Thursday, 5 April 2012

FAR NORTH
By
Sean Bean


Far North,
Past Leeds, York and Hull,
Where compass don’t work
And you’ll freeze t’yer skull.

Few amenities there,
And brew’s hard to find.
But there’s grub to be ‘ad.
If yer brain’s ‘alf a mind.

Was out sniping fer cockles
When up popped a rabbit,
But it fucked off and gone,
Afore I could grab it.

But nowt could I find,
Just reindeer ‘n’ buzzard.
All antlers ‘n’ feather,
Got stuck in me guzzard.

Me belly was shining,
Me tongue turned to ash
Fer a cat’s cunt-full of ale!
Had to drink me own slash.

I sat frozen and stiff,
No tale for an hero.
Like that poor bugger Jim,
From Bravo Two Zero.

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Sideline

And then a radiant beauty glides across his path, singly invisible, ghost-like in faint luminescence and undetected behind heliotropic blinkers, under the radar and pinpoint, faint sadness with expectant hope, no green in her gaze, no Venusian rage, just quiet fancy, small sweet desire closely held; she’s surely a rose of sorts, pale petals on this one maybe, a little tired, expectant, waiting, standing alone against a cold wall, watching this vast and myriad expulsion of longing along foot-sore pathways, the thousand tongued Dragon, eyes drinking the flames, body now close to its heat, for a taste of that holy fire as it lingers in smoke as that lingers in hair, yet ignoring their target: it’s not her but forcefully felt fascination at how they lick and tear, waiting somehow for a moment of respite, the rest, the inward breath or the fatal reload staged before the next volley; “now the click of death…” he thinks, awaiting… a girl-shaped shadow she seems to be, lengthening and curved for an opportunity to steal his hand in hers and turn his head to see her bodily there, white light, subtly shining, still ethereal but in sharp focus, her lines drawn tight now around her frame: shifting across his frequency range as his flickering lamps falter, reverse to vacuum suck… shut down, close, for the eyes to shine without those clouded lenses and see, to fucking SEE for the first time, to see like a sledgehammer into a dark crystal, razor shards: he’s in pieces as she enters and fades away with white flag thrust aloft amidst a rain of soft blossom.

Tuesday, 13 December 2011

Saviour

I hang
Suspended.
My world stands on its head.
Did I?
Did I choose this?
That choice seems pretty bad...

Sickness and disorientation.
Pain like acid fire and I
Knocked for Doctor
No one home.
No chemicals or medication
Touch this fucker.
Something's wrong.

I'm stretched so far I reach the sky
Lines drawn in sand were crossed this day
Or was I destined for this madness?
Your cards they had it in for me.

For me.

'Cause you knew I'd swallow this shit.
You got me hook and crook and sinker.
A tasty worm this rhetoric
For one for fancies he's a thinker.
A pitfall trap just big enough to hold an ego size of mine.
The noose you offer looks like so much golden rope to greedy sightless eyes.
I swing and swing
Back and forth
To and fro and back again
The blood it spills in ribbons and
My fucking head is caving in and...

Where's this so called light?

Where is your bullshit tunnel and the angels and redemption?
Where's Judgement day and trumpets and The Pearly Teeth or something...
All meaningless.
I knew it.
I knew I had it wrong and yet
I thought I knew myself and you and tried to build a bridge.
But the gulf that yawns between us seems so black and void and dead.

So is this it in all its nothing?
I pushed the boundaries back for this?
This lie this crock this non-nirvana?
This THIS?
Traded ease and comfort for delusion,
Tricks and agony.
Hypnotised myself with visions of sweet hope and unity.
Slowed my breath.
Dissolved the world.
Swallowed all your dogma,
All the potions and the P.R.
Stood the smugness and the tedium
Of grudging patient waiting.
Swallowed all the demons too.
Pandora and her box.
She said she left our hope inside...
It's not there now.
I looked. It's gone.
Another lie.
Another liar.
One more half read arrogant fool.
Another carrot swinging.
Just another dead man swinging when he could be face down in a pool.

Clouds are filling up my mind.
Desire to see but one eye blind!
I nailed myself up good this time.
I've paid the price to jump the line.
Bought the ticket. Broke the ride
High!
Locomotion wrecked and so damn high!

