Here we are
An organic act,
till death do us part,
fuelled by past and future conceptions,
judgments… misgivings, staged in an all-encompassing present.
Chasing a dream in the here-after time passed within and without faster than a dose of salts.
A sink or swim continuum.
They said I copped out, made a mess of the story’s arc.
Better be sure.
I swear the art made was beholden to the fable.
Not too sure.
Put out to pasture before the return.
How can I retire from life in situ?
Then, I’d better exercise a method for letting go.
Mind and body align the arrow, bow, and target, on the breath, directly; probably the biggest there is.
Separate art from life?
Divide and rule
On a break from the tournament, I read the news and see that human evolution has reached a critical turning point.
I lived through that, before this, before…
Remind me again?
A line in trade, port to port, a bloody flea outdid us.
Plague… Black Death… Pestilence.
Call it what you will that bristling pandemic spread across Afro-Eurasia, like fire through tinder, killing millions upon millions of us.
What was your part?
In command, we came head to toe with the Jinn on that infamous night, way back in Persia.
Like nothing since or before, a toll that demanded radical religious, social, economic change…
There’s a smell…
In the same breath, our imperial mindset lay claim to newfound lands that pushed Earth’s aboriginals toward extinction, ever forward for liberty and flag!
The Caucasian way.
A commune on Mars.
Go skyward, young man.
Doesn’t quite have the same ring.
It’s the same sentiment.
Spread your sickness across the cosmos, from galaxy to galaxy, then stake your claim.
We’ve all but cleaned up here
Be better further away
A nice, sterile environment
Are you telling me science and leadership have conjured a system that will let us off the hook?
Not all of us, obviously.
What do you think?
COVID will no doubt pale.
Our so-called global village puts us all in a much smaller ballpark now.
Does it? Who gets to choose?
A lethal strain of coronavirus surfacing alongside the undisputed climate cliffhanger is no fluke.
Brought down by the fast lane in agriculture, a vast cannon of pesticides for better returns destroys insects and bacteria, weakens our immune system, and is an out-and-out attack on Earth’s natural defences too.
Making me hungry.
Never mind the death penalty, suckered cows, wired up chickens, sterilised crops and plastic plankton hasten the process.
I need my food. Now!
No! I feel sick. Depressed.
Forgot the prescription!
Help me out Doc.
Profit margins of pharmaceutical companies, sucking heart and soul from the addict.
By and by walks a shadow of hopelessness.
Down and out.
Heaven help us,
I am going to Mars…
The booster shot.
Greater technological innovation gets us the machine we want… the more we have, the more we…. wealth, ownership and power, a selfsame imperious clause written in history, driven in-kind by lofty aims of the man in the high castle.
A gunman on a jet ski down in Mexico opened fire on a beach touted by tourists, killing dealers from the other cartel.
If they propagate our patch, we settle the score… you’re not the king here.
Give me your iPhone, that penthouse suite.
We want the rush you get from your Lamborghini lifestyle now!
Tears before bedtime.
The merry-go-round of madness has been on the turn for as long as I can remember.
That way, I get a panic attack.
Quite a few.
What’s that mean, young man?
leave with luck,
another chance to rehearse,
to play again…
Overwhelmed by a fork in the road… saw a fall to the wayside.
You’ve got it all worked out then!
Lying there, in hard-driven conclusions, thinking (operative word) of death, I am susceptible to an intense rush of fear that stymies the flow of energy surging through the root chakra from the mantle of the Earth.
They say that’s totally ridiculous when there is no real danger or apparent cause for alarm.
Worked out!? I’m still stuck on catching up.
Cut off from the ground, shot to pieces in the land of Shinar.
Your head overrules your heart.
Sat at the mouth of a tunnel, searching for those tiny figures on a dimly lit stage at the end of that long dark corridor, brings a glimmer of sunshine to the proceedings.
I leave the auditorium with an aching heart and terrible pain in the lower back.
Out of favour? Add verse!
From the Eiffel Tower to the Taj Mahal, from the bottom of the lane to the club on the Mall, to the Washington Star and Norwich Spar, from Timbuktu to the Amazonian coup… every inch of Earth measured out in profit… as for the elephant and those who make us think, good luck to them, they can walk on water or drown in the drink.
Outside the archipelago of acceptance and rejection, caught between acts, I’m called to the woods for the trees. They win.
Peace emanates heart and love surrounds you.
Today, I raise a glass in your honour.
I’m sorry that’s late, well overdue.
Yesterday I remain tied to the rhythms of our past, which sadly betrayed us with a few wrong turns along the way.
Trust is one thing questionable.
And love will, hopefully, endure once again.
Cup of tea, the cherry on the cake, a cracker box sound, sat around the kitchen table.
I say again, and again, ad infinitum, happy Christmas, and best wishes for a brand-new day, not to mention the year ahead in remembrance….
So many friends and relatives, upped and gone, shine a light on the orphan’s fold, encouraging peace on earth and what’s still to be.
Goodwill… good vibes, kind tidings…
A work in progress… centres the nature of creativity… oh, I don’t know… play the part well, make it up, as on the hoof, don’t be late, we can’t begin without you. I’m too young to die and too old to care.
Codger the lodger.
Over and out.