Thursday 25 December 2014

Thursday, 25th December 2014

Typeset programming
All within a code
A language that most dont know
And will never get to see
This alternate world
A mystery
Where formulas are attempting
To reach the code of god
The Fibonacci sequence
The spinning and the moving
To be creating most efficiently
The maximum it can hold
The one hand or the other
Poles apart they need each other
But are denied the chance to get together
Because one exists to push the other
To reject and attract
To repel and to be attracted
(And then possibly retracted)
Always chasing each other
All the one thing's and their other
Playing 'it' when it's played forever
An action and reaction

And not taking part is still an action
One day someone will tap you in
And you'll have to play eventually
Because you cant always avoid the game
A rejection breeds regret
An acceptance, an adventure
So pack your rucksack with books and food
You're not out of school yet

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Glimpses always of possibilities
To see things how they could be
Could always have been
Could be right now
But you see through filters
Often tainted and tinted blue
Shading you from a painful light
But to life and contrasts also

Can you change your sight?
Yes if you allow it to
If you do not close off
To be brave enough to let it all fill you
To not shed skins or cut out a root
To be a being expressing its being
A changing portrait with every stroke remaining

How brave that is to be
How strong it is, but unknowingly
To the living life before me
What a feat of absorption
Of cataclysm and transformation
To become adept at flowing with change
At happily rearranging to each new arrangement
To be human
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Not to edit expression
Not to hide parts away
Not to be ashamed
Not to be afraid
Not to convince yourself youre strong when you keep yourself protected
Not to trick yourself or lie
Not to tell yourself you're alright
When actually you live in fear of being truly rejected
Not to say you loved when youve never truly loved
Because love is vulnerable and delicate and fragile
And can crush you with no trouble at all
But you have padded yourself with layers on layers
And when given the choice you take the safest option
Restraint and restriction of so many movements
That could change you and give you back the life
That somehow vanished at some vague point in the past
My god, could this be possible?
To actually live?
To become a real person?
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The future shakes sleeplessly awake
And in the silent room statued actors stand waiting
Carving their noses from the stones

And when despair stampedes into whirlpool shadows hungry for fear
They stand unmoving
Transfixed
Eyes fixed
Seeing time in the swirls of plugholes





Thursday 4 December 2014

Thursday, 4th December 2014

Watching Begin Again and stopping to pause
Before the end comes I needed to write something
Anything to remind me of this time
Of dreams long made hopeless
To breathe a life back into something
To try to remember that thing
The thing I used to have but detached myself from to survive
But a quest for survival is only as important as survival alone
It doesn't have dreams or hopes
Only memories of those things
So death comes
Another death to bring forth a life through its remnants
I need to kill it
To kill the disappointment of past failure
To dream again
To dare step over the edge and fall
To cartwheel and flip and somersault
To enjoy what it is I have

And I hope I have enough time to change before I hit the ground

Sunday 5 October 2014

Sunday, 5th October 2014

The world underground the growth the cogs the moving up of placement to outside.
The man in the kitchen the 2 daughters the switching of roles the burning of the daughter the fighting of him
The drugs in bags the ecstasy and bleeding the deaths the multiverses the grieving family the candy bars in piles on top of the cabinet the resisting of the drug
The heroin needle inserted the falling asleep the close call to an early grave the too much for the first time
The lust and desire the sharing of each other the world being flamed the devouring of the bodies
The blocked up ceilings of basements the closed elevator shaft the jumping out of an unstable metal coffin the falling of a lover to death the knowing that I killed her
The friend on the telephone the call that I dared to make the answer to all my fears realised the emptyness of the embraces the lies documented in love and photos the absence of me the life I didnt know she led
The house that we holed ourself up in the experiments we conducted the lives and drugs we used the living in multiple times
The family losing a daughter the caring of an accomplice boyfriend the dancing in the world where she is still alive
The 2nd death by bleeding the stomach turning red the rupture scream and fainting not that way to live either
The segment on the tv show the girl dances out of a rising elevator the guy who replaces the girl aiming to humiliate himself just to be on tv
The presenters ever present cameras the advice from the speaker the aim for more than a flash in the pan the purpose of a masterpiece the keeping the lid upon it
The dogs running out in the water the refusal to help him out
The evil inside that mans heart who I could only attempt to fight when I faced him fearlessly
The staring into dreams the waking up in gasps the witnessing of others who I may have been
The crying for the eternal lover who died next to me more than once who I see over and over and who I cant rush towards
The paying of a past debt the torture that I inflicted piled upon me one by one by my own imagination
The hero that I wish to be the fire that I dont want to turn from the facing of the terrifying enemy
The joys I want to help create the graciousness of the dead reborn who I get to meet again

