Artful Words of Science

The Art of Science is my last book of poetry published earlier this year and I happen to believe it is my best so far….. It is full of angst, insights and ideas about life, reality and it all. My poetry is fluid wordplay using words to create feelings and conjure pictures of how I see things. All my poetry books are available on Kindle and in paperback format… Enjoy this sample from The Art of Science called Getting Older. I once thought that I would last forever Had no concerns at all Burned the candles at both ends And in the middle too But there came a time when I suddenly understood Time, was moving quickly on Everyone looks older But not necessarily wiser Certain songs are sung memories

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Allergic to Beer?

Woe is me! I am forced to conclude that I am allergic to something in beer. I love beer, especially Czech beer, but it hates me. Last night, I had four glasses of beer with a friend. This morning, I am dizzy, throbbing headache, my right eye is swollen up and my sinuses too and I have a sore throat on that side too. In short, I feel pretty crappy to say the least. I have been getting this sort of reaction to most beers this last few years but this time is the worst. If I drink wine, whiskey or anything else, I am fine so it really is beer. My father suffered the same fate. The older he got the more beer seemed to dislike him. A pint of

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Talent

Talent. It is a strange thing. Some people ooze it without effort while others strive for it. A talent is a gift and it is a shame when a talent isn’t used. I purchased a guitar for my eldest son Paul when he was quite small. He picked at it and strummed it as small kids do and then it gathered dust. I did try to teach him some chords but he seemed to have little interest. He took up violin in school and actually became quite good at it. He did study music as well. One long hot Houston summer, I came home from work to discover Paul playing my electric guitar. Hours and hours on end in his room he strummed and played. after a few days, he

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Time

Time – He’s waiting in the wings He speaks of senseless things His script is you and me boys I have been spending some time moving photos to the iMAC where they can be properly backed up. We have accumulated over 15,000 photos in 9-years and I am not done yet. The work is tedious as it involves copying directories from various machines to storage sticks and then uploading them into iPhoto on the iMAC. Of course, there are many duplicates and things are all mixed up so de-duping is the next step and then organizing into albums that make sense could take me the rest of my life. Back in Houston, there are thousands of photos somewhere documenting the first 46-years of my life. I have a handful of

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Lady

She gently brushes my graying face With her sweet and airy breath Her musky fragrance pervades The hallowed space around me I have plumbed her depths And I have drank her deeply Yet, still she is a mystery to me She gave me life and sustenance She washed away my pain with her tears Her embrace is like eternity She is beneath me and above me She is always all around me I breathe in her fragrance deeply I am hers utterly, completely Within me and without me The divine waters ebb and flow She is my soul. She is my Goddess She is Life and she will be my death She is the Grail that I have sought She is the beginning and the end She is this life

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Japan and Birmingham

I play a lot of music during the day as I work in my home office. It never ceases to amaze me the power of music. In particular, its power to evoke memories and trigger mood and emotional responses. If I want to meditate, I simply go to youtube these days and select a nice suitable piece of music and I am off to other spheres….. Today, I played some Japan. It has been a long time since I did and I was immediately transported back to Birmingham and 1979. My best friend at college – Steve – introduced me to Japan one afternoon at his flat. We were playing Dungeons and Dragons and he put one of their albums on. I loved the music and the deep rumbling of David Sylvian’s

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Lifelines

Lifelines In indelible ink Or the tattoo on my navel Lifelines Seared across my open palm Experienced by the ladle Snapped shut, my eyes Drift across Dreamy inner scenes A life in perspective Seeking a new directive A sure beginning A waning middle And uncertain end Simple sensational synapses Reliable renewables relapses I act but did I intend? I hope and I depend That the light at the end of my tunnel Is relief and not further trouble I got my opinions And I got my views Imagination aplenty Creating cryptic critical crises With dependable dull devices Lifelines In my biological genes In the redness of my blood Lifelines Is it really pre-ordained Or am I truly self-sustained?

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I was Troubled. Now I am Astonished.

The other day I was participating in a discussion on Facebook. The theme of the topic was the supermarkets here in Brno and one person posted a very long tirade about empty shelves. I was amazed. Empty shelves? Where? When? This was such an opposite to my experience with Brno supermarkets that I responded rather too quickly. I said something like – you must live in a parallel universe….. Of course, he took this as insulting, not knowing me. I think probably anyone would. But I actually meant it. It wasn’t an insult but an observational analysis that, as I grow older I more and more believe may be true. We all live in our own realities and we reflect back what we expect. It’s not quite that simple of course,

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Ski Weekends

We went skiing this last weekend. That sounds like a lot of fun doesn’t it? It sort of conjures an image of daring and sportiness, Apres ski, and so on. When I say we, I really mean my partner and daughter went skiing. Off they went and down they came the ski slope again and again and again. Me, I either watched them shivering in the freezing cold breeze, or you would have found me skiing several times down the last 50 meters or so of the slope, cursing like a trooper, moving like a skewered Giraffe on drugs and sweating like a … well, pig actually. You see, Skiing terrifies me. It sounds good. I’m going skiing! The reality is that anything more than 15 degrees sloped downwards and

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New Year Celebration?

Please forgive me for being a party pooper but I dislike New Year. I think I detest it because I simply don’t understand it. What are we celebrating? I suppose we are pleased to be getting rid of one year and welcoming a new one with all its potential. But don’t we do exactly that every single day? What is so special about this particular day? And if I am to celebrate the potential of a new year then why does it begin with a hangover? what a great start – a late night and too much alcohol – the new year is already ruined before it even began! No, if it were down to me, I’d be going to bed at a normal hour and treating it like any other

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