Negation – Out Of Control

Something I like doing nothing something like pray day.

Something I like doing like toilet twice a day.

Something I like doing like writing in prose poem.

Something I like doing like eating fish and chips.

Something I like doing like picking flowers from the garden.

Something I like doing like washing my car.

Something I like doing like reading a letter.

Something I like doing like sitting down I pray.

Something I like doing like building blocks and kits.

Something I like doing like going for a sail in my boat.

Something like having and idea and going with it.

Nothing ever ever goes away.Anyway After like prose it continues until negation it is null and void.

Speculate, Accumulate

It’s dawn again and last night the rain did  not come. So. Today  will be dusty. Hero, my horse will guide me on the best route through the long grass all the way to dried up river bed twenty miles from here. There I will put on his nose bag while I go digging with my spade under the hot unforgiving sun. As God keeps on telling me. You need to speculate to accumulate.

Post-Going Missing, Pre-Coming Home

Is post going missing? By this, I do not mean through dawn raids on your letterbox or mail slot, although these things have been known to happen. I have heard (heard) that even if someone were to s…(muffled)

Anyway, this post is about ‘Post’. We are always Post-something. How many times have I switched on the radio or television or read somewhere that we are Post-Industrialist, Post-Feminism2 or 3 (I lose count), Post – War, Post-Colonialism, Post-Thatcher, and soon to be Post-Brexit Referendum 2016.

Things as they are, and by things I mean the kind of things that like plastic bird strangling variety found on the tops of four-packs-of-lager from your favourtie off license or soft drinks retailer have a nasty habit of sticking in your mind masqeurading as the truth. These things that shackle us to our feeble impressions of reality and whats right and wrong are often Post-something or another as we struggle with a new paralysing reality the talking heads and pens go on about how much better it was before when things were just how they were Pre-whatever cum wotsit…

The Wild West. The new frontiers are times of lawlessness and pioneering discovery. These are the Pre-days. Just stick those three letters before the name of any epoch you care to mention and what springs to mind. Activity, thought, danger, activity, effort, discussion, teamwork, ingenuity, heroism, breakthroughs and dissapointment resilience, determination, resourcefulness, fulfilment, lives worth the living, vision, actuality, reality pushing and smashing through boundaries in a flash of light of discovery, passion and new life. Otherwise known as War.

As the Digital Era develops and expands laterally, vertically and horizontally pushing out like the belly of an angry dragon what else shall be consumed by his fiery breath. The High Street singed, Recruitment singed, technology, singed, commerce singed, warfare changed, relationships changed, entertainment changed.Communication constantly evolving at breakneck speed. Who will the losers and the winners be?

One things is for sure. It’s not a good time to be illiterate or poor. And those who seek an audience with the pioneers had better come prepared for society on the move not in some slow-motion replay but in the seconds, it takes to transfer funds from one economy to another electronically updating records before you have time to blink. Instant communication with workforces, millions of people connected by intra-tech colloquially known as shared technology in the hands of a few trusted people accountable to themselves and their families, shareholders and boards. It’s tech at the top. How high can you stretch?

Back to the present and we see a day in which Pre-This and Post-That are but images that can be manipulated by not only governments but individuals keen to make their mark on society. Youtube videos and music production standards are up by one thousand percent since the early days of the service.

 

I still, like millions of others own a television, radio and a bookshelf. We may be Post-Internet Explosion but we are still very much Pre-Digital home.

Finally, what about the present? War with Russia? CyberWar with China and the developing world? IS in Syria and Turkey? IDK. I would sure as hell be well entertained, though, at the End Of The Pre and Post World. If It should happen it would probably be electronically and thus unnoticeable except to voltmeters which one day might develop intelligence and take over the world

I am kidding. I hold out hope for humanity under the age of 25 before they are exposed to responsibilities that make them POST-Fun, Post-Freedom Of Thought, Post-compassion and turn them all into Post eBay-Smart Phones.

You might get used to living in a world where your pound shop post it notes carry more weight than your £400.00 phone (and are easier to update) but until then hold on tight, trust no-one and keep on writing.

Dawn: Rob Me Of My Mind

When I go to lay down will I realise that it has been so much vapour?  Morning time and the day is already seven or eight hours old. Bold. If you get up early you get cereals squirly. Bacon And Eggs. Asleep In Your Head. You drowse on down for breakfast toast. Fruit juice and coffee please. Waiter Extra Butter. Don’t you get cheeky with me young butler! What shall masters pleasure be today? Grouse or pheasant plucking in the hay? It’s a gay day here at Harringay. We’re so pleased to meet you sir! Where you boat is moored. Odelay! Odelay! Races!

I don’t know…and as such I did wonder…

Where was the time I first said hello?

Was it the beginning of the end?

I stood on tiptoe and said I love you.

You were able to look right through me then

into the core, always right into the core.

