Paul Bura

PAUL BURA

Poet,  Broadcaster,  Writer
paul@paulbura.co.uk

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Past Life Experience from the book. Stepping to the Drummer, by Paul Bura. 13min, 9.6 Mb

Found! In the video Archives... The re-enactment of a "past life". Just ONE of the stories from Paul's memoir: Stepping To The Drummer by Paul Bura.

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BURA’S BLURB

HELLO AMIGOES!

Consistent Revelation and Changing Awareness of the Infinite.
          As far as man can discern (so far) the central ‘building blocks of creation’ are the same throughout the universe (s) as is the furthest star, which can collapse at any time and is reborn into ‘something else’.
          This is the Infinite ‘doing its thing!’ and this is the essence of reincarnation.

REINCARNATION
(A personal view)

Apart from what I experienced in A QUESTION OF TIME (above this piece) reincarnation to me is a reality. I mean nothing else seems to make any sense, and we have all probably had hundreds if not thousands of lives – even other parallel universes – all of which make up our present characters, abilities, gifts, faults, and so on.
        But what we are NOW is what really matters and we can blame NO-ONE but ourselves.
        As we progress then we can have a say in what life is best suited for us and our progress by the union with the Higher Self, the real you.

        The Roman Emperor Constantine lorded over the Council of Constantinople in 553 and was considered to be the prime culprit for striking out of the bible every reference to reincarnation because his third wife - considered a prostitute by many - was mortally afraid of karma because of her evil ways (cause and effect, thus: life after life), though she was not in fact a Christian!
         However they overlooked more than just a few. One example sticks heavily in my memory banks (apart from: ‘As you sow so shall you reap’: Life after life?):
        Remember when the disciples said to Jesus that Elias would come first (to herald Jesus’ coming)? Jesus replied that he had already come and that the disciples understood that he was referring to his (2nd) cousin (Mary’s cousin Elizabeth was John’s mother) John the Baptist! John the Baptist WAS Elias! (Matthew 17.10)
        And Jesus asked his disciples: “Who do the crowd say that I am?” And the crowd was rumoured to answer: “Elias, Jeremias, or one of the prophets!” (Matthew-16: 2-3)
         Therefore – in my view – it was obvious that it was taken for granted that reincarnation was well established amongst the Jews! This new teacher (Jesus) could well have been Moses or Elijah or any of the mystics of the Jewish faith!
        When his followers asked of a certain blind man whether he or his parents had sinned (an obvious referral to reincarnation) he answered to the affect that in this case neither was true. He did not say that hereditary was the cause either (well he wouldn’t would he: his disciples wouldn’t have known what he was talking about!) nor did he say that reincarnation was the culprit (the life prior to this one) par se. I mean a man could not have sinned [sinned: a biblical term for erring, not mine] before being born unless he had sinned in a previous [physical] life, now could he? (John-9: 2-3)
        Karma throws up many clues in its wake!
       Who knows whether genetics/hereditary was responsible in itself for the playing out of this particular karmic dance?
       
        I was regressed a few years ago and apart from a successful life as a soldier/warrior on semi-retirement I taught some gentleman of royal blood and bearing the art of swordplay and the art of the longbow in the middle of a forest somewhere. However, these ‘gentleman’ shot a deer whilst drunk and made a right mess of it. I had to (humanely) finish the poor beast off, whilst my anger was kept under control, and the royals looked on inebriated and laughing. After all, they were royalty and under my tutelage. There was nothing I could do!
        But I also regressed (again) to that life as a priest that I acted out (video above) and was able to put in another missing piece: I escaped from that prison with the aid of a soldier who was secretly on the side of the pope.
         The splitting of the churches were frightful times, frightful times indeed!

(Yawn!) AND NOW THE POEMS!

 


BOOK OF POEMS


I stumbled across it:
A thin, worn collection of poems
Privately published with blooded
Sweat and proud anticipation.

Hawked around bookshops;
Posted to all the magazines.
Finally, given away
To anyone who showed interest.

I could feel the sorrow,
The torment, the anguish
Of this poet whose only wish
Was to ignite some soul with his words.

To this day his poems elude me;
But the vibration of his words
Draws me to his side.

From the man who printed his work
I learned that leukaemic blood finally
Pushed his spirit from its tomb.
I hold in my hands his epitaph.
As the year comes round again.


SHE LOVED ME ONCE

She loved me once, this lady,
  When my poems were tall and grand,
Now she just nods in agreement
  Or dismisses with a wave of her hand.

You loved me then, remember?
  You loved me, ol' poetic Paul?
But now my words mean nothing,
  Absolutely nothing to you at all.

