MARTIN WARDLEY
Candlelight
She could flicker should she wish
And feign a faint and faithful kiss
But this flame
Wouldn’t deign
To be so crass or cliched
She draws all in
Into her world of bliss
Transfixed
Becalmed
Betwixt peace and tranquillity
Calm and causality
Driving effect:
Cogs grind to a sedentary pace
Strain eased from the lines
Driving deep through an aging face
Tension evaporates
Fears alleviate
Stretched out she elevates
She pirouettes and pointes
Stretching sinews and joints
With perfect symmetry she shimmies
Chaos and form
Borne from one another
Into one another
Seeking uniformity and discord
Simultaneously
And harmoniously dissonant
Toes tipped on the charred-black wick
She sips at the cool air
Feeding her burnt luminosity
Replenishing the reds, the ochres, the golds
She folds
She doubles
She dances
Entranced onlookers
Hypnotically hooked
She draws from her waxing feet
Bleeding the purples, the blues, the fused violets
With skilful subtlety
She pulls
Down on heavy lids in the silence
Eyes now closed, motionless
Worry now sedated
Anxiousness abated
Rest belatedly reached
In deep and serene
Unruffled, unworried, unbridled
Sleep
​
Martin Wardley (31st Oct 2018) 36
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They could get used to this
No accountability
No influence
No responsibility
A lowly inconvenience
He could get used to this
Treat him like a cipher
Treat him like a fool
Treat him with neither
Credit nor recognition of repute
He could get used to this
Undermine him and belittle
To raise a sagging status
Both uncool and uncivil
Discourteous and ungracious
He could get used to this
And if he did
Would they call him institutionalised?
Would it come as some surprise?
Would he slowly cease to recognise?
The callousness and spite
Indeed, yes
He could get used to this
​
Martin Wardley (25th Oct 2018) 35
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Wellbeing coordinator
The wellbeing coordinator
Just coordinated my wellbeing
Seeing
my life's itinerary
In disarray
And my vision
Woefully astray
And feeling my precarious balance
Slightly askew
And my patience
A fraying fuse
She went to work
She reset my goals
Set aside time
To reassess
To relax and rest
To focus on the present
To disregard the past
To turn a blind eye on the uselessness
Of focusing on a fabricated future
But instead to redirect attention
On priorities of the day
A sequence
She deemed
appropriate
For my needs
And now I really don't know
What
I would have done
Without her
Really?
In this world turned upside down
And all manner of appalling
and abhorrent behaviour
A wellbeing
coordinator?
​
Martin Wardley (18th Oct 2018) 34
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Running on Empty
Running on empty
Depleted and distracted
Protracted thoughts
Floating recollections
Attention to detail
Derailed
By muffled introspection
Pointless meandering around the point
The mark lies mockingly unblemished
The chemist rubbing palms
At the probable prospect
To imbibe, to ingest, to inject?
Time saunters at quarter speed
The greedy minutes dragging their doleful disdain
Their conceit
Sleep, sleep, sleep
Interrupted by the noise and the chatter
The din and the clatter
Plots and ploys and plans
Making their nightly sojourn
Into dreams
Slow burning their way
Deep into my ivory towers
And into the small hours
With grand implications
And cruel connotations
Stemming the flow
Of much needed fuel
Until the risible sun rises
Finding me spent
And running on empty
​
Martin Wardley (10th Oct 2018) 33
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Polluted air (the window whispers)
The window whispers
A wireless curse surfs on a lazy wind
A door step murmurs
A vexing sex text drifts across an open wound
A paving flag taps
Private nakedness exposed falls through an aching rain
A roof tile sighs a while
Compromising words hurled towards a thinly veiled pain
A curtain nervously twitches
Intimidation labours in the ether feeding ill thoughts
Fraught, the stone wall calls out
Abuse fused with mist hints at alternative conclusions
Confusion and malevolence lurk prevalent
In the messages meandering through the air we breathe
All will be still, and all will be silent
But until the violence of correspondence subsides
The window must whisper
​
Martin Wardley (3rd Oct 2018) 32
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The musings of the insomniac
The silent sentries
Guarding each and every sky-bound roof top
Every crane, every corner, every bus stop
The train lines lie still
Streets snake empty
Save the odd waif
An odd stray abandoned citizen
Electronic billboards pause
Shop signs light for no one
A million office windows
Light up the scorning night sky
Slowly murdering this aching fragility
A delayed in-deliberate creeping demise
On nights such as these
Do we collectively weep?
We do not
We sleep
On the whole
​
Martin Wardley (26th Sept 2018) 31
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Sunday session
Tables arranged on the cowering lawn
And plants fight neglect
Shrivelled, dying or living full-life, overgrown
They enter in dribs
In drabs and in groups
The groups filling seats
Replete with coins and hopes
Stoked with quiet anticipation
Elated with freedom
Ornate ironmongery
Blatant tomfoolery
The raucous and the ruminating
The dull and the illuminating
Some on roast lunches
Following promises and heeding hunches
Some nibbling crisps or picking at bits in slippery dips
Plans are afoot, dreams coming real
Tomorrow they will start
Perhaps
Problems are solved, issues resolved
Memories and tears
And laughs
The fuel of fools or sustenance for the judicious?
