8 Billion PLUS 1 (2024)

08/09/2024

9 September 2024

5. WHY ASK QUESTIONS?

Is that a question? Another QuestionWhen will they ever end? Another question
Let’s try asking, “Why?”. Is it to seek answers?
Reassurance? To enforce order and understanding

On our rampant, disordered and unorganised brain?
All three, and more? I reply, “Yes. Yes. Yes.Yes. and yes.”
And ask, “Why does it cause us distress?”
Some answers are simple. “Yes” or “No”

Or “three o’clock” or “to get to your destination
You catch the number 5 bus at three ‘clock”
Others are more complicated and require an explanation
Before you can understand a specific response”

Emotional questions require an emotionally sensitive answer
And need cautious treading among the wrecked and ruined graveyard
Of our memories. There is a category of questions that only offer propositions
Rather than clear and precise responses. These are the questions about “Life”

These are “Why” questions.

Why are we here? Why do we feel? Why are we so curious
In the sense of wanting to know more and strange quirks in behaviour
Who or what made us; why? I didn’t ask to be made. Is there a purpose?
Is there a pre-determined future? Is it all random, how could that be?

So, why do we ask questions? We want to know, to understand
there are categories of questions. 1. Questions seeking a specific piece of information
So we can decide what to do or where to go. 2. Questions requiring an explanation
or further knowledge to understand, and the “Life” questions, which we ask continuously

So, what do we ask? We seek clarification of events and a person’s part to play therein
We must accept that some questions elicit a blank stare, and a “Pardon!?”
Perhaps, then, our questions need re-phrasing and re-thinking
To get specific information, we need to ask clear and precise questions

Asking questions may require careful consideration

Will the respondent be likely to know and willing to answer?
Is the question fair, and not designed to distress?
A thought, in asking are we respecting the other
Asking questions requires sensitivity and love

Be careful of asking, “Why?”
The answer may be “Why not?”
A call to action?
The question, “Who?”
The answer, “It is you”
The question, “When?”
Now
“How?”
Do you want the long answer?
Or the short? Where the subject is “You”

Interesting?
N’est-ce pas?

Leslie D. Bush
© 5 September 2024

My poetry site is lesliedbushpoetry.nz.

07/09/2024

8 September 2024

4. A QUESTION OF TASTE

Here comes the doozy
The $6.95 question
Why on earth do you wear such drab clothes?
“Drab clothes?” declare I. What do you mean?

The fight is on. There’s conflict in the air!
(I thought that was air freshener, silly me.)
No sir, ‘tis the smell of battle, of carnage released
This must be resolved at all costs. We will have no peace

Questions of “taste”, why we prefer something
Choose something to wear or exhibit a no-win situation
The principal pronoun is “I”.
“I” want to wear to this. “I” want to show off having this

“You have a problem? Guess what, honey; it’s all yours
No one else is interested. BOOM “
Welcome to stage 2 of questions, conflict
Stage 3, a wise choice: conflict resolution

There will be things and styles you detest
You have no choice or decision in them
So you have to bite your lip: mutter a sullen “I disapprove
But it is your choice. I respect it” and “Must go!”

Is there a question of taste? Maybe there are only answers

Leslie D. Bush
© 6 September 2024

[continues]

07/09/2024

7 September 2024

3.

A QUESTION OF TRUST

Poets, writers and atoms;
Don't believe a word they say,
write or repeat. Be forewarned.
They make up everything.

By nurture and nature;
by the fickle finger of fate;
by the perversities of
chaos, chance and choice;
consider me an atom.

I am unique, cosmically suspended;
bound into a molecule (or molecules)
by forces of such compelling complexity,
that exist beyond my control, knowledge
or understanding.

I am, a state of being.
Be it of consciousness?
That would be another question.
My being is fluid. Mass, velocity
and state of energy changes constantly,
at the speed of light, squared.
That is what, followed by how many zeroes?
(c, a zillion). Who knows, who cares?

