The influence
Of the self
On the self
Is not generally
Accepted as defined
The self itself
Not even definite
But that way
We're inclined.

What is there and what's it like?
Why is there something rather than nothing?
Simple questions without acceptable answers
Go on try it
Your head will be apopping
Maybe you can do it
But I know I can't
I start and trail off
Straight away
Cos I know
There's no commonality here
Trillions of notions
At play.

I was reinforcing  concrete
In my dreams last night
Yet
I've never worked
On a building site
Though for a short time
I was employed
Ripping buildings out
Is it the collective unconscious
Chiding me?
Urging and directing me?
Less destruction
More Construction
Is
What it's all about.

When those who are broken
have emerged from the ruins
which they have undergone
they are each an eternal star born

never to fear again
nor have any need to moan:
all darkness has been dispelled
and the most endurable courage is earned.

Give me someone
without blemish:
his friendship
I'll readily cherish

I keep meaning to get back
On the lions mane
To relay the nyalin
That the years have stripped
And cleared

Neural roadways
Are now potholed
It's like
Blackburn Lancashire

It worked so well
The time
I took it
Focused the fuzz away
But I keep forgetting
To retake it
At the beginning
Of each day.