Some caught in vicious
Cycles
Others pause for brief respite
Something close to
Primal
Either way the light fades
Dispersing servants
Returning from whence the came
To face the rain of the morning
Pouring
On the grey reticent but accepting procession
Until a smile glides over recalling
The lost afternoon and the fine Sunday session
​
Martin Wardley (18th Sept 2018) 30
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Cleansed for a moment
Stripped of worries
Parted from concerns
Relieved of bitter feelings, of anger
Unbridled of belongings
Shorn of all clothing
Sauntering to the waters edge
Diving deep into the brine
The salt stings open eyes
Conscious of the discomfort
But unwilling to miss
This feeling of naked bliss
Further down I dive
I spin
Thin beings dart, instinctive protection
Disappearing in all and every direction
As my effort takes me breathless
To darker depths
Sunlight stretched
Towards my single celled ancestor
Oblivious
Osmosing
Contorted yet conforming
Before development and mutation
Evolution: repetitive and cyclic creation
And time
Brought forth me and my kind
Complex, conscious, self-aware
Into this blinking of an eye
Lungs bursting, pleading for the light
Desperate for air
I have no care for death right now
And heed their deafening protestations
Depleting the last of the cellular reserves, turning
I break the surface
Gasping with rasping delight
Sucking in life and love
Back to the dry earth I move
Exit one world and enter another
I stroll
Rolling back through the encumbered crowd
Oblivious to the clad and the bedraggled
The claimed and the ragged
Cleansed
If only for a fleeting moment
​
Martin Wardley (12th Sept 2018) 29
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Pedestrian Odyssey
With time, temptation, acquaintances and tasks
Stretched out to the hazy grey horizon ahead of me
With no need for the dragging baggage of history
This all simply and conveniently consigned
And left on the shelf with a smile
Neatly packaged, sealed, labelled, concealed
Consciously I purposefully park
This Pedestrian Odyssey
​
Martin Wardley (5th Sept 2018) 28
The yarn of the privileged
Sitting in this hotel room
Again
It could be cracking the flags outside or it could be
Rain
I wouldn’t know, I’m fighting the need for company, crutches and buffers
Slain
Bleeding into the bedsheets totally fucked, mentally stripped, crippled
Drained
A life of graft to get me here tonight. In the
Dark
The planned and the haphazard result of my works, my games. And my
Art
I’m the living and breathing consequence of my actions. From the
Start
From the cradle through school, through the battlegrounds and mind games of the
Heart
No blame do I lay at anyone else’s feet or
Door
If there is light, then its mine. Equally of my own making should I disappear into my
Hole
There are no written guidelines for this, no recipes, no
Laws
But there is defiance. There is fight. I have
Claws
I now see the world now through educated and experienced
Eyes
Are these any better or wiser or richer? I still
Cry
These demons that slew me and twisted both soul and
Mind
Remain to this day and no amount of riches, luxurious pampering or ineffective indulgence can
Hide
Some things just sting. Permanently. And can’t be
Erased
Some things simply sit. And
Wait
For opportunities and situations, options and troughs. To
Bait
But for-warned is for-armed. With wit, will, patience and a practised recognition the decision to revel and to roll in the privilege. Of this self-directed
Fate
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Martin Wardley (29th Aug 2018) 27
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One trick Pony
A one trick Pony
A single, solitary idea
No flexible framework
But a rigid, inflexible dictum
Preaching the Gospel
Of one
To the many
Applicable to none
Lacking the capacity to adapt
The empathy to alter
The capability to forge
To work the documented detail
Around an individual
With a different reality
Unique needs
Extraordinary history
Fabricated legitimacy
Wrapped methodically and convincingly around the phony
A one trick pony
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Martin Wardley (22nd Aug 2018) 26
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The tube (Part 1)
Folded arms
Knuckles squeezed, anxiety white
Fingers on keys
Virtually talking but not quite
Blank expressions
Eyes lacking invitation
Insular and isolated
Necessity the tedious mother of invention
Sparks ignite
As lonely ships sail by
Lost looks of lust and longing smiles
Doors close tight on heavy sighs
Paper from another age
Hides from face to cowering hairline
Groans moan exasperated
Another sub-plot sound-bite headline
A lone bag sits
Time ticks in glacial time
Indecisive glances, reserve taking chances
The percentage game of doubt and lies
The waiting world of light awaits
The platform patiently invites
To the sound of practiced humour
Clues and disguised information on which to cautiously alight
Slow painful gait
Dragging protesting limbs
Behind the hesitant heels of the inexperienced
Now let the dawning day begin
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Martin Wardley (15th Aug 2018) 25
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A sea of grey
Drifting into a sea of grey
Heart of disappointment
Soul in disarray
Another toothless tooth
In a cog of perpetual motion
Lost in a listless ocean
A token flicker of defiance
A shared alliance
With a will willingly distressed
Walking adrift in a bleak poorly lit wilderness
Or at very least in hiding
Weary of the fighting
Disguised, disgruntled and with dying disinterest
Repetition, repetition, repetition
Fading recognition
In this stale and graceless sea of grey
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Martin Wardley (8th Aug 2018) 24
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The bat
A bat flickers past me
In the fading daylight
He shimmies and shakes
Catching flies
This mammalian pilot
Of our glorious Skies
All Logic and truth
He defies
But where did he start
On his quest?