Oh father did this holy vision really hang in front of me?
I saw the fire and reached for it
I swear it wasn't just for me.
This little piece of peace I took
It really took it out of me.
I never meant to eat that wafer so
Call off that hawk that tears at me.
Or let me fall back down again.
I'll shut up and go back to sleep.
No trouble no rebellion and God please no more fucking pain!

So sorry now this sacrificial lamb.

Thursday, 24 November 2011

Path of the Mouth

She slips and falls to ruin on her sword
That once in search of wisdom cut her path and sought
Through malarious fetid wisp-lit mires and
Mirages of the mind so keenly wrought.

This airy prison floats on love of mind
And thought. Keen reason lifts its clouded towers
Aloft beyond the Throne of Dirt of those
That roll in ignorance.

But warriors all who fell will tell
Twas by their own hand was fate dealt.
All weapons forged and fought be lain
Upon their wielder's breast when slain.

Repeat! Repeat! Repeat to madness!
Back to darkest blackest darkness.
Repeat repeat and drill that whirling logic senseless.
Spin until you stagger senseless!
Senseless!
Racing heart pounds out relentless
Over here just out of sight
Where something somewhere dimly glows with fluorescent subterranean light.
Flick your switch, to it attend
By that scarlet lantern lit descend
Into Medusa's lair. She's waiting,
Baiting...
Seductive in her writhing there.
Primeval glare in sharp emittance petrifies to stone all thinking
Coiled snake induced to rise again
To bore a well into your spine and drink deep of the gushing pain.
Drink the sap that pulses forth girl!
Take it deeper! Expose the bone!
Erupting in orgasmic quaking
Lightening smiting down the Tower.
Fuck the pain! This plastic pleasure here and now
Is panacea...

...she feels it deeply as it fades
To faint and mist-veiled recollection
Now lost as if it never was.
Now hazy wistful sad reflection.
Distant shores.
Cold dejection.
Echoes. Tremors. Belated pain.
Legs still raised in skyward gesture
Unknowing as to its true measure
Extra-induced inflamation
Pappess points in benediction.

So was it sacred in its end
When you it smote and laid you bare?
Your desires and shames and secret plans
Your constructs and your fantasy?
Clear for those with eyes that see.
Did you wish upon this shattered star?
Upon your own catastrophe?

These holes she holds,
They hold her fast in shifting arid seas of thirst
And lightly grasps that hollow phantom tight
In empty fingers. Voiceless lips so pursed
To teach a stark and silent screaming lesson.
Listen out for its inception.
Sowed as it was just underneath the field
Death waits on Saturn and its malefic yield.

Such sharp uncomforts stir deep waters,
Whose swelling waves reflect the moon
As soundless words and glyphs emflamed
That shift and linger quick
Then glow in fading gloom.
See them sing and shine unheeded.
They could mean so much to you alone.
Rose tinted fetters chained to deepest blackness.
So lost without that hieroglyphic stone.

Did you ever gaze upon your own face from the pool reflected?
Did the dream so clearly seem as real as dreams can dream-like be?
Whose was that light you saw that shone in eyes of countenance unfamiliar
Inside this moment, shimmering out, the suns light centered in the Living Tree?

No telling can cause the mind to grasp
The etheric form of this so leech-like ghast.
Fed fear for fear to breed and feast
Upon us denser beasts. And us?
Still slaking thirst with sand and razor shards
And taste sweet blood ecstatic as it drips
To suckle darkling cygnets at our chests.
(Such mockery!)
No selfless pelicans are we that feed
Our young from self torn wounds upon our breasts.

Friday, 15 April 2011

The Journeyman's Song

When I get home
I'll eat some food
And have an Amazing Wank!

The road's been long
I wish I'd rode
Home in a massive tank!

I'd crush my way
O'er cars and stuff
And laugh at all the twats!

But all I got
Is a bad kebab
And the thought of an Amazing Wank!

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Telemetry

Oh how
To find
When I
Can't see
Your light
I'll ride
Telemetry

The fork
It hums
She calls to me
We shine to all in tune

Diverting by distraction
The screaming in the light
I'm delving ever deeper
Wider
Thinner
Out
Inside

I'll sail past your harbour
Just long enough to care
To throw stones at your rockery
And draw you from your lair
See beauty in your snakehead
Reflected mirrored me
Our teeth will kiss
And splinter
We'll pull infinity

Tuesday, 22 February 2011

Time with cat

I woke up a few hours ago after having had some really crystal clear, meaningful dreams and resolved to get some of those ideas and visions written down before they faded and the message was lost forever. Until very recently my work output has drastically dropped to almost nothing as I've focused more and more on experiencing the world first hand in an effort to refine my understanding of nature and my place in it. But, in order to solidify experience into knowledge, the learning has to become teaching, the scout has to report back it's findings to base camp, the shadow casts itself across the light creating form, RAM saves to ROM, and so on. I reckon this is what the ancients were saying when they advised us to ground ourselves firmly on the earth in order to ascend to heaven.