Nothing is constant, except inconstancy.
I do not look different, but am or was or will be;
subtle changes that elude measure.
Subtle exchanges of energy and power.

It’s all in the being,
an atom has no thought of pleasure, power or prestige.
A grand chorus full-throated, exultantly twirling, prancing,
dancing into eternity. (Some call it death).

I am, for the sake of this exercise, an atom,
have been or will continue to be.
An atom, in a molecule; a timeless cosmic dance,
be it by chaos or chance.
I could be a poet or a writer;
the dance is the same.

Leslie Bush
© 18 June 2019

This poem was published in, Indo-New Zealand Poetic Encomium, written by Dr J. S. Anand and Leslie D. Bush.

06/09/2024

6 September 2024

2. QUESTION OF COLOUR, A

A question of colour; of what: our skin, our sin, our shame;
Things that haunt us and answer to no name. Colour?
I have been watching a television series (in colour? Yes.).
The lead character is a black man. Set me thinking.

I’m not black, brown, yellow or pink. Wait, pink, maybe -
On the pale side, sort of white. OK, I Admit it; I’m white.
Why should that be uncomfortable to admit? I am that I am.
No excuses, justifications or rambling “reasons”. Reasons; treasons!

Whatever our immediate situations, parents married,
divorced or decreased, we are born into one family: humanity.
Humanity, with its vanity, profanity, and inanity; humanity displaying
Its sense of vision, hope, faith, indecision; humanity at its worst

And best. Utterly bewildering, frustrating, heartbreaking, and confusing.
Humanity is the collective. We compose the collective. All of us; regardless
Of nationality, politics, faith, belief system; yes, all of us, regardless of colour;
Be it black, brown, yellow or pink. Yes? No? Maybe? What do you think?

[continues]

Leslie Bush
© 21 June 2021

This poem was published in, Indo-New Zealand Poetic Encomium, written by Dr J. S. Anand and Leslie D. Bush.

05/09/2024

5 September 2024

QUESTIONS, AND MORE QUESTIONS

1.

Questions? Questions? Questions?
Does nobody have an answer?
I mean, an answer. Not conjecture
Speculation, hypothesising.

In the data age, we are spoiled
For and with access to information.
How many of us have the skill to process it?
Sort it out, prioritise it according to source

And thus reliability? Not many! Probably even fewer
In times to come! What an tragedy.
When the illiterate are forced to face an ocean of information;
Differing analysis, alternative explanations; contradictions

How are they to find their way through?
“Ockham’s Razor”? “All things being equal (yes?)
We should favour the approach that assumes the least.
(also known as the principle of parsimony.)

Does that help? William of Ockham, an English Friar
Had a predilection towards the metaphysical.
“Assumes the least” might not mean what you thought.
Try this, there are levels of truth, relative to their experience,

And evidence. There are truths self-defined by descent and use.
Things are not what they seem. Alice found that out.
What is happening? What is this? Simple questions.
There’s a torrent of information waiting to come at you.

You have to sort out the “truth”. Feel confident?
Let’s have go. Let’s have a try.

Leslie D Bush
© 23/2/22
© Amended 4-9-2024

[continues]

04/09/2024

4 September 2024

POEMS ABOUT DYING

Poems about dying are not poems about dying.
They focus on the will to live. The clock might be ticking
A bit louder (it always has been ticking, our frenzied activity
Drowned it out). So, this is the time we choose, do our picking.

We have choices. We always did; we always will
to choose the constructive, the moral path; integrity
all those things I believed proper and correct to live
to give structure and meaning to our lives for posterity

Is it true that we somehow achieve detachment
when and as, we write? Another self-floating, unhindered
by gravity? Watching us, our choice of tone, tense, and bewilderment
guide us and direct us as we explore the themes that have consumed us

Detachment? Yes? No? Maybe? It's more like ocean waves surging
forward before retreating. Where does our interest lie? Only the items left behind;
things forgot; now lay before us. Do you remember that?
Do you remember when, who, and how you felt? That exhilaration

of feeling, was akin to inebriation; getting drunk on one's sense
of humanity. The hangover? Ah, yes, the hangover. They always came
straight after. Was it worth it? Frolic, yeah! Exhilaration is exhausting
one needs rest, and quiet moments to think; compose, and decompose.

