Goodge Street Finches.

The pub was my safe space.

I drank very little but read lots of books

As I sat quietly in the smoky forum,

Those early evenings before the music started.

I read Persian poetry - not just Omar Khayyam,

I was in love with the east, especially Azerbaijan,

The fire temples, mosques blue as the sea.

I read Anna Karenina and War and Peace,

And therefore was considered a devotee of Tolstoy

By friends who were beginning to dig into Trotsky,

Revolution being their cup of tea.

I read Alan Watts, his Way of Zen

Severely slowed down my intake of Guinness

As I puzzled and puzzled over one hand clapping.

I found out I did not have to seek beyond Europe

When I settled down to The Cloud of Unknowing,

A home grown book that opened my mind

To vistas that Buddha had yet to show me.

I have no idea how I read all these books

In the spaces between devouring rumours,

Chatting up girls and bantering with friends

Who thought I was weird because I loved books.

But I was the one at the heart of that scene

Who helped to write songs we all loved singing

When the crowds packed in after 8 pm.

When the chatting stopped and the music started.

And that is how I made sense of the nineteen sixties

Believing I could integrate fun and learning.

Believing that peace could conquer the world

With songs and books, not squaddies in trenches.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

March 8th. - 9th. 2022.

I am too angry to write about Ukraine,

Too angry and full of tears,

So until I am ready I shall write about other things,

That is when I can put clear thoughts down onto paper.,

When I know I can do good with what I write.#

God Bless Ukraine. God Bless the lovely people of Ukraine.