Saturday 6 September 2014

Saturday, 6th September 2014

Came across a guitar song on my phone from a few years ago which I couldn't remember at all so I relearnt it and put on a sweatband and filmed it


Saturday 23 August 2014

Saturday, 23rd August 2014

Spinning tales while heads turn their cheeks
One followed closely by the other
Quick flashes of looking at each other

From behind the curtain of linearity

Tuesday 12 August 2014

Tuesday,  12th August 2014

Venetian blinds
Telling time
Lines on my wall
Sun rise to fall
Silent ticking
Words of light
Disappear and appear
Over and over

Friday 11 July 2014

Friday, 11th July 2014

In my childhood home we had two backdoor's. The first was double or triple glazed frosted glass, then there was a short corridor for shoes and the water boiler, then there was a second door, cross crossed wood with small glass panes. That second door made me feel so safe when it was locked, I figured any intruders if they managed to get through the first locked door (or god forbid a door left unlocked) then the second would put them off. Too much effort really. And was there anything inside really worth stealing?

I woke from a dream where I wad walking back to my house when an aggressive fox crossed my path and started to circle me, I managed to keep it back and made it to the first backdoor and lock it just in time when monsters began to appear at the window (including Freddie Kruger). I was scared but still felt quite safe, I had made it inside and though threatening, I had the feeling that the door would hold.

The second door didn't appear in my dream.

Thursday 26 June 2014

Thursday, 26th June 2014

Lost a silence to collapsing doubt
Grew and died and was dried by wishes
A light relief of a veinless leaf
Empty contentment
Cup and cradle silent calling of hands
Gaps to shiver in
Stare at shoulders in rooms
With apostrophes over each arm
Chattering greedily over carpets
Knotted stories
Tall orders and dreams prevented by ghosts
Breath in close proximity
Empty to fill
Chases away the waiting mind




Saturday 21 June 2014

Saturday, 21st June 2014

Trying out an experiment  and getting friends to send me 10 random words which I then write something from:

Clean diapers on the passenger seat
A sleep deprived mommy falls asleep at the wheel 
With babies and a future of graduation poses
Questions and the rehabilitations of former prisoners
From the feral world bring
Pails of flowers mixed with basil leaves
A cornucopia of bliss mixed with cysts and eels ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An Essay on Peter Pan:

A pervert with one sock
The other left in the aqueduct
A double spaced question mark
Moist and turning gassy
The heat turns us all outrageous
Even the youngest
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A bloated hobo holds an orchid
Whiskey breathing alchohol filament
Eating vittles
No transfats allowed
Washing by hydrant only
His tombstone a name in spray paint
A childhood memory:
His marble when it would tap another

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What sleeping eyes can't see lies dormant
Upon the carpet until they sweep 
Tiredly they rise with the birds and roses
Eager for the song, the chase and the hearing
That an ear can still feel through a hanging earring
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Drown in haplessness if you wish but it can lie in no lake and no leaf holds ache occasionally it will shiver
 
Can space hold a stone or chocolate?

