A Mother’s Love
Give me Atlantic low pressures
waves that spit and hiss and a wind that slaps
like a cheated on wife in one of those dramas.
I want greys and whites, saturation down
and an air like a cold wet blanket
heavy with salt and sand and stone.
Let my walk be a battle with mother nature
her whispering kiss stings, my shoulders
hunched like cliffs she’s loved and beaten forever.
11.11.11 (one by one)
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
Quantum Amounts of Faith
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.
Flags, separate, crossing your bit
you’re a bit like that
bombs damage the ground
moving rocks, rocket propelled, caterpillar tracks
leaving eaten, leaves, autumnal
the bit at the end when the trees are bare
not yet winter
on the boundary between
looking at each side the flags are similar
one side yours
one side mine.
the same stuff
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.
speeds of need
needing the dough $$$$
of needless eyes
my mind’s guise
discreet from me
who am I then
i am human
I am embarrassed
but I Just Do It because
because Neurons, Tick
because I’m everything I can and can’t be
I am Human
because they Just Do It, I feel inclined,
because from my recliner
I am a dictatorship to my surroundings, Electric
aren’t we because of everything?
‘ten to the dozen’ he said with his hand on his heart
but with his sword smartly hidden behind his back
he knew things were safe for when the rains came again
the be·gin·ning of the end
the point of time or space at which anything begins
the last part or extremity, lengthwise
an act or circumstance of entering upon an action or state
the furthermost imaginable place or point
the initial stage or part of anything
termination of existence
origin conclusion extremity source