I woke alone and yearning, not for a person but a feeling,
Swimming in the body of dreams between sleep and waking...
I'm talking poetic shit because I just cant admit
That its shit that I am me and you are not.
I woke up hungry
I wanted someone - no,
I wanted lips, wrapped sucking warm around my throbbing cock,
Skin smooth against sweatridden skin
The flash of teeth and nails,
I wanted arms beating
And claws tearing at the heart buried in my chest,
Rapture of the body of dreams vibrating
And the beat of our heart calling
For blood
And for breath.
The indivisible body divides and I am I
And you become time and distance.
I want to close my eyes and tear out my mind,
I am lust. I want us.
I am love when I wake, nailed to my cross
Empeaching will to honor time
But my heart still beats with lust
For blood and flesh and cum.
I long for your face as it melts into a parody called today
And the world adorns itself with costume and memory.
The light of god has burnt my eyes and left scorched and empty hollows
The world inside abides the night of the death of every symbol
And as your face melts into today
And my heart is left hungry and alone,
I turn to the grim prospect of todays cadaver
And slit my throat.
Monday, 10 March 2008
Friday, 14 September 2007
"Through a Window"
Its a little obvious that I'm just talking to myself here. Oh well. Couldn't wish for better company. So I found this writing excercise yesterday, 300-500 words on a view through a window. Sounded good. Took me a coupla hours to write 80 words, but I'll fix it to me blog for safe keeping later me thinks.
[...Insert meaning here...]
[...Insert meaning here...]
Wednesday, 12 September 2007
Fractured
(bad poetry)
Its a fully automatic, locked and loaded, rapid firing of associations,
People and signs round corners through time
A super-impositions of inquisitions born of the mind;
Walking through the town I know where I'm going
Until I watch where the others go and know we are following
Convictions, disjointed and fractured, the division of thought sought in matter
Defending all the while our idea of individuality
With its purposes, missions, dualities and intermissions
When we can't find a way to fit what we thought we was when we were in it
Because we never left everywhere;
How lonely are my footsteps, everyone unsure of its significance,
A single note sounded in the chambers of oblivion
And my lonely ears look for the song my sounds might make;
Then between the footsteps a choir of angels speak
As the gods live their silent dreams
Spun of automatic, locked and loaded, rapid firing of associations,
And everyone thinks "its only me".
A homeless man with a homeless mind wandering the memories and histories of "I" -
I am a fantasy, a philosophy, an ontology of a litany of dreams;
Do you have the secret? Will you lend it to me?
The sun shines on my bare feet signifying nothing
And I am empty.
I crave a distraction, an entertainment, and create a need
Give me a meaning so I can go back to sleep.
Its a fully automatic, locked and loaded, rapid firing of associations,
People and signs round corners through time
A super-impositions of inquisitions born of the mind;
Walking through the town I know where I'm going
Until I watch where the others go and know we are following
Convictions, disjointed and fractured, the division of thought sought in matter
Defending all the while our idea of individuality
With its purposes, missions, dualities and intermissions
When we can't find a way to fit what we thought we was when we were in it
Because we never left everywhere;
How lonely are my footsteps, everyone unsure of its significance,
A single note sounded in the chambers of oblivion
And my lonely ears look for the song my sounds might make;
Then between the footsteps a choir of angels speak
As the gods live their silent dreams
Spun of automatic, locked and loaded, rapid firing of associations,
And everyone thinks "its only me".
A homeless man with a homeless mind wandering the memories and histories of "I" -
I am a fantasy, a philosophy, an ontology of a litany of dreams;
Do you have the secret? Will you lend it to me?
The sun shines on my bare feet signifying nothing
And I am empty.
I crave a distraction, an entertainment, and create a need
Give me a meaning so I can go back to sleep.
Thursday, 6 September 2007
Tuesday, 4 September 2007
Love is hard
Who, what, why, where, when, how?
These are thee components ov Astory; thee contractions.
WHAT is thee most important; WHAT is thee vision;
E must maintain integrity to thee vision in addressing thee other components.
E beleif that thee components are autonomous spirits not created by E, but channeled by E.
For this reason E is adopting thee identity of thee vessel ov thee vision (E) and not the identity ov its master.
E's autonomy is ov greatest significance when surrending to thee autonomy ov thee vision.