Stars lie in space old with all truth told and one holds the other
What is the biggest form of disestablishmentarianism the universe can offer?
Isn't every thought held by another?
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Salt thrown over the shoulder
Made into an act of luck
Left upon the wounds that have been clawed

The paw that drew blood
Retreats
Now the spots are dried and
Joined up in lines
You see them on a screen

Nothing yet

But it soon becomes a bike to ride
A key to open doors
A bottle of milk which could have also been cheese
You were a seed but now you're with the trees
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Every kitchen holds an adventure
If in uniform, a chair, flogging a dead horse
An unofficial seller touts tautology
What would it be like to see words dyslexic-
Ally in a helicopter
If there is a side there is a blame
Don't lament a (re)purpose
A dead end full up of hearses
Putrid states and regrowth the same
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Skip a doubt that might plant itself
Deep inside a bliss can bow down
Or tie a bow tie on
A day with all in
dis-
Array your mind
All is green and kind 
and growing
Winds will blow your kites
As high as you wish them to go

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Lying in curved yellow waves it is easy to forget
To think of blue as just one dot of three when
Television was often joined by early mornings and pajamas
Before the book and telephone
It was your friend
But not the beginning
Oxygen helped bring you into being
And you never stopped jumping
Brring-brrring
The ringing never stops
But you can't pick up or hang up
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Dig the fallow land in
Waiting for the alarm to wake us
Plants grow and write the plots
That are potted and stand
By a window
Clamber in life's carnival
On a throne Merovingian in style
With bones and teeth and hair worn long
And skin covered with a balm
Allowing us to exist
With other aliens that also lie
Who lay and who are laid

Upon this earth I say hello

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Nothing of value can be found within a fortune
Without an intrinsic valve
Our tyres become flat
And drown
Clambouring against a wall
We build and rebuild with florid faces
Only one trouser inflated and tied
Knotted with billowy words that our ancestors yelped
With  a primitive breath
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Ten fingers
Ten toes if you're lucky
But one taken off ten is nine
And that one would be mine
Because I am William Nein
And Nein becomes any number
Like No.
Like ten is a number.
No.
Numb digits are kept warm within ten(ts)
A ten(th) of a hundred is ten
So don't be ten(tative)
Rise up and don't be bea(ten)
Ligh(ten) yourself of any number my friend
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Glass shift speed register sixteen fabric tape glide loud floating

Omniscient pumpernickel magma haughty paradoxical mittens mumbles glitch penultimate elbows


Thursday 19 June 2014

Friday, 20th June 2014

Memory tanks filled up banks
Water sank below
Exhausted blinks from tired eyes
Rubber boots walking little lives
A construction smile
A whistling wolf
Falls upon a hooded ear
No longer here
A view everywhere
Perhaps the sun is over

Over trees and under the sheets
They made themselves
And wrapped up in
A surprise is heard 
The harness cracks
They move the herd
An autumn will 
A memory

Of someone asleep
In a light illuminates
A mistake 
A snake
In sheep's clothing

No eyes in mines
Where happiness winds
Blowing kisses in the dark
Blustering
Dust on sandcastles 
No water runs here
Tapping on
Every window holds a widow 
Black and murdering a headless husband
Horses hooving hoovering housewife
Cleaning
Panes looking out onto plains
Planes falling growing pains

Mistaken less must take less
Less taken missed less
On learning
Running
Trains on stockings
Ladders climbing tights
Snakes rising

A tin
Drum upon
A wall seems
Louder when
The door is closed
Trembling hands 
Place storms
On the sheets

Walls with oars on
Orsen welles
War of the world's
Hg wells
Well well well
Oars in wells
All's well that ends
Well?
All wars end 

Wednesday 4 June 2014

Wednesday.4th June 2014

Pockets of realities
In one I was yours
In one I was his
And his with him
In one with her
And him her his
I jump
Into them all
Every one
The ones we think
May have happened
Already have
Somewhere