Decompose? Not as dramatic as it sounds. If you can compose
you can de-compose; rip a thing apart, and start again. We do it
all the time; out of spite, carefully considered destruction, or frustration

Poems about dying are not poems about dying.
They focus on the will to live. The clock might be ticking
A bit louder (our hearings failing), memories become more demanding
of resolution. The race is on, and numbered are our days. Who’s counting?

Leslie D Bush
© 8 May 2022

02/09/2024

5. BE DAMNED

Perfection! We’ve given it its due regard
Compared to the highest peaks
Has it once tried to speak?
We listened. We tried hard

Analysed it, tried to negotiate with it
Does Perfection hear or care?
no, its demands arre implacable
You say, I did my best

It replies, not good enough
Enough is never enough
A different approach is required
Before we retreat, exhausted

How about this?
Perfection be damned
It’s all a scam
Bam, bam, bam

I consider it unhealthy and insane
Devoid of logic, inane
Let's look at life
Unencumbered

By feelings of doubt or failure
Say, “I tried, I did my best
Now, I’m tired. I need a rest.
Tomorrow is a new day

I’ll try again. I’ll find a way

I’ll say, “Veni vidi vixi”
Veni: I came (had no choice),
Vidi: I saw (with eyes open)
Vixi: I lived (to the fullest)

Vici? Conquering is folly.
Perfection can only
be found in death
The final appraisal

Leslie D Bush
© 2 September 2024
© added to, 2 September 2024

02/09/2024

2 Septpber 2024

PERFECTION

IS

4. Absolute

Are you seeking perfection?
Do we all do it? On that, are we agreed?
Is it possible? Is it wise?

It’s an all-encompassing quest;
Exclusive. Forget the rest;
Perfection” might be a lifelong quest
the cost is high. (Mt Everest high)

The cost of reaching it is your life
Either in fulfilment or death
For such a quality as perfection to be an absolute
It can only be found when we’re dead.

The irony is, we won’t care.

The living persevere, do better
One day, all those “betters” might
Equal a “best”. The question will be
did they improve? The highest compliment
“They improved, kept trying, refused to give in!”

I’ll say, “Veni vidi vixi”
(What???)

Veni: I came (had no choice),
Vidi: I saw (with eyes open)
Vixi: I lived (to the fullest)
Vici? Conquering is folly.

[CONTINUES]

Leslie D Bush
© 20 March 2022
Revised © 4 November 2023

01/09/2024

1 September 2024

PERFECTION IS ...

3. Exclusive

Is Perfection an absolute?
Does it repel our clumsy attempts?
Are you seeking perfection?
Is it possible? Is it wise?

If it’s an all-encompassing quest;
Forcing us to forget the rest;
both in the sense of relaxing,
and relating to the horde of demands,

we face every day
What’s the point; what’s the aim?.
If the quest is everything; The quest is all.
Does it matter if we climb every mountain?

Ford every stream. Follow every rainbow.
Until we find our dream.
Yes, the sound of music
Whilst we carry on, doing better

Consistently challenging ourselves
Compare thyself not to another
You don’t live their life.
Ask yourself: “Have I achieved?

Have I done better than yesterday?
That is real, that is realistic
Maybe, one day, the sum of your
“Better than”s might creep deceptively

close to a “best”

[CONTINUES]

Leslie D Bush
© 20 March 2022

31/08/2024

31 August 2024

PERFECTION IS ……

2. Evasive

Are you seeking perfection?
Do we all do it?
perfection’s evasive
Does it hide?

