Mind Games

As this post is designed to heighten your awareness to your body I do warn you that you may notice things you never have before. Also some of these may not work on some of you as they don’t always work.


I can be cruel,
Of that I’m sure,
You know you’re blinking.
On the other hand,
I can do things,
Like say,
Is that your tongue you are feeling?
I digress,
for I have noticed,
My own breathing,
One that often gets me,
Is the ticking in my neck,
I know it’s just a vain,
But still It gets to me.
On we go,
Onto our feet,
Can you feel your cold toes?
Time to be,
A little mean,
Is that your nose,
That you can see.
Lets also pay,
A cruel respect,
To the itchy end,
Of your nose.
Or more-so,
I have known,
The itch to spread,
All down my hands.
With the odd mixed signals,
Of my fingers,
Neither hot nor cold,
Just slight tingles.
And with the beat,
Of your heart,
Your hands will shake.
One I must not leave behind,
Is that ringing noise inside,
You know its there,
You here it now.
But moving on,
Lick your lips,
And you shall feel the strange,
Tingling sensation.
I would apologise for subjecting you to this,
But I did warn you first,
Just think of tea and you’ll think of this,
Face, Eyes, Noes, Hands, Feet, Lunges, Tongue and Lips!

I Left A Part Of Me On The West Coast

No matter how cold,
Or how harsh the weather,
Even with the midges,
And the quiet shelter,
The west coast calls me.

Between the rocks,
Hidden in the glens,
Waiting to be found,
Are all the people,
That make up the coast.

No matter the hustle,
And the inevitable bustle,
Of each city around,
There is a calm waiting,
Up on the west coast.

Where the people are friendly,
And the towns are few,
Where the lines with nature,
Are all but blurred,
You will find a peaceful life.

And when you have gone,
You will wish to go back,
Knowing forever more,
You will have left a part of you,
Up on the west coast.

Achmelvich Bay

There is a bay,
Miles away,
Over the hills,
And down the braes,
In the Highlands,
A world away.
Where the sun,
Wind and rain,
Falls in a one,
All in a day,
On the beach,
Of Achmelvich bay.

Mountain Hare

There is a cat upon my garden wall,
I don’t know why,
A garden wall is there.
Why is that cat upon the wall?
I don’t know why,
I can’t help but stare.
Is the cat even there?
I have no proof,
But should I care?
Oh, there is no cat upon my wall,
It was just a mountain hare.

Train Window Questions

Looking out through a train window,
Nature looks like a snapshot,
Just a picture passing at seventy miles an hour.
Life is just standing still on the other side of this glass.
This glass cold to the touch and the only thing between me and the real world.
Sitting in a man-made object looking out onto nature.
Wondering what would be here if it weren’t for the rail line and this seven tone bullet.
The rail line rust coloured and just sitting there to help man get from point a to point b.
The grasses in their respective fields are green.
The straw in theirs yellow and in some bailed.
The hill like clouds of land blend into the land like clouds in the sky.
The trees browning and the water running under the occasional bridge.
The cars on the road and the tractors in the fields.
The only apparent moving objects.
The sun blanketing the land in its golden rays makes water glint with a fiery haze.
Looking out through a train window.
Town life looks alive.
Moving and bustling around.
Mankind is not stopping for anything on the other side of this glass.
This glass misty up from the smoke of the town and the only thing between me and the modern nature.
Sitting in a man-made object looking out onto modern nature.
Wondering what would be here if it weren’t for the rail line, this seven tone bullet and all the houses and business around me.
The rail line silver coloured as if just laid down, and there for multiple purposes.
The people in their respective professions working to make money.
The homeless sitting at street corners and some making money selling magazines.
The houses like plains of objects blend into the land like plains in the sky.
The trees still browning as if not deterred by the smog filled modern nature.
The water running cloudy under the bridge.
The cars on the roads and the people in the street move with intention.
The sun trying to light up the ground but being dimmed by the smog in the air makes the water glint feebly.
Heading closer and closer to Aberdeen life sees so surreal out here in the train.

Cherry Blossom

The trees are heavy,
Blowing in the wind,
The ground changes,
A shade of pink.
The trees shed their spring coat,
And leave sprinkle their colour,
Over the paths and the roads,
Signalling the middle of spring.
Look around now,
And cherish the sight,
All the wonder,
Of Cherry Blossom.

Bumbling Bumble Bee

Spring is here,
The air is warm,
And comes along,
The Bumbling Bumble Bee.
As flower open,
Gardens bloom,
Comes to play,
The Bumbling Bumble Bee.
It’s known hum,
And happy sway,
As it flies,
The Bumbling Bumble Bee .