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Spike Lee

Everything I do is always scrutinised. But that's all I'll say about that.

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A Prisoner

Woke up this morning
feeling my life had changed.
I felt like a prisoner
with invisible bars surrounding me.
There seemed no way to escape
the torment that I feel.
My life seems to be forced
by some unwanted guiding hand.
Every move I make
is scrutinised very carefully,
no freedom of choice can be made.
My life never seems to be my own.
A shadow of despair
hangs over me like a angry cloud,
it follows me wherever I go,
complains if I do things
that are not what they would do.
It’s like being a prisoner
with a warder constantly at your side.
You cannot even breathe
without them being there.
Life has become stifled and stolen,
and there is little you can do.
You wish you could go back,
change a few things if you could,
but you cannot and so you go on.
Feeling like a prisoner
with invisible bar surrounding you.

22September 2008

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The extra space

the poet when he attains maturity
in his works is a man distilled
by nature so that his verses
glitter like stars in the sky

his thoughts, his concepts
are a glassful of sparkling
vintage wine the years helped
decloak to reveal its
subtleties and finesse as it
waltzes off the loving warmth
of our tongue

the poet's evey move
will be scrutinised
by an audience who
the poet has helped unloosen
a button on the mind
so that now they think with
a new treasured space
the spectre of a plato and aristotle
confucius and rumi

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A Vision of a Wrangler, of a University, of Pedantry, and of Philosophy

Deep St. Mary's bell had sounded,
And the twelve notes gently rounded
Endless chimneys that surrounded
My abode in Trinity.
(Letter G, Old Court, South Attics),
I shut up my mathematics,
That confounded hydrostatics --
Sink it in the deepest sea!

In the grate the flickering embers
Served to show how dull November’s
Fogs had stamped my torpid members,
Like a plucked and skinny goose.
And as I prepared for bed, I
Asked myself with voice unsteady,
If of all the stuff I read, I
Ever made the slightest use.

Late to bed and early rising,
Ever luxury despising,
Ever training, never "sizing,"
I have suffered with the rest.
Yellow cheek and forehead ruddy,
Memory confused and muddy,
These are the effects of study
Of a subject so unblest.

Look beyond, and see the wrangler,
Now become a College dangler,
Court some spiritual angler,
Nibbling at his golden bait.
Hear him silence restive Reason,
Her advice is out of season,
While her lord is plotting treason
Gainst himself, and Church or State.

See him next with place and pension,
And the very best intention
Of upholding that Convention
Under which his fortunes rose.
Every scruple is rejected,
With his cherished schemes connected,
"Higher Powers may be neglected --
His result no further goes."

Much he lauds the education
Which has raised to lofty station,
Men, whose powers of calculation
Calculation’s self defied.
How the learned fool would wonder

[...] Read more

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