Are you seeking perfection?
Is it possible? Is it wise?
Does it stare at us, openly?
We just can’t see it.?

It’s an all-encompassing quest;
We forget the rest; both in the sense
of relaxing, and relating to the horde
Of demands, we face every day

What we see through our matrix
Is unique. Matrix? Our perception
Our experience, our emotions
Our plans and expectations

All define our view of the world
Do they not? I believe such to be true
I believe “better” is possible, in everything
Every day. Change behaviour patterns

Change our routine. I think I’ll leave “best”
To find itself.

[continues]

30/08/2024

30 August 2024

PERFECTION

IS ……

1. an all-encompassing quest

It’s an all-encompassing quest;
We forget the rest; both in the sense
of relaxing, and relating to the horde
Of demands, we face every day

What are they doing?
Seeking is not gender-specific
Seeking perfection
Do they have time for me?

They have no time for that which
is not their quest. The quest is everything
The quest is all. We rise, we fall; we must
Continue. Climb every mountain. Ford every stream.

Follow every rainbow until we find our dream.
(I thought you would enjoy the sound of music)

(Continues)

29/08/2024

29 August 2024

THE POLITICS OF TIME
(OR THE TIME FOR POLITICS)

Politics does not need time
Based on the assumption
That time can be moulded
To its purpose

Create and shape an environment
Play to the population's weaknesses
and fears; modify their behaviour
Control their thoughts

Fill their lives with rituals
So, they don’t need to think
Make them feel important
A part of the machine

Time belongs to no one
Time does not conform to
Or obey anyone
To say the opposite

Is vanity
Self-deceit
In the
Extreme

Time might define us
Collectively and individually
We do not define time
Describe it, characterise it, maybe

Schrodinger’s cat
is alive and well
Or dead as hell
Either way, he’s swell

Who are we to tell?

Is time a political entity?
I suspect not. It is too elusive to define.
Can it be used as a political device?
Like anything; it can be?

Can Time be a political invention, convention
Can time and the events contained in it be treated
Separately? These are questions that now become
Very relevant; and thus, irrelevant. What's the measure?

Does the demise of one thing directly
And automatically mean the ascendancy of the other?
(It’s done with mirrors; an artful illusion, n’est-ce pas?)
Non, mon ami, that is an assumption

untestable and untested
One step leads to another
Another brick in the wall
Therefore nothing really can be done.

Is it all a process of development
a grand social experiment
Coo coo a choo
Coo coo a choo

Leslie D. Bush
© 11 September 2022
© Completed 5-2-2024

28/08/2024

28 August 2024

POLITICS, POWER AND PEOPLE

Politics, Power and People
Kind of synonymous
don’t you think?
Is there a strong link?

Who among us is worthy
Of governing; who should we trust?
Is governance an art of caring for the multitude
Is it an excuse for self-interest and lust?

I am one among millions. Does my opinion matter?
Power begins with people. Yes? Their hopes and ambitions
What’s the problem? People disagree. So? Are there no methods
To minimise and mediate disputes? People disagree

Then become disagreeable. A different bird’s nest altogether.
It’s no longer a discussion of topics or subjects, the Eve-bitten apple
of ego (read pride and ruthless ambition) emerges, and snake-like
Curls around the conversation, poisoning it for everybody

Is the power to be shared or hoarded and guarded
That’s not a question. It’s a fundamental choice
In one, I would be rendered silent; in the other, I would have a voice
An opinion: we - all millions of us - want to choose the option of choice

But are made mute by the politics of power and the power of politics
A look at our history evidences the assumption that the minority should
Reign over the masses. The accent of royalty and their eventual assumption
The divine right of Kings has been strong throughout the centuries.

