BURA’S BLOGGERY

HELLO AMIGOES!

PERCY EDWARDS
(1908-1996)

During my time as a ‘voice-over’ artist or ‘voice-actor’ I had the pleasure of working with a few great people in the world of ‘voice-over’, starting off with Peter Hawkins: the original voice of the Darleks of DR WHO fame and THE FLOWER POT MEN who taught me how to make the microphone my friend, how to let the microphone work for me and not the other way round, how to use the ‘close mic’ technique by lowering my voice, getting real close to the mic and sounding like the whole studio was listening to me and only me! (Documentary style)
          But the one person that impressed me the most was PERCY EDWARDS. Now Percy could imitate over 600 bird-calls and as a qualified ornithologist knew what he was talking (or whistling)  about. Apart from the usually piss-takes – that he was used to by now – like: “Percy, I thought you flown east for the winter!” or “I thought you’d grown feral and joined a pack of wolves in wildest Canada!” For not only could he imitate birds with startling accuracy but he could also imitate animals: from dogs to lions to camels. I was more interested in his lion-call! “Go on Percy, just for me, do your lion impressions, please, please, please!” I pleaded. “Oh alright he said with that quiet Suffolk burr of his. He clicked open a small attaché case and wrapped in a piece of cloth was a glass oil-lamp chimney. He picked it up carefully and before I knew it he was roaring like a lion into it, the glass chimney acting as a small but perfect-for-the-job amplifier for his perfect lion’s roar, and when the studio went to work on it, all they had to do was amplify it some more. Job done! Disney used him time and again for his animals and bird sounds. He even played the whales in the film “ORCA”.
          But – and this really blew my mind – he could produce a tiny human voice out of his stomach! Never mind about not moving his lips like a ventriloquist and his vent-doll he actually produced a voice out of his stomach! We had to bend down to listen to him!
          He started his bird-calling and animal-impressions act playing the halls when BBC radio picked him up and he was booked for RAY’S A LAUGH (with Ted Ray the comic) and could be heard in the early 50’s playing the dog in Dick Barton Special Agent! The rest is history!
          He was a gentle, quiet sort of guy but was always up for a laugh!
          Anyway, I was booked to provide various voices for a children’s educational series and in this particular episode I and a female actor played the part of the ‘mice’ and Percy – all on his own – was a pack of dogs! The studio was in uproar.
           There was this quiet little man who was suddenly transformed into a little ball of fury playing a baying pack of hounds in one corner and me and this actress playing little mice in the other! That such ferocious sounds, such animalist anger, could come out of just ONE man was nigh on a miracle. But that’s what Percy Edwards was: a miracle, a miracle of sound, not only sound but accurate to the nth degree, sound!

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MAP DOWSING IN ONE EASY LESSON

Malcolm Ing said: “We’re all living in a hologram!” “Do what? I cried. This was years ago, perhaps 30 years or so. It’s only now that I understand what he was on about. Well I think I do!
          An eco-system within an eco-system, whether it be as large as a galaxy, then shrinking down in size to a planetary system, or just a plant, insect or an animal system. We all share this – or have this – in common. They sort of intertwine; there is a kind of sameness, a oneness about it all, all joined by living energy lines of force, sort of fibre optics if you will (well at least that’s the way I understand it).
          So what has this to do with a Hologram?
          I’ll try and explain:

If for instance you were to draw a square on a piece of paper and that piece of paper has, say, FARMER JONES FIELD written on the top (as you DO NOT wish to tramp Farmer Jones Field in the pouring rain with mud up to your thighs, do you?) as you can map-dowse just as well in the dry with a roaring fire as you can tramping that muddy field with dowsing rods akimbo. Yes? Right!
         To continue: on the table with the fire roaring (in the fire place!), all you need is a pointer and a pendulum (a knitting needle will do for a pointer and if you haven’t got a lady in your life – or you ARE a lady who doesn’t go in for knitting – then anything with a point will do. Oh and for a pendulum you can use a metal nut on a piece of cotton). After establishing what way your pendulum swings for ‘yes’ (the opposite is obviously ‘no’), then you square off the ‘paper’ field into, say, 12 smaller squares. You then settle down and with your pointer and start at square number 1 and see what your pendulum tells you (yes or no). For arguments sake, say you have a negative response (no) to all but 11 squares and the 12th square you have a positive response (yes). Now square off the 12th square into 4 separate smaller squares and start the process all over, pointing with your pointy thing at the first small square and by the process of elimination you arrive at the point where your ‘roman artefact’ (for argument’s sake) is buried! And when the weather is dry and the mud no longer reaches up to your thighs – you dig the bugger up!
        Now for those (like me) who are rather slow (I’ve been doing this stuff for years until Post Polio Syndrome caught up with me) you will need to re-read this section!