I wouldn't mind if you hated what I could not give,
  I wouldn't mind, wouldn't mind one scrap,
But to say that my words now mean nothing
  Says that all along...they were crap!

First published by Excello & Bollard.


ADIOS MY AMIGOES

Paul Bura

July 2009

 

 

BURA’S BLOGGERY

HELLO AMIGOES!

THE COMMON COLD RESEARCH CENTRE
Being a ‘voice over’ artist or ‘radio actor’, as is common in most of the arts, you are more out of work than in! So I decided – having just read an article on the subject – to enrol as a volunteer for The Common Cold Research Unit at Salisbury. After all I could take my typewriter and get a bit of work done and get paid for it (£12 squids a week). Also get my petrol (or train fare) paid for, get fed, bedded and boarded to boot!
        We were a strange motley, spotty crew (mainly spotty as they were mostly students), and there were also some GIRLS!
        We all trundled in and were given the low down: the rules and regulations of the set-up:

  1. We were to be separated into threes. No, not mixed: There were groans amongst the ranks, mainly from us guys!
  2. We were to keep 500 yards away from each other and the units comprising of three to a unit. However waving and shouting to each other was permitted!
  3. We were each injected with a virus, one was a genuine common cold virus, the other two were placebos, or the other way round (sort of Pick n’ Mix). Naturally only the doctors were ‘in the know’.
  4. We were to be fed from giant vacuum flasks left outside our particular units; tea, coffee and fruit-juice were provided. And on the whole it was very good grub: breakfast, lunch and dinner, plus snacks!
  5. Books and newspapers were provided and a radio (No TV. At least not in my day).
  6. Bookings could be made over the phone to play snooker and badminton. The rules stated that the handles of the bats and snooker cues and balls were to be wiped down with disinfectant (which was provided) after use.
  7. Each unit was connected by telephone complete with a small switchboard and operator, where each particular unit (I forget what the units were called: something like F.12 and F.13 and so on) was lit up on this telephonic board. This is where we could ‘chat-up’ the women who were seen climbing Salisbury Plain - yes us volunteers could go for walks – and if you liked what you saw they were only a phone call away (and vice versa)!
  8. Every day a doctor would come to our unit to check us out, take temperatures etc.

        I was billeted with a guy just out the army (or just about to join, I don’t remember which) who brought with him a pal. I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with the army bloke who insisted on calling me a Kentish ‘*+£&’ (the second word rhymes with hunt) and taking the Mickey out of my (seemingly to him) posh accent. I studied this bloke over a period of days.
        Then I wrote a small play incorporating ‘us three’. I made sure that my character on the page was called ‘Kentish …’ and that the two other guys were called by their real names. By the time we had read through this nonsense play the army bloke was very subdued to say the least… he even had difficulty calling me a ‘Kentish …’. I can’t remember a single word of what I wrote but it did the trick. He treated me with a little bit of respect! And by the time we had the ‘end of term party’ where ALL the units got together (I can’t remember whether the Common Cold Unit paid for the wine or we did) we were - more or less – friends.

        My 2nd trip to the Centre I took with me some friends. Denny was an ex-Pirate DJ (Stage name: Alex Dee) on the Forts that had been constructed to protect our shores from the Nazi hoards just off of Herne Bay and Whitstable where Screaming Lord Such made his name as a Disc Jockey. In those days he was a rock and roll singer but soon became a Pirate DJ, the rest is political history!
        Denny was a babe magnet. He used to swan around Hernia Bay in an old hearse using his followers as chauffeurs and you could guarantee that in the back of this hearse were at least two gorgeous women!
        Meanwhile, back at the Common Cold Research Centre, Denny had brought with him a portable record player and he and I set up the phone to these two attractive ladies and we took it in turns to play records and DJ between records over the phone. Well it was something to do until the end of term party!
        Anyway, I ended up spending the night with one of those ladies (the other one didn’t want to know) and that bastard Denny and his mate Chris climbed into the roof and did his best to spy on us. Not only that but they also piled furniture up against the door so that we couldn’t get out! Thankfully they didn’t succeed, well perhaps they did have a peep but I’ll never know!  All I know is that from then on we didn’t speak. Jealousy reared its head and for once the great lover and babe-magnet had his nose put out of joint!
        Thankfully after a while we made up!