The First World War was the death knell of that, as empires shattered
And a wave of nationalism spread throughout the world. World War II
Put the final nails in the coffin. What’s left is a poisoned environment
In which dictators and oligarchs vie for power

and one holds the world for ransom;
as another refuses to recognise an election
Politics, Power and People. Are they all right
As in “might is right”, or is there another selection

Leslie D Bush
© 21 October 2022

27/08/2024

27 August 2024

PLAYING POWER GAMES WITH PUTIN

Vladimir Vladimirovich is an intense dude
Might not often have time for games
An extremely focused, do not intrude
Attitude, you can see it in his gaze
I ponder about comrade Putin
I wonder, are we going to have a war
Newsbreak! We have one already, no disputin’
The question is, will nukes be longer in store

Vladimir Vladimirovich is a crazy dude
He’s keeping the world in suspense
Someone should be telling him, to allude
To the growing probability of horrific expense

I ponder about comrade Putin
I wonder, are we going to have a war
Newsbreak! We have one already, no disputin’
The question is there anyone capable of imploring
Vladimir Vladimirovich is fearful and frightened
His own population is in revolt; he played the odds
Tool a chance. 21st-century realpolitik is enlightened
The stakes are too high for a fool to play “GOD”

I ponder about comrade Putin
I wonder, are we going to have a war
Newsbreak! We have one already, he’s losin’’
The question is, how far is he willing to explore?

Comrade Putin, Vladimir Vladimirovich
Speak to us, please do. People are forming opinions
Regarding your state of mind; your military’s being found
Lacking; we don’t want or seek a 1938-styled Munich agreement

“Peace in our time”, Mr Chamberlain said,
waving a piece of paper in the air
Was he conned,
or negotiating more time
- to re-arm?

While Germany and Russia
signed a secret agreement
The prize?The division of Poland
Was Russia in another war?

When will they ever learn?
What’s the value of a human life?
Is one, ten, a hundred or millions
The cost of strife

Leaving mothers mourning and
Fatherless children and desolate wives?

Leslie D. Bush
© 3 October 2022
© 26-8-2024

27/08/2024

With The Marginalian – I just made it onto their weekly engagement list by being one of their top engagers! 🎉

26/08/2024

26 August 2024

________________________________________________________________________
Twelve years ago, and counting, themes of conflict - personal and interactional; an analysis in process. Written with assistance from my younger son.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

PLACIDI CORUM TEMPESTATE
(The Calm Before the Storm)

“IT’S NOT ABOUT SENTIMENT, IT’S PAIN: RAW, COLD, AND INTENSE.”

In silence the final assault, surely the final encounter is awaited.
The forces of Death and Despair had launched attacks precisely,
without respite or pity, The poorly equipped battalions
of Intellect, Emotion and Strength had impeded them,
the defences were too disorganised to stop them.
Is the only option retreat? There is nowhere to go.

There is no conversation, the frightened eyes say it all,
what had happened? The war had been brutal, and frightening,
but it had its own sound: that filled the empty pauses,
and; gave meaning to the struggle.
What is this ominous silence?
Where had all the meaning gone?
What had it all been about?

A shabby, uniformed figure stands, wearily approach them,
“Who are you?” They demand. “I am the Will: that strain of steel resolve
hovering just above Reason and a mite short of Faith.
I am that quiet voice that lurks on the fringes of your consciousness:
whispering words of warning, admonishing you to take that next faltering step.”

“I dwell in that haunting piece of music that resonates in your ears,
whether you are suspended in silence, or overwhelmed
by the sheer noise and roar of the world.
There Iame: in your favourite book, that obscure piece of art;
in the humblest of surroundings, where you find peace or tranquillity.
I am found, suspended in the void between fractured words
in broken sentences, dangling phrases.”

“My message? We are strong enough to face it.”
There is a mumbled agreement. What do we do now?
“We re-organise, we start again. we salvage our strength, our pride.
Silence has no name. It has no content.”

