How delighted was I
To be invited
To the ‘Poet-Freaks’

Sometimes my rhyme
Goes to waste
It’s an acquired taste

Some say
When they read my verse
‘There can’t be much worse’

Well now I feel quite at home
With my fellow zanies
Who never make the ‘dailies’

Sean Hunt

How well do we know the “I”
That we see
With our eyes?

The “I”
That we see
With our eyes?
Is illusory
For you,
And for me

It cannot be found
Even if you search
All around

What about the
Very subtle “Me”,
The “I” that
I cannot see?
The “I” that is really
'Me'

My very subtle mind
Is the 'I'
That I really need to
Find


Sean Hunt
Windermere, October 23 20125

One Day

Even though I know
You don't exist
Though I know I'm dreaming
I grovel and I grasp,
With a death-grip
At that cascade of pleasures
Dripping from your lip
I am a pathetic man
Seduced by lucid dreams
Tyrannized by
Stinking wishful thinking
Deceived by my delusions
Conned by human confusion
I know better now!
As healthy shame descends
I say, “One day,
One day I will part the veil
Or, better yet, burn it
And then I will see 'Reality”
One Day!

But not today

Sean Hunt  
Windermere August 2015

Will I be here
When the next Christmas comes
When winter
Turns the corner
And returns again
Will I see
Another tree

Will I once again
Be able
To leaf back
Through the pages
Of the book
To remember
The space
Between Decembers



             Sean Hunt   Dec 2016 Windermere, UK

There may be something
You can do
About what is
Worrying you

Rehearse the moment
Every day
The moment when
Your world will drift away

And you will find
Your mind will be
Light and gay
On your death day

Now is the time
To say goodbye
There’s never, ever
A time to cry

sean  Sept 2016

Kate's lucky
She's married
And I’m old
I’m lucky
Kate's married
And I’m old

We flexed our muscles
monopolizing spice
and other things
We were not fair
we were not nice

Setting trends
to get some more
finding pirates
to win our wars

But the weight of the world
fell back on us
Now we find
they're treasonous

We climbed the highest hill
and then descended
Now we find we've been
'unfriended'

Her dad died
I never knew him
Only through her
I wonder how much
Of him I know
Through knowing her
Some of him?
Aspects
Mannerisms
Aphorisms
Animisms
Moralisms
Stoicisms
Ex­tremisms
Hedonism
Lyricism
Optimism
Activism

I wonder

Sean Hunt

Be mindful when you live
Be careful when you die
Discipline determines
your dream day and night

Watch your mind
your mouth and hands
The winds may blow
where you don’t want to go

During a lifelong drought
two rivers of tears
could flow
from your eyes to your mouth

This thirst is the worst

We all want happiness
But happiness will only come
If we give happiness
To someone else,
Not ourself

We all want to be free from fear
This is easy, not so hard
Remove some fear
From another heart

Me and mine
Is the choral whine
Drowning out
The stillness and peace
That we all need
So desperately

Sean Hunt  
2015 April Windermere

Scratching On The Screen

It's such a sad scene
We're messing with our movie
Scratching on the screen
Not knowing we're projecting
A very bad dream
It's such a sad scene
And the source of it all
Is a toxic mindstream
It's such a sad scene

We're bathing in a waterfall
Downstream
From a dam
Made by
The mind of man
And we don't even know
Each drop is a sham
Unaware
We sit and stare
Unaware

Sean Hunt
Windermere November 2015

The captain takes us down
To the engine room
He says our minds ‘will be blown’
Very very soon
The mechanisms of our minds
Dissected and revealed
By the captain of this ship
The mystery revealed

Sean Hunt  March 2016

Original Face

What did your original face
Look like
Before this life
The one that you had
Before your parents were born

Your primordial face
The one that has nothing to do
With the human race
Can you remember?

Expressionless?
The same as the rest?
Utterly unique,
One of a kind?
A ten?

Those were
Pre-'selfie' days!
We can only contemplate
In a  state of
Curious wonder
Ruminate
Hallucinate.

Sean Hunt
Windermere April 2015

A new day
Has dawned
But
What is a ‘new day’
Anyway?

