If the new creation really began with Jesus’ resurrection, and if by his Spirit he now calls people both to benefit from that new creation and also to share in its present projects, then the real immortality is not so much about “what happens after we die”—important though that is—but about the ultimate significance and everlasting new-creational effects of our present choices and our present kingdom work. The Holy Spirit is the “giver of life,” not so that we can escape the present world into disembodied bliss but so that the divine life-giving energy, which will one day renew the world, can work through us here and now. The results—real transformations of the world—will be “immortal” in the sense that, since they are inspired by the Spirit, they will truly be part of the final new world when God does for the whole creation what he did for Jesus himself on the first Easter day.
The sun was now low beneath the horizon. Darkness spread rapidly. None of my selves could see anything beyond the tapering light of our headlamps on the hedge. I summoned them together. "Now," I said, "comes the season of making up our accounts. Now we have got to collect ourselves; we have got to be one self. Nothing is to be seen any more, except one wedge of road and bank which our lights repeat incessantly. We are perfectly provided for. We are warmly wrapped in a rug; we are protected from wind and rain. We are alone. Now is the time of reckoning. Now I, who preside over the company, am going to arrange in order the trophies which we have all brought in. Let me see; there was a great deal of beauty brought in to-day: farmhouses; cliffs standing out to sea; marbled fields; mottled fields; red feathered skies; all that. Also there was disappearance and the death of the individual. The vanishing road and the window lit for a second and then dark. And then there was the sudden dancing light, that was hung in the future. What we have made then to-day," I said, "is this: that beauty; death of the individual; and the future. Look, I will make a little figure for your satisfaction; here he comes. Does this little figure advancing through beauty, through death, to the economical, powerful and efficient future when houses will be cleansed by a puff of hot wind satisfy you? Look at him; there on my knee." We sat and looked at the figure we had made that day. Great sheer slabs of rock, tree tufted, surrounded him. He was for a second very, very solemn. Indeed it seemed as if the reality of things were displayed there on the rug. A violent thrill ran through us; as if a charge of electricity had entered in to us. We cried out together: "Yes, yes," as if affirming something, in a moment of recognition.
'The Liverpool poets' appeared on the literary scene in
1967, the name being coined by Edward Lucie-Smith  who
called his anthology of their work: 'The Liverpool Scene'.
The chief poets were Adrian Henri (1932 - 2000) Roger
McGough (1937 - ) and Brian Patten (1946 - ).
The work of 'The Liverpool poets' was written to be read aloud in public, and although the poets have now developed separately, their literary outlook is still characterized by their common commitment to reviving poetry as a performance.
'The Liverpool poets'' approach to poetry differs from that of other poets in that they consistently give the impression of being real people getting to grips with real and pressing situations. According to Edward Lucie-Smith 'The Liverpool poets' feel a 'real sympathy for their environment' and are more interested in life than in literature. This is the quality that sets them apart from the other post-modern poets. Like the French Symbolists, Baudelaire and Rimbaud, 'The Liverpool poets' believe that the effect that a poem produces is more important than the poem itself; a poem should be considered as an 'agent' (that conveys the poet's message), rather than as an 'object'.