Never in the history of the Internet was someone

so wrong and right about me. I could be or have been

many things. Is that so hard for you to see. You who are

many things too?

After realising that there are some things I will never be I did not pull out the stops and go tearing towards the nearest wall at high speed seeking an end. Sure I got angry but not at me and not for long. Gentle is not an unkind word but I never hear it referring to me. Yet I can take pleasure in many things that are freely given to me by Gods grace and wisdom for my own development. I will argue with the internet you think. I am a living being not a pre-packaged banquet that you can take out and put away and replace every few years when you get bored. So screw you and your doggy crew. Screw you and don’t belong somewhere new preferably on the continent where I can’t find you.

And in finding you I found a new me

one who was humble and afraid but alive in so many ways

it made me literally cry. I’m alive!. I’m alive! And all can see it except you.

You who raised me from young. You who afraid betrayed me so.

Then hello! along came a surprise that really made me wonder that on earth could be someone I adored even though I would learn that later it wasn’t really appreciated in that way if you know what I mean.

And as such I did wonder how I could ever wonder again.

Which leads me to what I hope to be the end of all things.

Not apocalyptically, not apologetically, not apocryphally something beyond me alone in my bedroom just like its always been. But now I know how to show you the real me. A large heron gobbled me up. and shat out a brony. That sort of thing I suppose and race cars galore.

 

Feu de Glace

If I were a Jet Plane I would fly you to the stars and if you’d already seen that I would fly on to Mars.

And reveal the craters of
Écran bleu where ice dew gathers on the edge of sheer cliffs;

I would traverse the gorges of
Tapis traité and fly blind through under the bridges of Feu de Glace until we were in the core;

There is too much to see, too much to do in an hour.

The sky is ours until noon when satellite forecast predicts grey clouds will swarm into a hurricane heading due East 76 degrees Altitude high. Wind Speed 112 M.p.h Lets get in below and watch. Get the camera ready this will be spectacular.

10:00am Out of hurricane. We got snaps and are heading down to Mexico for a beer. The landing gear has been playing up. Time for a crash landing lesson. Happy days!.
11:00 mid-air refuelling with AC-17 somewhere over Baja California.
11:05 Rocket test and combat with Chinese overfly. Buzzed him back to China!
11:06 Text. Love Is In The AIR xx. Whooooa! Yeah!
11:07 Engage Afterburners. Heading home to see Cathy. CU Soon.x

Yellow Rose of Texas (retold for younger listeners)

There was an orange with pips. And it did not have any friends and it wondered why. One day is was rolling down past the orchard and ran right in front of Father Smileys Rose Garden. The roses all turned their heads to see the orange rolling past. ‘He has Pips, you know’ said a Pink rose to a red rose. ‘Rolling on past,’ said another. The Yellow rose watched as the orange with pips rolled all the way past and was out of sight before it said’He may have lots of pips but there is not a substitute for love no matter how many pips you happen to have,’,’poor orange’. The sun went down and they all hung their heads in sorrow.

Are We All Born Blind?

If we can see then is twenty/twenty vision all the way

when we are born and virgin seekers, do we see the world in a different way?

The focus shifts inwards as we are let down and disappointed in reality ironically the truth is that we look further out for the things we need closest to home like a loving kiss or a hand to hold. Where is our god when loneliness visits us in the dead of night or during the day?

I am not impressed by the new and whizzy candelabras on show. Everything’s got a glow. And if you’re smart you’ll know it isn’t on the outside. Sure you can let it show. But Inside doesn’t matter when you’re part of the show. Narcissism meets introverts melancholy gaze. And says Do you wanna get out of here?

Sure there’s a God (marvel at his ways)

And when we wanted to be alone we would say ‘I don’t want to go out today’.

And it’s on, on with the fight where shadow aeroplanes come and visit in the night and fire their cannons true right into the heart of you. When they are gone and I’m there shattered and bleeding. I Shout I conquered you many moons ago. But they come back night after night after night after night.

It’s my cross to bear some loneliness at night at least until I get it right.

 

Talking about right. That’s what I do you know. I write.

The Expectancy

Like  a bad smell lingering just below

of ice and fire concealed by leathery skin

serpentous forms slither and sinewy wind

around limbs, that will wither and die

and the great moon’s clock impassive

tick then ever so slowly tock.

Crows caw in the graveyard dark

and cadavers stir below the ground.

It’s the horror call and I answer putting

down coffee cup in slow motion. The colour

drains from my skin and my eyes bulge wide.

The pot belly becomes corpse bloat and with

slow shuffling steps, I step outside where the

world is bathed in the incandescent glow of an orange fire

which makes my eyes corpses hollow and my hair

a grey and white matted twist wild and inhuman.

Others join me and a low moan is heard that I echo

and soon the zombie hoard is gathered waiting for

human flesh. overhead the crows circle and wait for

the expectancy: death.

An attempt to write about feelings that hover just below the surface: social anxiety.