Friday 30 May 2014

Friday, 30th May 2014

Here's a newly finished song by my friend and ex bandmate Glen Strachan which I sing on

Sunday 18 May 2014

Monday, 19th May 2014

Fewer fish thought less than the thoughtless fish thought. 'Less fish have thought' the fish thought but fewer fish fought the fish on this thought than you would have thought. Less thought and fewer thoughts the thoughtless fish thought than the fish that thought, less the fish that thought fewer thoughts than the thoughtless fish thought. Conclusion: think less about fish

Wednesday 23 April 2014

Wednesday, 23rd April 2014

When love turns to hurt it's best to break the cycle
One is hurt and hurts the other
It's not that the love has gone but its been misdirected down a wrong path
And sometimes it's better to sleep on the side of the road and await the inevitable light
Instead of fumbling around trying to find your way when you can't see where you are
Or what is in front of you, or underfoot

Sometimes you walk too far
And when you awake though you may now see where you are
But they have long since gone

Still it is better to sleep and hope they find your sorrys someday than to walk in the darkness
Not knowing what you could be treading upon in your blindness

Monday 21 April 2014

Monday, 21st April 2014

No more battles
Ships passing in the night
Kissing each others surfaces

Nelson and Napoleon wave
No eyes lost, no love lost
Commanding peace

------------------------------------------------

Burn the dried grass
Of last seasons growth
Don't take the dead into the living
Old disappointments
And resentments held
Poison the bodies attempting to love

------------------------------------------------

The void is inside you
A universe waiting to explode
Fill it with love

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It's true, the world is an illusion
Nobody I see really exists
All I see is myself and my perceptions of things
Attention can alter the consciousness in matter 
But it's all subjective
And what I see is no more real than what anyone else sees

Wednesday 2 April 2014

Wednesday, 2nd April 2014

Death to wishes, death to desire, every moment an attempt to die
Often attracting the things we purposefully try to avoid, maybe repulsion is not the opposite of attraction but just a part of the same circle
And so we don't repel, we don't pull,
It's all energy that you feed into the equation and the mathematician sits there at their desk puzzling over the problem until his hair turns grey and his brain is a looped circuit of electricity

Just as many animals may run away as you approach
(All I want to do is pet them, all I want to do is love them)
They may also come to you if you let them do so in their own time
And if you allow them to come and go as they please
To be beside you as you walk along in the sunshine smiling
Always being an open source of love

Well why then would they ever desert you?

In those moments where I succeed in letting all my desires go I see just how much more than enough I already have
Then I forget again
Then I remember again

Friday 28 March 2014

Friday, 28th March 2014

When Meatloaf stated that he would do anything for love, but not that, we never really find out what that was.
Tonight I've been wondering if it was sacrifice himself, that he would drive for hours through bad weather, that he would buy expensive things or keep the promises made earlier that week, but all of that only if it was in an exchange situation. Ill give you this if you give me that.
Tonight I've been thinking I don't really know anything, that I will most likely never know the way others feel and how much my mind twists things negatively, or how insightful and right it might be.
Tonight Ive thought that the only thing I can really do is look at how I feel and realise that its irrelevant whether or not its reciprocated or whether its foolish and naive and all those things we are taught which only make us more full of pride which drags us down to the depths of the ocean which drowns us in confusion and self caused pain.
I have to let pride go, I have to let ego go, I have to give all sense of self respect an opportunity to crash and burn in a naive wish. Because really I don't have a choice, any appearance of choice is just an illusion.
A fear of appearing stupid.
But I am stupid
Anger and jealousy is just pride and fear battling the simple fact that I am vulnerable and scared.
So I will look this fear in the eye and willingly allow it to sacrifice me if wants to.
I am not afraid
Sacrifice to love
Surrender and fall
Let yourself love as stupidly as your heart wants to

