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Tuesday, 29 January 2008


They say that choice is everything, don’t they?
but you can’t choose your own parents, can you?
You have no say about the way, the why,
the when, the day you die. Unless you take
things into your own hands. Play dangerous
games, Russian roulette or god with your life.

Then, there’s 'them' that do know the secret of
where they came from, where they’re going to go,
and they know why they chose to come to time.
To experience the restrictions of
time and place, hardship and humanity.
In fact all of us are in that same boat –
some of us perhaps, don’t remember the
choices that we made in the time garden
back in the void side of eternity.

She sits there on the hard salt surface of
The Void. Waiting, watching other people
doing the same thing they all sit there too,
waiting, watching each other, all day long;
And it is a long day. Night never comes,
they sit there motionless in the half-light
which is the only illumination,
for there is no sun, no moon, and no stars.

Nobody speaks, century’s turn into
millenniums and pass by on the earth.
She doesn’t notice and they don’t notice.
Then, what would have been one day, had there been
any time at all, in this barren place.
Something started to change; a line of trees
began to grow, they were a great distance
away from the billion or so people.
But someone near the front of the silent,
seated masses saw something they had not
witnessed before. They saw a different life
form emerging in front of their own eyes.

After what would have been another one
or two century’s on earth the tree line
had matured, there was now a great wall of
trees that everyone seated there could see.
Slowly at first, a few of the people
began to rise up and start the long walk
towards this line of trees. And she watched them,
waiting, wanting to see what would happen.
On reaching the trees they disappear for
just a second or two then reappear
and begin to trudge back towards their seats.
Every so often someone would go to
The tree line and enter and not come back.

After a decade of watching all this
she decided to make the journey herself.
When it was her turn to enter the trees
she felt something, she shivered, it was cold
and it was dark beyond the line of trees.
She was not frightened or scared of the woods
she enjoyed every moment, each new smell,
each new sound. There were animals and plants
and birds and days and nights and a sun and
a moon and stars in the night sky and rain
and snow and wind and there was a garden.

In the garden stood a man with a beard
he was wearing clothes and shoes and a watch.
She asked him about the watch. What was it?
These were the first words that she ever spoke.
He told her that he was the Timekeeper
and that with the watch he could tell the time.
Then he showed her around the time garden
it was a microcosm of the earth.
The animals are born and they live for
a certain time and then they reproduce
and instruct their offspring to do the same.
After an allotted period of time
They grow old and die, like everyone else.
The timekeeper explained these things to her.

Can anybody go to earth? She asked.
Yes, said the timekeeper, but only once!
How do I get there, when can I go there?
Soon, he replied. First there are things you need
to know about time. He then took her to
a secret place where he showed her something.
It’s time for you to choose the century
you wish to be born in and your parents.
When you go to earth you must remember
why you wanted to go there. Remember,
to remember this conversation here.

She said, Can I ask another question?
Of course you may, replied the Timekeeper.
Why did most people only stay in the
time garden for a few seconds then go
back to their seats and what happened to the
others who did not come back? She enquired?
Aha! The majority of people
Go to earth, live their lives like hell, forget
to remember why they chose to be there
in the first place. So when they finally
die, they go straight back to their nothingness
for all of eternity in the Void.
It happens in the blink of an eyelid.

The others who do not return they are
the chosen few, that is, that they chose to
remember this little conversation
and for them, earth and time were a simple
stepping stone to an eternal future
a paradisiacal reality!
Doktir Nairobi is The Timekeeper; He is not a medical doctor. You can find him at: http://www.gobsplot.blogspot.com/ Please note: Gobsplot is an anagram of blogspot!

Monday, 28 January 2008

Writers Island.. Desire.