E is thee artist, vessel of thee muse. E does not see succes ov thee project as attainment of thee goal, but as surrender to thee autonomy ov thee vision and thee finer forces ov its creation.
E cannot stop writing nor cease thee exploration; E is in labour, E is obsessive. E must commit to thee creation above all else.
E struggled to create thee identity ov thee normal man, but succeeded only in Es surrender to thee vision.
There is a popular post-modern idea that there is not one self, but multiple selfs. E sees this as a lie - self is a force, not an object. E is thee force ov thee vision, and E's selfs are simply thee direction of force. Only false selfs need multiple selfs, in order to excuse their falsehoods. E knows no other identity, no bounds, but thee perameters ov thee vision. This is E's self-imposed incarceration, and exile. E's identity is not a mask, but an acceptance.
WHAT then? Astory ov thee shattered self; disadvantage, disillusion, disenfranchisement, thee gods of thee expanding reality, thee great liberators.
E is at war with thee lore of majority, with thee 'Slavish Imposition'. E hides the debris of E's life to avoid thee persecution and indoctrination ov thee "normal" "people" who surround E. E is a writer, living a solitary life, and does not connect to thee desires ov others so easily. E respect little but artistic integrity, in a time when conformity, status and property is most respected. Worse, E feels reluctant to reveal Es artistic identity because it will not earn these things. E looks to thee future and does not see security but a community ov like minded individuals with limitless identity, explorers and visionaries.
E was born when thee Clash died, when Punkism died as a fashion, and thee rave scene was born. E grew as thee counter-cultures died. And E remembers.....thee Falklands war and thee collapse ov industry saw thee birth ov thee National Front, and the Iraq war and thee collapse ov welfare has seen thee birth of the BNP. E knows well the reactionary hate ov resenting thee fortune ov others. E knows hate is easy, and love is hard.
Disillusion, disadvantage, disenfranchisement, these are thee cradle ov E's love. These are thee tutors and thee guardians ov freedom. "Abandon hope all who enter here" is carved upon E's heart, and thee image is carved upon E's chest. Those that cannot abide these harsh lessons seek thee greater good; thee Nationality, thee Race, thee Culture. Those that have been awakened by them turn to thee human spirit for guidance, to themselves, to thee heart. To thee inner eye that see's beyond promise, and language, and control. To thee heart that breaks thee shelves ov ones own library, and writers upon thee walls ov ones own home.
E's identity is self-serving. E beleif in self-sufficiency, self love, and thee rejection of all other philosophy; as a matter of strategy E rejects thee importance ov material possessions and honors thee extension ov love. To feel others as self, and be felt by others as self.
Those that forget thee past are doomed to repeate it; E has been angered by it, and E repeates its anger. E has been sorrowed by it, and in Es heart carries this sorrow as E's gift. E know that E must never forget its darkness, but illuminate it.
Dark times grow darker; oil will run out before we can confront thee foolishness of "climate change"; government will fall apart before it can finish fighting its independent terrorists. Thee greater goods will all be graced by thee gods of disillusionment as every E must find their own ethic, their own politic, their own code, for thee sake ov their own love for thee whirld. There will be no direction but thee direction ov ones own heart.
E has been argueing for some time with a learned friend about politics. E has never voted because E beleif that thee politics of life are universal, and so does not comprehend thee politics of different parties. E knows, however, that one party controlled by those in power would be totalitarian. Nevertheless, only 24% of thee country votes, and thee largeest party is thee party ov non-voters. Everyone is becoming disillusioned, and distrustful. Thee new prime-minister, Gordon Brown, recently revealed that he will be appointing members of other parties as his advisors, demonstrating a "new style ov government". Thee government is weak, and is working together to bolster its strength.
E thinks that these advisors are thee way forward - unity, collaboration.
But E sticks to E's guns, and E's motto:
Every act with intent
E does not trust thee actions ov thee new government, as E sees them as life support for a dieing paradigm, and reactionary in nature.
On a personal level, E's attempt to become stronger through dedication to work and fitness, while done with intent, were also reactionary. E's intent was fuelled by rage, a powerful force, but they obscured E's pain. E cannot remember who E is beyond this pain, and it seems obvious that most peope spend their lives obscuring theirs. E's intent is to act with love, out ov pleasure. Browns intent is to act with fear, out ov fear. We may yet see more ov thee totalitarian influence in our governing.