        When a holographic plate has a laser-beam shot threw it and shows a 3D image (of that roman artefact), and when the plate is broken in two it STILL has that image, and broken in two AGAIN it still retains that image!  Much like Mr Jones' field when squared off, only one square has the image (roman artefact), but broken into four, although the power is still in all four, only ONE is the correct one.

        You can draw Mr Jones' field anywhere on earth: in an airplane, a submarine, on a toilet, in the middle of the Sahara, in a restaurant, or out in space, or on another planet come to that, as long as you write: Mr Jones' Field from the planet Earth the result will be the same! And ‘no’ I haven’t tried most of the above but I just KNOW, alright?
PS. But I HAVE tried bringing a known STANDING STONE into my front room – in my creative mind/imagination – and dowsing it (the energy lines going to and from it). And guess what? IT REALLY WORKS!

          This is as near to quantum physics – or living in a hologram as a practical experiment - as I can go, or as much as my mind can take: large (seemingly) is small, infinitely tiny, (the crucial word here is Infinite) and vice-versa. They are the same! They are oneness! And everyONE has to be somewhere, don’t they?

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AND NOW A SMALL POEM:

THAT’S IT FOR THIS MONTH, AMIGOS!

ADIOS.

Paul Bura

AUGUST 2008

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BURA’S BLOGGERY

HELLO AMIGOS!!!

CATCHING THE BIRDS IN A BROWN PAPER BAG!!!
In-between radio and TV voice-overs my partner (Peter McKay) and I opened a whole food store called MANNA in Herne Bay in Kent (my sister Josie and I opened a similar shop in Lancing in Sussex, also called MANNA, seven years later). 
        Apart from having a few disastrous love affairs during our days at Manna Whole and Health Food Store, there were in fact quite a few successful – though short – devious little dalliances on the shop floor. Umm, that is not exactly the ‘shop floor’, as was, but the ‘shop floor’, as is, or to put it another way…I’m digging a bloody great hole for myself, aren’t I?
        To put it in a nutshell, an awful lot of flirting went on with the younger element of female-hood, but at the same time I had to be certain that that flirtation was reciprocated, that they fancied me as well as I fancied them. So after a while, when I was fairly sure, and the girl(s) of my dreams was nearing the end of the queue for our particular wares (Mung beans, Aduki beans, organic wholegrain bread etc.) I hurriedly scribbled on a brown paper bag:
 
        “Would you care to come out to dinner with me? Please tick the appropriate box. (Box One) YES! (Box two) NO! (Box three) GET STUFFED!!!
   
        Then I would slide the inscribed brown paper bag over the counter (after the purchase of course, I wasn’t THAT daft!) together with a pen, whilst I dealt with the remaining customers.
        Fortunately not one said ‘no’ and some are friends to this very day! (Now married of course)  I often wondered whether it was my rather novel way of chatting-up a lady – after all shoving a brown paper bag over the counter was hardly the height of romantic endeavour – or the shear cheek of it!  Either way, IT WORKED!
         And I had a ball!

PS. Whilst at Manna I developed the only vegetarian sausage on the market in those days. Holland and Barrat were interested (they were the big-cheese of Health Food shops even in those far off days). Sadly, the skins that I thought were totally animal-free contained an element of animal and our manufacturer (up until that time Peter McKay, my partner, was ensconced in making the sausages in the cellar below the shop and when the Health Inspector arrived one day, unannounced, he had to go away again as he couldn’t quite find a slot for our ‘meatless’ sausages, as far as he was concerned ‘they didn’t exist!’) was not able to produce a skinless sausage at that time! Our sausage empire crashed with a very dull thud!! The sausages were called: THE MANNA BANGER! Ah well, it just wasn’t to be.

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BALANCE
One of the topics that Joeb (no, not the biblical Job, this Joeb was a Burmese Buddhist priest and my spiritual mentor) returns to again and again is his referral to most human beings as being ‘Earth Addicts’.