        I visited the Common Cold Unit for a 3rd time. The 3rd time my best pal Peter McKay came along and he met his future wife there! I met a girl there also, a nurse called Hilary.
        Funny isn’t it, but the girl I spent the night with on the 2nd occasion was also called Hilary and she was also a nurse as was Peter’s first wife! Both the 1st Hilary and the 2nd I saw again out of the confines of The Common Cold Research Unit. The 2nd Hilary immigrated to Australia! Was it something I said?
        On the 3rd occasion I ended up with a ‘cold to end all colds,’ I was three weeks shaking it off, never have I had a cold like it before or since.
        The funny thing about it was that I haven’t suffered from a cold – except for the odd snuffle – since, and that was 30 odd years ago!

And so the poem,
only one this time!


THE BUTTERFLY LADY
(For S.)

I know you so well
Yet I know you not at all.

I have watched your dark eyes
Shine when Truth is near
And I have seen them laugh
When humour - so much a part of you -
Bubbles over.

I listen to your stories
And see how earnest you are
As they flow here and there
For anyone to touch,
And gifts you leave like Santa Claus.

You lay in my arms
And I match you breath for breath,
Felt your body jerk in small spasms
As sleep took you from me
And released you to me again in the dawn:
I travelled your body without a map
Using your touch as my compass.

I see you for a night
Just once a year
And still you manage to fill a part of me.

The coloured streamers that you
Hung about our bed
And those that I found inside when you had gone
Hang there still
Dropping one by one
As the year comes round again.


ADIOS MY AMIGOES!

Paul Bura

June 2009

 

BURA’S BLOGGERY

HELLO AMIGOES!

FOUR DIMENSIONAL REALITY
THREE DIMENSIONAL HABITS!


I’m talking about a 4 Dimensional reality experienced during this 3 Dimensional reality (Earth life). The 3D reality or experience is not necessarily a religious experience nor a mystical one, come to that, unless you are that way inclined!
        It can be an unconscious search (OR a conscious one!) for truth. Already we are delving into the realms of religion or mysticism. But it could very well be that you are in fact – by nature – a sincere believer in that powerful concept of TRUTH, truth as you yourself conceive it to be!

             (I personally have always concluded that TRUTH can be tough but never changes, it is only our conception of truth that changes. It is also my opinion, and ONLY my opinion – for what it’s worth – that LOVE [like truth] – the creative principle – is ever evolving. Love just cannot stand still: it is a DOING word even if it is only the embracing adjective.)

So therefore you have a different take on religion or mysticism. Personally I believe there is a large dividing wall between religion and the mystics of this world.
         (Religion is a belief system where mysticism just IS! Many of you will suppose that you can’t have one without the other!)
        Consider the old man (or young man, come to that) that never left his village, never went to church, yet in the fields and forests and woodlands would find more wisdom and enlightenment and Oneness than you and I could discover in all of the world! Yet the furthest he would travel to the so-called civilised world would be the next town 10 miles away!

        But supposing – as long as you believe that life is a continuum, that is – just supposing that you leave this earth in the condition known as death, whether by natural causes: to die in your sleep (my personal favourite), or by drowning, electrocution, or by (God forbid) an act of violence, on or off the field of battle. Whatever the cause, you will find yourself in what can only be described as a 4 dimensional reality.
        Now this 4 dimensional reality, just like being born into a 3 dimensional reality, takes some time to adjust, but THIS time, instead of being born a baby in the 3D reality, you find yourself a fully grown adult!
        Now what do you do? You find that a great many of your relatives (mother, father etc.) are there to greet you – unless you were such a bastard to them in general that there is NO ONE, no-one but your Higher Self to greet you.
        “Higher Self, what the hell is that?” you scream.
         The Higher Self is the real you, the creative spark that brought you into being in the first place: the perfect mirror reflection of your true self.
         This Higher Self, this ‘witness of all you have said and done since time was created and before’ shows you all that you have said and done on this your LAST earth life! The Higher Self can manifest as a blinding light or a little old man with a beard (or a little old woman without a beard!), whatever it deems will not scare the living daylights out of you!
        Death after all is a glorious release, a sense of freedom like no other, the joy of joys. Unless you’ve been programmed SO severely by some sect or religion that you have to go through the motions of what that sect or religion dictates…but it is NOT real!
        Some of you will be very pleased at what you’ve achieved in your life just past, considering what you ‘set out’ to do, and a lot of you are down right ashamed at what you have done.
        But this Higher Self, does not judge you!
There is no PETER AT THE GATE, no heaven or hell, no wrathful God to judge you: YOU JUDGE YOURSELF. Of course – as already stated here – if you are into religion (especially Catholicism that programs you with the ‘guilt trip’, and I don’t mean just Catholicism) that takes some time for you to throw off!
        Free Will – to a certain extent – exists in the 4D reality just as the law of like attracting like; all depends on your state of consciousness and awareness, or progress if you like. Just as your 3D reality (earth life) was governed by your spirituality (Like attracting like again) so then is the 4D reality just in its vastness (not in the sense of size you understand).
         So then this law of Cause and Effect, for those of you who are in an enlightened state, does not exist! However for most of you (I include myself in this category) religion or self awareness will give you peace and solace just as it did in 3D reality…or not as your individual case may be.
        However, you tend to bring your 3D habits IN TO your new 4D reality. Just as you started earth life by kicking and screaming at your mother’s breast!
        It takes time to get used to it. At first you have a good rest. By rest I mean real rest: a condition known as ecstasy, the peace that passes all understanding. Because you’ve earned it; at least 99% of you have!
        Then you start by partying with all your relatives and friends – if you are INTO partying, that is. But if its harps and bells and angels on clouds that you are into then harps and bells and angels you will get (it’s all up to how you are programmed!). If you do then you’ll soon tire of it! Boredom is just as real in the 4D universes as it used to be in the 3D. You are a human being, and by nature you are an inquisitive animal and craving for inquiry does not end!
        Oh and time just doesn’t exist. If you insist on still wearing a watch you will find that you can squeeze five days into five minutes or five minutes into five days and end up throwing the damn thing away!
        Food and drink? You won’t starve, that’s for sure. However you will find that you just don’t need it, but that takes time also. Another 3 Dimensional habit! (Oops, I just told you: time does not exist, does it?) Now personally I would find that going without food very hard because I adore food, the preparation and cooking of it.
        Even FREEDOM takes time (Oops!) to get used to, it being a whole new concept, a whole new ball-game! Freedom to travel with the speed of thought and freedom as a state of being!
        But when all is said and done:

*Death is the homing motion of the soul
But not a passport to enlightenment.

*The 4th Dimension. You can become enlightened here on earth with one foot in the physical (3D) and one foot (mind and spirit) in the etheric (4D).

POETRY


LOOKING FOR WALKING STICKS

I stopped the car
At the edge of the wood
And walked with invalid care
Through the twisted beauty
That rang the changes
Yet never changed.

I collected fallen sticks,
Created by natural design,
That I could preserve for
A hundred years, sticks that
Would take the weight off a man
Just by looking at them.

The trees shouted at me,
The wood rang with conversation.

When I can see the universe
Through one eye, feel it move
In the palm of my hand;
When I no longer answer
To a name - because I have no name -
Then I will have come home.


AND WHEN IT IS DONE

And when it is done,
The passion gone,
The smiles fewer,
Holding hands a rare event -
Where will we be then?

Looking into other eyes, other faces;
Watching other lovers;
Feeling again the ache of loneliness.

Does this mean that
We were lonely all along,
That what we had
Was just a ladder-rung
To some other lover?

I suppose it was.
But I would not have missed it,
Would you?

ADIOS, ADIOS AMIGOES!
SEE YOU NEXT MONTH!

MAY 2009

 

*******

 

Previous Archives

WHAT'NEW !

The Red Kite - book of poems by Paul Bura

"The most brilliant and comprehensive collection of poems in this poet's repertoire to date. From his poem 'JEW', a powerful and moving piece, to his narrative poem 'REVENGE'. But worry not, folks, his brilliant humour is alive and very firmly intact and is here in abundance!"

RU ELLIOT, poet and storyteller.


Pause for Poetry

I started my Pause for Poetry series about two weeks after I started blogging. That was a year ago. The first P for P was kicked off by a wonderful poet and friend of mine, Paul Bura, who has been writing poems for centuries, perhaps even longer.

He has published about 10 anthologies of poems as well as a novel and a thought-provoking book about crop circles.

His latest anthology of poems hot off the press is The Red Kite. If you know and love Paul’s poetry then you’ll love this book. If you’re new to his work then you’ll also love this; and then you will want to seek out his previous tomes.

Spike Milligan was a fan and wrote:

Paul Bura is a straight down-the-line poet. He is sensitive and emotional, a journalistic poet with a good sense of imagery”.

In a foreword to an earlier anthology, Brand New, I wrote:

And yet he is more than just a journalistic poet, although he himself writes that he strives to be “just a poet”. His talent lies in his deceptively simple style that lures us so effortlessly into his world. He leads us down paths we never imagined existed; he can also take us down well-trodden paths we know and make us see them anew. Knowing Paul, he would probably add he sometimes leads us up the garden path as well . . . He’s a poet who cares . . . Just another poet? I don’t think so.”

