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The show’s story begins, with an intricate convoluted weaving arc, a painting of foreboding darkness, hiding an enigmatic menace, a spectral foe looming without light. We watch through laced fingers as the spools revolve, revealing yet another chilling strand, to lead us into cloudy esoteric notions.
Though eventually the screenwriter discards their poetic brush, to paint in the reality of plain string, to tie the ends, to reveal that yet again, this demonic wraith, is just the plain card of human souls bickering.

_____

 

The sun tickled
the Earth’s nightie
with her hot tongue.
We stole a glimpse
a quiver rippled
on the horizon.
Up in the north,
they witnessed
skies orgasm.

_____

Yoga. Sometimes I feel like a scientist, trying to reprogram my body into some vagrant idea I thought would help, rewriting over my motherboard of innate wisdom. What if I have shifted all my automation into my conscious file! What if I have to walk consciously, what if I have to think to breathe forever!? So I stop typing into my soul and read, stop telling my limbs and listen.

_____

Sipping at a gentrified cafe
I call what’s broken a patina
there is decadence for an hour
small people, in expensive cars.

_____

Eye contact.
Paying attention
to someone talking
freaks them out
They are not
used to it.

Give Blood

And the war is on! The paranoid versus the gullible. It will be an ugly and confusing war, where arguments are peculiar and multiple. We will watch the truth dance unseen by either side, fact will moon, yet not attract an eye. For each argument will branch from personal fiction grown from hearsay, rumour and itches from over there. Who will prevail? It won’t be sense or time. It will be those who fester to scrape gold in shadows.

_____

 

I’ll come
and sit a spell
to sip a smell
in the old cafe
watch the dew
drip down
the slate
evaporate
in a haze
misting
the blue.

_____

 

At first I thought that science would be the religion that killed us. But it turned out to be a new offshoot of that pompous ignition, a social news-media-religion. It took a swifter and stronger hold than Jesus ever dreamed of. It holds an immense yet compliant flock, who will happily loll in the fog, having mock fear poured upon them, to keep them in their comfortable stupor. For all the flock’s power is in self-sabotage, where the truths are twisted from dystopian stories, every squeal of the heretic is mocked by the flock. In this choking plastic religion, hope is blasphemous.

_____

 

Bawling on a corner
call imaginary woes
gathering a following
you know how it goes
vaporous mistruths
congeal in a smear
read as an axiom
robotised a fear.

_____

 

My feet are in the stream, sometimes the water is cold, sometimes warm, sometimes the stream is a gentle trickle around my ankles, other times the water is high and boisterous, pushing me down stream, making it difficult to stay upright. But always I am in the stream, feeling the flows of every reactions reaction. So I take some chestnut wings to fly just a little, for a short while, so I can watch the stream without feeling it.

_____

 

There is
a paucity
of whimsy
in this brume
of worry
We long for
the powder
and lace
in yarn
Escaping
that
grating
pumice
of reality.

Distillations

In countless years time, people of the future will dive into the layers of the Earth, to discover how we lived back here in now. They will find the Boomer layer easily, the laser drill bogging down in the indestructible plastic layer of forever filth. Above this they will see the era of the Millennial’s paper cups, barely any different. Generation Z’s compostable cars, just beneath the entirely recyclable generation Alpha. No one will know Generation Alpha ever existed.

_____

 

Germinate
war in our minds,
to sprout war in reality
gaslighting ourselves,
to turn possibility
into misery.

_____

 

Silence is
the science
of modesty.

_____

 

I am not important, have little potential and have little time.
But I will look to the flowers with the same joy as the gifted.

_____

 

To be better than is to be other than and other is inevitable,
in practice I shall dissolve entirely.

_____

 

Down to the depths
they send their voice,
yet this is not where
Waits’ voice resides,
listen to the jackdaw,
listen to the pepper grinder,
listen to the dry white whine.

_____

 

One left
and the
rest arrived
like magic,
glittering jewels
appearing on
the conjurer’s cloth.
They looked
like permanence
and fragility.
By morning
they were all
swallowed up
in the sky’s
blue sea.

Gil Scott-Heron

I am in the car, listening to Gil Scott-Heron. For a moment I am a young black revolutionary in the sixties, just for a moment. Odd escapism into a less privileged place, perhaps like playing war in the comfort of pyjamas. A young black man listens to Scott’s lyrics and says ‘Oh, fuck yeah,’ while in my whiteness I say ‘Oh fuck, yeah.’

 

_____

Lint

She lit the match and up he went, burning an evil shade of grey. In the morning he awoke and walked the path to work, senselessly he ploughed through it and them. In every deed he became harder, losing all the moisture of the heart. He thought he was growing incendiary, yet he emerged combustable.