         “You are all addicted to something or other. It might be food, pain, sex, drink, drugs, even love. Of course I do not mean unconditional love, but love that destroys, love that smothers, love that obsesses and possesses. There is nothing at all the matter with food, sex and drink, taken in moderation. But what we seek here is ‘balance’. The whole world is out of balance. The earth energy grid is out of balance, the world between spirit and matter is out of balance. The Ying and the Yang is out of balance.”
        “Whatever you undertake, undertake it with love and moderation mixed together with a modicum of humour, but above all balance in all things. It’s is not too late to rectify the problems with our planet. Seek love and balance (and humour) in all things…there IS an answer, just seek it!”

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CHILD’S FOOTPRINTS
Many years ago I was called out with my friend Andy Thomas to a village in East Sussex called Fletching. Also with us was the excellent dowser David Russell. The house belonged to a friend of Andy and, as he was a musician as well as a lecturer on crop circles, they often attended his gigs. They got talking and it transpired that their house was ‘haunted’: the TV was being switched on and off, doors were locking and unlocking, clothes were torn and a ‘presence’ was felt. The final straw came when what appeared to be a child’s footprint appeared, deeply embossed in their rather thick carpet. Nothing would erase it!
        I agreed to do what I could, but stated that there was no guarantee of success!
        We arrived and I settled myself down in an armchair and listened to what the friends of Andy had to say. Then I ‘opened up’ and allowed this presence to come closer. The presence (male) said that he and his small son had died in a fire in this house and could I help them? I said that they should look around them until they saw a white door, or at least what appeared to be a point, or beam, of light. The man began to weep. As he left, he thanked me. He could obviously see the point of light. (Why you may well ask is not the death process automatic, as in 99.9% of people? I can only answer that when people die in exceptional circumstances or when folk insist on holding on to 3 Dimensional Earth conditions, there is little that they can do. There are probably frightened of this point of light, or the white door, as well they might be; it is the great unknown, after all. They probably see it and ignore it until instructed otherwise).
        After I did what I did, the footprint in the carpet gradually started to fade and they had no more trouble!
        The proof came years later when Andy met up with his friends again. Not only had the child’s footprint completely gone, but having spoken to locals in the years since, they had discovered that their house was on the site of an old abattoir (always a disrupter of psychic energies, for very obvious reasons) and that before that a man and his little son had indeed died in a fire in a house which had stood previously on the same site…about 150 years ago.
         I now had proof that what the ‘man’ had told me was absolutely true, proof recorded in the village records!

PS: Time as we understand it does not exist in the 4th Dimension where this man and his little son were trapped, trapped in the in-between world of spiritual reality. As far as they were concerned they had only been ‘trapped’ for a year or so!

And now…

ADIOS AMIGOES…until next month!

BURA’S BLOGGERY

HELLO AMIGOS!

This first piece is from my ‘book on line’ THE LITTLE RESTAURANT ON THE PROM. Why? Because I find it so amusing that my grandfather – who had been in both World Wars in the Royal Navy – didn’t realize through the haze of alcohol – (he was pissed out of his mind) that what I was about to do was HIGHLY DANGEROUS and is just one example of my adventures BEFORE I caught polio!
            My second piece is related to THE HEALER ON THE BRIDGE (See articles on my website) and what happened next!

MY GRANDFATHER AND THE BOMB
Croyse had been trying unsuccessfully to retrieve it with a stick. I watched him try and try again. It was bright yellow and had fins. No, not a fish but it was to cause quite a stink, though. Croyse gave up on it. He walked dejectedly up the beach and out of sight. Now it was my turn, my chance to have a go at trying to possess this interesting looking object. At 6-years-old I was nobody's fool and wearing my wellies was able to get that much closer to it than Croyse. I attached a piece of wire that I had found round one of the fins.
At last I had it. I dragged it clear of the water and was just about to lift it up when my grandfather, taking a stroll along the beach was pissed out of his mind - after a session in the pub - wobbled down the beach to see what I had got. "I'll give you a hand, son, " he slurred. Now my grandfather had been in BOTH world wars, and you may have thought that it might just have occurred to him that, what resembled a bomb, would have sent various alarm bells ringing.  Not today it didn’t!
"Don't worry Granddad, I can manage." I said cheerfully, and with that that I heaved the bomb up in both arms and carried it up the beach. Granddad, slightly unsteadily, followed after me.
Now I had to negotiate some very steep steps and CLANG! I rested the bomb on one step whilst I got up to another. Then CLANG! I rested the bomb on the other step. There were three steps in all. I made my way the short distance to my father's restaurant with my grandfather in tow. As I walked into the restaurant I couldn't understand why people were hurling themselves at the doors and disappearing rather rapidly. I walked into the kitchen.
The look of horror on my parents face when I presented my trophy: "Now… er, put it down gently, son," said my father, "NO! not near the gas stoves!" He gave out a sort of strangled cry and had trouble breathing. "Put it down GENTLY on the table AWAY from the ovens!" he urged gently but firmly. At this point I didn't know what all the fuss was about. I soon did, though.
"There, that's it. Gently does it, old son!"   
I put my bomb carefully on the table indicated whilst all hell broke loose. The police were called and the bomb squad! A kindly policeman spoke to me about the dangers of 'finding things lying on the beach' and I, in future, was to 'leave them alone'. The bomb turned out to be a 2nd-world-war 'flare'. If it had gone off in that small space…well it doesn't bear thinking about.
My grandfather?
Grandmother saw to him!

