PRYDERI by Christopher Thompson

The Philosophers' Friend, All things To All People.

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Is there room here for another, Poet, Stand-Up Philosopher, Commentator, Electronic Musician/Producer?

Yes come and join in

No you are at the wrong GPS on the planet.

Have a go let’s see what happens

Voting ended onSep 9, 2025

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Palfrey Park DH 1965

Which is the way to Palfrey Park? I used to know,

I used to go.

And under all weather conditions. Two by two we marched, under the watchful Kellys’ eye. Comb over and all. Boys for the football, no change, no kit. Our Football Boots were all that we needed.

On green grassy field we played the game. In that urban park, planted in the middle of nowhere. We were about nine years old.

Once…

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How Important Am I?

How Important Am I?

I have myself on the end of a stick, Not at the end of my tether you understand. Oh no just a pictures’ width. I have learned to glide and glance. That’s how it’s done I’m told. In the here and now this is a great idea. Having something to say helps. Though every picture may well tell a story, Where do you find the context? Is it in gesture or word? Is it on seeing or saying? Watching then…

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Work, work, work station.

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"Sticky mothers ain't they"?

“Sticky mothers ain’t they”?

Escapism, A summer escape read? What is there to escape from? The world or system or planetary orbit, Or the sky at night, Or the orange grove? Life is more than Lipstick Rock& Roll. It a grinding, hollowing out existence. With a rule book made up On the hoof. Worse in one horse towns too. Where sidewalk clatter drowns out the din Of exasperation with your attempts At eking out, and fitting…

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Ogden Nash

m.poemhunter.com/poem/look-what-you-did-christopher/

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Awkward Awkward Awkward

This comes from a small square house, Set in green rolling countryside. Not quite alone, not quite home. For I am from a conurbation Way "up-country", I am very Midland in many of my ways. How do other of the awkward do? This is an entertaining question. In their hunt to survive How do they fair?  In the relentless, jostle, jumble jungle.  It’s a headlong dash,  Toward forever and away from…

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How Do The Awkward Do?

How Do The Awkward Do?

I’m certainly not a science man!

The funny thing is it has been a good while since I voiced this thought for the first time in 1972. Regardless of the intervening years I think my idea of the link between Mathematics and Art is still valid. But why now? I am prompted to revisit the topic by a recent quote that I have heard by the late Mathematician/Physicist Paul Dirac OM. “A physical law…

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The Bar Stool

Although an ending draws ever closer, I submit once again to my feet. I am stationery, as if planted. My marching days Are in the long gone portion of time. I have blistered my last foot After fortune and fame. I am now simply a missing point, I feel like a missed point. Like a sea shell on a bleached beach, Done over by time and its rituals, I commit solitude daily. I was once a Tank Top, Or a…

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Red - Yellow - Black

Red – Yellow – Black

So again tonight the blackness of smoke is rising to the heavens all across America. And Heaven knows the reasons.

The red is flaring, it is updated and hot. Nowhere is safer than the land of the brave and the home of the free. The crackle of flame illuminates my point.

Yellow is the conflagration, the heat is being drawn. And the people who are treated like they are naturally targetable?

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This.

This is not glowing or even angry. Not bitter and or twisted, what is this?

This is in no way angular, or singular or regular. It is just uneven but not irregular.

This is not on a treadmill, or in a rat race. Neither is it complex. It is not viable or buyable.

It is simply this. What you get is what you see, hear, taste or think. It is not someone else.

This is not a beginning,…

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There is no one

There is no one. No one is looking this way. No one starting to notice or beginning to be gripped by curiosity. No one at all. So am I simply another sounding board among a Myriad of voices in the chamber of horrors? I begin to scream along with their chant “look at me, look at me”. I glance at my image of chrome on a bookshelf which is just out of my reach. I then begin to whisper, listen here,…

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Scribe

It is like the soft sharp top of a pencil. It waters you down, it wears you away. It is not quite a buckle, but a it is safe enough to be going on with. It is not a mere stick of wood, you have to have lead in your pencil. You have to hold on tight, you have to have a heart to write. Your breath is your graphite, and there is alway a rub which inevitably leaves its mark. Have you made your mark…

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Wrist Easy Here is a simplistic EDM made with a new software. It is a raw training piece made as I discover the capabilities of the programme. But nonetheless I think it is worth listing here. Wrist Easy

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Right Hand or Left? Nailed

On one hand, then again on the other hand,

One has shorter, one longer.

There are strings for both,

The same strings.

Over the ridge for some

Picking for others.

No time for a plectrum,

Only time to strum.

The guitarist,

The hands. Copyright 2020 Christopher Thompson All rights reseved

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Masks for the making of the  man.

Masks for the making of the man.

There are masks and there are masks! Our childish masks are simple, amusing, memorable for the future. Funtimes from childhood on which we look back with fondness and warmth. Lucky Bag or Christmas Cracker, it is unimportant to the instence of time. The joy, the laughter, the love and the giving, these are the real wholesome reasons for masks.

The there are the masks of youth. The masks used to…

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In One Leap - Staffordshire to Devon

In One Leap – Staffordshire to Devon

It is more than simply talking. It is more than thinking about windows. Picture this, for here is where I’ve been and for all this while. Here is the very place I have recently left.

Here was never. Not settled but for ever similar to seeing through a looking glass, watching for a reflection of the mind. Like someone stretched, this is a faceless portrait, grainy, without grace.

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Here I have…

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