Watching the ether wobble
The certainty of reality is not so certain
The feeling in my body
Like a glazed spreading warmth
Not quite here
Somewhere else maybe
Need someone close to bring me down
To grab the string attached the ballon and tie me to a tree again
How I hate being dependent on other people
How much pain I've caused myself through isolation
We are inter-dependent but there are certain things we must do alone
Little pieces of identity I rediscover every now and then
Useful for a time and then I throw them away
Sometimes they return to me and I wear them for a while
Then I throw them away again
The clothing I wear and the shirts I retain through all of my wanderings is just one obvious physical example
The scarf, from a girl who didn't want me for a french ex-lover who was returning to town in Maidstone
The jumper I was given from a friend which is black, woolen (natural fibre) and long sleeves
Fitting all my criteria, from a bag of donated clothes to a squat/ community centre which was
largely dysfunctional, but I retain this piece of cloth for a time
The jacket from an army surplus store in Angers in France, I got it preparing for the snow in Ireland
But snow never came.
These black jeans from some op-shop somewhere, someone else's story attached
Socks given by a person I don't want to speak to at this time, due to a clash which has left a bitterness
And no undies to commemorate my hippiedom and my rights to the realm of free thinking
A punkish, poppy hair do, which I gave myself in Belfast which is slowly growing out and each day I look a bit more hippy
The teeth which are much harder to change than clothes or hair, chipped at the front from falling on a spinning play thing in a playground when I was little and then again from swimming into a wall, and the stains that cover the teeth which are a residue of the capping that was put on but the stains have got in underneath...
These too are pieces of identity that can be thrown away at the click of a button.
Teeth whitening and a good mouth job should do the trick
Identity is erroneous in a world of purpose
We propose to do something but we get in the way
Little pieces of somethings that nicker at the soul.
But then again, a memory is just a memory,
Character if not this, would be something else, and how is that different?
Cloth is just cloth
And tooth enamel is just tooth enamel in whatever colour or form it takes
This importance on identity we place
Is the value put on something that will never last
A purpose lasts longer
The moment lasts forever
If I commit to something outside of this body
That I will do regardless of vessel
Then that I will do
And whatever identity or pieces of self I put on for a while
Are only ever, can only ever be temporary
This clinging to identity is an endeavor to make the self into an eternal inanimate ornament sitting on the wall of time, trapped in a single shell
What a gloomy doom that would be
So why can't we tolerate change of identity midway through life in society?
Without a box to put you in
The misunderstood can not be understood
And this is a key ingredient for fear
We must let go of everything we have ever known to move forward
We must divulge or take on whatever aspect of character necessary to achieve our purpose
This is all there is
Sunday, 26 March 2017
Saturday, 25 March 2017
Scribing 43 - Dreamings of a lonely man
What is here
What is in this moment?
The birds, cockatoos I think
A whole flock of them, screeching and carrying on in bits and pieces
The wind, it flows the ocean of cloud above, the clouds move at such a pace
Where as if the same perceptual speed was mimicked by a person that was close
It would be creepy
Thus the clouds creep
The trees beckon the morning
A well tended garden of a friend, a sanctuary, filled with self
A place to be away when it all gets too much
They all just want to have fun
Have fun, eat, drink, die
This seems to be it
Is anyone really any better off for having a better head start in this system of money
The bamboo is looking a bit drab
What's caused this malfunction
The seats sit beside me, barstools around a high table as though they are expecting someone
Or as though they are people themselves, independent of people to sit on them
Thus self aware seats
They sit in a corner, possibly never to be sat on but they look conscious to me
I dreamed of the most wondeful sexual fantasy
And I'm starting to believe maybe I'm possessed
I had a cult leader tell me thiis once
I wasn't sure then if it was information meant to pry me to his purposes
As I am not sure now,
But this man is dead
There is no more purpose to pry towards, self interest can no longer be the key motivator
If the man is dead
How long will we be around for
...
The light changes outside
The clouds with a different glow have found their way in front of the sun
It will change again very soon
I love this tumultuous weather
It suits my temperament, helps me to think straight
There is no need for your defences here next to the River dear prince
The river is a place of community and sharing
The wind hurls the small loose branches of a weeping peppermint back and forth like the hair of a rag doll
Letting the flow come
Letting the flow go
Letting the flow enter the soul
Everyone is within
Everyone is without
Nothing is holy
Nothing is right
Everything is one thing
And then the rain it pours.