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THE HEALER ON THE BRIDGE (CONTINUED)

The name of the Healer on the bridge is Cydwr (pronounced Ca-door with a slight roll of the tongue on the last syllable) and he is a Druid of a rotund and bearded appearance, but his robe is a rather dirty gray not white and he wears his hood down (well when I see him he does). As I’ve said in my previous article he is the Guardian of Cemaes Bay, where I live. Guardians usually look after the energy-lines or ‘lines of force’ (Leys or dragon lines) of which there are many types: over-grounds, under-grounds, lines that carry information, which I call Courier lines. etc.
        Every place or section (usually triangular in shape) of this earth has a Guardian – sometimes elemental sometimes human – even the parts covered in water or ocean. And I make it my business, especially when entering wooded or river areas, to greet the Guardian of the place.
        As said in my previous article I sent out my greeting silently and almost immediately came back the reply “And greetings to you too, I haven’t been acknowledged in two maybe three hundred years!!”
        Where I got the name Cydwr from I haven’t a clue for I don’t speak Welsh but I just knew that that was what he was called!  

        One day, about two years ago, I was meditating near where the little river that runs through Cemaes and out into the sea, where it runs under the conduit that supports the main road. (This area also marks the spot of a crossroads made up of a small bridge, the other side of which is a track up to the main road)
        Suddenly I was swept up (my spirit body) and carried at great speed down the course of the river through the bridge and out to sea. From this vantage point I could see the little harbour that forms Cemaes, the cliffs to my left and the little houses to my right. This, I was being told, marked the boundary line of which Cydwr held sway, this was his little kingdom, this was his piece of earth where he was asked by the Council of Guardians to protect. Then, just as suddenly, I was travelling back at high speed and came-too in my electric scooter!
        I couldn’t believe it! Cydwr had taken me on a guided tour of his realm and immediately left me in a state of wonder and shock! “Bloody hell,” I thought, “What a treat, what an experience!”

          A couple of months later whilst Cydwr was in my company I said to him: “If I channel you, mind to mind, body to body, would you like to ride ‘Old Sparky’ (the name I call my scooter)?” A thrill of excitement transmitted by Cydwr coursed through my body. This I took to be a “Yes!”
        Gently he came through and just as gently he took the controls. I just knew that he was having the time of his life!
         Very slowly he took the path to the little bridge that spanned the small river (the Wygyr, pronounced: Wigeer) and turned to the left and up over the bridge. When he got to the crossroads – where I had meditated – he left me just as instantly and suddenly as when he had taken me on that fantastic journey of his domain!
         It would appear that this 3 dimensional world, which was just a sensation to him, still thrilled him, although it was a rather clumsy mode of transportation, he had enjoyed himself! And that made him (and me) very happy!

        I was in hospital for a check-up and found myself next to a retired teacher of the Welsh language. Somehow I found my intuition reaching out to this slender little Welshman, that I could trust him, that he would not think me potty, this Elvin Thomas, and so I found myself telling him about the Guardian, about how I had called to him and he had answered, and about his name. At this he was a little puzzled: “Cydwr, you say?” said Elvin, “I’ve not heard that name before. I mean it’s a name alright but it doesn’t make sense.” “Well, that’s what I received,” I said, at once crest-fallen, maybe believing that I had made a mistake in trusting him. “Look, leave it with me,” he said, “I’ll think on it!”
        A few hours later a beaming Elvin Thomas came to my bed and said in his quiet way: “I know where we’ve been going wrong, Paul” he said, “The emphasis should be on the first syllable: CYdwr (phonetically: CA-door), that makes all the difference in the world!”
         “How so?” I said.
         “Cydwr means GUARDIAN, don’t you see, man, he was telling you WHAT HIS FUNCTION WAS! Now do you understand?”
          I shook Elvin Thomas vigorously by the hand.
        “All these years,” I said, “I had been pronouncing his name with the emphasis on the second syllable and not the first and all the time he was trying to tell me what he DID, not his name!”
         “Bloody hell,” I said, under my breath, “Bloody HELL!”  

