No one is an Island

Yet everyone feels like one
Some of the time

The Rain Does Change; Me

The rapid needle of rain.

A steady hammering shrink.  

Rain that falls like elegant tear trails.

Yes the head back abandon of rain.  

rain on rain ,

 Wet drip and spit.

Darting rushing streams chasing new paths.

Unclaimed aqua whipped in cycles,

cartwheeling fluid flurries, freshness cascades.

Yes, that happy patter of care free fall.

drenched on steam and scent of dust.

The stars in puddles ripple, they colour pulse and shimmer for the rain.

invisible fine silk clings to my skin,

A blanket of humid vapour summons sweat,

I am a swimmer in dew,

I rush to the source.

Writhing arteries of water.

Forever.

Wake up

I woke up early today and got the coffee on for our guest.

She was already up, rummaging ready, for her waiting train.

I began to fantasise over, a packed and full day.

The day was a whickered hamper laden with food.

I was ticking off jobs imaginary.

And then I flirted with the idea of bed.

Back to it, reading.

I had merged luxurious with virtuous.

Or so I told myself, slumping

Into a bright phased, fitful glaze.

That was my first mistake,

My past ripeness rotting in its wake.

So I finally wrenched myself from paralysis,

No more moved by that sense of importance.

No longer noble aspiration whirred in my mind,

That sludge of neurons, chemical slobs

Fat with comfort.

Crammed with stimulation

Diluted by passivity

Wade through this negativity. 

No idea which foot to put first, I put both in

A hot bath.

Which was my second mistake.

My skin swollen like the rest of me.

Wealthy means to cook oneself in excess time and thought.

Privileged! Let’s take our vital heat and turn it up,

In the name of comfort.

Food, Clothing, Shelter.

Why do we wither and toil to get hotter.

Even hotter.

The rich think they gotta. 

I know better

But that don’t stop me stewing my balls,

And going all light headed.

A walk will set me straight,

Out the door I treaded.

Slouching from one worry to the next

Thinking, perhaps I will make myself ill like this.

Which worried me too.

I’m a wind chime.

I wait for wind in the darkness.

I shiver for a gust.

I tremble at the prospect of my own noise

I strain my ears for that authentic sound.

Where is my natural clatter,

blowing in another wind.

But I was in no place for rhythm

Mind settling on another anxious thought.

Do I drink enough water?

Feeling thirsty.

Coffee aching those chemical squatters into agitated hotness.

Something is gunna give.

This day is where I want to live.

I started noticing mushrooms,

More mushrooms.

Catholic in colour, shouting out little secrets.

Jumping abruptly out of every dirt ground and wood stump.

It was my joy to bump about looking for lunch and my salvation.

I inspected each green hump

With a growing throat full of lump.

A knowing sense of my inadequacy.

I do not trust myself.

I clutched the parasol too tight.

Full of moisture it oozed out its poisoned taunt.

And I badly wanted to taste its freedom between my jaws.

I carried it like a plate and paused to watch the pig.

The lucky pig.

Fending off bracken and clumsy thought.

Roaming about the acorns kicking up dust among the trees,

 thinking of her sisters,

packed pink in a slaughter house living like pigs.

I wondered if she would tell with the same certainty I had conjured,

that the mushroom was an edible gift.

It’s not the first time I have thrown my food to the pigs.

She smelled my doubt and sneered.

She’d sooner be a sausage than a convenient excuse.

I had lied to myself and she knew it.

My mood dulled for a moment.

That desire to take responsibility for my own life,

Flickering again.

My life in shadow.

But, as it often does the sun gathered and bustled behind the heavy gloom.

Thank God.

I will trust who I am, that is light enough

 for now.

I play thoughts like distractions and my toys don’t gather dust.

I never put them down for anything to settle.

Shall I get serious, that is

Is it time to trust?

Your money or you life!

You can have my toys, I reply

Into the wood and down the snicket I run.

There, comforted by the sound of my own panting

All hungry breath, wand wet warm, sweat.

I notice some sturdy logs cut down the middle.

Chestnut.

All that flesh got me.

The smell it got me too.

I would make a bookshelf,

And be useful.

I felt useful already and feelings have to be used.

So I staggered back, weighed down by wood and wonder.

Waiting for no one.

Worried only for a moment, cautious of dragging a splinter,

through my neck.

I’m no quivering wreck.

I am a maker.

I am a taker.

All I have I give to you.

Bustled back, right down I sat

To write this _ instead

Who will grade my toys

Who is there to make an unmade bookshelf made.

Managed.

See it through, Tom

Make it true, tom

Dissolving walks of ecstasy

What remains is a voice that was always there.

A nothing that needs not

a filling or stilted explanation.  

Less thinking, mind sinking into a wider field of being.

A silenced sentience this lovely loosening

All is hungry

here

Yet woods beckon

The track winds to its end. 

Sun on skin, back on

Back gone.

No path now,

just the quite tread of a new slower rhythm.

Desire changes its intensity, here drink

Anxiety stilled, no rush to remain quenched

No straining to hear the only sound that is.

Drenched in oneness

immerse into tune green and sunlight

the dance of dust pulses, sways with heat 

filling lungs and senses.

Each step a deepening, bodily tingling of peace

and pleasure now entwined, indistinguishable

flung with time on air

Dissolving walks of ecstasy

Fling into surrender.

The Dark Mountain Blog

Two of the subjects that have been cart wheeling and percolating through me over the past few months - Grief and Play - Combined beautifully in this blog I stumbled upon, happily. Click on it and read it for yourself.

http://dark-mountain.net/blog/good-grief/

Contract for Figuration

I, the manager and trustee hereby declare a Tragent contract - over increasing incremental size and depth. Importantly, immediate conduct juxtaposition will be issued at every possible angle.  This commercially termed is akin to the formalising of the verbally construed. Paramount to bridging gaps culturally but slightly less axated, flamboyant or disturbed – you decide. Concurrently the nominated guardian will destabilise.

Following text

Babistry and deluge will only be collected every sub optimal week. Ushering in, with exception to all possible horizons. Laudable sound bites, discrete often from all available walls. 

1. Please do wash thoroughly incognito, to induce supplementary clear consequences.

Micarnate, unless you want to be perennially looked over.

Sub Note[Indivisible: see fig1]

Fugitively amongst all other flewid acranims the benefactor shall sourceate acumst alt, with exception to biannual anomalies. Concurrently many times over religion, over gender, in fact all discrimotary factions apart from the telegone. Prestently secreting mediation between riboflavins and aborialacting, commencing with immediate effect.

Honed to Stable

Lesh vast palpable, bring one over here for your outlet subdiviser/senior babllegut to check. Cyclical pontificating sweats all parties slavishly. Banwork listless and ban suspended, piper softly only suddenly.

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FIG one.