all the paths I could travel

All the paths I could
Travel are pointing me
In 360 directions

Which path I choose
Is hard for me
To imagine.

If I move in one direction
The circle collapses and
My path becomes fixed

I can’t help but wonder
What would happen if
I chose another path

Where would that one lead me
What would I be giving up
What would I become?

You can be or do anything
You want, so the words go
And that’s true.

The problem isn’t lack
Of choice; it’s too much
Choice that spends my head

Which path to choose I
Cannot tell, so I stand still
Keeping the circle in tact.

general stuff

hot computing

This is just to cool:


airport blues

Flybe are consistent at one thing…being late.  This airline has a serious problem. I have been flying to and from Edinburgh for the past 6 weeks.  All 12 flights have been late.  And I’m not talking a 10 or 20 minutes.  They have been up to 3 hours late, like this morning!  I’m suppose to be in the air right now on my way up to Edinburgh, but when I checked in at 5.30am this morning, the lady told me my flight would not be leaving until 10.10 instead of 7.15.  It appears to be a moral thing as 1st officers, pilots and flight attendants keep phoning in sick. And for whatever reason, flybe doesn’t seem to have anyone on immediate standby to take the place of their stricken comrade.  So us weary passengers have to wait.  Most of us on the 7.15 flight are business folk which means our work day is kind of cocked up.

But such is such.  I’ll wait it out in the executive lounge and get high off of coffee and orange juice and Scottish fruit cakes.


when ravens cry

You are a raven
Against a blank sky

The earth hides her colours
From you while you hide
Your true Self from her

Your soul sighs behind a
Prison of your own making
Pacing back and forth

In your tired eyes
A prisoner, wrongly imprisoned
Crying out for freedom

Your soul’s cry falls on
Deaf ears in the silence
Of your eyes

The ravens gather in the fields
Under grey skies they come
To hear your soul’s lament:

‘Oh please set me free’
‘Let me walk through the fields’
‘In bare feet, my arms wide open’
‘Embracing the sun’

The ravens bow their heads
They know permission
Will not come

Until the best part
Of your youth and strength
Have passed away

And your limbs have
Gone to sleep; your
Spirit deflated

Because it knows you
Could have been great had
You acted without permission

And set your soul free
To be alive, to be wild,
To wander and enjoy life
For life’s own sake

Greatness is not so rare
But rare is the courage
To live life full of
Passion and grace

The ravens fly
Away one by one
Against a blank sky

To J.

– c.lowe

general stuff

peace festival photos

Here are a few photos of me performing some poetry at the peace festival you can click on the photos to enlarge them:

general stuff

peace festival

The Peace Festival in Leamington Spa was another great success. This year I wrote and performed a poem as part of the the Holy Wells Procession fringe event which took place on Sunday.
The procession featured appearances by local artists, musicians, poets, storytellers, and dancers. The focal point of the event was us carrying around the ‘River of Wool’, made from many individual blue squares, knitted by people all across Warwickshire as part of the ‘Knit a River for Water Aid’ initiative.
‘Knit a River’ is a national project highlighting every human being’s right to a supply of fresh water and decent sanitation.
The lovely Tiziana organized the Holy Wells Procession.
Sunday was just a great poetry day for me. After doing my thing at the peace festival, I performed a couple of new poems at Pure and Good and Right Sunday evening. A good friend of mine, Dani Carbery, hosted the evening. She brought her mum, Marilyn along, and even though it was Father’s Day, we wrote poems of love and lust for Marilyn whom Dani says her boyfriends describe as a MILF.
Jude Simpson headlined the evening. She was spectacular. If you get a chance to see Jude perform, do so. Checkout her website to find out where she’s performing next.
I’m back in Scotland this week. I swear if I didn’t have a calendar in front of me I would think it was the beginning of winter not summer. Brrrr

pieces of eight

The lady with the best pair of legs you can imagine, Just a Girl in short shorts, has tagged me with the pieces of eight meme. It’s been a while since I’ve done a meme, so I thought I’d give this one a go.
Rules: Each person posts the rules before their list, then they list 8 things about themselves. At the end of the post, that person tags and links to 8 other people; then visits those people’s sites and comments, letting them know that they have been tagged, and to come read the post, so they know what they have to do.

1. If I thought that I were making
Answer to one that might return to view
The world, this flame should evermore cease shaking.

But since from this abyss, if I hear true,
None ever came alive, I have no fear
Of infamy, but give thee answer due.