And when I did this my heart felt lighter and began to smile again

Wednesday 26 March 2014

Wednesday, 26th March 2014

The dawn on the hill tramples over the grown darkness
And each little death is the pathway to the next
Time around, take what you can from your previous life
Filled in a suitcase and shrunk down into a ventricle
A wonderland inside us all

Monday 17 March 2014

Monday, 17th March 2014

In the next 10 seconds

a girl's lace comes untied as she's riding her bicycle
a coin is thrown into a homeless persons hat
he inserts a key into a locked door
a lawn mower is left running
a young girl tries on her mothers coat for the first time
his eyes close as he falls asleep at the wheel
a firework explodes at a family bonfire
they bump into each other but neither look up
a fridge starts buzzing in an empty kitchen
he takes a photo of her as she looks away
a boy raises his hand in class to go to the bathroom
water hits the rocks on a busy beach
a sofa bed is pulled out 

Friday 7 March 2014

Friday, 7th March 2014

"I fell through the floor and it shattered like loose bricks, I started reciting poetry and felt as though I had lived a life as a poet; I felt the guillotene on the back of my neck and Sylvia Plath's mind as she placed it in the oven; I experienced the bullet going through Kurt Cobain's brain as he pulled the trigger; my housemate was calling his mafia friend and when he arrived they started hacking at my body with a machete as I lay on the floor consciously being chopped apart bit by bit; the paramedics came and I was waving my hands as if conducting music and life"

"ah man, I just listen to Deerhoof"

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22nd June 2012

Alien-headed beauty. Male and female form. I could feel the earth moving and flying through space at such high speeds. spinning and revolving, getting pulled by different plantes and galaxies, constantly in motion. our eyes decieve us, we are not stationary beings, but moving at incredible speeds through space. it is by our senses, our touch, our sight that gives these things the look of staticity, of being unmoving, but in reality we are moving at such high speeds that we don’t even know it. this is the formation of the perfect balance or fibonacci idea of expansion. if it were chaos and violent to the extreme we would be torn apart at every moment, but as it is the motion of the entire universe moving at the same rate with itself and expanding ever larger is like a dance of extreme beauty. if it so delicate that you cannot even notice the pulls and pushes anymore. The galaxies and planets are in such a beautiful synchronicity that your eye is completely unaware of the constant movements. when you feel the earth move, and are given that awareness of travelling through space, images bend as the whole of space around you is time and space bending and growing, constantly being shrunk and expanded, fitting through small holes and filling up large vacuums, constantly. you see the actual fabric of perception bend in on itself. mirror dances.

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I saw her pass my door, she said hello in her broken german accent. I fell back on my bed as being in love hit me.
She was one from a past life, we still never found out how but she fell in love with me when I played 'Redemption Song' by Bob Marley.
I don't feel that the story will ever go anywhere else but for a while she was my wife, I knocked on her door and she had our baby in a buggy.
It was a different time, a different universe, but I still knew her door.

Monday 3 March 2014

Monday, 3rd March 2014

Taken from words put through a cut up machine and then filtered out


Knocking the tree alive behind this soft circulation
The mouth branch shapes secrets harder and flickers against eyes
Bombed waves are heaven's scatter
Kiss this edging, I'm her coat now
In the empty tense I march small fingers between steps of fragility
Wailing white, finding bones, teeth, numerals and knees
The frail thinking escaped a void that cannot close
Some skin from his gold leaves chatter a flying kiss
And when you're shaking fingernails your elbows are unsure 
Watching shadows in trapped unhappy dancing
----------------------------------------------------------------
Ruin that blade,the regret, that deathbed
Powder blue hands broken
Eyes spit roaring your dawn
Underneath the swimming river
Melting heaven goodbye, from nothing you made this
Everyone you know
Broken minute tornados kissing light
Pencilling the heart into the wind
Farewell drowned friends, everyone burns
Our folding hands keep your warm heaven from falling