There is a pervasive energy now, to continue.
In the distance there is a bird call, so piercingly sweet and clear
it is almost painful to listen to it. The bird soared high into the sky,
it seemed to fly so high. “There is our symbol, our answer, “
the Will said: “it has freedom,
we have even a greater degree of freedom than it does.
Now is the time to grab and exercise it.”
The sounds of the world; the bird song,
the sounds of animals, of wind in the trees
are beautiful: an anthem.

One battle had been lost, not the war.
Have no doubts, there will be more battles,
more stunned and shocked silences:
more admonishment of the collective components
of “Who” and “What” we are, to hold firm and resolute.

This time, we can face the Foe; challenge it;
hold up a battered bridal bouquet, and say,
“‘Death, where is thy sting?’. You might take my body,
my vitality: all that I am; I will be immortal, treasured and sustained
in the loving thoughts and memories of others.

Leslie D. Bush
© 2013

25/08/2024

25 August 2024

Email 24-8-2024
PERCEPTION

We do not choose to be born. Once on this mortal coil
our perception of ourselves and the world that surrounds us
is a web that is and is not beyond our control. So, humour me
for a moment. I will share my lament. Will not be long.

For too many years I thought of myself as a mouse, scurrying away
from real or imaginary foes. From my leonine heritage, I should
have been a cat; a cat with the ambition to be a lion.
A cat, yes; a black cat like mine which is still in Auckland.

Demanding, opinionated; if I ignored her and she was hungry,
she would attack me (in a loving way of course), get duly fed
and maybe (if she felt like it) curl up on my knee and go to sleep.
So, consider me a black cat, let loose in the night, aware of a window

is open at all times for me to get in. All the comforts of home
and carte blanche to do what I like. Better than a mouse, for sure.
The problem is, I want to be a lion; to have pride (not a pride),
I am a one-woman cat. To roar at the moon, would be fun.

It is a problem of perception; it can be seen only through one’s eyes.
The question is, how do you see me? A mouse, a cat; a lion proud?
It doesn’t really matter, in a sense. I will be what I will be in the moment.
However, maybe it does. I feed on your energy as you feed on mine.

Leslie D. Bush
17 May 2014

24/08/2024

24 August 2024

PEACE IS ….?

Describe Peace to me. Without using questions;
In statements, “Peace is … ?” Not easy, is it.?
Let’s try some. Peace is a packet of popcorn.
Good, another? Peace is a packet of peppermints

Popcorn, peppermints, pineapples, peanut butter
I get the idea. Peace is something pleasurable.
Peace is a paradox? Paradigm? Parachute?
A packet of potato chips? A pot of honey?

Be serious! Peace is the coexistence of human beings
Without the threat of war. How? Strip the world of the manufacture
Weapons of war. As such, the price of peace would be thrust the world
Into economic chaos; economic chaos leads to social disruption

Social disruption is the breeding ground for fear and anger
Bingo! You have the beginning of a war. We need all those industries
You closed down. The paradox of peace?! A Devil’s Deal??
Those who make weapons of war have already made deals with the devil

And continue to. It’s living on the edge of a narrow strip between survival
And destruction; while the devil dealers make their profit, at our expense
Imagine this, peace is the meaning of life; unobtainable. We know their names
We know where they work, they live, they worship; we see them on Television

[Don’t bother listening. They lie.] They lie, we die; they try to increase their profit
Beware of profits. Trust neither. The word’s a homonym. [Does that upset you?]
Words that sound similar: in this case, profit/prophet. Be wary of prophets
They prophecy; either happiness or doom, gladness or gloom

If peace were the meaning of life;
it would, according to Douglas Adams, be 42

Peace is ……. 42

Try proving or disproving that!!

Leslie D Bush
© 20 June 2022.

22/08/2024

23 August 2024

A PASSING PHASE

A Passing Phase?
It's Just a passing phase.
These things happen. Young Love
(deserving a capital L?),

Romeo and Juliet, segue Dire Straits
Me and Julio (down by the schoolyard)
A shadow or shade of Paul Simon
A whisper of Auden (W, H,)
The women come and go
(their numbers are still low)

I want to devote my life to humanity
a noble intent, not practical
Or a life devoted to the pursuit of beauty
in whichever or whatever form.