Each droplet like a lake
And then it stops.
Then the sun comes,
then the morning is heralded for a brief moment
Then the weather proceeds with its tumult.
Then the wind roars and claims ownership of the realm of sound
Yes, the wind is king
Because with it, we can hear no more
All hail the wind,
All hail the king
I love tumultuous weather
I love to observe the ebbs and the flows.
What is in this moment?
The birds, cockatoos I think
A whole flock of them, screeching and carrying on in bits and pieces
The wind, it flows the ocean of cloud above, the clouds move at such a pace
Where as if the same perceptual speed was mimicked by a person that was close
It would be creepy
Thus the clouds creep
The trees beckon the morning
A well tended garden of a friend, a sanctuary, filled with self
A place to be away when it all gets too much
They all just want to have fun
Have fun, eat, drink, die
This seems to be it
Is anyone really any better off for having a better head start in this system of money
The bamboo is looking a bit drab
What's caused this malfunction
The seats sit beside me, barstools around a high table as though they are expecting someone
Or as though they are people themselves, independent of people to sit on them
Thus self aware seats
They sit in a corner, possibly never to be sat on but they look conscious to me
I dreamed of the most wondeful sexual fantasy
And I'm starting to believe maybe I'm possessed
I had a cult leader tell me thiis once
I wasn't sure then if it was information meant to pry me to his purposes
As I am not sure now,
But this man is dead
There is no more purpose to pry towards, self interest can no longer be the key motivator
If the man is dead
How long will we be around for
...
The light changes outside
The clouds with a different glow have found their way in front of the sun
It will change again very soon
I love this tumultuous weather
It suits my temperament, helps me to think straight
There is no need for your defences here next to the River dear prince
The river is a place of community and sharing
The wind hurls the small loose branches of a weeping peppermint back and forth like the hair of a rag doll
Letting the flow come
Letting the flow go
Letting the flow enter the soul
Everyone is within
Everyone is without
Nothing is holy
Nothing is right
Everything is one thing
And then the rain it pours.
Each droplet like a lake
And then it stops.
Then the sun comes,
then the morning is heralded for a brief moment
Then the weather proceeds with its tumult.
Then the wind roars and claims ownership of the realm of sound
Yes, the wind is king
Because with it, we can hear no more
All hail the wind,
All hail the king
I love tumultuous weather
I love to observe the ebbs and the flows.
Friday, 24 March 2017
Scribing 42 - Leaving the past behind
I still feel this neck stronghold here
These defences so high
So high as to keep out everyone
What is safe? Who is safe?
Who is a threat?
Where is the threat?
Look for one and you'll find it
Oh little man walking around with your head walls so high
Who do you protect from?
Where is the threat but within yourself?
How can you protect yourself from the threat of isolation?
Of the character you've become and will become by isolating yourself from everything and everyone
With your giant glass walls that protect you from everyone
What mummy put the need for these walls into you so strong
Won't you let your guard down and sing a song
Let people in
Show yourself out of the crystal palace you've been hiding in so devout
Feel pain if it comes but don't expect it
Keep those walls down and down and down
Never throw them up again
Stop trying to protect from something, you've got no proof that it exists
You're protecting for the sake of protecting
Let your guard down and have a look
See what happens
Are you the reason the world's guard is so high?
What have you done? That should be the question.
You have to teach by example and let your guard down
Then the world will follow.
If you have to be killed for this, then so be it
Life continues and you continue in other forms
Life in a crystal palace of walls is no life at all
Let the walls down, walk from your stronghold
See what the world has to offer, in the freedom of love
It sounds corny but there it is
There isn't any other way to put it so succinctly
The world has defended itself against love
Well bring down the walls and let love in.
These defences so high
So high as to keep out everyone
What is safe? Who is safe?
Who is a threat?
Where is the threat?
Look for one and you'll find it
Oh little man walking around with your head walls so high
Who do you protect from?
Where is the threat but within yourself?
How can you protect yourself from the threat of isolation?