Christy Brown enthused:

I laughed out loud in my midnight room at some of his tough, witty descriptions of childhood, smiled sadly at his love encounters, and groaned when he struck a certain all too responsive chord within myself. He has a voice that would make Dylan Thomas growl in his grave with envy”.

Ian Dury said:

This geezer says it the way it is”.

But don’t just read our words about this unique poet – go buy his books and find out for yourself!



JULIAN YOUNG Paris, France.

Julian Young is an editor for The International Herald Tribune.

Price: £5.95 [more] [order]



Peter Chisholm: The Lemon Tree

PETER CHISHOLM
"THE LEMON TREE"

by

Paul Bura



"The Lemon Tree is extremely moving"

- Leslie Toll ( DAILY MAIL)




"This is a gentle book filled with love, laughter, great sorrow and greater joy and beauty, of gifts given and those remembered and put into use again, of power and helplessness. It's a story of love both temporal and spiritual, joining both worlds and all worlds reminding us that our "reality" encompasses far more than we can possibly imagine, for if we could we would be living a life far different than most of us now do. Tucked in the centre of this tale is a friendship reminiscent of Carlos and Don Juan, tales of power and oneness, challenge and courage. Filled with devotion and adventure, this book is a must read for it flowed through me so gently and with such love as is rarely seen in print today filling the nooks and crannies of my soul with healing grace, and I wish this for everyone."

- Carol Crow (BLACK SHEEP magazine, U.S.A)

Price: £8.25 [more] [order]



NEW!
EARTH MAINTENANCE MEDITATION




NEW!
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THE LITTLE RESTAURANT ON THE PROM
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ALSO
THE INCREDIBLE SCRUMMY BOOK OF VEGGIE SOUPS!

NEW!
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NEW!
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THE FLUTE PLAYER
(True Account)

The noose lay around the prisoners' neck,
Mind racing ahead of the crime on his shoulders,
Of the crazed young drug-head - and musician - that he was;
Soon it would be over, this physical flame fluffed out!

His religion taught
Of hell's torment for all eternity:

But he also knew of: "the prisoners' last request!"

In that moment of clarity he called for his flute!

The hangman's eyes widened,
The prisoners request was respected.

This magical friend in time of great need
Whose music would accompany him, sustain him
Even unto hell itself.

He was calm now as he bent his head
Putting the flute to his lips;
He drew in his breath,

Paused

Then gently blew such beauty out onto the calm, clear air,
And into the ethers; it soared above and around the ears
Of all that heard, prisoners and prison warders alike,
Beauty of such clarity, such sweetness that it scattered all before it:

Above his head and out of the little room
Where he stood on the scaffold
The noose still around his neck
As he dipped his head forward
To play his flute!

It melted the hearts of the parents
Whose son this drug crazed flute player had killed!

And when the music was at an end,
When the silence roared,
Then the tears came.
They - the parents - had a change of heart
And pardoned him, this young flute player,
As was their right in that far eastern country of Iran,
As was their right to do so!





FROM THE PENDRAGON

I grew up as an only - but not lonely - child in a small market town wedged between the bustling metropolis of Manchester, and the lonely windswept Pennine moors. Left to my own devices, I was comfortable with my own company, with countless hours spent alone in the backyard of the small terraced house I called home. It wasn't until I coded "Little Restaurant" that I realised just what I had missed being part of a family of children, playing together, and getting involved in scrapes as kids do. I was a small, weak child, and was inevitably bullied on a daily basis by my peers. What I wouldn't have given to have had an elder brother like Paul to fight my battles for me and defend me, as Josie and Mel did.

And that is just what Paul has become to me - an elder brother, an inspiration, someone who'll listen - and despite what he has written, knows exactly what to say. What are words anyway - as "Conversations With God" says "words are the most ineffective form of communication" - "feelings are the language of the soul". But in the hands and the mind of a skilled wordsmith like Paul, feelings and words become as one

What if there is a breakdown of communication between the mind, and the hands that drive the keyboard, or wield the pen ? Spend a few minutes in Paul's presence, and words almost become superfluous. God gives each of us a talent, and it is my pleasure and privilege to use the talents I have been given, to make it possible for Paul's work to reach across the globe to touch the hearts and minds of thousands of people.

Paul, your arms may be getting weaker, but you have the heart and courage of a lion, and an infinite capacity to love. You are the big brother I never had, the big brother I never knew I needed until I met you. Just wanted to let you know. I love you bro

We all need a lift from time to time, so if your life has been better for having met Paul, or read his work, - as mine has - why not drop Paul a mail and let him know - The Pendragon