Death, marriage, honesty, truth
All the same, a passing phase
In the end, one must accept
the women come and go,

speaking of their number, still low
Do you consider me a fool or foolish?
To think such thoughts
While children die and mothers

Forced into servitude?
It is all for nought, the battles fought,
The fame we sought, lay crumbling,
Discarded in the ruins we have bought

Remember! Note! Do as one ought
And the women, they come and go,
With confidence that their number will grow.
A passing phase? That's what it is,

Surely; as the world is flat
You can be sure of that.
Damn sure of that.
The women, they come and go.

Oh, how their number grows.
How does that leave you?
Are you feeling dejected, and flat?
Should do. Was that just a passing phase?

Once more, Once more into the bewildering maze.
Wasn't it good while it lasted? While you could still taste it,
Better sweet on the tongue, With the feeling one could be forever young
The women? They came. They went. Were they there?

They left me a message.
"Want to repent?"
I didn't understand
it either.

Leslie D. Bush
© 22 December 2021
© Amended 22 August 2024

22/08/2024

22 August 2024

OUI, MAMAM

My mother died, in December 2013, she was 83.
My son's mother died three years ago, on 17 April 2011.
I received a phone call from my younger son;
How do you feel on this day? I had to be honest.

I had blocked it. The reels were lined up, ready to re-roll.
I did not need to relive those long hours.
You might ask yourself, “Why?!”, do I impose such stuff?
Am I seeking sympathy; didn’t I get enough?

No! My patient friends, my situation is not unique;
it is not your prurient curiosity or anger to pique.
Many will have their own story; and would be able to relate.
I wish to reflect on something, for which it is too late.

Oui, Mamam. Yes, mother dear. Mamam was my choice of endearment;
sadly, she never heard me say it. Telephone conversations were interesting,
as monologues go. She fought hard to succeed, but her hearing was fading;
she and her hearing aid seemed to lose each other.

A sliver of choice and an avalanche of circumstances set the stage.
Our relationship was strained, not broken, by external command.
Speak not to me of the “good old days”; I heard of them from her.
I recall my grandfather, with little fondness; what he demanded of her

was total unquestioning obedience. She was quiet but determined;
she bided her time; she succeeded where others said she would fail.
So, what’s my point; what’s my tale? What is there to understand?
You have your grief; I have mine! I will tell you what I miss.

The small things, everyday things; did you know that so and so did this,
and do you remember when (it was so funny); and on that day it was so sunny.
To have a chance to ask about him and her; where they fitted into the fold.
Beyond our control, our time together for many years had been bought and sold.

We reunited, I was 30; so many years had passed. We were islands apart.
So many experiences were not shared; where were we to begin?
I chose my information carefully; she was more willing to give.
Chaos, chance and choice are how I term the tides of human fortune.

Inadequate, at best, to bridge the gap forged by time;
we tried our best, nonetheless; a rocky mountain to climb.
So, here I sit; I will hear her voice no more. There are things I wanted to share.
“I wrote a poem; it got published”.

That’s good, my son, I am so proud”.

It will not be in this world that it will be so.
In another. somewhere in eternity, we shall meet.
“Hello, Mamam, I love you; I always did”; she will smile,
and say, “I know, and your poem: I am so proud of you”

Lesloe D. Bush
© 18 April 2014

21/08/2024

21 August 2024

Our story, a cosmic view

My story, his story, her story,
Their story? Our story?
Not possible. They are all different.
Are they? Imagine there is a thing,
A state of Being termed absolute truth!

