Tercet: existence, eternity, everything

All the Things at the same time

Separated into tiny Pieces:

Existence, Eternity, Everything.

Forgetfully

Eventually, all fades.
This we collectively know, 
Yet have not actually experienced in the self.
In the now/

Forgetful, and forced,
Fed; perhaps, but I’ll be fucked
If profit be made through me
Only after my death.

A prayer for Thursdays (some of the names of God)

Thor

Your day.  Named for

You.  In your honour

Or

For your power

To be called upon, You,

As though Known already

And to be connected to.

This three-ring circus was a pandemonium in days of old,

A spell of disharmony, confusion, and something to be avoided

As though known, an evil believed in and feared.

We hereby re-route magic in the blood

To embrace and trust and expand the tiny moments:

That which feels

That which allows expression of peace and love and enjoyment

of All, The Entirety and full Magnitude of meaning and existence.

We hereby make the marks to dispel the disconnect and discontent,

The delusions of intellect and ego so as not to be bruised,

Flung about and bashed against the cold, hard inanimate, 

Inorganic parts of waiting, longing, inaction and disempowerment

That kill the Flow of Life and separate us from each other

In shame, embarrassment and misunderstood loneliness.

All and Always and Already, 

We are children fighting for our innocence and sense of wonder

You see us when we look up, relax, make vulnerable and allow

The Smile of the Heart,

When we follow the threads that pull at our attention

And pull up shields to guard us from the allure of the thick,

Comfortable deep and dark

When we go to soul searching inside.

These age lines reveal the failure of selves to recognise

Frameworks of linearity, the giving into forgetfulness and familiarity

Stuck stories, unchange and non-adventure.

Go-letting

Patience and grace, and then!  What laughter is to be had!

Oh, souls.

We are alone together, innocent and wondrous children of You,

All and Always and Already Great Alone and Unfolding,

Exponentially Multiplying, Fracturing, Complicating and Novelistically 

Becoming Deconstruction and Creation Awareness Holding

Memory of Ages and Aeons

and Ever After

If Only Just For A Moment - acrylic on superwood, 45 x 15cm

Fractal thinking

Soul looks up in fright every once in a while

To see this particular life living for this first and only time

Weird. Strange. Alien: the sudden insight

That could explain earthquakes, valleys, mountains, fault lines,

Wrinkles, grey hair, aching bones, memory loss, and other ageing signs.

Augment - acrylic on superwood, 45 x 15cm

Trigger points

1.

Evangelical oversight

Broad-based trigger points

Care and warning

Warning

Warming

Recognition. 

Recognition thankfulness

Uptight.  Uniform.

Self view un let go

Hold breath

Tired.

Lost moments.

Order

Chaos.

Lack of planning.

Wake

Jump

Energy

Tantrum

Drum

Play

Play

Early mistakes.

Yay YAY

Understanding

Align visions

And mind-set change

2.

Mind-set:

Set of mind, static ways of thinking

Shake

Change alignment

Learn learn

Eureka moment

Take note

Go back, rethink

Look at, explore

Realise.  Take action

Practice

Re-program.

Grow.  Shift.

3.

Awkwardness is emotive self display

Of experience of attentions focused on

My heretofore unrealised & unrecognised light.

Landscapes not yet traversed

Relax & allow flow

Workshop

Work.  Concentrate

Then reflect

Test.

Practice.

Suggest

Allow feedback

Stop.  Love

Spend time

4.

Reconnect

Stay connected

Retreat

Upon disconnection

Protect.  Ground.

Start again.

5.

Question, remember, revisit

Purpose

Remind.

I have

(Value. It’s trending right now. So…)

Embrace.

Others have

(Value. Again, parenthesis.  Not proud of using the lingua franca to convey meaning).

6.

Mobilise.

Untitled (good elemental gosh grief)

Good elemental gosh grief, are you taking on my disease for me?

Yes, quoting, and yes, credit and attribution, acknowledgement

Of influence and deep thanks and all the rest – positive

Thinking and thinking about negative things in order to

Constantly turn thoughts towards more positive thinking,

And yes, it’s all so tiring – but in a world where all things

Are quantumly possible… I’ve got to say

Cohen got to my poems before me. 

I wrote that shit.

Yellow

Still there are these yellow spots all over my pale, fragile soul

From where you burst my blood vessels with your spirit teeth.

They’re gently healing and fading away from our blue-green roll in the hay.

And I wonder how I would manage my ancient Longing

If we had, in fact, fallen asleep with each other last week.

me in the belly of a loved lover, pencil sketch

Walking through the world as though you're about to meet the love of your life

The Great Sadness,

So in touch and deep feeling

I’ve been Longing.

It’s rough, The Sea.

It’s like that.

Tercet: Smell the clouds

Smell the clouds

We are giants on this planet

Walk gently, my friends.

black koki & ink on black paper

Tercet: Libraries and pharmacies

The clashing swords of dragonfly fights

The silences of libraries and pharmacies

On everyone & everything to lose dependency.

ballpoint pen

During the week (enduring the Weak)

I keep this blood in me

Of people I’ve not yet met

Before I speak

Just so I can go and

Fling my ego,

Oh to flingo

Jupiter around me.

-Be meek!

‘Tis recommended

But, seek!

‘t shall be remembered.

Go!

Un even chaos disequilibrium tweak

highlighter & ballpoint pen

Lying naked & spread-eagled in the Spanish sunshine

Spanish flies,

Spanish wasps and Spanish spiders,

Feathers from Spanish pigeons,

Tiny quartz pebbles from the Spanish beach

Noticed and collected, just for their difference.

