Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The Thoughts Of The Mad

Condition you ear to interpret
A rhythmic romance.
Feel your way blindly through,
A myriad melody
Brush wisdom with raw heart.
A considered course.

Embrace it and fall into a pool
Shimmering with obsidian ripples
An aquatic paradise gingerly survives
Dark fiends deprived of melancholy.

Wish upon it . Dream upon it . Become it.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A boy drives in a car and as he does, his mind flitters all over the place. It recalls memories, moments, happiness and sadness. The boy retrospectively considers his world a large story gifted to him over his life's experience to date. Comparatively speaking he thinks ... experience richer than most his age, but then that could be arrogance.

He gets home.

In a moment of clarity he pours this experience onto a page, forty-eight pages to be exact. His mind screams release as the outpour liberates his head space and fills his page. He uses the words of his youth, naive and stripped of hindsight. He uses her words, a ghost's words.

Like it started it stops - sudden and without the hint of winding down. It is like a cancer - this unfinished work haunts him. However he loves it. This is a piece of writing he understands and connects with and it's journey has only just begun.

He needs the ghost to nod, to approve for both a sense of legitimacy and to ensure he's not wrong, that this endeavour isn't a lie.

He sits down, sick and nervous and very early. The sandwich is flavourless, the juice a lesser liquid forgotten in a moment. She is late. She is not coming. She has in all reasonable consideration changed her mind. It's colder and more deflating when the realisation hits.

But then she is there.

She is thin & gangly, taller than him with stray, unkept hair blonde-grey tossed this way and that. She looks as she once did, a spark unmistakably hers. Briefly it all disappears, the time lapsed since they last spoke. Then like a nervous jolt it propels itself to the present and into the stiff air that hangs between their initial glances at each other.

The corner of the cafe becomes their safety. Initially it's awkward, these two people should have closed their book a long time ago and ironically here it is in front of them, forty-eight pages and unfinished. For two hours he talks to the ghost, she is resilient in comparison to him, mere moments pass and his eyes already water and his words already choke. He goes through the familiar pattern of despising these emotions then embracing them. He cannot to this day work out if his constant love is empowering or debilitating to his character. At first their conversation blunders through strange territory, they speak of their lives now as if the other has comprehension.

They speak of another boy, they friend that died unfairly and suddenly. This is the first time they've done this. All the while they avoid the premise of their meeting. Their story, littered with ghosts, their ghostly selves, their ghostly art, their ghostly acquaintances. He broaches the subject and hands across his words scared she'll hate it because she has worked so hard to distance herself.

In that moment, it again becomes real and emotional and the girl from the past bursts into a place of relevance. Less of the ghost she has been for years now a solid, physical representation of his story.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

A Poem

And if your conned, lift your chin
Don't look for her, don't ask for him
And if your scorned, love your sin
Take the long and make it trim.

And if you run out of the room
Run back in and sing your tune
From a muddy ditch to a bloody womb
It only matters now or soon.

Disconnect from the past
Live in moments yet to pass
Have no worry if they last
Time for you to accept the farce'

Try to hard and try to little
You'll find a balance in the middle
In defence garner an acquittal
No one can solve the rubix riddle

It's all about the extra time
Never fall down and say goodbye
If you do, hide your crime
Hide it well and learn to lie.

FIN

Saturday, July 23, 2011

A shiny see-through lady.
A large clock.
Some delicious candy.
A girl.
A forgotten place.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Ghost Sonata

"I gaze into the sun
And surely now I see
The ever hidden One
Behind Infinity.
And, beaming forth, the sun
This lyric sang to me:
All men exist through pain-
ful work, as you can see.

Yet this alone his gain,
His immortality,
And blessed is the one
Who helps his enemy.
The seeds that anger sows
Return but ill, you'll see;
The greatest work man knows
Is love and charity.

- August Strindberg

Sunday, July 17, 2011

"The Story Of Worship"

Gender has a problem with serene men. Not outstanding to co-exist our story, Mr. Nonchalance lives to be alive. Expectantly though nobody will be at decree to the timely chicken that crossed the thoroughfare.

After much prudence he as a final point saw from side to side the lacewings and the comprehensible water. Subsequent to waking, he asked his nurse for an Apple Pie and she said bereavement to all the midgets.

Owing to the actuality that the esteemed doped up ladies lynching from kindling, that couldn't see the moment in time because the chronometer was in the way. He stood, to the colossal monster, which wreaked havoc and destruction on the diminutive rural community, further than the horizon.

"He" - We do not know, but to arbitrate this we accept as true it to be the perception of verve in the sagacity of infantile behaviour. Existing in an incapacitated existence leads one to misapprehend rabbits living in the unperturbed homeland of uproar.

So the midgets fell, one by one, as the nurse had summoned the giant. Mr. Nonchalance, immobile who lives to be alive, but "he" doesn't identify with rabbits. Where does this lead us? To the physical education building, of course! The jamboree took consign at midnight but the fortification is painted amethyst.

They all stood in a procession looking at the fortification, the nurse fully clad to dinner, Mr. Nonchalance as voluminous as eternally still, living to be alive and the colossal giant holding "he" in a leisurely manner. Nevertheless of course, the chicken had to materialize in one way or another, so he inverted his shaggy dog story and stayed to one elevation.

Who alleged the chicken jargon be auburn or exist a he at that?

It blew up!

So finishing the existence of them, each and every one - that is the fortification of course via quintessence the fortification pounced in flame and whispered "hello" to the inclement characters of worship. Merely one survived, but in a judiciousness of astrophysical protuberance in the hastiness of life and the proceedings obtainable. An egg was laid. So the implementation of the circle of life.

The egg was obscured in rubble and grime so as a substitute of hatching it grew, conjure that - a pullet laid an egg for the innovative verve of a bird but in it's place a chick-tree was untaught. Now, one to think of a hierarchy amid a beak and feathers instead of foliage would be most extraordinary bar, Rudolph and his acquaintances, that now measured him a homosexual for his endeavour with, Santa Claus acknowledged it.

Commit to memory folk's rabbits that "he" was anxious of subsequent little people dying. Their principal, The Easter Bunny.

Come again?

We see at this juncture how misapprehension and castle in the sky overdevelop to befall one madness and disarray of an anecdote.

We all may ask one analogous inquiry of what happened to the chick-tree beneath which Rudolph and his beneficiaries grazed and devoured? Not all the characters have left this chronicle for the reason we recognise the chick-tree lives on, so do the rabbits and the Easter Bunny in conjunction with Rudolph and all. Aeons pass and the reindeers putrefied to mature epoch but our hierarchy amid a beak impartial on the clammy loam tranquil shading the grazing vicinity.

Commencing this tree's kindling the fresh, passionate women swang en route for the blinded era, the cascade of lucid irrigate speckled it's ancestry so it could supplementarily expand to astonishing heights. The rabbits beneath the direct supremacy of the Easter Bunny roamed the terra firma once more plus the successors of Rudolph and all came to the consign of origin. Furthermore, flush as we be acquainted with it to subsist fallacious the indefinite but genial fortification was built once more to shield this tree. It's paint misrepresented to but cerulean.

fin