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John Buchanan
Poet, Writer and Blogger.
Poet, Writer and Blogger.


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Our next open mic has the subject "Question Mark" this is my effort.


He sat behind the table
looking at the mirror,
knowing in his heart of hearts
that there had been an error.

Behind the glass they looked on
and watched him getting nervous,
they bore the marks
of Her Majesty's Secret Service.

For he had typed a keyword
whilst planning to invest
And he had been identified
as a person of interest.

Sweat beaded on his forehead
as they kept him in the dark.
They nodded at each other,
it was time to question Mark.

John Carré Buchanan
11 October 2018
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The Nature of Everything

Heisenberg was uncertain about position and speed,
we can't measure both precisely he had to concede,

for to look at an elementary particle is enough to make it change,
which isn't very useful when you’re not seeking a range.

Quantum field theory uses points to allow prediction
but positions; x, y, z and time, whilst useful, create a fiction,

for the maths of gravity gets in the way when you work in 4 dimensions,
three spacial and one temporal if we follow the convention.

We needed to go much deeper and work another dimension,
in fact we have to use eleven to gain some comprehension

Now if you're beginning to feel a bit bemused;
you write a poem on a theory so confused.

By now those crazy physicists with their bulging pulsing brains
decided that they needed more and invented the membrane!

‘Branes can be gigantic, a universe or more.
I think it's time I make a break and run toward the door

but if I stepped through it, would a multiverse I find?
or is that just a figment of an overactive mind?

They're now trying to prove super symmetry exists,
crashing particles together and examining the bits.

If they find sparticles in the instant of collision
I suspect string theory will still need some revision.

Now, about this super string theory you need to know two things;
everything out there is made of vibrating energy strings.

The second is much easier, I won't string you along,
the whole blasted theory, well, it could just be wrong.

John Carré Buchanan
23 July 2018
The Nature of Everything
The Nature of Everything
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Dorothy's Bench

Dorothy's bench is sited well
a refuge from an inner hell.
Last night’s showers
have brightened flowers,
the wind tousles trees
but I can't hear the leaves;
for birds singing mask that sound
as nature's beauty abounds.
I strain to hear the dancing stream
or is it just a wishful dream?
Silent waves on beach
distant memories of joy beseech.
That blue sky with wispy clouds
shines bright above dark thunderclouds.
I wipe my eyes and pray,
that showers could wash despair away.

John Carré Buchanan
09 June 2018
Dorothy's Bench
Dorothy's Bench
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The list, if there were a list,
would shorten every day.
highlight, delete,
every eight minutes, the list we deplete.

Today one hundred and fifty lines will go,
tomorrow two hundred? Who knows?
That range; one fifty to two hundred,
deleted every twenty four hours.

The list is long but finite
Each line a species
and every day - No, every eight minutes
another line's deleted.

Not individuals, species, all of a kind.
Imagine, seven billion people,
Condensed to just one line that says; 'Human'.
In your mind, highlight it, now delete it.

The greatest sadness is that so many lines
never even get highlighted
they're deleted
before they even make the list.

John Carré Buchanan
23 April 2018
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Love Thy Neighbour

We share the air
We share the land
We share...
We share nothing.
We take,
We dominate,
We are not good Neighbours.
We are the neighbours from hell
the sort that vomits in borders
throws loud parties
burns rubbish on wash days.
The Bible says; "Love thy neighbour"
but we humans love only humans,
in fact
we don't even do that.

John Carré Buchanan
25 March 201
Love Thy Neighbour
Love Thy Neighbour
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They arrived on the same day,
lived next to each other for 27 years.
It's said that opposites attract
and whilst each took life in their own stride,
they moved forward at the same pace
their cadence - harmonic.
Each leaving their own footprints on life's path.y
Yet, they were inseparable,
joined at the hip,
that is; until Joe trod on a landmine
and left his right leg in a ditch.
The new neighbour
is not such a good fit.

John Carré Buchanan
24 March 2018
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Meteor Shower

A sprinkle of faerie dust
cast from a distant comet
surges toward a blue marble
which hangs in a darkened sky.

It touches the atmosphere,
the very air that sustains life below.
Friction slows and incinerates it
in a fiery streaking glow.

I watch the fireworks in the sky
and ponder; is the blue marble
just a spec of faerie dust
whose burn will flicker in a distant eye?

John Carré Buchanan
15 November 2017
Meteor Shower
Meteor Shower
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The Swing

Golden hair streams from the flying head
excited blue eyes wide open with delight.
Bright summer dress billows
as white stockinged feet thrust forward.
The smile, missing two front teeth, a joy to behold
as she swings back and forth
from the mighty bough
and the bright sun shines down.

Golden leaves rustle on the swaying boughs
the gnarled bark watches.
Bright leaves billow on the breeze
and gather at the great oaks feet.
If it could, would the tree smile?
Does this ancient life see irony?
Standing tall across the ages
it's great bows thickened
whatever weather came

for once;

Auburn hair fell limply from beneath a hessian sack
the terrified face obscured.
Skirts, bound at the shin, fluttered on the fall
booted feet jerked back and forth
smiles and grimaces in the crowd;
justice upheld.
As she swung back and forth
on the hanging tree
soft rain fell.

John Carré Buchanan
21 October 2017
The Swing
The Swing
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The Wheelchair

The accident damaged my legs
sometimes I use a chair
it's a tool, it gives freedom
but at a cost.
It costs my humanity.
No longer am I a man....
The mother to her child
"mind the wheelchair",
the flight attendant,
"we've got one wheelchair"
the police man,
"make way for the wheelchair,"
the youth in the pub
"mind your back wheelchair coming through".
Not the man - the wheelchair
The man is invisible,
society doesn't do disability.
it tries to ignore,
makes people vanish.
You get used to it, I'm almost immune;
but sometimes, I snap.
the polite "excuse me" deliberately ignored
leaves me trapped by a wall of legs.
The chair gets a mind of its own
control slackens from expert to disabled
the wheel 'accidentally' rolls over a foot
and in that instant I'm not a wheelchair
I'm the “bastard”
noticed, then grudgingly forgiven
because I'm just a wheelchair!

John Carré Buchanan
15 October 2017
The Wheelchair
The Wheelchair
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Space Junk

Dark moon, the stars twinkle,
specks of cosmic dust
on an ink black backdrop.
A satellite traverses the sky,
reflects light to an upturned eye.
Yes we even pollute the heavens.

Up there in the moonless void;
a glove, spanners, paint flecks, a toothbrush,
frozen drops of toxic chemicals
and shards of shattered metal,
circle the planet in a swirling mass
of supersonic debris.

Kessler theorised a chain reaction
where colliding debris shatters
into ever smaller pieces
each collision making more
of the speeding shrapnel.

The satellites we rely on
for weather, communication,
agriculture, defence,
location and even time
run a gauntlet through this heavenly garbage patch.

Our modern way of life is threatened
for without satellites; communication's lost;
markets crash, supply chains fail,
there's no internet, phone, there's no email.
and yet; out there, far beyond our own sphere...

we fly-tip on a cosmic scale
crashing space craft into other worlds
and our Voyagers speed onward
across intergalactic space
as we seek enlightenment
and new moons.

John Carré Buchanan
15 October 2017
Space Junk
Space Junk
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