Depression

I can’t remember when I stopped singing
When my throat dried up and issued
Only words like coughs
When I fell out of time with life’s rhythm
All I know is that others are dancing
And I am not
I am still in the dips
And whirls of movement
I am the counterpoint to sound
The hum of absolute silence
I am alone in this crowd
Alone in this bed beside you
I am divided in myself
Until there is no one in the mirror
No one that I recognise
And I cannot bring myself to speak
Let alone sing
It is not that I cannot pick up the rhythm
Or that I like this dark corner
It is the weight of this inertia
It is the fear of losing this static shuffle
In a leap

The Ocean

Ever do the oceans move

Never do they sleep

Ever do their motions soothe

Save in the stormy deep

Ever do the tides pull

To shore or far away

Ever are the oceans full

Under star or day

It matters not who you are

Or your earthbound name
The ocean calls us back to her

Back to where we came

The Ominmind

The divine has a part in everything

It feels through the trembling of flowers

It sees through grids of insect eyes

As fish it inhales water

And synchronises the swimming schools

All unknowing share the omnimind 

That sees through everything

The hears through everything

That smells through every nostril

That holds its memory in the rings of tree stumps

And the shape of crystals

To think it has seen everything I have seen

And heard every sound that spiralled through my eardrums

Is disconcerting

Yet it accepts every part of itself

And considers none the lesser for what it has done

In my clearest moments I touch its memory

Where both the past and future lie buried

Like ancient artefacts waiting to be excavated   

The Snake

It’s womb was a black hole

Nay a white hole

That expels rather than impels 

The egg looked like a moon

Adrift beyond the orbits

A solar system trembled

When the egg cracked

And the great serpent silvered

Into the darkness

As a baby it coiled

Round the rings of Saturn

And struck at meteors

Fully grown it dislocated its jaw

And swallowed the sun

The luminous lump moved through its body

Shinning light between its scales

Once the sun had been digested,

The snake hissed solar flares

Into the empty regions of space

Its shed skin is often mistaken

For a new constellation

To this day, it glows burning white

And leaves a glittering trail

Through the universe

Proof of God

20150325_190006The concept of God (or whatever name you’d prefer to call the Almighty) has been debated since we first learnt to argue. There have been arguments to affirm God’s existence, which I am in no way trying to do. And there have been arguments aimed at disproving the idea of a supreme being, which likewise falls outside the scope of this article. What we are dealing with here is not whether God exists or not, but whether there is any way to prove the existence of an almighty God.

 

Before we go on, we need to establish what is meant by the word God – at least in the context of this article- as the term means different things to different people. I am using the word God, in the Almighty and infinite sense of the word: a Supreme Being and creator of all existence. I would like to emphasise that this is not an attempt to prove God’s existence, so atheists please bear with me. Many believe that the birth of science meant the death of God. That in light of recent discoveries – such as the big bang and evolution – a belief in God is nothing but superstition. But, is it really?

 

Today we know that a massive explosion, commonly known as the big bang, created our universe. But what, might I ask created the big bang? And what created the singularity before the big bang? And even if we figure out what created the singularity then what created that? And so it can go on and on, infinitely. And that is the point.

 

Even if we trace creation back to a single point, which some scientists claim to have already done, then surely the question of what created creation or the creator still lingers.

 

Infinity as described in the Oxford Dictionary is being infinite, boundlessness. The best way to understand this concept is to take a mathematical example: no matter how high you can count, you can always add another number onto the end and therefore keep counting into eternity. In the same way, we might be able to prove where the universe came from, yet fail to prove where the phenomenon that created the universe came from.

 

The scope of science, unless it has changed while I wasn’t looking, only deals with subjects that can be tested and measured. The point is, that if an almighty God does exist then such a God, being infinite in nature (in other words immeasurable), is beyond the scope of science.

 

Again, I am not arguing for the existence of God, merely illustrating that an infinite God’s existence cannot be ruled out by scientific means. Unless, of course, the scientific community broadens its methods to include discoveries that fall beyond the scope of what can be tested and measured. Not that I think this is a good idea, as the scientific method at least offers a criteria.