A slice of
Never-ending time
An irreverent
Rebellious rhyme

Coordinates
Are needed
To place one day
In the history
Of ‘me’

In a cave underground
Without a chime
Around
To tell us time
Pray
Tell me
Where is the day


Sean Hunt   March 2017

Animals and insects
we like or we hate
we help or we ****
for reasons feeble
just like people

What I heard
You never said
What you said
I never heard
My ears can hear
And I know the words
How is it
What you said
I never heard
My ears can hear
And I know the words
How is it
What I heard
You never said

Because we don’t hear
With our ears
And we don’t see
With our eyes
That’s why
Reality is full of lies

Sean Hunt

Extend your gaze
At any face
For a while
Beyond the
Politically correct
Deadline

The longer you gaze
At a face
The more it changes
Eventually
You may find
You experience fright
And turn away

If you stay
And do not escape
Something new
Will be revealed for you
About the person
Behind the face

You may finally know
The large part you play
In the
Person production game

Sean Hunt
Windermere April 2015

From the center

    of my sphere

        yes

           I

    am in here

and I can be found

surrounded by

      galaxies

    all around



Sean Hunt  May 2017

John Jarlath Hunt
Was his name
‘Tis a shame
He was not known
By some of his children
They buried someone else
Another man
With a heart of pure gold
But the John Jarlath I knew
Had a heart
Made of mixed metals
He was a better man
Because at least
He was real

“Very human” was the way
That John Jarleth
Would describe
The men he held
In high esteem
Flaws and all
Taken into account
‘Tis a pity when they
Laid my father in the ground
The words that sounded
All around
Described
A more inhuman man

Sean Hunt

The end of gathering is scattering
The end of rising is falling
The end of meeting is parting
The end of birth is death

Then at the end of death there is a breath

The end of the end is beginning
The end of losing is winning
At the end of light is darkness
The end of the end is the start

With the beat of another heart

The end of winter is summer
After the moon comes the sun
At the end of work is play
The end of the night is day

The end of war is peace
The end of famine is feast
The end of wrong is right
The end of darkness is light

After we scatter we gather
Gathering ends in dispersion.
The end of day becomes night
And the end of a cry is a sigh

The end of peace is war
At the end of the sea is a shore
The end of peace is drama
And the end of samsara is nirvana

    Sean Hunt March 2017
          (First verse Buddha Shakyamuni slightly paraphrased)

From your empty mind
Find something to say
That has not yet been said
Find a bride
That has not yet been wed
A country not yet found
On this belching ball
Hurling through the universe
Find a secret never heard
In human words
And a riddle yet unsolved
By the wisdom
Of our sages
Through the dimness
Of the ages
Sign the unsignable
Find the unfindable
Send out the summons
For that child of a barren woman


Sean Hunt        Sept 2016

Untruths and lies abound
they’re found like flies
flying ‘round when someone’s died

As common as the air we breathe
as steady as the sun
Some people think they’re fun

How many people even know
what the truth is?
Something is amiss

I’m afraid to say, what’s on my mind
afraid that something true
may not please you

I fear for for my self
I’m running everywhere
escaping from your crosshairs

We all barter in this market
keep our reputation nice
with money and with dice

I had better brave the bullets
there’s nowhere to flee
and the Truth will set me free

The you that I see
depends on me
The world that I see
depends on me
The me that I see
depends on me
When my mind machine shuts down
the whole wide world
will stop spinning 'round
In this galaxy I thought I saw
a center-piece
The body that I thought I saw
was never really here
All that time
all the freak-outs and the fun
I seemed to be having
never really happened
I never came, I never went
and so I cannot stay
as this was never meant
I am sleepwalking
Though my dream seems real
Now I know the deal
and one day I will awake
with a wisdom that knows
without a doubt
that the world I am in
is like a dream that will end
and fade like a morning mist
like one of many kisses
like the day, like the night
like this verse I have recited

sean hunt  june 2017

The word 'Masturbatory'
Is rather naughty,
Using it
Doing it
Talking about it

But it's perfect poetry
And I know
I need to use it

To describe
Some poetry.

Anything longer
Than a page
Is in grave danger
Of having that label
Slapped
On it!

Sean Hunt
Windermere

We are wondering what boredom is
Sitting 'round a table
As our days are caving in
Contemplating with our consciences
Our litanies of sins
As our bodies and our minds
Defy our wishes and our whims
We are dug into the trenches
And we are not giving in
Leonard Cohen once sang in a song
And I repeat:
We are staring in the face of our
“Invincible defeat”

Incisions in our eyes
So we can see
People all around us
Through the mist and the fog
God Bless the NHS
As they investigate the mess
And tell us what we know
That our time is ticking on
And soon we'll have to go
Boredom's for the young
For those whose songs
Are not yet sung
In desperation they fill up
Every moment with some fun

Sean Hunt  
Windermere  Sept 2015

Many people knew him
Once upon a time
When he was a little boy
And when he was a man
He used to like his whiskey
And the songs he sang
He used to break the rules
Liked to play the fool

But John is gone,  yes John is gone
John is gone, long gone

Just like the summer
And ground he walked on
Like the sound of his voice
John is gone

