In memory of my friend Christopher Daybell. ~ Irish poet.

This is a poem by a prolific poet who was definitely under-appreciated, while he was alive. He was a man of the times, a voice of the people. Yet, if you go into a book shop in his home town, you cannot buy his art. He is interesting because he gave up his job as a lawyer very early on in his career, to become a full time poet. I used to meet him in the street where he would be busking his poems. He always had a friendly smile, and a kind word, a real gentleman of the old school. Blonde curly locks down to his shoulders, blue eyes, and the classic tan colored corderouy lapelled jacket. His name was Christopher Daybell, born in 1939, died, much too early, in 1990.

Recently I have become semi-obsessed with finding this man's collections and my investigations lead me to the National Library in Dublin. I was delighted to discover that he had been a prolific writer and found approximately seventy-two booklets and journals all containing his works.

Once I got over the feeling that I was spying in on something which hadn't openly asked to be spied upon, I found my self relaxing into reading the poetry. I was so impressed that I managed to allow the librarian to talk me into looking into the publishing rights. This was completely unprecedented, considering the fact that originally all I wanted to do was to replace my lost magazines.

Here is one that I particularly liked, as it seems to match the mood of the other poetry I have been reading recently, and my minor obsession with Nietzche quotes.

Illusions

Intense unity is parting,

The essence is change.

Would it not weary you

If I was always beside you?

What would we do with completeness

But secure it.

In the illusion of safety

The rock that never was.

Through ambivalence we see

The simple destroys,

The complex includes.

We could both part or stay.

Indifference can be positive

Not neglect.

I watched your face from the train.

The rain came on the way.

The times of danger

are the times of hope,

For them most people

will believe in anything.

Is anything more false

Than the single truth

Explaining everything

When nothing is explained.

By

Christopher Daybell

Not about Japan ~ deliberately.

Has any one else noticed that their spelling has gone down-hill since using spell-check on a regular basis. I did once know how to spell 'deliberately'. But laziness has set in, with the: 'I can always use spell-check', attitude. I used to pride myself on being able to spell. I put effort into it. I committed to memory the correct spelling of words I only once knew how to speak, and before that, didn't even know existed. There is awful beauty to discovering new words. A mystery uncovered. But as I change along side the flowing river of time. The line becomes thinner and I teeter along trying not to fall one side or the other. Must I really decide which way to jump? Or will I leave it to fate, and wait till an accident of nature decides for me. A self-imposed exile.

Well,

from 40 days to infinity. - and what four days without smoking can do to a persons brain.

My plan to quit smoking, comes like pretty much everything else, on impulse. When the time is right. it strikes me. A fairly haphazard way of living life, but it's my way. And I am not going to make any apologies for when things don't work out. There is no point, I will just punish myself by hitting the cigarettes again. I was just about to write 'fags', which is short for cigarette around here. But I remembered that in certain countries it is a very non-pc word for homosexual. My sister-in-law's sister is a lesbian, so I really don't want to come across as a gay-hater. She is also called Fiona which means when my nieces go to school and talk about their auntie Fiona being gay, well you get my drift, some confusion may arise as to which Auntie Fiona they are talking about. And considering that I am the only Auntie Fiona in living in the vicinity, I am assuming it is assumed to be me. I wonder how many hot-dates I have missed out on due to this confusion.

Imagine. Jonny Depp's identical twin brother Donny Depp, escapes from Mrs Depp's basement, where he has been chained since infancy. He happens upon a child of about 11 or so who happens to know my niece. I am walking by at that precise moment. He sees me and falls head-over-heels in love. "Who is that beautiful vision, She doeth look like my soul mate."

"Ah..." says little Gertrude, "I am sorry to have to break it to you sir, that doeth be my friends Auntie Fiona, The Lesbian." "Oh, my heart doth break!" Exclaims Donny.

The only good thing about this scene, is that I won't know a thing about it. And so my life goes on....

The Sun Boat and Nine Lives

Breakfast lunch and dinner. It was the best job I ever cajoled my way into.

"What can you do?",

"I can cook"

"Ok, bring your bag down to the galley, you're hired."

It was a diving boat on the Red Sea. The skipper Ishai and his Irish girlfriend Irene. I had gone to Eilat from the kibbutz to seek out two German's on a boat who were allegedly hiring, but they sent me down the marina to the end boat. Off we went to get supplies. Five boxes of chicken, vegetables and so on to go into the freezer.

