To walk around
and keep saying,
‘My eyes are bad
My legs are bad’
is the hopelessness of old age
And the way we look.
Crumbs!

This is how the young see the old;
sadoes, those with failing technology
and sagging skin,
who no longer flaunt the kudos of success.
Yet what they forget is that old brains
are a hidden and mysterious tech
old but analogue
with a surprising long history of
stability and dependability
A wonder to ride on
And to sleep securely in, confident of arrival
With no daft illusions, just windows passing quickly
Nothing could be sweeter
Than to be a world beater…
To look around at growing generations is sad.
The young man thinks the old man is stupid
The old man knows the young man is stupid.

© Michael Clifford 10/22

Should I stay or should I go
Say goodbye or say hello?
Make them high that feel so low
Feed the seeds or stop the growth
Quicken the world or make it slow
Make it static but increase the flow

If I stay, how will I pay?
Pay to play to fly my kite ?
Who’s to say?
Or should I leave like a thief in the night
Every dilemma, it’s the same old show
Should I stay or should I go?

© Michael Clifford 10/22

Pictures of the Queen
Symbols of the era
Dumping from on high
Queue up get to feel her

Cannot be the last
of the brutal barons
Speeding in the fast lane
of fate’s blasting cannons

Out there in the dark
Are forces there unknown
Speaking on the box
Highness hit her low tone

Pictures of the Queen
Always you will see her
Is this Queen-free zone
Or is this North Korea?

© Michael Clifford 10/22

In all the bric-a-brac of drawers
behind the buttons and penless pen tops
underneath the broken wallets
and anonymous keys
I search for the something
I search for you

Inside this wooden rectangle
of hair grips, combs and badges
of batteries, spent and lonely
of pencils, tacks and string
I find something of yours,
a message on the back,
scribbled on a receipt in biro:
“Someone rang, told them you’d be back at four. Love Anna”

And like a time machine
I am back where I belong

Cotton reels and elastic bands
bind me in confusion
You are the thread that allows me
to avoid the dread
of trying to cut the Gordian knot
of my being

© Michael Clifford 10/22

Over the fence never seen before
A smiling face at me while she clips the hedge
An empty walk with a headful of trouble
A thanks from a dog owner as I allow him access
A joke from the shopkeeper to the man in front
A gentle word, a lovin’ phrase, meduck

A kind discourse, the walk of a cat between my legs
The sun on my problems dries them out
The neighbour helps me with my garden
A young girl says she likes me
A bit of a shock, it’s nice to have your hand being held
Innocence holds such surprising joy

Worthlessness is a disease humans suffer from
But hold your head high and thank the universe
for kindnesses from the unknown
Count your blessings as my dad used to say
Alpha to Omega
Trust and it happens, say the tongues

© Michael Clifford 10/22

In Memorandum: Salvador Dali

The melting fobs of Dali
denote the contraction
of the cosmos,
time is redundant,
matter disintegrates
beyond its nuclear structure,
space and time congeal.

Astrophysicists now confirm
this phenomenon os about to commence,
as the universe has stopped
its expansion.

Expansion elasticates into contraction,
time decelerates matter’s incestuous
relationship with time
begins to evaporate

These series of images
will persist in the memory.

© David McCormack 05/22

In Memoriam: Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Like every phenomenon,
an epoch is mortal.
Today this epoch
passed away,
the second Elizabethan age
faded slowly and with majesty,
into complete history
to reside briefly
in the memory of many,
reminded of our own mortality

This shows too, that no matter
how successful and influential
you may have been, death does
not discriminate. Colour, creed,
status and wealth are not an aegis
to protect you from the swipe
of the scythe.

Death shall have its Dominion.

© David McCormack 9/ 10/ 22

Birds please keep free from avian flu
from avian flu keep free.
Please sing for world peace,
for world peace please sing.
Please chirp for the environment,
the birds,
the bees,
the trees,
and those endangered.
Chirp and sing in hope,
in hope sing and chirp.

© David McCormack 08/22

A choreography of golden leaves
conducted by the tree’s twig
in a light October breeze,
technically illuminated
by the lighting board of the sun.

Each dancer of the Folium de Ballet
switling and swooping harmoniously,
each dancer a terpsichorean classic,
pirouetting, orchestrated by a symphonic breeze.

Ballet grace profoundly soothing
at a time of accentuating anxiety.
What a great comforting experience
never to become hackneyed by repetition.

© David McCormack 10/22

Plague drove a Pandemic
high speed sports car
flat out along the world’s highways.

Famine accelerated
the all plastic Pollutant
Anti-Eco GT
War entered the contest
with the Nuclear Coupe,
a flash vehicle with a macho bang.
However, not recommended for cities.

Death drove a Consequence
Convertible Cremation Hearse,
a ground breaker

Millions on life’s motorways,
their fumes bringing permanent night
and eventual famine

© David McCormack 24/06/22