No matter the difference of opinion,
perception of causes and effects,
reasons and results, the question
"what happened" is reduced to an act
or sequence of actions, the consequences

of that act, or sequence of actions, or
absence of. Act or don't act. It's all the same.
Do or do not. It's a decision, a choice,
an action. A choice of not to notice, or be aware,
is a choice to embolden, enable, and encourage!

Feelings of guilt, and emotions, have consequences,
Are consequences? Should, shouldn't;
ought, oughtn't; did, didn't.
Our actions judge us. Our emotions
are separate and complex.

A cauldron of contradictory,
competing and calamitous concoction.
A cosmic view? Not a chance.
We’re alone, collectively we form groups;
Seek to repeat what we have experienced;

Claim this as knowledge.

Leslie D Bush
© 20 January 2022

20/08/2024

20 August 2024

OPTIMISM IN OR AT A TIME OF DYING

“Grief is a natural response to losing someone or something important to you. You may feel a variety of emotions, like sadness or loneliness. And you might experience it for several different reasons. Maybe a loved one died, a relationship ended, or you lost your job. Other life changes, like chronic illness or a move to a new home, can also lead to grief.”

2

Donc il va! So it goes! The earth has been dying for decades,
As have humanity’s empires. Taking interminably longer to die
Are the cacophony of empire-centric concepts, That refuse to
Accept defeat. Choosing to morph into new shapes of old ideas.

New shapes for old ideas? Are we fooled? Surely, once experienced,
We should be wary and suspicious. Like an old tune, a fond memory,
We hum it, cherish it, and get fooled once again! Yes, once more
We dance to the tired tune, hoping for a happy ending it cannot give us!

Then we shake ourselves, stand up and say, “That was silly, wasn’t it?
When will we ever learn? (I still remember the tune to that!)”, and stumble
to the next crisis. Do we mourn our situation? We dress it in philosophical
Robes, measure it in technological advances (is the wheel still circular,

Does it go round and round?) “The Human Condition”, is the phrase.
Human condition? Nothing!. Is there a working brain among the billions of us?
The image that imposes itself on my brain is of ants, in equal numbers!
Newsflash!! We are of the species, homo sapiens sapiens (Latin for “wise man”).

We are by definition, “wise”. [Do I hear laughter?], not ants, rats or mice,
Giraffes or kangaroos, budgies or funking canaries. We have inhabited this planet
For the last 300,000 years, and the last 10,000 years established our superiority
(I say that word under advice!) What are good at; “good”

meaning skilled/experienced/practised at? Waging war, building civilisations,
to be destroyed by more war; re-building for another conflict.
Donc il va. So it goes. So what goes? Gives you pause for thought, mais, oui.
We have a choice, a purposeful effort to face challenges head-on and resolve them;

regardless of success or failure; that which does not kill you makes you stronger.
Brave words. Should the mind and body not respond, what then? Faith?
Faith requires a belief system. Everybody has one. The systems might or might not
Be shared. Reason! That’s what we need. Emotional turmoil has no room for reason.

The reason might re-assert itself later when emotions have exhausted themselves.
We are human, not superhuman; we attach ourselves to others,
and they attach themselves to us; when We can’t see them, touch them,
or talk to them; we experience a sense of loss for whatever reason,

they are no longer there; we feel the pain,
We grieve. Grief is not eternal,
it runs its course. We grieve.
We live life. We Love.

We Love. We Love.

Leslie D Bush
© 27 December 2021

This poem was published in PostModern Voices Volume 7, edited by Dr Namita Laxmi Jagaddeb; patron and chief editor, Dr Jernail Singh Anand.

8 Billion PLUS 1

08/09/2024

07/09/2024

07/09/2024

06/09/2024

05/09/2024

04/09/2024

02/09/2024

02/09/2024

01/09/2024

31/08/2024

30/08/2024

29/08/2024

28/08/2024

27/08/2024

27/08/2024

26/08/2024

25/08/2024

24/08/2024

22/08/2024

22/08/2024

21/08/2024

20/08/2024

Address

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share