It has been far, far too long since I last blogged. It isn’t that I have been out of ideas that need writing, but more that I’ve been re-thinking my approach to expression and found it intolerable to be doing something that I no longer understood. But here I am again, but then Kierkegaard did say that the ethical would re-establish itself, and so I’m re-kicking off with a poem. It’s slightly sonnetish, and deliberately confusing because I think that it expresses an important sentiment which is worth pondering slowly – I don’t like microwave meals and I don’t like microwave thinking.
Truth, Nonsense, Freud and Christmas
The nonsense of the verse is there to hide
The truthful words which do not live inside.
For words are not the prophecies of old
And rhythm is not order to behold.
But why then try to resurrect the dead?
Or build a Babel reaching to the sky,
If not to reconcile the ego to the ‘I’?
Or come to terms with something that was said
X number of years ago – Perhaps done
In jealousy? Cain struck his brother down.
A killer must return to the crime-scene
To see the ghost of Christmas-yet-to-come,
And echoes of what hasn’t been.