the world turns without our intent
there is little we can really do

examine the blocks
stack the blocks
inspect the blocks
destroy everything
gather more blocks
and start again

are we racing towards zero or infinity?

the answer is surely here
in the blocks
with intent
we can diminish
we can act
we can wreak havoc
we can win

what kind of game is this?

we know exactly how to play
with impassioned dedication
with nonchalance
with fear and pain and love
with intent
that can neither create nor impede
_____ the flow of life,
__________ the circumstances,
our own existence

still every day without intent
we do exactly that

we realise no difference
between ourselves and everything (else)
without intending any such outcome at all


Bizarre notions in polarity

It’s bright, so glaringly bright! Winter’s slipped
as day tumbles forth from night. Creatures dipped
in bronze melt all through my sight. Myna skipped
the fresh-cut grass, catching flight, as clouds wisped
past swathes of blue-tinted light. Ice-wind crisped
breaths healed by Ra’s molten might! Three ants nipped
across the page I’d soon write, darted, tripped
and fell to earth: a great height. Moods have flipped
from tight-clenched fists to delight. Beings tipped
from low to high, wrong to right. Minds equipped
with nature’s gift for insight.  Honey-dripped
days, praise! Loop this bliss-tinged plight with no script.

In colony

the dream is eons long
we have been entwined
you and I
since forever

on certain days
I ache to withhold my truth
to show you how it feels
to listen to endless lies

on other days
I tumble to the floor and bounce
to show you how it looks
to act from the real and present

no bargains can be struck
in the market for shadows

that mind’s light is so full
it throws it’s own shade
to all that might detract
from it’s righteous narrative

your hand-me-down economy
avoids all mention of entropy

the dream is eons long
you know
the one where I play
the swiss-army-knife version
of a scapegoat
and you deny everything

on certain days
we see you hurling platitudes
while dismantling ecosystems
and poking holes in rainbows

on other days
we see you acting out our own shadow-selves
and then we fall about laughing
at your feeble attempts
to direct the wind


Cue: the wind

The wild weather
And the wild woman
Have boarded the same train

I am spirit
I am here, deal with it
I’ve kept things gentle for too long now

Everything rests
Everything is supported
Everything continues, each to it’s own nature

The whispering sounds
The roar and rhythm
The drawing of breath, embodiment of truth

I know, it can be a bit too much
A bit too powerful
A bit too chunky, bless their hearts

The forgivers
The aligners
The deniers. Let them flounder.

The sun shines
Water is wet
I am here, be with it.


News Feed

In the age-old tradition
of propaganda and repetition
we are expecting
perpetual circumnavigation
of the truth
with a percussive deluge
of obscurities
in blinding succession
by incendiary instants
of infinite insanity
upon marginalised percentages
of human populations
by pandemically disproportionate
political photosensitivity
in indecipherable waves
of community-conscious pathos
by an hysterical post-ethical
imperative to imperil
inherent critical faculties
with antithetical rhetoric
by a dispassionate discourse
of preposterous proportions
among the privileged unharmed
and the righteously

On this day

This morning’s glance at the front page of the newspaper has left me heartbroken for the sacrifice of this boy…

I am of the ocean
Hear me sing
Of all that’s passed my way
This day.

I have left the ocean
See me fly
Blind men and fools cry out

I dream of the ocean
Feel my heart
This truth-seeking missile

I weep for the ocean
Watch me fade
Beyond existence, my plight

If they could see what I have become
United in sacrifice
Glorious and deliberate
Calm and convicted
Alone and desperate
I will name this moment –

On this day
I will exist.