With this rather lofty principle lodged firmly in my admittedly rather sleepy skull, I booted my computer and got to work. After a few minutes I realised that I needed a drink or all those lucid visions would end up as gasping, dry, parched images of myself evaporating in the sunlight like a vampire caught without his sunblock. The moment I opened the door one of my cats jumped into my room, purring it's face off and leaped onto the carpet rolling around in expectant tummy-rub flavoured ecstasy. He'd been waiting for me to arise, having probably heard my morning stirrings and thought that before he lost his momentum he'd jump straight into my busy, thirsty face.

I was partly amused and also mildly irritated... if I didn't crack on with some work I might lose my momentum entirely, but how could I not show that expectant little moggy some love?

Cue fuss.

And surely enough, I once again proved to myself that nature shows the way...

Digsy, in his excitement for immediate contact, and my initial reluctant reaction based upon a minor fear of lost productivity got me thinking about time and the way we see it in the modern world with regards to our work output. I don't need to go into any kind of rant about the way that our society demands more and more of our precious time and labour as recompense for it's false parenthood ministrations. Like all systems, the more time we devote to our society, the more it does for us. I think for most people this manifests itself as the desire to work harder and harder in order to accumulate more things to make themselves feel comfortable, without realising that comfort can lie irrespective of those crutches. Any time not spent focusing on this goal is considered to be wasted, or at best "leisure time", valued only lowly and as a matter of necessity with the overall goal of keeping one fit and happy for the days toil.

And so Digsy almost lost out here. He almost missed his fuss because there's a twitching, dying remnant of conditioning in my mind that tells me that to be unproductive is a sin. This is kind of true from many perspectives, but it's a matter of where your focus lies.

Suffice to say, after five minutes or so playing with the cat, the results were quite profound. One happy cat, and one enlightened Halford.

That short time I'd dedicated to the feeling of joy, both mine and his, shared, left me feeling elated and full of vigour for my coming projects. In my mind I'd transmuted five minutes of what could have been seen to be dead time, wasted on another creature who'd attached it's suckers vampire like into my precious wallet, into absolute gold.

Over the last six or seven years,starting after I first started to toy with meditation, I've enjoyed taking a long walk every day. Often, I'd finish work early or even put off my own plans and ambitions in order to make this walk. I often turn off my phone, stick a massive grin on my head and stroll around in the sunshine listening to good music, marvelling at flowers and clouds and the arses of the single mums I pass in the street. I'm generally just being happy. When I get home I've usually been out for a couple of hours. I've sculpted my working life around this walk, or other forms of meditation and experiential exercise because that desire to feel and realise those couple of hours of happiness has become so central to my being. I don't work often now. When I do work I like to finish early. I have become used to not having much money and relying on creativity in order to find expression, to attain the goals I want to achieve, and have also sacrificed that direct connection to the industrial world and it's population of working humans that most other people face, willing or not, on a daily basis.

Those two hours a day, when seen in financial terms, prevent me from making money. That's a given. Seen in artistic, "spiritual" and creative terms, and thus through to my own experience and understanding, those two hours really have shaped my life into who I am today. And since I feel like I've achieved a level of understanding about the world, and thus could potentially use those skills in any which way I choose (even finding a good job if I so desired), I consider these sacrifices minimal. Direct contact with nature brings understanding, of this I am sure.

My thoughts on this then are that what for one may appear to be a waste of time, unproductive, to another can be integral to their life. I can judge the results of my studies and labour, if you can even call it that, by the relative level of understanding and happiness I enjoy in the now.

In the time it's taken me to write this, my cat has been sitting next to me quietly, and I think happily. He's just stirring, and has now jumped off the bed and stuck his claws into my knee. A gentle reminder he want's playing with again. He's inspired me to write this blog, as well as motivated me to see the silver lining in the cloud again.

I'm already winning. And so is he.