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AND NOW FOR THE POEMS!

ADIOS AMIGOS
UNTIL NEXT MONTH!

June 2008

The following happened to my old friend Malcolm Ing (an artist) when he was sitting in a Developing Circle many years ago and is my all-time favourite psychic tale, not because it is SO bizarre - AND witnessed by at least four people -  but because IT IS TRUE:

THE MAN WHO DISAPPEARED

The idea of bodily ‘ascension’, that is, the physical body actually disappearing was, for a time, a great topic of so-called ‘New Age’ thought. To many people the idea is too outrageous and preposterous that they dismiss it out of hand. Here then, I come to my good friend and fellow psychic, Malcolm Ing. The following story is perfectly true and happened about 35 years ago in the Medway town of Chatham in Kent. Malcolm, four other men and three women had been having regular weekly meetings for meditation and healing. On this occasion, on a warm June evening, there were no women for one reason or another (no female energy?). This left just five men (male energy), including Malcolm. The invocation was given and the five men had just settled down to meditate, when one of the chairs was very firmly pulled back by an unseen force. It was obvious to all present that the gentleman occupying that seat was not meant to join in the circle; instead he sat in the corner of the room (It turned out that he was a kind of witness to all that went on that evening). They settled down again.
        From Malcolm’s point of view this is what happened: He suddenly had the terrible urge to stand up, so he asked the man to his right if he thought it would be okay. The man said: “Stand up!” Malcolm was now standing right in the middle of the small circle. Malcolm then said that he had the terrible urge to spin. Again he was urged to do so. Malcolm found himself rising and turning and at the same time heard a great roar, like a jet plane going overhead. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor!
         Now, from the point of view of the other sitters, THIS is what happened: Malcolm and his opposite number, the man facing him, had both begun to gently pulse in unison. Malcolm stood up. He then rose very slightly off of the floor and began to spin. From his mouth came a mighty roar….and then he completely and utterly vanished! At that point, the man sitting opposite Malcolm stood up and pointed to a spot on the floor – blue static electricity rose from the spot indicated and curled up and around this man’s arm. At that precise moment Malcolm re-appeared lying on the floor!
        I assure you that this is perfectly true.
        Now the idea of bodily ascension takes on a greater reality, doesn’t it?
        The tail-end to this story ends in 1987 during the World Harmonic Conversion. We were all sitting on top of the Coldrum Stones in Kent (a place that I said at the time that I wished with all my heart that it could have been my back garden!). It consisted of a very small formation (circle) of sarson stones one side of which was a huge chair-like construction facing an open field in a shallow valley. The peace of this place was almost palpable, you could almost touch it, and the energy - especially after we had spent a whole day surrounded by it - was like a natural tranquilizer: we all fell asleep on the car journey back home – except me, of course, who was driving! However, back to the story:
        We were all meditating in our own idiosyncratic ways, tuning in to All-That-Is [or trying to] aware that thousands upon thousands of folk all over the Earth were doing the same: in front rooms, churches, sacred places, where ever there was a peace that was magical and mystical and holy!
        Anyway, we were all sitting there when suddenly I was aware that Malcolm had got up and strode quietly off.
        After the global ‘Tune-In’ I opened my eyes to see Malcolm leaning on one of the stones his eyes shining. He came over to us and said simply:
        “I know where I went during my spin-out! I was taken to a place where I was shown hieroglyphics hewn in stone and which I completely understood; at least I COULD understand them but the memory has now gone from me!”
          He was shown these hieroglyphics by a Being in a (yeees, I know: the ‘flowing robe’ syndrome AGAIN) flowing robe!” He took three minutes to tell us, on that peaceful plain of stones, yet he was only gone for five seconds!  Time and space becoming meaningless in that particular dimension!
          And another great and wonderful thing occurred on that auspicious day in 1987.
          The Earth Energy system changed from a 7-line system (chakric system) to an 8-line system of which we are ALL hooked into by our own chakric systems…and today it has risen to a 15-line system, 13 of which are active, at least the last time that I checked (by dowsing) they were.
             We, whether we like it or not, are all vibrating at a faster rate! Why? It’s all part of the Earth Changes – the weather and general planetary changes being just the tip of the iceberg! Oh and another thought has just occurred: did the presence of the 8-line system stimulate Malcolm’s recovered memory? Perhaps we shall never know, but it wouldn’t surprise me, wouldn’t surprise me at all!  

