Nothing Doesn't Exist

If your mind is ever critical

And waxing analytical

The tale with a hair pin twist

Will stump you from the offing

It's a story about nothing

Moreover, nothing doesn't exist


If there’s nothing on your mind

There are books you’ll find

Michael Faraday was keen to insist

There’s magnetics everywhere

Even with no light or air

Nothing’s in your head

It doesn’t exist


It took a lot of nerves

Declaring space is full of curves

But you'll get the Einstein-ian jist

It may crank your cranial cavity

That mass informs gravity

So no thing really does not exist


Photon particles zoom

Through your hoover vacuum

There is no place that molecules missed

So why labour in vain

For material gain

When nothing doesn't even exist ?


We're so long into our race

All we're chasing is the chase

Smashing nature with a clenched ham fist

Far too clever just to be

And enjoy everything for free

We built a never ending shopping list


It's an age old riddle

With ourselves stuck in the middle

And our gods in the gathering mist

Think hard like a boffin

And you won't wind up with nothing

Coz you'll know that nothing doesn't exist



You can knock it if you must

But I’m not about to bust

Any gut just because you can’t see

That nothing never started

It’ll leave you broken-hearted

Or dancing in a new born free


I’m cheated. It’s unfair

That nothing’s nowhere

Like my Blarney stone never got kissed

Now I walk around scoffing

Hey, now I’m scared of nothing

And I am - although it doesn’t exist.

about intellect

you can’t expect the unexpected

just like you can’t be predictable sometimes

except you can


you can in that your meaning becomes apparent

yet so does your lack of judgment, propensity to loosely cite, to learn by rote and general intellectual neglect

your audience is affected

yet why does this have an effect ?



if you can’t raise yourself to try and answer the question

don’t you worry about intellect

I Never Met A Londoner

a poem by gary knapton from a collection entitled "another mans shoes"

Ten years this June I left my room

And swiftly headed south

To make my fame and fortune

And to hear the Cockney mouth

I wanted to discover just what makes the world go round

And to meet the famed inhabitants of good old London town.

I trod my feet on Oxford Street

Fenced in by car and cart

The crowded din of accents giving promise to my heart

But all the folk I spoke to were from Kent or further down

They said “We ain’t no Londoners what come from London town.”

I crossed Green Park and I could see

The palace guards at noon

“As London as it gets!” I thought

My spirits in a boon

I told them of my plight

But they were laughing all too soon

“We are fae bonnie Scotland, lad. We are the Royal Dragoon.”

I ambled Hatton Garden where a Goldsmith played his hand

J. Rosenblat from Israel

He missed The Holy Land

I showed him my sum total and his furrow broke a frown

Still, he’s not a Londoner who comes from London town.

I dined with Turks in Walthamstow

And Asians in Brick Lane

I made a friend in Greek Street who said

“Please come back again!.”

I stamped my dues in Petty France

As Customs men came down

And I thought of all the Londoners who come from London town.

I drowned in noise as Geordie boys

In building sites abound

Hung from a rope in clouds of smoke

Ten storeys from the ground

I skirted flanks of timber planks and shouted “Don’t Look Down!”

But I never met a Londoner who came from London town.

I met the fighting Irish in the taverns of N1

In Brixton the Jamaican Yardies said I need a gun

Parades of Hare Krsna hummed their mantra

In their gowns

And Southall Sikhs said “Wishing you a thousand London towns.”

The Aussie folk of Earls Court made my skin look pale and starch

I smelt the Arab billions just south of Marble Arch

A million chefs in China Town said I could take my pick

I bartered with the Bangladeshis up in Hackney Wick

I Hansom cabbed Jamaica road down through the Surrey Docks

Where Kingdom-Brunel’s tunnel-men came down with sewer pox

My driver said indeed this was a local haunt before

  

But each and every Londoner got de-mobbed in the war.

So ten years passed until at last

This place became my home

I’ve trodden every alley way

I’ve up-turned every stone

I’ve met ten thousand goodly men of yellow black and brown

But I never met a Londoner who came from London Town.

(copyright)