What questions were asked?
What subtle inquests?
What tempted
This small land bound rodent
To look to the heavens
For a moment?
To view the plumes
Of a bird-songs coat
And the envy within
This seduced and cajoled
Then to make up his mind
And decide
To join on the wing
And to fly
Of course, there would have been
Doubts and naysayers
The cynics, the skeptics
Those lost in the most futile of labours
Certainly they scorned
As they dished out disdain
On his geologically timed
Tenacious campaign
But jump and fall
And repeat and repeat
And stretch and improve
Until feet
Become frame
And skin became wing
Then finally he takes
To the air
He swirled and he span
And he ducked and he dived
With a squeak
And a tiny high five
The doubters now gone
And the cynics proved wrong
The naysayers with a grumble
Moved on
So as I sit on this rock
Alone in the breeze
A lesson here for all
I quietly and pleasingly feel
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Martin Wardley (1st Aug 2018) 23
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One vexing direction
Nothing feels better
Nothing has ever felt better
Nothing will ever feel better
Nothing exacts such a cost
Nothing has ever exacted such a cost
Nothing will ever exact such a cost
And here you stand
At a loss
To determine
The point at which the balance tips
And equilibrium slips
Forcing perpetual momentum
In one vexing direction
Or the other
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Martin Wardley (25th July 2018) 22
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From a thread
Drunk with racing anticipation
Giddy at the galloping prospect
Men set sights on adventure
Entering a playground
Bounding enthusiasts
Tripping as acrobats
A transformation
A regression
A deep dive into childhood
Stood neck high in the boys they once were
Driving, directing, debating
Parking, packing, including and rejecting
The first steps on a crisp creaking surface
The bright beaming glow from the settled and steady snow
Bound for the ice
The frozen flow
Cascade la glacé
Nervous tension
Anxious anticipation
Adrenaline injection
Risk fighting reward
The blinding bend is rounded
She comes into focus
All is grounded
Her splayed and frozen feet into view
A new insight
Dots start to join
Myths and stories
Vague tales move to sharp focus:
The abandoned car
The dark patches staining the pure bright white
Of the otherwise untainted
Hemlocks of hardware lay left where they fell
A single rope hooked to a solitary screw
Half way up the aching face
Almost mocking
These tell-tale signs of recent disaster
Heartbreak
This calamitous conclusion
All that can be imagined is the fear
The confusion
The panic
The dread
Plummeting ice released from rock
Dragged down by an unforgiving gravity
To a grave new position of rest
Taking with it the players as they played
These giddy boys
These drunken racers
These dream chasers
Now playing only
In distant and heavy hearts
Time to take it all in
Respects paid
The trip continues
We will climb
But not here
Not now
The equilibrium between risk and reward now hopelessly unbalanced
Yes we will climb
But now with fear
Now as men
The boys with their games
Respectfully left
Their playground now
Nought but rubble and dust
​
Martin Wardley (18th July 2018) 21
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The ageing horse chestnut (Belated generation)
Belated generation under the shade of the ageing horse chestnut
Her broad boughs shoulder the heat of a mid-day summer sun
The cool breeze permitted to pass unfettered, unmolested and un-warmed
Into her shadows where the fine fingered ferns have learned to spread their ancient fronds
Beyond the reach of the bleaching heat
Hidden behind their vast leafy protection
While serenaded by a bounty of birdsong
They lay swaying as if in silent defiance
Seeking an alliance
With a sympathetic stream who reels, pirouettes and poises in watery joy
They are the taunting manifestations of tease
Pleased with their show of fickle bravado
While they collectively cower
Under trunk, branch, leaf and flower
Of this magnificent tree
And here sit I
Sharing their Oasis of cool
To energise my listless thoughts
To set them sail in my many and varied boats
Bound for the outstretched shores of countless ideas
Fear has no place here
Doubt has no dock
Nor may self-derision lay an anchor
Defeating circumspection has no hold
No dubious direction
No embryonic correction
Only a mind devoid of constraints
And bustling with sensational opportunity
The cessation of stagnation
Belated generation under the shade of the ageing horse chestnut
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Martin Wardley (11th July 2018) 20
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Ill-fitting rucksack
Drinking cessation
Curtailed conversations
Both baffled and shocked
And time-lapsed
The end of all action
A collective distraction
All current transactions
Are stacked
The gent at the back
With the laughable laugh
To a soundtrack of
Bubble gum pap
All this and more
As there walks through the door
An ill-fitting tilting
Rucksack
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Martin Wardley (4th July 2018) 19