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DAY IN THE LIFE OF ME

I usually wake about 7ish, the dreams still pulling on me, repeating their song. For instance, I was playing piano at some sort of party and felt pleased that I was getting applause (I used to play a little but with Post Polio Syndrome dragging at my fingers I can no longer do so - my guitar playing days also are far behind me. Hey, I’m not looking for sympathy. That’s just the way it is!). Then some singer joined in and she was good! But she was drowned out by some rappers giving it some, so she and I stopped! Such a shame.
            Anyway, now fully awake I then take my tablets and usually have an electric shave in bed as I can’t shave sitting up (arms again). Then usually strapping my mobile phone around my neck I get up and make my way to the toilet. Blast! I’d forgotten to strap my mobile around my neck! Never mind, I’m not likely to fall over now. Wrong!
            I found myself sprawled on the floor my weak leg trapped under me and me yelling:
            “NO! NO! NO! NO!” and “F**^”*+-~****!”
             It was a mixture of pain and anger, anger at my stupidity for forgetting my mobile (cell-phone to you Yanks out there). The pain I was used to – actually you don’t ever get used to it but you kind of accept it. Now I had to drag myself to the home-phone (land-line) which takes me about ten minutes, hence the expletives. I remembered the last time that I got all the way to the door of the lounge and forgot to take my ‘grabber’ to open the door with, so I was not going to make THAT mistake again. So with my grabber in my teeth I inched my way to the lounge door and with the grabber I pulled the handle down and opened the door, dragged myself over to the home-phone, deliberately knocked it off the table by pulling on the cable and dialled my sister.
             However, Frank, my brother-in-law, answered the phone, I explained the situation and then he in turn phoned my nephew Quen. I settled down to wait!
            Of course I’ve done this little bit of business twice before and broke my ankle, my foot having lodged between armchair and table-leg. I screamed at the top of my voice but my mother being a little deaf failed to hear me! So – wearing my phone this time – I dialled for my nephew. 10 minutes later Quenton rang the front door bell AND knocked – remembering that grandma was a little hard of hearing! My mother opened the door and was surprised when Quen – gently pushing past her – explaining to her as he went that I had fallen over!
        “Well I didn’t hear anything, dear” she said, and immediately felt SO bad that she hadn’t heard me call her, then I felt bad because of her failing to hear me…and so on. I was six weeks in hospital that time! What an idiot.
            The second time I tripped and in the process of trying to prevent myself from falling, smashed my elbow on a mobile gas-fire. My other nephew Joel (a musician who play’s drums) and his mate Phil came to the rescue this time – mother having phoned on this occasion. They found me sprawled in a corner. They got me up but my arm was making a crunching, grinding sort of sound and hung limply by my side. Joel put his ear near to my arm and said: “Yea, I think it’s broken, Paul!”
             Another six weeks in hospital!
            However THIS time was just another run-of-the-mill fall!
            Later on in the evening I put oven chips, veggie sausages and onions on a tray in the oven. 45 minutes later I fried some eggs - my mouth already slavering at the prospect of what was to come - and put them on a plate. I opened the oven door and with one hand balancing me, and, with the other hand, carefully took out the tray containing chips, sausages and onions with a cloth and placed it – the other hand still balancing me – on the table. With the same hand I gently closed the oven door (still with me?) and without looking lent on the table - a reflex action as my balance is so crap…but I also lent on the tray containing chips, sausages and onions and in the blink of an eye flipped the tray and its contents all over the floor!
            “AHHHHHHHH!” I screamed. “F***++!!!^^**!” (a similar expletive to the above expletive), I raved.  And then a profound peace and calm descended upon me. I instantly accepted the situation!
            With my trusty grabber I proceeded to pick up every chip, every sausage and every piece of onion, putting them all onto my plate of eggs.
            Did I eat them? Well it was a VERY clean floor….

POEMS:

Until next time, amigos!
LUV N’ LITE N’ LARFTER

Paul Bura
May 2008.

Previous Archives

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