At night you could hear the bombs going off under-water off the coast of Jordan, to deter any 'spies', who might be trying to sneak into the country via the under-water/beach route. They also had mined the beaches along the coast. A thing didn't know, when one day the anchor had been lowered, and I impulsively dived in and swam towards one of these beaches, through shark-filled waters, with the intention of exploring the terrain. Half-way there, I heard shouting, looked back at the boat and they were waving at me.

Thinking: "Very friendly" I waved back, and continued swimming. Ronnie, the head-diver, jumped into the motorized dingy and sped towards me.

"Get in quick! There are sharks in these waters! Also that beach is land-mined!" It wasn't easy pulling myself over the large slippery sides of the rubber boat, but I can tell you I did it in record time. Why on earth they had not warned me about this before I had jumped in, is a mystery. I suppose they thought I already knew. The look on Ishai's face when I arrived back on board, I will never forget. Sweat was pouring down his face.

My antics didn't end there. On my break I would venture out snorkeling. Shimon, used to collect puffer-fish and hang them over his bunk dried and fully blown up. On my 'travels', I came across one of these animals and thought: "I can give this to Shimon for his collection." I proceeded to attempt to catch said fish. It darted away from me, as if knowing my intentions. When I got back I related my adventure, and was once again bawled out for putting myself in danger. I would have been instantly paralyzed and drowned on the spot. So, The Book of Dangerous Fish, was presented to me for my perusal.

Another time out swimming, I had cut my knee on a piece of coral. I saw a dog fish, which, to me, looked like a shark. I could see him circling under me, and could also see the blood oozing from my leg. I swam for my life! And I got on to deck, my heart was pounding so hard I thought it would literally explode. Maybe it was a shark, I will never know. Either way, I was again admonished, for naivety and recklessness.

How I managed to stay hired on the boat for three and a half months, escapes me. Must have been that they liked my food. I did after all, cook a pretty good stuffed bell-pepper. And my toasted grilled 'storm' sandwiches, were a hit with the guests. They were christened such by way of me being asked to cook lunch during a particularly rough sea. While most of the guests were heaving over-board, a hardy American, challenged me to make a grilled cheese. It was quite the experience, akin to trying to butter bread on a roller-coaster ride. But I was adventurous to the max and nothing seemed to phase me in those days.

What to do if you come across a burglar in the middle of the night

Plan A

• Ask them if they would like a nice cup of tea, and tell them they must be tired after being up so late.
• Run up to them, give them a tearful hug and say: "I get so few visitors, thank you for dropping by."
• Say: "I have been hoping someone would drop by, I need a hand unblocking the lavatory. You look like just the man."
• Shout down the stairs: "Oh, is that you Butch? How did target practice go tonight?"
• Tell them to come upstairs and meet your uncle Hannibal. He likes visitors...
• Scream hysterically: "Oh, my god, there's a spider in the bath!!!!" Hopefully the burglar will be afraid of spiders and run away.
• Tell them to take anything they like then get the hell out of here.

If none of these work, move on rapidly to

Plan B

This consists of pressing the Gardai's number on speed dial and hiding in the hot-cupboard.

alone in this.

I wish i felt like running

every time i see him coming

but there is some kind of magnet

pulling me towards making another hash of it.

The animosity is obvious and hurtful

as he thinks i do it purposeful

i'd say it was a misunderstanding

but the thing is so long standing,

that what ever i say

is taken up in the wrong way.

Now i will have to continue to ignore

it's not so much that i am disliked, i abhor

as that once we were friends

and to that end, i must continue to pretend

that none of this matters,

and although my ego is shattered

i am obliged to continue to self-defend

and force myself to believe

there will be an end to this.

don't get me wrong

i do understand it, but if it was me

i would have taken a handle on it

and played the forgiveness card

or at least opened a window

for a talk, but however it remains

that i must continue to walk alone in this.

alone in this.

Retrospect in Rhyme

Her words echo cruelly through my brain

unrelenting

Forcing me into repenting

sins i never even knew existed.

I could have resisted

but my ears have been listed

as part of my anatomy

that's the fact of me

and after she had taken all of me

she never even called on me

to see if her 'prodegy'

still existed.

Not even an apology.

I feel for her at the end of the day

but in another way, i reel from her

Fiocle 4th March 2011