He used to live here
And he lived over there
Seems like John lived
Everywhere

When he was a tenor
He sang night and day
If he were still around
I’d sing with him today

But John is gone,  yes John is gone
John is gone, long gone

Was he ever here I wonder
And where did he go
The John that I remember
The John that I know

Most meaningful
Creator
Of nothing
Teacher about
How
Nothing can be found
Heard, yes
Seen, no
Found, no
Not here, not there
Not on the ground
Or in the air
Never found
Anywhere
I speak of sound

Sean Hunt
October 2015

Someone offered Kate a gun
They don’t know her well
She wouldn’t shoot
At anyone
For a pound or two
So she’s safe
For me and you
Kate looks tough on a bike
But she wouldn’t harm a fly
She is too lady-like

Sean Hunt May 17 2016

Now I wonder what it is
To be inhuman
Not knowing
All there is to know
Not being
All there is to be
Unable to know you
Unable to know me

I wonder what they dream
When their eyes close
And their world goes
When they drift away

Sean Hunt  June 2nd 2016

I think this body that I see
Is me
But I know
That my big toe
Is not ‘Me’
And I know
My right knee
Is not the ‘Me’
That I see
And I know
My nose
Is not the ‘Me’
That I see
All the little bits of ‘Me’
Are not ‘Me’

How can this be?


                Sean Hunt        Sept 2016

We see
What we want to see
We see who we want
To See

Even if
I wanted to
I couldn't see you
Because
There is no you
To see

This is the Mystery
Of you
And me

We dream at night
And in the daylight
As long as we know,
Every thing is alright

This is the Mystery
Of you
And me

Sean Hunt
Windermere, Dec 26th 2015

Snowflakes

Light white bright
Snowflakes were falling
That January
Morning
While we were trying
To write
About Light

Sean   Hunt
Windermere 2015 Jan 16

Gaze At A Face

Extend your gaze
At any face
For a while
Beyond the
Politically correct
Deadline

The longer you gaze
At a face
The more it changes
Eventually
You may find
You experience fright
And turn away

If you stay
And do not escape
Something new
Will be revealed for you
About the person
Behind the face

You may finally know
The part you play
In the
Person production game

Sean Hunt
Windermere April 2015

RAIN AGAIN!

This is the poem that I wrote
In my second floor flat
During the December downpour
Not knowing that the first floor
Would be flooded

Once again
The district of the lakes
Is taking
A long shower,
Again,
Today, yesterday
The day before yesterday
I forget when it started
The water's not hot
We’ll all be wide, wide awake.
We know
The drains will overflow
And flood the roads
With mud and water
No human ants will wander in the hills
They would get way too wet.
Maybe water rats will.

Sean Hunt
Windermere  December 5th 2015

Maybe you're a child
Of a barren woman
Waiting for
A family reunion

One day you will know
There's no one home
And you have always been
All alone

Doesn't matter anyway
It's Ok
One day you will find
That you don't mind

You can run your own show
Make the rules as you go
Watch the people come and go
Without feeling low

You will never miss your mama
Because you made her up
There won't be any more drama
Now you know you've had enough

Sean Hunt  
2015 in Windermere

The ‘Big Swallow’

My friend needs to put an end
To her dreadful thirst
It never gets better
Only gets worse
Some of us are missing
A major
Metaphorical
Mechanism
A floating valve
That rises to the top
And then insists
On a Stop!
Closing  off
Further flow
Down below.

Moment To Moment      
   or      
The Major Mental Mistake
or
The Cognitive Error

I need to watch
Moment to moment
For that major mental mistake
That I make
The cognitive error that
Causes all confusion
And disillusion.

Trusting my mind,
Trusting my senses
Is stupid.
They have proven
Time after time
Again and again
They were wrong
In the end.

Me here, thing there,
Thing free from me,
Thing will always be.
If I close my eyes
Thing stays.
Even if I go away
Thing stays.
This is the major mental mistake
That I make,
Asleep or awake!