Sunday 2 February 2014

Sunday, 2nd February 2014

Taken from a time out of mind, secrets lying there undisturbed, if prodded react aggresively to the perpetrator. How can one help but seek a truth? Nonsense they say, I speak the word of the Lord, but many men have lied since and graves are filled with known unknowns.
History and hospitality entwine at the home, no one knows themselves, let alone another who doesn't know themselves either.
Essays by Francis Bacon, little old Frankie Boy Douglas, Jon Boy from the Waltons. New Years eve in 1998/99, watching Titanic for the first time. Spice Girls rings and posters. White jeans. Who are these people? 16 years on and only skin cells change, reinforcing the idea of a soul or spirit, one that magnetises atoms to surround itself, keeping itself together for as long as it can stand. But a candle that burns twice or thrice as bright leaves only the memory of its brightness.
I am dim. A din in a peaceful retreat. Ommm, go the men in their white robes and flannel shirts. "Does it hurt?" says one to another. Hurting is subjective and so is choice.
Oh, to cut this piece from my skull, the part that cares too dearly. Too much of anything is poison and everyone comes to know this after a while. So to dilute, to dissipate, is it a choice? Can we lessen the effect by willing it to be so? Is solitary confinement the answer? Who do we know? They know not us, not me, for I can't even begin to understand myself or you.
Time goes by, by varying degrees. One day you are fast, the next slow, and we circle each other like galaxies never quite touching and never quite seeing each other fully.
My mother was one of seven. Only one has passed, the second. I like to believe he is visiting my father in Australia where he has been stationed these past 8 years. He digs for gold you see, opals long forgotten and oil now just a black cloud on the landscapes. Deserted in the sand his hands calloused with the grains. Saltwater sweats from his limbs and I look at water water everywhere but there's never a drop to drink.
Just think, last year so many people hadn't met yet, and in another year yet more will meet. All these grains mixing and meddling and time only ever goes faster each day you look at it.
I rarely ever see my mother. Maybe she also visits Australia often, I wouldn't know, and curtains close on another show where not much was really learnt in the lecture.
A bow.
A bow tie.
Frown you clown, don't smile at the children full of joy in the front row. They smile because they don't know, and you are there to pretend, to extend the period of ignorance.
Where was my clown, where did they go? I would've said 'he' but there are 'she' clowns too y'know.
So take a bow. We put on a good show.

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Go go gadget legs, long enough to step from one planet to the next
Hurdle and leap over the 3rd and 4th, take me to the distant edges of the Earth's orbit
Spinning, toppling over the edges, geometric shapes are the language of our travels through space
Crop circles represent this, the various pullings of magnetic fields from planets and solar systems distant
Each snowflake is unique they say, they look amazing up close you should go see
Do I look just as beautiful up close? Are you looking close enough? Maybe you just see the flake falling and landing on your nose, melting before you can really appreciate its magnificence.
I think I see yours. The special lines and shapes within yourself, the individual markings that make you so different from the rest.
The rest are different also of course, but some shapes fit with other shapes, or are so different that they make the first see things they'd never seen before.
But we all have our preferences and they can't always be altered by will.
Maybe my shape is displeasing to your eye, maybe the language is too foreign to fully comprehend
Either way we fall and disappear when the time comes

