Sunday, 28 June 2020

A Walk in the Yorkshire Dales



I woke and felt a strong desire
To walk through England’s pastures green,
Not the daily pastures where the dog
And I spend every morn, 
I wanted some great change of scene
And thought of how I might retire
To somewhere in the hills and bog
Of further north, where I was born. 
And so we drove o’er Blubberhouses
Past the barns and gloomy houses
Crouching in the pouring rain,
Beneath the lowering slate grey skies,
Where kestrel and the red kite flies,
And icecream vans do little trade
Beside the road, at Stump Cross Caverns
Despite the product being made
Close by. And places open once again
After the plague, the cafés, taverns,
Hunkered down and out of sorts
And ill at ease with hospitality,
Of millstone grit, well drenched to black,
Seemed made for local ‘Carters’, ‘Uncle Morts’,
To ponder on the nature of mortality,
Not servicing the holiday resorts.
And there were blokes in lycra out on bikes,
Escaping from their wives, their weekend ride
Into the hills and down at breakneck speed,
A jolly way of keeping on the safe side.
And there were serious folk in neoprene, 
On hikes,
But not as many as there might have been,
Beneath the germ filled, North Yorks. sky.
And we walked from Kettlewell to Whernside
Along a well made stoney track,
And we saw and heard a curlew, 
Not bubbling, but making some sad cry,
That both stirs the soul and stills,
Brings back
Some sense of why
I sometimes feel the need,
To return to bleak and dreary, Northern hills.




Wednesday, 24 June 2020

Monads And Gonads



A Monad is a God in Gnosticism,
An Ineffable Parent, primal Father.
Whereas there is not really such a thing
As a Mod in monasticism,
Though perhaps there used to be,
In Ireland, in the ‘60’s.
Most people’s ineffable father is their dad,
And these days he’s not so ineffable as he used to be,
Which is rather sad.
Gonads a plenty must occur
In monasticism, but not necessarily in Gnosticism.
And Monads, as far as we know,
Don’t have Gonads.
Neither do Monads arise from gonads
There is no Monadatropin,
No hormone involved in the whole process,
For a Monad, more is definitely less.
According to Leibniz though,
Thinking as a philosopher, not a mathematician, 
A monad was an indivisible unit
But not really like a man,
Though of course he couldn’t prove it,
And nobody really can,
He developed his theory and did his best to fine tune it.

Thinking as a mathematician
A monad is a three term complex,
Which sounds like God, in the Christian tradition.
Whereas, at the risk of repetition,
In Gnosticism, 
A monad is literally ‘the many in the one’,
Which sounds fun.
Whereas a gonad is not usually singular
It does contains gametes, 
Whose whole raison d’etre is socialisation,
So that they multiply,
Becoming out of the one, many
A Monad does not contain mametes,
No, not any, 
And for that reason tolerates eternal isolation. 

(P.S. The Demiurge, is not related to Fanny Burney,
Author of Evelina)






The Best Article I Read During Lockdown.



By far the best article I read,
Over the last few months, was the one
Which confirmed all that I already thought.
It neatly put to bed
All counter arguments, so when it had done
Explaining all these things with which I agreed,
I felt it had taught
Me really how to appreciate myself and value
My own ability to think things through,
And come to the same conclusion many others had come to. 
This is the great thing about being on one’s own,
One is alone sufficiently
To stew in one’s point of view
And to seek out, only those who think like you.
One can look through the Hubble,
To another bubble
But the people there may as well be in a different universe
From the one I’m in.
In some ways it makes things worse,
Knowing there’s nothing to be done 
To make such people conform
To my ideas about the way the world is and should be,
But such people will be dead soon,
You see, 
And my ideas will be the norm;
Won’t it be lovely!