Dante’s Inferno (Canto XXVII, lines 61 – 66)
2. My archetypal behavior is that of the jester and the magician. On the one hand, I am an advocate of enjoying the process of life. Life is just too damn short to do otherwise. Jesters are famous for inviting everyone out to play and showing them how they can turn their work, interactions with others, and the most mundane tasks imaginable into fun. On the downside we jesters are prone to laziness and dissipation. The magician in me has it’s fair share of the stage constantly in search of the metaphysical answers to the Universe. While we have the power to transform peoples’ lives and make visions reality, we can, if not kept in check, use this influence over people in a manipulative way.

3. I sometimes miss being a combat infantryman. My days as an infantry platoon leader where pure and elemental. Living constantly with life and death decisions has a way of making you appreciate the finer points of living…of being alive. General Lee once remarked that it was good that war is so terrible, least we should grow fond of it. Where once I was wild and tame-less, I am now sedated and long to be roaming the wilds.

4. My preferred way to live is to never stop exploring. William Blake wrote that in the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors. It is these doors that I seek to find. I believe that knowledge is a worthy enough goal to pursue for its own sake. I believe that peace is found through letting go, leaving the mind free to wander and to wonder and to accept life as a gift.
Peace to me does not mean tranquility. It means freedom, a freedom to live in accord with one’s own understanding. To be set free from those who would attempt to control my mind with rules and regulations that are designed to keep me in slavery, to make me conform, to destroy my soul and become one of the walking dead. I refuse to accept this. My fate is my own

5. I am basically a happy-go-lucky kind of guy who according to my wife is insane. I prefer to think I am one of the mad ones Jack Kerouac wrote about: “The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes awww!”

6. I was born in Newark, New Jersey back in 1968. We lived there for most of my early childhood. My dad was a Navy man so we didn’t stay there long. From birth to about age sixteen, we lived in various cities and towns throughout New Jersey. We lived in Newark, Irvington, Plainfield, and Eatontown. My mom and pop split when I was sixteen. Mom loaded us up in the Lincoln and we moved to Augusta, Georgia. I hated Augusta. I split as soon as could.

7. Books. I have always loved books from a very early age I fell in love with books. I love to read them. I love to look at them. I love to hold them in my hands. I love to be surrounded by them. As a kid, the library was my sanctuary. During summer holidays, I would walk the 8 miles to the library on Post and spend the whole day there wandering amongst the stacks. The subject matter was not important. I could be found anywhere in the stacks, from botany to physics, to poetry and history. I spend a lot of time in bookstores now. I can spend hours in these mega-bookshops drinking coffee and wandering the stacks and inevitably spending a small fortune. Books are like stray pets to me. I see one and I want to take it home with me.

8. I love the open road. I don’t even have to have a particular destination in my mind. Just the simple fact of being on the road going somewhere is enough for me. One of my favourite travel passions is to wander around big city streets like a ghost or a man with no name. It’s funny because one of my fears about dying is that I will die in obscurity. And yet, when I wander city streets it the very fact that I am anonymous that makes the streets exciting. I could happily give up all my possessions and walk the earth like Kane.

I am now required to tag 8 pirates: Christine’s Notes, Beaman’s World, Exskindiver, Secrete Agent Artist, CathyK, Anndi’s Luggage, Lady Banana, Serenity Unearthed.


action is character

Action is character wrote F. Scott Fitzgerald.  Syd Field expanded the idea to “what a person does is what he is, not what he says.”  Now that was written in the context of creating characters for screenplays, but as I digested the statement, I thought how would that apply to me as a character.  What do I actually do from day to day, moment to moment? And how does what I do, define who I am.  How much stuff do I say, but not do?  And how much of what I say is a reflection of things I’ve already done, or put another way, how much time do I spend talking about what Bruce Springteen called the glory days?

I don’t have answers yet because the questions stopped me dead in my tracks.  I glimpsed a reflection of the answers and froze.  Could I really answer the questions objectively?  We have a perception of ourselves that is different from how other people perceive us which is different still from reality, whatever that is.

If someone were to write a biography of me, I wonder what they would write…


people want to put me

In a box

Constrain the four corners
Of who I am
What they can’t understand
Is I don’t fit

In a box

But that doesn’t stop
Other people trying
Every which way the can
To stuff me

In a box

I’d rather ride the waves
Of infinite possibilities
Exploring more realities
Than live

In a box

If I think as small
As they want me to think
I’ll be small enough
To fit

In a box

But that’s not for me

I guess some people
Are happy to live

In a



state of affairs

I overheard a conversation yesterday.  A lady, must have been in her mid thirties, was filling out an application for a service.  The agent asked her marital status.

“I’m single,” says the lady.

“Ok no problem,” replies the agent.

The agent, about to proceed to the next question, is interrupted by the lady.

“Well (slow pause) I’m divorced like everybody else,” she says.

Ok, aside from the state of affairs of marriage, I’m left wondering, why on an application does the category divorced appear anyway.  Surely if you’re divorced it means you’re single.  So why the two boxes?