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Trucks stop upon the trucks top, careful not to fall over the edge, into the pit. Stop before you topple, after too many tipples the reaction times stutter and falter at the seams. Streams and dreams the inbetweens of careens and weens the blue bottled teems of teens in the past with hair cuts ducked and bobbed, boned and skull shown.
Blow me down says the cartooned man, his daughters face on a carton made of cows in a factory with matchsticks for company and wedding cakes tiered for future years and oncoming tears. Pears and truces, through says Dante his eyes in a knowing slant, picture this a puzzle of thistles and thorns is what it means to be born, torn from the scroll and beaten with the pulp made by mother tree the apples and me. Dire strait a straight dive into the circus cup of holy water being beamed into scripture by lasers and the lazier gods of forethought.
All for what? For naught, a cross, an empty map with gridlocked traffic, eyes coming out of windows, glass reflecting their own shadows, the sun bursting colours upon out eyeballs.
Information computed and disputed round and round a circle we circumnavigate until we think we see the loose link, the notch in the curve to rest our weary bones
Feet tread discreetly and disquiet the crowd from the drudgeries of following the steps in front, laid out and bare without a thought that was laid there before in a time we can no longer remember. A symbol comes crashing and we wake to a thrashing, the sticks upon our skin, turning us all into thin beings all brain and no feeling, but we're wrong, there's always so much more and we only think we know it all but are unwilling to give up the illusion of comfortable arrogance towards the entranced state that we find ourselves in.
Come brother, come sister, our family is still overflowing with mistakes another heart that breaks is only our own heart forgetting its true state.


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Growing thin the blasting trembling fingers triggering duped persons into shows of affection and affectation
Waving wagging implicit prodding revealing more in its own speaking than in the acted listening
Making eyes at me, imagine that for a moment:
Making-eyes-at-me
How would one go about that? A swig of alcohol and jelly spheres the electric signals getting sent as words and being read in the front of the class, unable to speak or recite the poem you so ardently learnt for evenings previous
A fail grade, upturned charade the carousel spins and princesses fall in love with knights, a friend, a fiend, a thief in the night, stealing our beautiful wives that never seemed to fight
Fly fly on away, or stay, I'll pray if you'd like the words I say but so many things accounted and printed I can't pretend I'm not like him, the dubious mind warring with itself to just become a formed reason
Concealer worn a makeup inked skinlike

Tuesday 28 January 2014

Sunday 19 January 2014

Sunday, 19th January 2014

Taken from about a month ago:

If humans are a larger equivalent of sperm, where is it we're trying to get to? And what is the egg we are trying to fertilise, beginning a chain reaction of growth? Like the lone sperm succeeds in bringing us into this world there must be a similar aim for higher worlds. I want to be a successful spermhuman.
The fathers half reaches the mothers half and the egg grows. The egg is the universe, we grow inside our mother and our father is outside, one day we will be born and walk among them and forget again that we were once growing to be born. Through the levels we go

Friday 17 January 2014

Friday, 17th January 2014

I tried jumping worlds, and when I fell it hurt

Wednesday 15 January 2014

Wednesday, 15th January 2014

Funny how past relationships can affect you in ways you forget about until situations arise that remind you. Much like childhood and the ways you were brought up by your parents, attitudes and assumptions and feelings that became a part of your make up and whether these are concrete or malleable in reality doesn't alter the fact that they are a part of you and that they are not as easy to change as you would hope. I think back ten years and notice what fears I had then that disappeared over time and by having experiences that taught me they weren't to fear, and I also notice the fears I didn't have back then but that which were suddenly put in me by an experience or two. The fears can then often lie dormant, you believing that you have adjusted and gotten over them when in reality it could be that you just altered your lifestyle to fit these fears, whether by avoiding certain situations completely or reacting/rebelling against them. They can lie dormant for a long time until you really DO forget about them, but eventually one day a situation appears which manages to jump all the hurdles and squeeze under the fences, and this just changes your world completely. Everything you felt that was impossible no longer seems so far fetched, and those dreams you had of beauty and sweetness are suddenly real. Then at some point those fears you forgot about reintroduce themselves to you and the more you fight them and try to rid yourself of them the more they shout to be heard, and that's where I found myself recently, fighting myself with hopes and fears until I just had to stop. I lie in the dark. Relaxed and melancholic and peaceful. I write and it feels good. I'm allowing things to overtake me and run through me knowing that they want to be heard and so will listen to them with respect. Fears are not truths, they were not always there and will once again cease to affect me once I accept repetition of experience is not a necessity. I am being myself and allowing myself to be.