Tell yourself what you believe.
Tell others too.
Show yourself your belief.
Show others too.
When you tell – you present your front.
When you show – you are convincing
Flying to Malaysia is like
sailing to Antartica,
Trekking to Tasmania
eloping to Ethiopia
cycling to Shanghai
potholing through Rockies
ballooning beyond Bolivia
rowing to Rumania
– It’s a confidence act.
It takes imagination to dream
and courage to fly.
I didn’t put fuel in the airplane
didn’t oil the engine
nor train the pilot
nor test the emergency exit
I didn’t chart the course
didn’t make sure the co-pilot took her medication.
I simply trusted an imagination I didn’t invent.
Unknowing the Indian Ocean
the Bay of Biscay
the gulf of Hormuz
the mouth of the Brahmaputra
and why the earth isn’t a perfect sphere.
If Malaysia didn’t exist,
Rhodes would have invented it
and I might have plonked it
out of sight
so we could amuse each other with questions like
“What would you do if
you were born in Tajikistan
and fell from an angel’s wing
over Kuala Lumpar?”
“Is the square root of the latitude of the Federation of Malaysia equal to the sum of the other two sides involved in the revolution?”
Because you’ll never find it
unless you can imagine a black-haired boy
in an emerald green rugby jersey
shouting “Ireland, Ireland”
as he snapchats his way from KL to Cork.
we met thanks to people on Periscope – the live streaming App.
Scott was sitting on Dublin grass in the Phoenix Park. Drawing the obelix from Egypt that celebrates the military victories of Wellington.
I kept my eye on him. Every mark he made on paper – every single line. He was too good to ignore, too attractive.
Scott shuffled himself comfortable under the shade of a tree that might have been planted specially for him.
I heard him offer his drawing to anyone who wanted it. Anyone tuned in live to his “scope”.
The polite thing would have been to wait.
I said to myself in Cork:
“Me me me – I want that drawing – it’ll never happen again, boy”
So I whispered – in my loudest internet voice
“I’ll have it please. May I have it?”
The rest is history…
(Buy the authorised biography of Scott from Scotland, when it’s published. 45% reduction on published price – only through this site)
I found it in the Notes App on my iPhone – from 2013. Doubt I wrote it – I like it too much.
There once was the classic mother-in-law
Who considered she hadn’t a flaw
She knew all the answers
Crosswords and chancers
Until she found she had snot in her jaw
I’ve always been found
wanting more than a woodpecker carves
into the last tree
in the last forest,
than my mother’s ever offered,
– even more than father bestowed
on one of his good days.
I was born wanting more time for love.
I’ve grown hungrier by the day,
thirstier by night,
always grasping for clean air.
There’s never been a father more loved,
ever since letters of infinity
were strung together
on a necklace
that shines with promise
and gradually shrinks
until it chokes
the living daylight out of me.
I’ve always wanted to beg.
Like most beggers,
my voice has been feeble
– barely enough courage
to pay the price father demanded.
I’ve always been found
wanting to trust more.
I’m used to starving.
Bless me Father,
for I have sinned
on a daily basis.
let me do penance
– only let me have time to pay.
it was a year that asked to be
or burned on a pyre
constructed from the shyte
that held my year together.
Or was it …?
Surely there was more to it than that?
Surely there was a before and an after?
Before was wintertime.
Before was the joy of the city of big shoulders,
the invitation to excitement desired,
an event looked forward to.
There was a new year
full of hope
a future to celebrate with Revolution.
There was a period of time
when I prospered.
The joys of March.
Days when my lover’s offer
came to Cork
were an unmitigated blessing
– before that offer was too much.
All those early days,
all those days before the French holiday,
before the paintbrush
wiped away the smile from my face
– I sat by a stream.
I imagined the whispering flow
of water over stone.
I imagined paint on canvas
and fell down in the field
during the drama of women
confronting the god.
Oh how terrible that field,
Bless Netflix, bless Breaking Bad.
You were so wonderful.
Where would I have been without …
Composed on 31 December 2014
List compiled in February 2015 (under review)