I might sleepwalk down to

The young blonde German hiker’s campsite tonight

And risk the German bark of her dog just for

A brief holiday snuggle,

Wake up in her strange tent and let her

Bring me a cup of black German coffee made on

Her efficient German camp stove

Then walk away from her warm German embrace

With a new smile on my face,

And write more poetry in reaction to all this.

Because I can’t bear my own longing

And I can’t stand holding all this love inside me.

The wine is not working this time, but!

How gorgeous to slip inside this space capsule here beside me

At night and zip up and away from all mankind

How glorious to set intention for control mind

And thought to align

With ever-awakening heart,

Knowing I have in the morning,

If I choose, a view of the Spanish coastline.

So, to let go

This Sadness

For it is not mine.

Barthelona

How would one seek love in a city of so too much

Fuck me! Sit and settle first

Accounts and spending in a currency that removes one

So completely from space and time.

So gothic so trendy so ubercool and so

Cool no longer exists.

What is, is.  Artificial cityscape

Where we do our best to avoid one another,

Slip inside some invisible doorway and disappear

Somewhere upstairs forever.

Leave the light on in my dorm room for strange roommates

And keep the wine flowing so that sleep can be met

As peacefully as possible

Because past-midnight peptalks in the mind

To reassure and relax self

Is a stressful and inefficient method of enjoying a European vacation.

black koki & white ink on black paper

SPAIN - Costa Brava

In the sexiest Moment,

When the voluptuous, wild Form

Of the Human Female Creature

Breaks out into the Arms of 

The Sun,

Shines unfettered, pure for the

Whole World,

And no-One, save the Wind in the

Pine Trees and

The Rocks that shape the empty

Car Park,

Are around to witness It;

This is True Beauty:

Sublime Loneliness

(deconstruction of a feather) - ballpoint pen & black koki

The quiet street - Part 1

Hostel New York, Carrer Gignas

Pt. 1: Close enough to but far away enough from Las Ramblas

Friends are close by

Neighbours cough and weeze French – or is it Russian?

-on the balcon three metres away

And across the narrow street divide North Africans

Take refuge behind cardboard and duct tape-covered windows,

Suitcases, ladders and wooden stools piled high in their

Peeling paint corridors

Too, I see trucker-capped white boys rolling a hashish joint.

What pent-up conversations do they have perched on

Barely fifty centimetres of outdoor space, I wonder.

Scooters and bicycles and rave music continue up and down and

All around, it’s half past midnight and my revelling dorm-mate

Strangers have yet to return.

The ends of my nerves are roughened already.

I’m ok in this urban Catalonian space

Where the light of the sun barely seems to matter.

Perhaps the morning will figure in a brief silence

Before action.  Perhaps siesta mindspace should take effect

And I learn to share my presence with these other Earthly wanderers.

Carrer d’Ataulf and your calming green health pharmacy sign,

Take these huge bricks and wrought-iron heavinesses

And loosen up the what now brow of this weary and season sick

But curious dreamer for the next two eves, please.

We have quite some distance to go.

This is the quiet street.  Close enough to but far away enough from

Las Ramblas.

black koki & ink on black paper

The quiet street - Part 2

Hostel New York, Carrer Gignas

Pt. 2

Who should I be

In this city of fleeting identities

Many things to many people

But who to me, 

One singularity?

Remain the Chameleon,

Anonymous and insignificant here,

Rebel there,

Goddess and dreamer and what else?

Pray, tell.

Brought up by wolves.

I am guided.

How and who should I love?

These things, surely, will be revealed

But I find no answer in Barcelona.

I shall take my heart elsewhere.

black koki & white ink on black paper

A nightair's breath whisper

A Nightair’s breath whisper promise under sparse light of waning moon,

                Unfulfilled & antisocial, with large surface conversations

offered & reciprocated in the interim,

awaiting adherence to the call to stall further loss of precious brain connections,

Undoes treacherous voices spelling a growing older, and a disquiet in the memories

                of what has long come and gone.

                Undone.

These things, I’m promised, are immaterial.

The avocado tree in my back garden has been lopped.

                Chopped.  Irradicated.

                Removed from the stream of time.  Downed.

                Drowned in seaview psychosis.  Gone forever.

                Lying in pieces here on the lawn at 3AM.

Everything has come & gone, the slow death of this tree in pieces.

                Everything is here & now & no longer.  Here.  Now.

                Alone cold and dry, alone.                          

                All is not light.

                Hail to the Darkness tonight.

untitled (Tercet)

The Darkness came down and the Moon came out

Who the fuck am I to be miserable?

She said

ALIGNMENT - pencil on paper, 2010

Painterly poetry

Painterly poetry feed unfolding of sound & information seed beholding

A constant continuum of unfathomable flow:

It’s ok to not everything know.

We’ll get it right.  It doesn’t have to be a fight.

No shadows are cast in a world without light. 

pen & pencil on paper

What the ocean might see

The speck of a woman bends over

Sunhatted & Transvaal sandal-footed

With her little phone camera

To shoot & kill & keep

Some insignificant yet

Monumentous moment in time

On the desert-vast sandiness of your shoreline.

Fat speck of a woman,

With her three fat Ayrshires

Choking at the ends of their designer leashes

On the gargantuan freedom of your emptiness.

Lost!

-You laugh

pencil sketch