To my secret lover just to let you know,
that I can't live without my girlfriend
'cos I love her so!
How I wish that she was near -
how I dream that she was here.
So I could whisper in her ear:
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet nothings!
That only she can hear.
Lots of pots and pans of love
and pockets overflowing...
But without my girlfriend near -
but without my lover here,
there ain't no way of knowing:
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet nothings!
That only she can hear.
From your secret love...
Guess who?
Read my Online Novel, Space Invaders! clink-the-link HERE

Thursday, 24 January 2008

TOP Sonnet

Here's a little song that I wrote for you.
It goes Oh, Oh de bar' skins all day long.
Hey, Oh de bar' skins, yeah I love you too.
Come on, everybody can sing this song.
Oh de bar' skins, same story every day!
When they getting dressed, hey? Oh de bar' skins!
Oh de bar' skins, every day the same way.
Oh de, Oh de, Oh de, Oh the same things.
Everybody knows this song, three, two, one.
Oh de, Oh de, Oh de, Oh don't you know?
Everybody loves this song, it's such fun!
Oh de bar' skins, all day long, it's your go..
It's, Oh de bar' skins, every day and night.
It's, Oh de, Oh de, Oh please hold me tight!
Oh de bar' skins = The bare skins. Bar' pronounced bart.
You can visit my work-in-progress-novel at: www.my-work-in-progress-novel.blogspot.com

Thursday, 17 January 2008


Magical or what?
Who can tell what the master
said about what to whom?
Where do we end all of this?
Where do we start?
And what does it matter
to the uninitiated anyway?
Do we all have to be
the greatest of our age?
Why are there so many
many different ways,
so many different paths
for us to choose from?
Is choice such a good thing
shouldn't we listen to those
who have the authority to decide?
or must we fail a time or so
before we succeed?
Is success linked to
or alienated from greed?
Is need the same thing as want?
What do we/I/You need?
What do we want?
Is want the answer or the question?
What was it that you asked?
TOP Inspired by Paisley and Giggles

Tuesday, 15 January 2008

Back in The Blogisphere!

MAGGIES FARM Salford 1992
I live on the twenty second floor.
Harry has the flat downstairs.
When I first moved here Harry said:
When two ants are doing it, in the crack
on the concrete car park, down there man.
It sounds like Madonna in the back of
a stretch limo making out on Avenue B
with a Puerto Rican kid called Jose.

Harry wasn't wrong, even the passing traffic
sounds sexy from the twenty second floor.

I invited Natasha up for the weekend last month,
Harry fell off the step ladder when she came
and broke his leg. He won't be doing Callanetics,
naked for a while, in front of that six foot mirror
with his head phones on, tuned into the Bob Dylan
tapes I've been playing to the bug he stuck in my
bedroom lightswitch last year when I went to Butlins.

I know what Harry gets up to because I've got a
fibre optic lens, poking through the hole I drilled
in his ceiling rose when the gas man was due and
he had to turn the meter over in a hurry.

Everybody says that fifty per cent of Harry's head
went walkabout in Katmandu about five years
before anybody met him. Nobody knows what
happened to the other half of his brain.

Last time I saw Harry, he had his left leg in
plaster, a skateboard superglued to his bare right
foot and a crutch under one arm. In his free hand
he carried a walking stick for locating ants to
colonise the concrete crack. He'd just totalled his
Giro on two little pills that he hoped would make
him think that he could fly.

I said: What are you going to do with that bargain
bucket of Kentucky you've got gripped between
your teeth?
Harry said: I'm going to take it home and dissect it man.
It's got to last me all week, so I'm going to stirfry it up with
those bean shoots I grow with my Herb in the window box.
I said: That sounds good.
And do you know what Harry said?
He said: I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm no more!

D.O.A. Special K said the Doc.
in his bedside/telephone way.
Some said that he fell.
Others that he was pushed + punched.
I thought that he could float.
There again, I knew the man that sold
him the stuff that made him high.
All twenty two floors of it.
Two hundred foot, freefall,
'til the pavement came up and met him.
Leaving the Coroner to write the final
epigram for the 'Local Rag'.