These are thee components ov Astory; thee contractions.
WHAT is thee most important; WHAT is thee vision;
E must maintain integrity to thee vision in addressing thee other components.
E beleif that thee components are autonomous spirits not created by E, but channeled by E.
For this reason E is adopting thee identity of thee vessel ov thee vision (E) and not the identity ov its master.
E's autonomy is ov greatest significance when surrending to thee autonomy ov thee vision.
E is thee artist, vessel of thee muse. E does not see succes ov thee project as attainment of thee goal, but as surrender to thee autonomy ov thee vision and thee finer forces ov its creation.
E cannot stop writing nor cease thee exploration; E is in labour, E is obsessive. E must commit to thee creation above all else.
E struggled to create thee identity ov thee normal man, but succeeded only in Es surrender to thee vision.
There is a popular post-modern idea that there is not one self, but multiple selfs. E sees this as a lie - self is a force, not an object. E is thee force ov thee vision, and E's selfs are simply thee direction of force. Only false selfs need multiple selfs, in order to excuse their falsehoods. E knows no other identity, no bounds, but thee perameters ov thee vision. This is E's self-imposed incarceration, and exile. E's identity is not a mask, but an acceptance.
WHAT then? Astory ov thee shattered self; disadvantage, disillusion, disenfranchisement, thee gods of thee expanding reality, thee great liberators.
E is at war with thee lore of majority, with thee 'Slavish Imposition'. E hides the debris of E's life to avoid thee persecution and indoctrination ov thee "normal" "people" who surround E. E is a writer, living a solitary life, and does not connect to thee desires ov others so easily. E respect little but artistic integrity, in a time when conformity, status and property is most respected. Worse, E feels reluctant to reveal Es artistic identity because it will not earn these things. E looks to thee future and does not see security but a community ov like minded individuals with limitless identity, explorers and visionaries.
E was born when thee Clash died, when Punkism died as a fashion, and thee rave scene was born. E grew as thee counter-cultures died. And E remembers.....thee Falklands war and thee collapse ov industry saw thee birth ov thee National Front, and the Iraq war and thee collapse ov welfare has seen thee birth of the BNP. E knows well the reactionary hate ov resenting thee fortune ov others. E knows hate is easy, and love is hard.
Disillusion, disadvantage, disenfranchisement, these are thee cradle ov E's love. These are thee tutors and thee guardians ov freedom. "Abandon hope all who enter here" is carved upon E's heart, and thee image is carved upon E's chest. Those that cannot abide these harsh lessons seek thee greater good; thee Nationality, thee Race, thee Culture. Those that have been awakened by them turn to thee human spirit for guidance, to themselves, to thee heart. To thee inner eye that see's beyond promise, and language, and control. To thee heart that breaks thee shelves ov ones own library, and writers upon thee walls ov ones own home.
E's identity is self-serving. E beleif in self-sufficiency, self love, and thee rejection of all other philosophy; as a matter of strategy E rejects thee importance ov material possessions and honors thee extension ov love. To feel others as self, and be felt by others as self.
Those that forget thee past are doomed to repeate it; E has been angered by it, and E repeates its anger. E has been sorrowed by it, and in Es heart carries this sorrow as E's gift. E know that E must never forget its darkness, but illuminate it.
Dark times grow darker; oil will run out before we can confront thee foolishness of "climate change"; government will fall apart before it can finish fighting its independent terrorists. Thee greater goods will all be graced by thee gods of disillusionment as every E must find their own ethic, their own politic, their own code, for thee sake ov their own love for thee whirld. There will be no direction but thee direction ov ones own heart.
E has been argueing for some time with a learned friend about politics. E has never voted because E beleif that thee politics of life are universal, and so does not comprehend thee politics of different parties. E knows, however, that one party controlled by those in power would be totalitarian. Nevertheless, only 24% of thee country votes, and thee largeest party is thee party ov non-voters. Everyone is becoming disillusioned, and distrustful. Thee new prime-minister, Gordon Brown, recently revealed that he will be appointing members of other parties as his advisors, demonstrating a "new style ov government". Thee government is weak, and is working together to bolster its strength.
E thinks that these advisors are thee way forward - unity, collaboration.
