21 Jan 2015

I have had this dream before



  
These visions are wasted on me
Wasted on my infant heart
Discarded by my limbic system
And yet every night

I ride the cursed fairground
Lights and circles and flashes of
What
Throwaway monsters
Empty threats of an approaching life

But the heart still hits a drum roll
Sending adrenaline through me
Ice water in my lungs while
I sleep

These bodies are not yet finished evolving
I think
Otherwise we would awaken
Into the morning sun unfettered
Joyous and without fear.


17 Dec 2014

2


Many people – in the absence of a total or complete personality – find they are adept in convincing themselves of who they ‘are’. Usually this persona continues on for so long that it becomes for all intents and purposes ‘real’ and any chance of real self-discovery is lost forever.

Quote of the December


The art which we may call generally art of the wayside, as opposed to that which is the business of men's lives, is, in the best sense of the word, Grotesque.   John Ruskin

24 Nov 2014

Testament to musclebound creatures and sirens that bring ships crashing to rocky deaths.




To fear the silence is to fear yourself
To reject isolation is to spurn your own
Continuing evolution

Not deep thought
Not abstract consideration of the void
Rather just plan nothing

Dropping the engine down from fourth
Slowed to a stop
An evening hillside
Eyes over the horizon of the city

Shielded from the posturing
Cocooned from the shouting
And screaming and music

Dancing to yourself
Secretly singing love songs
And the sadness of it all is a wave

And you rise and fall
With it
Delicately in the quiet

Nothing to prove
Nothing to fight for
But inside…

Still climbing granite boulders
Struggling toward the source of all hurricanes
Forward on gut instinct
Breaking chains
Napalm on every bridge
Bravely evolving in the near dark.

30 Oct 2014

But is it abstract ENOUGH…





Sat in a chair
For too long
All manner of forms beginning
To atrophy
Mid-way to the end of days
All luck left behind

Laying down in bed
An old man’s smile
Crossing my face
And eyes scrunched closed
Blocking it all out
Or trying to at least.