h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

The wind it whispers with every blow
Just what exactly do we all think we know?
Knowledge like wood wont rot in the ground
Like gold it's eternal economically sound
It plants roots deep that will weather and shoot
Always, it will reap the heaviest fruit.

Guilt...I wear your mantle
It sits upon me like a giant weight
For every...
Starving tearful child
Unwanted deprived soul
Begging hand and bowl
I give nothing

Guilt...you remind me
How weak anyone can be
A simple twist of fate
An empty dinner plate
At a space for you or me

Guilt...you make me turn away
Embarrassing my pride
For I cannot share your ride
For if I was to see
I no longer cold hide
The very shame in me.

Happy Christmas, Rikii. As you won't join us on Sin's board, here's a poem that Skylark posted there this morning, which you might like. It's called "The Reckoning" and appeared in Punch on 2 January 1907.

Now the festive season's ended
Comes the sequel parents dread;
Pale and visibly distended
Bilious Tommy lies in bed,
Face to face with retribution
And an outraged constitution.

What a change since, pink and perky
Tommy swiftly put away
Three enormous goes of turkey
At the feast on Christmas Day,
Getting by judicious bluffing
Double quantities of stuffing.

As to pudding, who could reckon
Tommy's load in terms of size?
Who attempt to keep a check on
Tommy's numberless mince pies?
Hopeless task! His present pallor
Proves his prodigies of valour.

Then I found him, notwithstanding
Such colossal feats as these,
After dinner on the landing
Secretly devouring cheese,
Flanked by ginger-beer-and-coffee,
Sweetened with a slab of toffee.

I, his uncle, gave him warning,
Showed him the error of his ways,
Hinted at tomorrow morning,
Talked about my boyhood days;
All in vain I waved the bogey
He despised me as a fogey.

Well, perhaps the pains he suffers
May be gifts of fairy gold,
Since he now says, 'Only duffers
Eat as much as they can hold.'
Thus, through physic and privations,
Tommy learns his limitations.

Good morning and Merry Christmas tickle,thank you for that posting,a bit above my station I fear,a quality pome that.However...only a small moderate roast pork 'n' apple sauce dinner for us today,cant stand turkey as it tastes foul as for stuffing well...I fear it might make my eyes water.I do wish you and yours a very happy day,as it is only me and Mrs Cut-out today we shall be taking our ease without too much telly I hope,I do have some beer in the fridge and a free bottle of white wine that a neighbour sent round via her grandson for keeping an eye on her and clearing the snow away from her house,completely unexpected that and although Im no wine person 'I certainly wont waste it.Regards.R.

Someday maybe I'll look at the stars
and see your wonderful face again
Maybe someone can fill the empty space
Stem the tears after years of emptiness
Take away the despair and the long nights
That follow even longer days
Maybe time can yet heal these wounds
That are like a hole in my side without you
You were my soul the inner voice inside me
My inspiration the comfort my arms would seek
The spark that fired my desire,my fire
My passion and compassion you set me free
The light in my darkness the sun on my face
The lightness in me time cannot replace
Because of you my heart now beats
Slowly, beat by beat it waits,for peace.....

For Rick ::

From John Drinkwater's 'In Memoriam : an Unknown Warrior' :

..Under the willows, where the water lay
So still that in its glass the spinning flies
Were mirrored in their slight ephemeral play,
He saw the sleek chub rise,

And, passing home, his handkerchief he'd fill
With silver-padded mushrooms, that he found
In lace of grassy fetters binding still
Their whiteness to the ground....


...Nightfall; and foxes barking from the copse,
The little owls crying upon their prey;
The drowsy pheasants in the cedar-tops;
And so, the end of day...

...He and a million brothers. By that sleep,
Be silence and thanksgiving reconciled,
Silence in all, save in the will to keep
His England undefiled.

Millions of waves have landed on this shore
Given time there will be millions more
This insignificant revelation I see
Makes me realize the futility that is me....

"Happy New Year!" the chimes ring out,
And drunken voices, too;
People who don't give a damn, shout
"Happy New Year to you".

Ah, let them wallow in their brief repentance,
'Tis shallow and there is no chance they'll drown -
But what of those who flounder in deep water,
Struggling to stay afloat the whole year round?

Ah! could the depths of their soul but be sounded,
The Lovers of the World would be astounded.

We're born to live
To laugh and cry
To suffer, to die
The new born bairn
That cries in the dark
Finds solace,sweet comfort
As daylight beckons
We become the slaves of want
Working for every minute
Too neccessitate every...
Uneccessary neccessity
We become numb,insensitive
Too scared to commit to others
Too selfish to share
I want to want it is my right
I want to buy food
Food,I know I will never eat
Im programmed now to know
My future,that which I am due
Due to circumstance
I shall not be free
For if Iam fortunate enough
Enough to survive
I will share a home with strangers
A place where the elderly
Go to lose their minds
Where dreams are of puddings
Pies and the next days menu's
These are the halls
Where the once proud
Sucumb to incontinence
With no lucid thoughts of dignity
When all is done
The end becomes the only option
Do not close your eyes
Just move your mind
With your final breath
As always,towards the light.erm>

This city of mine built on a bedrock of stone and clay
The host of millions of dreams
Bricks,concrete,metal,plastic,silicon and sand
Stand erect moulded by a zillion minds
Into the panorama that stretches out into my gaze
Progress replaces and updates the memory
What was once old and elegant
Transformed into an edifice of metal and glass
That soon loses its lustre once coated in the smog
That bilges from the transport of contemporary times
Portland stone stained like our innercity lungs
With the black gold that turns the wheels
After a century, like the fossils from whence it came
It too will soon be a memory that leaves a void
Concrete grows in our city
Spreading like a virus eating all the green patches
People now sit every day in their boxes they call home
Recreation areas are mostly redundant
Iron balustrade and railings funnel us through the maze
Guiding us all past the ever watching CCTV's
Where trained observers sit in air conditioned boxes
Flicking through monitors to search for their own entertainment
Traffic crawling,dismayed drivers watching pedestrians walk past
Progress marches on top of yet another 1960's tower block
The concrete munching machines seperate the reinforcing steel
The rubble? tomorrows hardcore.....

