[The following thought medley was kindly shared with us by Happy Cow's good friend Simon Drew. When he is not busy doing nothing at all, Simon can be found staying up far too late, teaching and running the online groups English Stuff and International Monthly Hatstand Day. This is Simon's first contribution to Happy Cow, and as usual we would like to encourage more so that we can all give up writing and spend all day in the pub and at the dog racing instead. Join us in encouraging Simon by clicking on the 'Like' button or leaving a comment at the bottom of this page. You can sign in to the comments widget using your Facebook or Google accounts or just leave a message without signing in. Enjoy!]
Well,
if I could put it into words
it would be the many colours of the textas on my desk,
the sweat forming under my hooded jumper,
the ball of the ball point pen and
the dry throat of too many cigarettes.
Light and dark passing
losing their names, light and dark
it was called confusion
then it was that
all that was apart was fused
water for dry throat
fingers tips on the laptop's keys
knowing nothing and
having nothing to say
everything is said.
This is no different from what delights in differing
eternity in a briefcase,
infinity in a Macdonald's queue.
We gave names to love,
for no reason,
just out of play
and we played with our creations
and created even "ourselves"
even we gave a name to the moon
and looked on things golden and grey
this will be and this may
this should be and this will stay
all part of infinity's play!
feeling as though it is "I" who is covered in flesh
condemned to breathe and see and know
and this breathing is nothing, and nothing is seen
and knowing is only unknown.
Moments, too, light and dark,
we laughed them into no space,
we wept the clouds and snored the mountains
up from their resting place.
the rainbows too we sneezed out loud
and spat stars into the sky
and then imagined we were separate
as hell and heaven sighed.
Rolling in the grass we catch the scent
ah, what was that now?
and then forget and fall asleep
the open hand below
climbing trees and fighting wars and telling jokes to friends
acting out the role of saint, breaking air to make amends,
playing and forgetting and remembering
an aeroplane in flight
walking paths through where we are
and making day and night.
It rains on me and I am the rain,
I am the footpath too
and that which cannot me named,
so build me up with glue!
No one to judge and no one judging
it's all hatstand can't you see?
and this we have to enjoy
for never and eternity!
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