Of the character you've become and will become by isolating yourself from everything and everyone
With your giant glass walls that protect you from everyone
What mummy put the need for these walls into you so strong
Won't you let your guard down and sing a song
Let people in
Show yourself out of the crystal palace you've been hiding in so devout
Feel pain if it comes but don't expect it
Keep those walls down and down and down
Never throw them up again
Stop trying to protect from something, you've got no proof that it exists
You're protecting for the sake of protecting
Let your guard down and have a look
See what happens
Are you the reason the world's guard is so high?
What have you done? That should be the question.
You have to teach by example and let your guard down
Then the world will follow.
If you have to be killed for this, then so be it
Life continues and you continue in other forms
Life in a crystal palace of walls is no life at all
Let the walls down, walk from your stronghold
See what the world has to offer, in the freedom of love
It sounds corny but there it is
There isn't any other way to put it so succinctly
The world has defended itself against love
Well bring down the walls and let love in.
Thursday, 23 March 2017
Scribing 41 - Parlour Punishment
Tackle the mountain
If you walk far enough you'll get over the mountain
And then it won't be in front of you anymore
So just keep on walking
The ticking clock and the gurgling fridge keep time for me
In a most delicate fashion
The glow of the orange light fills the air
In the distance a stairway can be seen
I have my coffee and once again
I have my space to myself
The times I stress about not having my space to myself
And the amount of times I find myself in the middle of space dedicated to myself
Is uncanny
I will always have what I need
This is a given
I do not have to be concerned with this
The spirit of the world has given me this gift
I keep doing what I do
I know everything I need is provided
It's not a license to sit back and freeze on it
It's a licence to jump out of the box frequently and try new and exciting ways of testing my reality
Maybe one day the walls will be paper thin
And I'll slip right on through to another dimension
We won't know that day has come unless we have a habit of testing constantly
Maybe one day the world will turn upside down and the stars will sit below the feet and the sun will be a fish in the ultimate ocean called infinite space
But until that day comes
I cannot know it will come
Things change just by watching them
We change when we don't watch ourselves
Addiction to starlight
Addiction of the weather that comes and goes
Addiction to growth and green and light and sounds
Addiction to density, to reality, to life, to love
The men sit on the parlour shelves ready for service
As the drooping gods come wandering down into the shop of ignorance
Pick me, says the suited man, I'll be your joy and pride
But no, the drooping gods want another child this time
The same run of the gun man as before in a black suit and a bowtie will not do this aeon
"We've had enough of you," and waves him on into the ether to be dissolved and reborn in the cycle of eternity
"We're looking for something more like you," pointing to a man slightly resembling a hipster with dreadlocks
Neatly patted down and a colourful bandanna.
We're going to mass produce little pieces of you
And place you all over the cosmos
Then we'll blame this infection of sterile hippy freedom on the new coming age of aquarius
You know, that damn movement in the stars all the new age bumkins are raving about
New age. What a whirl
Nothing is new, but new to some
Each cycle is like a washing machine
A new piece of dirt is introduced each time
And a new piece of golden thread is extracted
But not always, and this doesn't matter because the process cannot be rushed
It just takes time
Then there's the regulars
The ones who get in the wash every time the speed cycle up to 90 degrees is set
The Platos, the Bowies, the Beethovens and the Teslas.
They've been playing this little game of time for a while
You could say they're addicted to it
Like a man with his hand on a cock
pressing and pulling over and over again
And I don't excuse my crudeness
Because I can't think of anything more accurate to relate this to
We'll just get on with it then.
Where are you then?
Are you a safe spectre in the corner, something unknown and unseen but here every cycle
Or are you the stick in the wind to try and prove the cycles of humanity wrong
We like to test the walls, see how far we can push the barriers
No one knows, maybe one day they'll give
But until then, we'll just keep on testing
Hoping this prison of time is not infinite....
But the journey, the journey is the freedom and the goal of freedom is the illusion
But it takes a dark sardonic old man to realise that
And maybe that's what we're all becoming slowly
In this game of time
Dark sardonic old men
To stop fighting, to stop testing
And just do the journey thing without any qualms because that's all there is
There is no beginning, there is no end unless we search for it
There is only the inbetween the inbetween
The journey of journeys
The life within the life
And this life has no boundaries because the boundary is there only as a requirement to keep men inside a game
A park for lions and tigers and deer and fawn.
