Never alone, walking in a park

Vibram soles stop still, activate nature’s solidarity

Wind funnels through full tree’s, fluttering leaves whisper

2 squirrels confront, short fuses scolding chirps

drowns gentle birdsong,

Hold your integrity when noise rises.

Escape back to solid memories

Free from high stakes quarantine, viable free rain begins

Spring shower.

Rich wrote to Tom, his cousin in London.

To discover the worth in this life worth living.

Yes, away from the touch of an obscene government intent on competitive incompetence. Bridging sickness and evil.

Filing out to save face day after day in front of a weakening lectern. The daily parade. A distanced and feeble address to ever growing sceptical masses.

People mourn respected media displayed faces of the dead and the weakened. Never again will many dream.

History will scream out a governments collective vices. Progressing thousands to death and mass suffering.

Millions scrutinising, reflecting a cause for fairness and ethical principles. Division of haves and have not’s seem ever evident again, despite these diseased times.

Ten out of ten for callous deceit. Suits still looking to prevail their vanity and riches at each corner.

Root and branch thuggery from roaches and leeches in their temple of lies. These people, reams of elected public servants, asleep at their various wheels.

What does expecting more from them do? Creates waves of smothering disappointment. Fellow human beings being exploited, consigning thousands to early coffins, lives forfeited.

Embattled confrontations from outsiders seems to waste energy, unable to penetrate those wicked fixed minds. Even cows grow wear. Wise up.

Revolutions sometimes start with one act, one voice. Retrieve a stolen sense of decency owed to thousands of corpse’s, an open plea.

A sad vision reflected in mirror’s of death. Lives irreparable, now destitute and destroyed.

In abundance around us, are many indications informing of unworthiness. Messages of downing, debasing and degrading underscore their hollow rhetoric.

The collective selves eroded and erased by heinous people and their cold authoritarian institutions. Failing people reliant on them.

People making outrageous decisions brutally failing a population. Them in a nutshell. A lack of interest in upholding basic human rights as a standard bearer in an extra rich country.

Indisputably putrid, distancing responsibility and abhorrent slowness to act. Frequent skin saving exercises

They demonise poke and prod with their own version of truth not lost in science fiction travesty. Breaking mirrors wilfully wherever they point, herding unfairness, discrimination and injustice with their grubby soiled fingers.

Avoidance of their quantitative statistical collateral is vital.

The choice of dignified behaviour or pissing on someone’s corn flakes week after week. Stench of grave disillusionment reeks across the fairer minded in society.

The naive take it. The lack of objective challenge is fatal, almost complicit, this is our lot. No better but worse, just worse.

The challenge – to prise away self control. Re-imagining each day free from their toxic reach. Never idle in thought and effort. On the inside while leading as best as one can in the outside.

The challenge, maintaining active hope. Impulse to be more active against them. A hopeful cause. Plenty still act out of caring, love, kindness and integrity.

Sometimes there is no pleasure in truth. They will not wait for me to die. They will not wait for me to live and rise, they don’t know of me. My reach is minuscule.

But still it’s important to understand what to get out of life, what do you want? What does life want for you? In each day that presents itself, passing with meaning and pleasure. Weigh up the worthy acts, the tasks to pursue. Questions and unselfish solutions. Day after day. Your own rescue plan, if….then… Plotting.

Write my own final analysis. A life well lived is a well lived life revealed. My owned responsibilities. Fulfilling this precarious human existence.

This single life.

Current sky in Dublin.



Like to become

There are no manuals for the construction of the individual you would like to become. You are the only one who can decide this and take up the lifetime of work that it demands. This is a wonderful privilege and such an exciting adventure.

To grow into the person that your deepest longing desires is a great blessing. If you can find a creative harmony between your soul and your life, you will have found something infinitely precious. You may not be able to do much about the great problems of the world or to change the situation you are in, but if you can awaken the eternal beauty and light of your soul, you will bring light wherever you go.

The gift of life is given to us for ourselves and also to bring peace, courage, and compassion to others.


John writes so eloquently about life’s decisions. Whether we make them or not. Whether we allow people to make them for us or not? With or without our best intentions at heart and in head.