To all who where washed away
I hope you are all at peace
To all who remain to face another day
I wish you the strength to get you through.

Hi all? I dont know if anyone bar me looks here anymore but in case you're interested I'll,post the odd one now and then.Regards.Rick.

As we open up the boxes
Contents are stacked upon the floor
There are so many pieces
Clueless as to what half are for
Me and my little son
Stare with our eyes open wide
Just where do we begin
I find some instructions inside
First I get an old board
From underneath his bed
It's a little dusty
It's come out of the old shed
Screws ,hammer and nails
Are neatly at my side
Im looking at my little son
He looks mystified
So we get some pieces
Straight bits and a bend
We tack the track on the board
With a bend at either end
Ahh all those memories
Of me and my old man
They're floodings back
I hold back a tear if I can
Next I have a tiny train
With a wind up key
I wind it up several times
It used to belong to me
Soon I place the train
Carefully on the line
Some are a little rusty
But they've joined up fine
I attach the carraiges
One!Two!and Three
I pull the starting lever
We're off,with a Wheeeee!

I expect Polly still looks in occasionally, Rik. Oh yes! and me, too.

Hi tickle,great to hear from you,I really miss your imput on the other boards,BTW I saw the posting that you spoke of and straws and backs came to mind.
Any luck lately with your song writing?I tried to play the guitar once but I never got past the instructions for Sweet molly malone,to be honest I felt sort of gangly and in possession of two left hands.I guess it didn't help that I had an elder bro' who had his own group in the 60's (never got anywhere though)he offered to teach me once ('spose he was right,that if I really wanted to learn that I'd pay like he paid)But hey like now I was broke and he'd sussed I didn't have the dedication or the mental ability for music reading,retaining or indeed the understanding of any of it at all.
I left home before I was 16 and lived in an asian house that rented me a one room bedsit.Still I didn't have any prob's then getting a low paid job with slave like hours.
You never mention what you ever did/do,and I aint asking.catch you later.R.

Hi Rikii, it's only Sin's board from which I've resigned - I'm still posting elsewhere. And Sin's board seems to be going along quite merrily now everything's blown over - although it's a bit quiet on the football thread. Talking of which, it looks as though Forest are going to be in the play-offs after all - so the agony will be prolonged. Haven't Norwich done well? Paul Lambert seems to know what he's about, so I wouldn't be surprised to see them do well in the Premiership next season.

I had a few guitar lessons once, but I too lack the dedication and the mental ability for music reading. I suppose it might have been different if I'd started younger, but I'm not sure my hands are big enough anyway. As far as song writing goes, the lyrics I produce are just for my own amusement really and not likely to be of general appeal. I haven't written any lately, in any case.

You know what I do for a living/subsistence these days: I've lots of work on between now and the middle of July, but I still won't earn a great deal. I used to work in IT and earn quite good money, but I didn't enjoy it all that much - except in the early years - and eventually packed it in. That was a big mistake, of course, as we've been going downhill ever since. I seem to recall that Leonard Cohen once wrote something along the lines of "Not very carefully I thought about the future and how little I know about animals. The future seemed unnecessarily black and strong as though it had received my casual mistakes through a carbon sheet."

Still, every day's another song to sing...

To the people of Wootton Bassett
Who have chosen to pay their respects
In a unique and special way.

For all those that have fallen
Who have payed the ultimate price
To those that now salute them
That recognise their sacrifice
These stern sombre faces
That turnout for the few
That have proudly worn a uniform
In the name of me and you
Even those who fail to realise
What that sacrifice really means
An end to all their tears and smiles
An end to all their dreams
Some of us are not worthy
To be standing here today
Watching this precious cargo
As it slowly passes our way
I thank you all for being there
I'd be there too if I'd a choice
Now it is not just you alone
Who will now be their voice.

I don't want to face the world
I'd rather stay in bed
Listening to the radio
And voices in my head

I may seem like a moron
Lying here with Radio 4 on
But in Just a Minute I'll be fine
There'll be no more hesitation
Repetition, deviation
When I realize the truth of Nietzsche's line*
There'll be no repetition
When I find a real mission
Cuz then I know I'll get things right first time
There'll be no deviation
Once I've found my true vocation
And the happiness I'm seeking will be mine

But until then there's comfort in red wine

Just keeping this tick[l]ing over for you, Rikii.

If what doesn't kill me makes me stronger,
I guess I'm going from strength to strength;
And yet, like young Jo-Wilfried Tsonga,
Too often I seem to measure my length.

That isn't so bad when the grass is lush
And I live to fight another day,
But I fear there will be a dismal hush
When I finally measure my length in clay.

Hi tickle,it's nice to hear from you,as always.
I've been far too busy lately to contribute.Only another five weeks until the footie starts

Old love,is no blunt knife
it can still cut,thrust and wound
Memories go deep,surviving to remind us
love does not,let go.
Sometimes an old picture or a tune
takes us back,like a key in an old lock
opening a thought chain,unbroken by time
into the inner rooms of the mind
reminding us of forgotten thoughts
long isolated,that are now feeding the pool
that bleeds from my eyes at your loss.
The warm coat feeling
the velvet touch of your skin
all the secrets we shared
are all mine now
too keep within.