 

All that I am doing is admitting my ignorance. I do not say that God does not exist all because I know – according to modern science – that the big bang and evolution do. Thus, the question of God’s existence remains open and may never be closed. In the mean time though, isn’t it practical for both sides to admit the obvious: that if God does exist there is no way to prove it, and even if God does not exist there is no way to prove that either.

 

The above article has already been publsihed on www.alteye.co.za under the name God of Philosophy

 

Flammable

 

Don’t shoot sparks at me now

I am flammable

My blood could ignite like petrol

Then I’d be a man on fire

Dressed in flames

Going from room to room

Burning everything

I would burn you too

When all I wanted

Was to embrace you

To tell you

‘Let’s turn the heat down’

Today I have kept my cool

I have swallowed fire

All day long and said nothing

To char anyone

But now that I am home

And you are rubbing sticks together

I can feel an explosion rising in my throat

And I know if I open my mouth

Fireballs will shoot out and strike at all I love

I try to speak water but even that boils away

And fails to come down as rain

 

I wish it were snowing

Right here in our kitchen

Right here on our feelings

So that the things we need to say

Could be said without leaving a mark

Too often it is only when we are on fire

That we voice and therefore burn each other

With what in cooler climates would enlighten

The Artist

 

So subtle and simple

Is nature’s design

Who could have fashioned it

Other than an artist divine?

With proportions flawless

And patterns clear

What kind of genius

Are we dealing with here?

There is so much detail

How much time did it take

To fashion a fingerprint

For each snowflake?

As for the sounds

Of nature’s symphony

A better musician

There will never be

Not to mention the smells

And flavours of nature’s cuisine

Surely a better chief

There has never been 

The talent is uncanny

And oh so much range

From sea creatures

To land features

From normal to strange

From atoms to planets

Circling their suns

Ponder the depths and perspectives

Of these eternal ones

From the singularity

To the supernova

From the beginning

Till it’s all over

The standard

Has never waned

The methods are only beginning

To be explained

This is an artist

Whose toil must never cease

For life itself

Is this genius’ masterpiece

Illusion

 

A little boy and little girl were walking through the woods on their way home, when they found an old monk, sitting in a clearing. His legs were crossed in lotus position and his eyes closed. As the children drew closer they realized that the old man was levitating. They gazed at him dumbstruck for a minute. Then they circled the monk, looking for any a clue as to how he floated.

The monk, still levitating, seemed totally oblivious to their presence. “Wake up,” yelled the boy, but the monk remained unresponsive, floating in the air as if gravity did not exits to him. The children were too curious to go home so they waited until the monk woke up.

Hours passed before the old monk floated gently to the ground and opened his eyes. He saw the children standing in front of him.

“How do you float like that?”asked the boy.

“It is an illusion,” replied the monk.

“Then where are the ropes that hold you up,” retorted the girl.

“You don’t understand,” said the wise old man. “The floating is not the illusion.”

A versionof  the above story has already been published on www.alteye.co.za

Land of the Free

The following poem was written during the Bush Administration, just after the Invasion of Iraq. 

 

                                                        A superpower, a missile shower

                                                        A fierce foreign policy

                                                        A nation attacked, a patriot act

                                                        A farewell to liberty

                                                        A leader persuades

                                                        An army invades

                                                        To enforce a democracy

                                                        A body bag

                                                        A folded flag

                                                        In the land of the free

We Will Remember by Troydon Wainwright

 

 

Once we were blindfold, shackled and gagged
Kept in separate rooms, where we learnt to fear each other
And cast blame like stones over our divisions
A long and hard-fought struggle
Levelled the walls and we came face to face
Our nation, so long mute, could at last speak
And love broke the chains that bound us
Our eyes could see as far as they sought to see
And no question was forbidden
Again a gag has been stuffed into our mouths
Again a blindfold has been forced over our eyes
We see only what those who fastened them want to show us
We hear only what they deem fit for our ears
They who in binding us have proven themselves unworthy of power
They who seek to hide behind a piece of paper
For all we do not see we see them
For all we do not hear we hear them hush us
And while our hands are still free there is work to do
And while our minds, that know no chains other than their own,
Keep thinking we will remember
We will remember
And so will they
They will have to tell their children
That they may not speak their minds
That you played a part in gagging them
That the freedom they fought for they betrayed
That they helped dim liberty’s light and let the darkness in