Category: Len

When everything was new, & in its place Exactly; a perfect marriage of time & space: An ideal plan made real by no creator; Pristine forms; harmonious symbiosis Of dimensions; poles & the equator Linked by lat & long lines straitly; osmosis Didn't pilfer soul nor matter; the All Was One, not fractured, shot beyond… Continue reading Now & Then?

When nothing can be said, we shouldn't try To spin out words, as little can accrue From fruitless, idle talk of me & you; Especially when this virtual you & I Is merely that, not true or false, nor real Beyond the phrase itself. I'd rather fly Than walk or run, but have to grope… Continue reading C&I

The unrequited love of selfhood grows And nurtures nothing, shapes no concrete poems, Forms small hopes of spiritual awakening? L. A. Barron Len Barron [17/11/2019]

If nothing's good or bad but thinking makes It so, it follows on for me I think, Therefore l am' implies I'm pretty good? Yet, others might infer this specious lie Is self-designed to smooth, if not defy, The warts & wrinkles ethics breeds in rude And ill-defined bad habits- mostly drink And words, more… Continue reading Perhaps to be or not to be a weasel…

'My love, I love you far-too much for marriage... [Anon] I asked Her 'Will you marry me? She said I will; but one day by & bye, not now? Tomorrow, next month, next year, maybe? How We go, too quick or slow, makes soon or late? It's down to you & I, we/us, not Fate?… Continue reading Marriage: The Lover to his Post-PostModern Coy Mistress

Calligraphy's a vain pursuit, akin To sniffing one's own toxic, home-brewed farts! I mean, what should be merely plain & practical Breeds a stylish craft of futile arts And hideous pride in small & worthless, personal Deeds? The feckless grandeur shown within Italic, even Gothic lines, reflects The weakness such strong, caring hand protects! But,… Continue reading Calligraphy, or The Self-Reflexive Art of Writing Finely

The times of when we queued are dead & gone. To wait for bus or tube which never came, Or pile up at the bar in pre-App days, Was bliss, indeed! And such a crying shame It is, this here-& -now that thinks & says Sweet Progress, how I worship thee alone!' But, what else… Continue reading Queueing

I should have liked to have known him, Wittgenstein, And gone to movies, certain they were crap, Insipid, B-feature fayre, non-thought provoking Westerns, gumshoe Noirs, or melodrama, Romance, musicals, the rest of all such pap! But, as the world is all that is the case, And he died when he did, not even joking Poems… Continue reading Watching Westerns with Ludwig Wittgenstein

When nothing fits or seems quite as it ought To be; if what you saved for & then bought Turns out a fraud & fake; &, should no port Within the storm arrive on time, you're caught Upon the waves of self delusions, fraught With guilt & sadness, black despair, naught To cheer you, nor… Continue reading Wandering Thought

The old, familiar, irresolvable riffs Pour out again: is that fucking glass Half full or empty, both or either, and Or even neither? Filling life with ifs And ans, the pots & pans of fun in hand Just rust, & new old wine goes off before It's tasted? Quibbling minds, we pimp & whore The… Continue reading Vita Negativa Naturaliter

In jest, we call them 'creatures of the night'. In truth, we've never seen them by the light Of broken day, unless the rat called Bernard Counts! Perhaps great hordes of badgers, foxes, Mice & Muntjac deer convene outside The staffroom door when we have gone away? Well, maybe not, in fact! Besides, it's dark… Continue reading Random Thoughts on Creatures

I lost my glasses, falling over drunk One night, with no idea just where. 'd thought I'd see things clearly, even in the dark? Not so, it seems! To miss the fucking mark Is far-more easy really than it ought To be when stone-cold sober's done a bunk! But, now it makes me think, what… Continue reading Glasses: A True Story, or The Truth at Last?