Sean Hunt  
2015 January Windermere

I see a man standing, on a wave
Such a strange thing, he never falls in
And a candle flame, still in the wind
While the wind blows, and the trees sing
The clouds are white the sky is blue
The sky stays still while clouds move through
I see a man on a mountain, he’s so wise
He stopped seeing every thing with his eyes
He told everybody what he’d seen
Said if you can see nothing, something will be seen
The clouds are white the sky is blue
The sky stays still while clouds move through

       Sean Hunt  Windermere  Dec 4 2016

Pretentious poetry
irritates me
Too many words
that people want heard
a lot
whether they mean
something
or not

My time is mine
and I am robbed
taken hostage
put in *******
searching for pieces
to fit into
pathetic puzzles

Some poets
should be muzzled

Unfortunately

Aural torture is often found
when one sits down to take a tea or coffee

White noise is in the air
bouncing around everywhere

from merry go rounds at county fairs
to elevators and dentist's chairs

Silence is sweet when it finally comes
and makes a break in the surround sound

Green is not my colour
Vacuum is not my sound
This morning my shirt is green
And they're vacuuming all around

I wonder can they change
the day the carpet's vacuumed
Maybe on a Friday
they can do another room

On the train
Again
Strangers all around
Big and little
Hurted heads
Nothing said
Credit to
The kindest mother
Ever seen
'Tween
Now and then
Somehow seems
So long a time
Between my rhymes

Soon I'll be
Home again
Off the train
Let it blow
Let it rain
The cold will
Stay outside
And inside I will hide

Sean Hunt  
Between Scotland and Windermere
2015 English Winter

SKY BURIAL

Please bury me high, way up in the sky
In a place, away from the human race
Where I will be  a gift, to a happy little bird
And save everyone, a lot of work

When I die take me away, on a jumbo jet
To that land, that they used to call Tibet
Find some monks to bury me, high up in the air
I'll tell you how they bury people up there
Where there are no trees, to be found
Where there is no earth, on the ground

Monks will carry me, to the highest spot
Once their knives, have been sharpened a lot
They will slice me in pieces, with surgical love
And feed me to the buzzards, circling above

Please bury me high, way up in the sky
In a place away from the human race
Where I will be a gift, to a happy little bird
And save everyone, a lot of work

Sean Hunt  
2015 January Windermere

There is no truth,
There is no lie
Just a mind making up
Everything that goes by

You can shimmer,
You can shine
You can climb high
On cloud number nine

Mirrors and smoke,
Horrors and hope
Mind making up
Everything that goes by

If you don’t like the movie
Have a glass of wine
It’s mind making up
Everything that goes by

Picasso’s paintings
May make you cry
Mind making up
Everything that goes by

When we look in a mirror
There’s nobody there
Still we stop
We stop and we stare
It’s mind making up
Everything that goes by

Sean Hunt   Windermere  March 2016

Don't you believe it my friend        
When the movie gets scary again
When the hero is gone
And you're  on your own
When everything's wrong
A long way from home                              
As bad as it seems,
It's only a dream

Don't you believe it my friend  
None of us ever will end
We're traveling together
In time and space
Body to body
And face to face
It's not what it seems                    
It's only a dream

Don't you believe it my friend
Nothing is permanent
You'll find a new form
And a new world
You may be a boy
You may be a girl
It's not what it seems
It's only a dream

Don't you believe it my friend
Be happy when you're near the end
With a mind
Of stillness and peace
Sadness and worry
All will cease
It's not what it seems
It's only a dream
It's not what it seems

I Am Like A Dream

I am like a dream
In the middle of your day
Arriving unexpected
Even when you pray

I'm tasked with terrifying you
To fill you up with fear
But don't believe anything
That you see or hear

I am an illusion
If you like you can relax
And realize it's all
A mere appearance act

But, you need to ask yourself
If the you you see
Is any more real
Than my me

Sean Hunt
May 31st Windermere

Deep inside
There is a place,
Where I will find
My actual mind

It's in the middle of the riddle
Of life and death
A place I will know well
When I take my last breath

All I show
Is my overcoat
It's something like
A river crossing boat

This overcoat you see
Is what I wear, it's not me
I'll leave it behind
When the death bell chimes

Sean Hunt  2015  Windermere

MORNING SOUNDS

Though morning sounds
Speak to me
The meaning seems a mystery
Songs sung
In a language
I do not understand

Seemingly
Entreating me
To consider
And contemplate
A message there
In the air

The break of dawn
Is no time to yawn

Sean Hunt   Windermere April 26th 2017

My Irish nation
Ought to change
The Wine
To water

Now it’s nearly midnight
the day is almost done
we had our share of happiness
we had our share of fun
Some days were so dark
we couldn’t walk or run
Felt like we were living in
the land of the midnight sun


The early days are over
merely memories
that can’t be traced anyways
to things that can be seen
Those people that I thought I saw
when my eyes were young
those songs that now come to mind
were they ever sung

Those memories of dreams
that haunt my autumn mind
if I tried to look for them
they’d be hard to find

My diary is somewhere here
I never threw it out
If I really wanted to
I’d find it no doubt
I guess I just don’t have the wish
There isn’t much to say
Nothing new has happened here
for a few days

Those memories of dreams
that haunt my autumn mind
if I tried to look for them
they’d be hard to find