Sometimes I wish there was a manual constructed, especially unique. But there isn’t. There are thousands of books and people to guide. A matter of choosing the right steps. Shaping and moulding, step following step.

See Glenshee in summer, Glendolough and the wild Atlantic waves crash the coast. Feel the spray on your face and the sun on your neck.


The Ice brigade.

From their lauding protected pedestals, the suits issue their soft orders for a cull and execution.

Thousands will die, claimed the flailing blond leader. Thousands.

We’ll see to it. The elite underbelly manipulating batch deaths.

Untied wedding bands, families torn, shredded. Bodies in hundreds lie cold, let down, in mortuaries in a rich land.

Thousands of good shepherds rise daily to help and support amidst disquiet. Angels outweigh demons in numbers, protecting and saving lives despite Westminster’s primed predictions.

Doom still reeks out, slow to act, slow to care for those outside their own circles, is how it seems, is the reality when the statistics are read from the weeping lecturn. See the pictures of the mass deceased. Words compiled from a team of script writers, again read by the ice people.

Got to turn away.

Mountains and fields invite solace, they cannot touch me there. Soar with birds, roam free with the deer and fieldmice.

Where I can exist, alive with hope, far away from the ice brigades reach.

With tree’s

Smart enough

Rich read the email newsletter

“No amount of education can overcome the innate limits of human intelligence and responsibility. We are not smart enough or conscious enough or alert enough to work responsibly on a gigantic scale.” — Wendell Berry.

Then reflected;

Know this, take the initiative within and of yourself, sole reliance on others is futile. Initiative is available in daily abundance, it feels great. Better than sitting on a butt waiting for yourself to strike.

Then recalled;

Active in pursuit of that bastard bully O’ Connor who kicked him hard in the nuts totally out the blue in Secondary School. The force raised him to his knee’s and then fell prostrate on the worm brown carpet, writhing in unquestionable agony. Accused wrongly of slashing his bag. A set-up for awfully sore balls. Any male can vouch for the severity of pain. and revenge came sweet when a squashed snail was smeared in his meat paste sandwiches. A lapse by O’ Connor during sports, the stupid bastard and his vomit.

Then hindsight gently beats a soothing drum;

Consider ethically for self, those actions. For deeds of self and others. When ethics has its place, or more accurately, is given its place and then taken away temporarily for retribution, you must question who suffers. Rich regretted the snails sacrifice. That snail should not have been killed but the vomit could be forgiven and that’s what was smart enough. 

But the snail had no choice. 

Home perceptions

Yes perhaps, its a truism that bends perception.

No journey is too long, when you are coming home”

The words of John O Donohue.

I suppose it can depend on whats waiting for you at home. And who, most likely. Or it could be no one. And what if it’s a death? But it’s both interesting and horrendous travelling amongst people who know nothing of your grieving.

Firstly, what magnetism pulls at your heart to leave home, what tempts a return?

A journey home, or away? One way? One way back? Maybe, you have been driven out by some unfortunate deed? Or some evil bastard?

Might it be love(s), comfort or belonging, that lures you back?

Homesick? Work? Acceptance of failure? Inheritance perhaps?

Maybe even the people and currency of culture, tradition? Sporting or relational fulfilment?

Never tarnished by greed nor deceit, honestly, it can be great to be home after a long time away or long journey. Or even a looking forward to catching up.

Kilmainham Jail

Hopefully, whenever, there’s a peaceful settling within.

‘Meditations’ of Marcus Aurelius:

“You have power over your mind – not outside events. 

Realise this and you will find strength…

Very little is needed to make a happy life;

it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking…

Death smiles at all of us,

all we can do is smile back.

I always read stuff like this with interest. A lot of hope and truth sits within these words.

But there are some awful arseholes around, evil individuals, greedy organisations and incompetent in-compassionate institutions, who can make the external events very damaging to mind and body. Remember its people at the heart and centre of all organisations and institutions, good and bad.

Yes, its true many have the capacity to harness power of our minds, thoughts, feelings and emotions. Whilst it’s also true that many do not have this mental capacity for a variety of reasons.

It takes practice too. Lots of it.