Tom Rawles

Mind over matter. Mind not of matter but of the self, I think therefore I cannot pin point an electron. Beauty in the form of an equation I don’t understand. I believe what I am told, from the Krauss, Cox generation of marvelling at the wonder, the story, but when I don’t understand the maths I need faith. I scratch my balls, electrons realign and an order of difference is maintained. Faith in science is where I am at.

I used to lie awake at night asking the question, you know, the question, how is there anything? Deflating inflation, rewinding the expansion and pausing on the moment before, Boom. A ball of massive mass floats in front of me. From the darkness an evolution of misunderstood gods step into the light, waving to me like old men sellers in a Marakeshian souk. I politely refuse and leave with nothing.
I would think conspiracist thoughts of parts of the brain being deliberately turned off, by..? The parts which deal with the enormous and the quantum. Inbuilt brick walls of incomprehension.

One night (21/02/2011), asking the question, the origin, the ball of mass floating, spinning behind my closed eyes, I thought ‘wouldn’t nothing be as strange as something’ and I felt better. My god is me. I exist, I think, therefore you can find me, mathless, skimming over the surface of a lake painted by smiling men of science who exist in a box I bought and plugged in.

They fall like rain into the ocean.
Stirred by the oars of drunken sailors,
who swill their sorrows in the conscience of
the men in charge.

I’m made of the same stuff as everything
Better than everything
though, thought through… similarity.
But I am different. Tough.
Cleverer. Better, yes better.
Believe or ignore, believe and ignore.
Made of the same stuff
as celebrities and stars*.
Those trees and things in the sea
were dangerous anyway.
Carefree, free to care, I don’t.