But E sticks to E's guns, and E's motto:
Every act with intent
E does not trust thee actions ov thee new government, as E sees them as life support for a dieing paradigm, and reactionary in nature.
On a personal level, E's attempt to become stronger through dedication to work and fitness, while done with intent, were also reactionary. E's intent was fuelled by rage, a powerful force, but they obscured E's pain. E cannot remember who E is beyond this pain, and it seems obvious that most peope spend their lives obscuring theirs. E's intent is to act with love, out ov pleasure. Browns intent is to act with fear, out ov fear. We may yet see more ov thee totalitarian influence in our governing.
Monday, 3 September 2007
Covetting Freedom
When Obligation
Becomes a burden
And Affection
Turns to lust;
When Duty
Becomes an obstacle
And Loyalty
Becomes expendible,
So does freedom begin
Its journey
Back
To dust.
Becomes a burden
And Affection
Turns to lust;
When Duty
Becomes an obstacle
And Loyalty
Becomes expendible,
So does freedom begin
Its journey
Back
To dust.
Premise
Adam Hart has been eating me alive. Need to re-affirm the premise of the "Accidental Man".
1. The mind is an accident, imprinted haphazardly and by chance. Those with power over us have more say in what has been imprinted in the social conditioned humanimal than the humanimal does themselves.
2. ACCIDENTS: Thids component of the story needs more attention.
Perhaps:
Adam has ana ccident in which he loses not his memory but his identity.
There is an opinion in conventional circles that we are our memories. I want to challenge this. I want the character, in realising the automatic nature of his mind, to discover the possibility of
Being anything
Anyone
Anytime
Anywhere
And to fall at first into a world where anything goes.
Having loosened his attachment to his accidental identity, he then begins to carve a real one through methods known only to initiates. This, as a writer, will be the hard part, because I want to demystify everything and make such transformation a matter of necessity rather than something "special".
At first his impetus was going to be a traumatic past that informs his present decisions and behaviours, but now I think perhaps it will be because he has lost his identity due to an accident that he has to make a new one, while all those around him are trying to persuade him to revert back t his old one. That would be "healing", that would make him "better", but despite his accident he doesn't regard himself as sick.
His symtpoms include a lack of value for the greater social good, and an inability to look after himself in the normal ways. For this reason he will go on his own odyssey, having discovered that he is in fact a cynic. He will live on the streets for some time, i think, though it will be difficult not to be melodramatic or a premadona about this. Again, necessity rather than virtue.
The second part of the story will come after he discovers that rather than being anything, anyone, anywhere, anytime, he is in fact
Everything
Everywhere
Everytime
And in his homelessness he begins to feel the sorrows of the world. He feels everything, and returns to the hospital that originally treated him looking for help.
Then I dont know what happens.
1. The mind is an accident, imprinted haphazardly and by chance. Those with power over us have more say in what has been imprinted in the social conditioned humanimal than the humanimal does themselves.
2. ACCIDENTS: Thids component of the story needs more attention.
Perhaps:
Adam has ana ccident in which he loses not his memory but his identity.
There is an opinion in conventional circles that we are our memories. I want to challenge this. I want the character, in realising the automatic nature of his mind, to discover the possibility of
Being anything
Anyone
Anytime
Anywhere
And to fall at first into a world where anything goes.
Having loosened his attachment to his accidental identity, he then begins to carve a real one through methods known only to initiates. This, as a writer, will be the hard part, because I want to demystify everything and make such transformation a matter of necessity rather than something "special".
At first his impetus was going to be a traumatic past that informs his present decisions and behaviours, but now I think perhaps it will be because he has lost his identity due to an accident that he has to make a new one, while all those around him are trying to persuade him to revert back t his old one. That would be "healing", that would make him "better", but despite his accident he doesn't regard himself as sick.
His symtpoms include a lack of value for the greater social good, and an inability to look after himself in the normal ways. For this reason he will go on his own odyssey, having discovered that he is in fact a cynic. He will live on the streets for some time, i think, though it will be difficult not to be melodramatic or a premadona about this. Again, necessity rather than virtue.
The second part of the story will come after he discovers that rather than being anything, anyone, anywhere, anytime, he is in fact
Everything
Everywhere
Everytime
And in his homelessness he begins to feel the sorrows of the world. He feels everything, and returns to the hospital that originally treated him looking for help.
Then I dont know what happens.
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