But introspectively, we are already at our destination
We are already here
If you walk far enough you'll get over the mountain
And then it won't be in front of you anymore
So just keep on walking
The ticking clock and the gurgling fridge keep time for me
In a most delicate fashion
The glow of the orange light fills the air
In the distance a stairway can be seen
I have my coffee and once again
I have my space to myself
The times I stress about not having my space to myself
And the amount of times I find myself in the middle of space dedicated to myself
Is uncanny
I will always have what I need
This is a given
I do not have to be concerned with this
The spirit of the world has given me this gift
I keep doing what I do
I know everything I need is provided
It's not a license to sit back and freeze on it
It's a licence to jump out of the box frequently and try new and exciting ways of testing my reality
Maybe one day the walls will be paper thin
And I'll slip right on through to another dimension
We won't know that day has come unless we have a habit of testing constantly
Maybe one day the world will turn upside down and the stars will sit below the feet and the sun will be a fish in the ultimate ocean called infinite space
But until that day comes
I cannot know it will come
Things change just by watching them
We change when we don't watch ourselves
Addiction to starlight
Addiction of the weather that comes and goes
Addiction to growth and green and light and sounds
Addiction to density, to reality, to life, to love
The men sit on the parlour shelves ready for service
As the drooping gods come wandering down into the shop of ignorance
Pick me, says the suited man, I'll be your joy and pride
But no, the drooping gods want another child this time
The same run of the gun man as before in a black suit and a bowtie will not do this aeon
"We've had enough of you," and waves him on into the ether to be dissolved and reborn in the cycle of eternity
"We're looking for something more like you," pointing to a man slightly resembling a hipster with dreadlocks
Neatly patted down and a colourful bandanna.
We're going to mass produce little pieces of you
And place you all over the cosmos
Then we'll blame this infection of sterile hippy freedom on the new coming age of aquarius
You know, that damn movement in the stars all the new age bumkins are raving about
New age. What a whirl
Nothing is new, but new to some
Each cycle is like a washing machine
A new piece of dirt is introduced each time
And a new piece of golden thread is extracted
But not always, and this doesn't matter because the process cannot be rushed
It just takes time
Then there's the regulars
The ones who get in the wash every time the speed cycle up to 90 degrees is set
The Platos, the Bowies, the Beethovens and the Teslas.
They've been playing this little game of time for a while
You could say they're addicted to it
Like a man with his hand on a cock
pressing and pulling over and over again
And I don't excuse my crudeness
Because I can't think of anything more accurate to relate this to
We'll just get on with it then.
Where are you then?
Are you a safe spectre in the corner, something unknown and unseen but here every cycle
Or are you the stick in the wind to try and prove the cycles of humanity wrong
We like to test the walls, see how far we can push the barriers
No one knows, maybe one day they'll give
But until then, we'll just keep on testing
Hoping this prison of time is not infinite....
But the journey, the journey is the freedom and the goal of freedom is the illusion
But it takes a dark sardonic old man to realise that
And maybe that's what we're all becoming slowly
In this game of time
Dark sardonic old men
To stop fighting, to stop testing
And just do the journey thing without any qualms because that's all there is
There is no beginning, there is no end unless we search for it
There is only the inbetween the inbetween
The journey of journeys
The life within the life
And this life has no boundaries because the boundary is there only as a requirement to keep men inside a game
A park for lions and tigers and deer and fawn.
But introspectively, we are already at our destination
We are already here
Wednesday, 22 March 2017
Scribing 40 - In the end, we're all equal
From birth comes death
From life comes life
From death comes life
In death, we are all equal
The sun beats down on an unkempt garden
Beautiful in many ways but not in an organisational capacity
Which is funny enough
The organiser of such a garden is an organiser type
For some we only control completely what we can control completely
Then the slipping away of the rest of the world goes to its chaos
But the little pockets of order
Are driven by a need, an urge, to make things more and eternally perfect
The fruit sits in the bowl in front of me, in the middle of the table
Two apples
Two nectarines
Two bananas
Two avocados
The circular and oblong fruits are grouped in an arrangement of six
The bananas sit beside this grouping of six, in a splayed out but cozy fashion
Someone deliberately placed this fruit in this bowl
And a new order will emerge with the removal of one its members
The breeze comes through the house
The workmen making clanking noises in a construction site can be heard every now and then
The running of tap, the chopping of vegetables
The gurgling of an old fridge, kept past its time
The birds have their say
The crickets too
The colours in the spectrum are red, wood browns, beige and deep greens
In a painting of many people, smiling dosily as if they were all stoned
Everyone has a place
No one is left without
We all do what we do, feeling important because we are the group each one of us
And each small group within that is not joined with another is a potential whole of another group
Am I doing enough?
