Tuesday, 29 March 2011
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Anyway, my trip to the states is looming and I am working towards that in a very disciplined and dedicated way. Gonna be insane...
Saturday, 12 March 2011
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Another valid attempt at creation falls short...before it begins
So I stare
out of the window and see still
no dance of the breeze just the odd sway
just clouds and the reflection of my light on the window
A thought moves my mind to other pastures
Days I lay in the sun
clinging to my dream of freedom while
surrounded by mans failures
mans pathetic attempt at creating communities...
As the sky above me floats by like a feather
but never falling
It seems i am the only one who sees the sky today
What horrible lives we suffer
lost in the blizzard of instruction
to continue on the path
Believing the capitalist dream and discovering
one by one
we will realise its a joke
a very bad & cruel joke that just keeps on getting played
and i am here
looking at that same sky while others sleep
Saturday, 5 March 2011
These Things We Give Names.
It's one thing to know,
Just how you feel,
& another to work out,
Which way is up.
It's one thing to know,
How to say your name,
& another to find your way,
out of here.
All these things we give names,
& crown our mistakes like kings,
& Ignore what we feel & sigh.
It's one thing just to know,
Without ever tasting it,
& another to choke,
On your heart as you're living it.
So forgive me if I seem,
Seem a little vague,
But it's hard to speak out,
When society crowns it's shame.
Al these things we give names,
& crown our mistakes like kings,
We dance as though we know,
How to live and breathe and grow,
But our shoelaces are tied,
& our flaw is living blind,
& Ignoring what we feel...
knows no bounds,
We think we know,
We think we've found out.
But ignore what we feel inside.
Friday, 4 March 2011
A dying cold Shoulder,
On a mountain of obsession.
Rivers of blinkered Goretex,
& duck down shrouds,
Masks like ape's mouths,
Set in stone,
Cast no doubt,
Upward, no reprieve,
No outpouring of emotion,
Just continual, controlled, laboured speed,
Until the pinnacle is crushed,
& the descent comes gold,
The dying cold shoulder,
Now shrouded in snow,
As the self- centered, some say brave,
Lower themselves by will,
While base brings emotions,
& powerful lament,
Hastely veiled reason,
To hell and down again,
All shielded vision around,
Leaving humanity mistaken,
& mankind left struggling,
To understand the moral code,
Of those who choose this worlds ceiling,
Over all other goals.
Mixed emotions in disguise,
Of truth, hope, bravery & pride,
But who will ever know,
The beauty of the night,
In Vertical ascent,
Beneath the heavens on show,
No wonder pride blinds,
No wonder people try,
No wonder without trying,
No wonder in dying.
No wonder without,
The beauty of the morning,
Within this Vertical Ascent.
in loving memory of all those who have lost their lives, witnessed the loss of life & summitted, in the name of achievement.
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
limitless nothingness but
I look again
but not sickly
enjoying the motion
as the clouds sail
like autumn's decree
floating down the river
and i watch
and feel it
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
No pre-determined course
just coincidental moments colliding
like the nail in wood struck by the workers hammer
the moment pushes you through to the other side of the event
and you pass through the change to renew
but the past has strings that need to be cut
as they cling to the moment with an emotional tack
and the only scissors you have seem blunt
and the strings much too long
and almost vital
but more like a blanket or a thumb
so you must work to cut
but no back and forth like a carpenters tenon
but straight and true
forward into the blue
But how the immature and erratic clinging nature of the mind to its moments
and it's attachment
to the inanimate
forces upon me conformity
and the sense of loss
how its blind desire to remind you of moments
its wild ramblings and inappropriate associations
flashbacks triggered and lived again inspired by nothing
or something vague
and for who
It's a painful warmth
The meditators gain is silence
when they take that mental bull by the horns
but their loss is chaos
and chaos is better than nothing
''some people never go crazy,
what truly horrible lives they must lead''
wrote king Buk
Just give me the wild free stallion of thought and all it's pro's and cons
old penned up cob
Let me witness the thoughts of the free
allow me to loose myself in natural moments
You can keep that
anchored moment attachment to yourself
Let me ramble though the wilderness like Mcandless
feast upon reaction and sense
stumble upon moments that are beyond my influence
and settle down
Moving at last,
Going back to my new home.
London was a little more personal this time,
A little more familiar,
The apartment made it seem friendly,
The work, not done but drink,
Drink with my friend was fun.
Sometimes you have an idea of how things should go,
People like us let things go.
I think that is best.
Let the tide of circumstance just guide you,
After all, we are just passengers on this one great natural oraganic gesture,
Why let our jealous, selfish, egotistical will dictate over natures perfection?
A window to a Kitchen smuggled into a loft,
Only on this London leaving train,
Can I see these habitat secrets in such a light.
Smallest hint of sun breaking through,
But that hint comes accross in these lines,
As far more than that,
It is not.
It is practically dark,
yet only 4.28pm, a cold late February afternoon.
White painted brick,
Another Train speeds past like a startled flock of roosting birds.
All these bodies and their lives,
Like HGV trucks on a busy motorway,
Noisy and bold,
These people, heavy in unspoken lifetimes of emotion,
Regret, Intention, Vieled & Secret.
Oh, the blind dance of social conformity,
All it's pointless fears,
We secretly eye each other in the carriage,
Eyes catching glimpses & repel like poles,
Unable to hold a glance lest we acknowledge our natural curiousity,
What a social crime to commit!
Tie squewhiff Book reader,
Mother dragging daughter,
Well-dressed, young, single mother,
A stranger beside me sits,
I lift my bag and move along,
Now resting my book atop my bag,
Growing more conscious of inquisitive eyes,
Does he know he is now locked forever in these lines?
The train jolts on,
Long, cold, green moss-ridden brick,
Lonely, out in the air,
We draw onward.
Pidgeons roost on a roof,
"The next station is East Croydon" booms the voice like a slammed door in church,
& I run out of steam as someone's armrest squeels & I take a sip,
Minds deep in thought,
Of others, and moments past of intense wholeness,
Love & history,
Future and the wealth of inevitability,
As this train draws on.
So, by way of an apology to no-one, here is one of my latest ramblings...
glazed & red eyed look,
Kids in tow - oblivious to all except the proud ice cream reward they devour.
Teapot cosy wooly heads with denim & oversized lensed camera over shoulder.
Just hiss, crash & 'Wahhh! Come on Betsy" in the distance,
As the breeze dances with my free page.
Trio of people, lady with keys,
Curious glances in my direction.
Kids on scooters collide,
Biggest kid leads the way,
Then more hiss, crash and the breeze asks my hair
The horizon seems so far,
A hulk of a ship in the distance,
Unaware of my interest,
As my eyes fall on it's twin,
Further back still.
"We gotta walk back don't forget"
A grandpa advises newly mobile scooter-grandaughter.
The years straining on his ruddy map of a face.
Then I stand,
My day has to be given back to my work,
So I join the fleshy tide,
All the way back to my car.