hard to live through.

But if you're living with regret for words you want undone.
Then you know the power that your words have spun.
And if those words are powerful, know other words must be as well.
Including the words to bring you back from your hell.

Sentient Water

Now I don't know which mad cap scientist with a corporate ear
Was the first to remark Sentient water! Hey, what a good idea.
But it honestly has to rank in the top three bad ideas this decade.
Right after the sandpaper toothbrush and interns not being paid.

The original justification was dubious at best.
There's water scarcity and abundance, it's clear humans have made a mess
In trying to sort out where to put water on this land
So why don't we let the water come up with a plan.

So we did. We gave it brain and senses and existential dread
And we tried to let water sort out its own future instead.
Naturally it fled. Very quickly, at high speed. Away from humanity.
So began to great water hunt, and the start of our insanity.

Now, don't let me pretend that it wasn't a little bit fun.
Pursuing water across many cycles of moon and sun.
But soon all the air from our lungs was expired.
As we became slow, dehydrated and tired.

We'd caught, quite quickly, the water that was soft.
It succumbed quickly, we held it victorious, aloft.
Then, by the known process of natural selection
The water that was hard naturally gained our attention.

It was toughened by minerals, charged by ions.
It started a battle that would last for eons.
We'd chase and it'd learn, and sometimes claim one of our own.
It would divide and erode us, seeking to catch us alone.

There was never a treaty, just raw primal chase.
As we battled our creation - the new water race.
There were many victories on each side, but heed the truth of this fable:
Never trust anything with "smart water" on the label.