Am I helping enough?
Is things ok with me?
What does it matter?
The erratic thoughts that cloud the brain
Bringing me away from the moment
My company has a similar infatuation with the incessant wrapping at the window of the mind
So in a sense, the greatest test is before me
But also the greatest blessing
Time to practice my craft
Get my scales on
Move through the barrier of time and learn things for my body to repeat over and over again
Into the day and beyond
The races are on today
The men and women will shout and scream as horses run around a track
Many will drink and bet money
And this is the thing that we do
We drink and we bet money
Until we are dead
And then we do it all again.
What a life.
From life comes life
From death comes life
In death, we are all equal
The sun beats down on an unkempt garden
Beautiful in many ways but not in an organisational capacity
Which is funny enough
The organiser of such a garden is an organiser type
For some we only control completely what we can control completely
Then the slipping away of the rest of the world goes to its chaos
But the little pockets of order
Are driven by a need, an urge, to make things more and eternally perfect
The fruit sits in the bowl in front of me, in the middle of the table
Two apples
Two nectarines
Two bananas
Two avocados
The circular and oblong fruits are grouped in an arrangement of six
The bananas sit beside this grouping of six, in a splayed out but cozy fashion
Someone deliberately placed this fruit in this bowl
And a new order will emerge with the removal of one its members
The breeze comes through the house
The workmen making clanking noises in a construction site can be heard every now and then
The running of tap, the chopping of vegetables
The gurgling of an old fridge, kept past its time
The birds have their say
The crickets too
The colours in the spectrum are red, wood browns, beige and deep greens
In a painting of many people, smiling dosily as if they were all stoned
Everyone has a place
No one is left without
We all do what we do, feeling important because we are the group each one of us
And each small group within that is not joined with another is a potential whole of another group
Am I doing enough?
Am I helping enough?
Is things ok with me?
What does it matter?
The erratic thoughts that cloud the brain
Bringing me away from the moment
My company has a similar infatuation with the incessant wrapping at the window of the mind
So in a sense, the greatest test is before me
But also the greatest blessing
Time to practice my craft
Get my scales on
Move through the barrier of time and learn things for my body to repeat over and over again
Into the day and beyond
The races are on today
The men and women will shout and scream as horses run around a track
Many will drink and bet money
And this is the thing that we do
We drink and we bet money
Until we are dead
And then we do it all again.
What a life.
Tuesday, 21 March 2017
Scribing 39 - Strong sun finey day
Here in this apocalypse of the morning
Where the sun comes to call for just a second,
Then the rain comes with avengance
Then the clouds, the wind, the trees swish and the hammocks hang
This semi-model of an apocalypse
The turmultuousness of it all
We all just go about in our business
Continue, continue, continue
Nothing changes
Apocalypse is coming
Oh no bother, just continue as you were
Apocalypse is here
Oh no bother, just continue as you are
Apocalypse has come to take your life and your values
Oh, we'll replace them with new ones, we'll find another way to experience life,
There will be a way on the path you will see
Nothing changes
But everything is changing constantly
The tent of was warm
The sun, in its little spurts is scorching
But that's just Aussie sun.
