To a Listener . . .

 Address To The Unco Concerned . . . . . the overly interested or rigidly reassuring


This life is like a blood red rose,


that bleeds into our ears.

So ... gently,

with a cultured nose, be wary

O’ yer ain fears and foibles,

man, or mouse,


I welcome clean attention.


But, dinnae ‘magine

that my house

will suffer long yer wathchin'

if you see nothing o’ yersel

while gazing at another,

you’ll nae be any use tae me,


sister, brother.


No scientist or soldier, priest

or politician, no guru,

guide or teacher

can hope to share

a vision ~

of a future formed in lead,


drowning in opinion,

we all stake empty claims,

to wear


the uniform of freedom.




It is the Listener in ourselves,

the body’s music, bare,

that sings

of spacious sub-atomic wells

and clear infinite springs,

of understanding

not as we may think ~ for

that is aye beyond our grasping,

but a common sense

beneath our thirst

we may tak’ a cup and drink from.


So friend, tak’ heed

of how ye’ form the very definition

of such a term as friendship,

I urge some room

in yer description.

Respect, a healthy dis-interest

in whatever may be brewing,

mind yer business,

keep yer counsel and

ye’ll stop yer heed fae stewing.


Still . . . you’ll aye be welcome

roon’ ma hoose

Wi’ a’ yer force sae gentle,

if for some small, simple time

ye loose . . .

what binds yer look, sae mental


If not.........there’s the door


      copyright  2009