 

_____

Cellophane

Out of the door, trees grow in cellophane, the grass too, pristine remote in plastic wrap. I see people walk in cellophane mumbling to deaf passers by. The sun is in cellophane, wrapped neatly upon a sealed up sky. Cellophane cars roll on cellophane roads, following the cellophane signs. I look through a lens of cellophane at the cellophane world. I wish that mess would all spill out, split the seal to see what’s real, but also I do not.

 

_____

Strange dream

As I rested upon the pillow I rose above the clouds, falling entirely asleep. I emerged in the office of the tannery, we had been having some issues with our supplier, he is not taking proper care of his cows, the hides arrive shredded, all profit and quality burned away in wire nick scar tissue. The rain is falling hard, reflecting my mood, perhaps this mood could be as revitalising as the rain, I just see rain as my now weighs so much more than fey hope. How bloodied and ugly the skins look, they start bleeding, it pools on the floor, rivers rush out of the door, washed clear in the rain.

 

_____

Breaking algo rythmn   

If you like the things you like and follow the things you follow, delete the things you dislike, watch all you like and hear all you like, a pattern emerges. Be sure to be uninterested in your favourites, dislike all that you like and like what you hate, to gain invisibility.

 

_____

Flag

Just stick the flag in the lie,
the saps will still salute it.

 

Buy the book! Support the artist! 

Sweep The Ashes

Whatever the meditating monk might tell of our benevolent heart, we are also violently territorial apes, and will always rip each-other to pieces over the most childish thoughts, numb our guilt and empathy with lies about monstrous enemies and righteous motive. One child said to another ‘..Not touching you, not touching you..’ in provocation within their perceived personal space, lighting the match of anger. Now we wait for the flames, then the ash. Again.

_____

 

I am
doing nothing
but busying
myself in
repair.

_____

 

Here is something not very interesting that occurred the other day. I was following a small white van down to Carmarthen. From time to time a white plume of mist would emerge from it. In bygone times I would think the car was overheating, shedding coolant in sweet antifreeze vapour. But this is now, and now is a time of the vape, the fruity haze from an electric kazoo. Again the vapour from the van emerged, I spied the window, where surely a vaper was vaping, but the window was closed, the vapour emerging seemingly from the engine, I doubled back on time and the van has a sudden urgency, to get home before she dies.

_____

 

At the bottle-bank
I have a constant
tension in my heart,
for I fear I am going to
drop my car keys
into that dark abyss.

_____

 

..and in my Nan’s house it smelled of dust and tea. The brass nicknacks shone on the mantle. I watched the dust sparkles glow in the youthful light as the kettle boiled. The tea chattered on the the tray as Nan carried it in. I recall the smell of the opening of the biscuit tin, custard creams and chocolate digestives. Nan handed me the tea and began her chant, pumping her fist, ‘In one in one in one..’ She chanted, and we’d down another tea. and slam the empty china cup inverted upon the table.

_____

 

The sun is out
I can hear the
chainsaws singing,
they sing loudly,
their song is
unhindered
by their distance.
Their song is jaunty,
carefree.
In the refrain,
I can hear
the branches
hymn of
forgiveness.

_____

 

When asked about electric cars, folks immediately believe they are intercontinental explorers, they proclaim they need a car that will take them to another town, another country without stopping. They completely forget that they actually only commute ten miles to work and back.

_____

 

The torpid
zombies
mass to a
trending
obscenity.

Flakey

The element of air, the most detached of the elements. Un-affixed and careless. She might warm the soul in one moment and chill you the next, feed a fire, then blow it out, she could calm the ocean then drown us in indifference. Drifting on to the next place, while innocently smiling, leaving the pieces of her callous chaos behind her.

_____

The good child misbehaved, in hurried slur we bawled the bad child’s name.
Instantly insulting them both. All that hard won authority, dissolves away.

_____

Describing a hundred souls in five hundred pages and have them do the simplest things. Recall the spirits, dance them together. We know the reaction to every mortal influence, all provocation and pathways. There is a story that writes it’s self.

_____

We are so far
down this road,
enlightenment
we called regret.

_____

The foil ship creased in the breeze, this gravity and this air too thick for such delicacy. The ship flopped about in the branches, ripping on the thorns, such a distressing landing. The hull compromised the pilots must taste this alien air in their lungs. The tiny chests heave, trying to force Earth’s syrup into them, but they find nothing they can use. Desperately they scramble for equipment that seemed within reach until breath’s desertion. Just as clumsily as the terrestrial, tripping and stumbling for life. Till they manage to take the soothing wispy air from their tanks. Recovering for a moment, knowing they have so little time to reflect on this dream of salvation.

_____

As ugly as this time might seem,
these will soon be the good old days.

_____

From the ashes beyond
The ignition looks like
Inevitability.

_____

The violence and the fire,
the death and the carnage.
War is heaven for the reporter,
it is all they ever dreamed of.