Things are changing all around
The world is changing
Those that have ears let them hear
Those that have eyes let them be aware of what is to come
By now the trust in yourself should be complete
And if not, you'll learn quick in the turmultuousness of the apocalypse
or you will die fighting like a warrior, dieing a warrior's death
To wake up in another algorythm of the apocalypse
In another time, in another place
The world and its values are shifting
The times are changing
The dimension we currently inhabit is having its cyclical rebirth
We will change
And change forever
To change again
Into something else resembling change
to return to something we were before
In the cycle of nines
We draw inspiration from nature and from every living thing outside of our control
We watch the stars constantly to hope the shift moves our light in our favour
We prepare for doom when we see it and we do not convince ourselves that the doom is not coming
For the sake of an easy comfort
How we fearlessly face fear
We the remnants of the apocalypse of nines
We are the true born saints
And into this realm we transform towards a new millenia
Where the sun comes to call for just a second,
Then the rain comes with avengance
Then the clouds, the wind, the trees swish and the hammocks hang
This semi-model of an apocalypse
The turmultuousness of it all
We all just go about in our business
Continue, continue, continue
Nothing changes
Apocalypse is coming
Oh no bother, just continue as you were
Apocalypse is here
Oh no bother, just continue as you are
Apocalypse has come to take your life and your values
Oh, we'll replace them with new ones, we'll find another way to experience life,
There will be a way on the path you will see
Nothing changes
But everything is changing constantly
The tent of was warm
The sun, in its little spurts is scorching
But that's just Aussie sun.
Things are changing all around
The world is changing
Those that have ears let them hear
Those that have eyes let them be aware of what is to come
By now the trust in yourself should be complete
And if not, you'll learn quick in the turmultuousness of the apocalypse
or you will die fighting like a warrior, dieing a warrior's death
To wake up in another algorythm of the apocalypse
In another time, in another place
The world and its values are shifting
The times are changing
The dimension we currently inhabit is having its cyclical rebirth
We will change
And change forever
To change again
Into something else resembling change
to return to something we were before
In the cycle of nines
We draw inspiration from nature and from every living thing outside of our control
We watch the stars constantly to hope the shift moves our light in our favour
We prepare for doom when we see it and we do not convince ourselves that the doom is not coming
For the sake of an easy comfort
How we fearlessly face fear
We the remnants of the apocalypse of nines
We are the true born saints
And into this realm we transform towards a new millenia
Monday, 20 March 2017
Scribing 38 - Quantum Entanglement
The girl form the room eats her yoghurt and honey
Scraping the edge of the bowl with precision
Taking little pieces of the edge of the blob that is her breakfast
Slowly consuming as an animal first using a spoon
The wall is filled with designs
Patterns repeat
A rose, a flower, a cat tail
Some leaves
The little chickens arouse from their morning
All the hustle and bustle is getting them hooked on the idea of attention again
The wind it comes
The trees they sway
The air stays warm
This body has fast moving blood
The coffee, sweet and bitter
This is something I've been doing for years
And to have someone so close question what and why and how
To impose an authority on it, as though I need their approval to continue
Then not to receive the approval entirely
Well I find that slightly offensive. Don't you
Or quite possibly this whole excursion is in my head
And I should just do what I do
And not regard what is around me
Not be so empathic
Just be me
What is me?
With such a big gaping hole in my soul that can filled with anything
My voice is very gentle
I've noticed how people react to a different tone of voice
A gentle tone
I'm naturally gentle at this moment
We aren't logical
To assume that human's behave logically is a grave error
She has to read her apple book tonight
This is apparently of key importance
I love myself
Love yourself
Everybody today, practice the moment and enjoy yourself in love
Nothing can move me from love.
Scraping the edge of the bowl with precision
Taking little pieces of the edge of the blob that is her breakfast
Slowly consuming as an animal first using a spoon
The wall is filled with designs
Patterns repeat
A rose, a flower, a cat tail
Some leaves
The little chickens arouse from their morning
All the hustle and bustle is getting them hooked on the idea of attention again
The wind it comes
The trees they sway
The air stays warm
This body has fast moving blood
The coffee, sweet and bitter
This is something I've been doing for years
And to have someone so close question what and why and how
To impose an authority on it, as though I need their approval to continue
Then not to receive the approval entirely
Well I find that slightly offensive. Don't you
Or quite possibly this whole excursion is in my head
And I should just do what I do
And not regard what is around me
Not be so empathic
Just be me
What is me?
With such a big gaping hole in my soul that can filled with anything
My voice is very gentle
I've noticed how people react to a different tone of voice
A gentle tone
I'm naturally gentle at this moment
We aren't logical
To assume that human's behave logically is a grave error
She has to read her apple book tonight
This is apparently of key importance
I love myself
Love yourself
Everybody today, practice the moment and enjoy yourself in love
Nothing can move me from love.
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