England

This England, this rancid hole of hate.

This night, now - turn off the light and let all the dark and the dogs in.



Let darkness embrace and smother you and the dogs tear at your heart and rip your soul apart.


This is the night and the time to be death - to be pulled through time screaming.


Let the dogs in - die fucker die.

Dogs

I can almost smell the dogs barking on the other side of the door
Scratching at the paint
Barking at the air they can sense - air from my side
They can smell my fear

Let them in
Just die
Give in
Let them tear you to bits

My head creates them and it wants me to let them kill me

Kitchen Gardening

I am gardening in your kitchen

In the sink, now filled with soil, I have set some leeks

I'm growing spuds underneath your lino
I dug it with your cutlery
and used your pans and bowls as pots - with plates smashed up for crocks

I tore the door off the fridge - sorry -
the shelves I've used for trays of seedlings
and for drying my garlic

Your cooker is in the yard
so I could string my beans up the wall
where it stood before

Your kitchen is now blissful
growing all we need to eat - no need to thank me
Come harvest time you can cook us up a treat

Thoughts again

All thoughts are like the weather, they come and go.

The thoughts are reactions to situations of series of events. They build up to feel like a wall of reality - and illusory wall.

Can I take the bricks out of my wall?

Can I just kick the fucker down.

[and yes I noticed, big time, the lack of kindness in this statement and the fucker is, of course, created by me - its what I have been calling myself].

Delusions of grand wotsits

Many of my negative thoughts about others resolve themselves as aspects of my own limitations.

I see my prejudices and negative feelings reflected in others. They don't make me feel bad; I do through my reactions to them.

My negative feeling to the situation is mine; not done to me. I should know it and responsibly calm it down.

Here and where

A blissful longing to be here and to be gone, gone home. Home to Mary, Dylan, Jack and the chickens and home to me - me that is usually me.

Longing to stay - to stay and soak in the calm, peace and sitting. I don't think I need much more.

Here I am starting to learn how much I already know.

Interesting how place and people are my catalyst; the keys that I need to unlock my doors. Not loneliness or solitude but the presence of people learning, living and being.

But how doe this time of contemplation square with work and school and money and housing/clothes etc?

The hippies are living off the ignorance of fools. Fools all a grafting to pay their taxes to supplement the lives of more fools.

The Cloud Potato Man

I am the cloud potato man
clocking all around
I see you ~ I see that
I see the worms from underneath
and the birds from above
You, and they, are fiddling

Knowledge - the more it grows tiddly pom

The sum of knowledge grows no larger for adding infinite amounts of twaddle.

Can we measure time in bird song?

From Buddha Mind

P 44 "The creative mind loves where there is no reason to love
is happy where there is no reason for happiness
creates where there is not possibility of creativity
and, in this way, builds a heaven in hell's despair"

Sun Salutation

It made me smile

Those who vowed to praise the sun failed to wake up in time

Thank you - lovely words

"Your mind feels nice when I tune into
rosy-gold amber waves
warm peaceful light"

Mary - Dancing

Mary - we tango

Dance the light fandango

Bop until we just don't (ever) stop

Waltz in quick time

trit trit

hop skip

bop

A few words for Merle

Words - as we know, are not enough

A few words for Merle,
flower of night and day.

Moths and butterflies and I love you.

Jo - Metta bhavana friend

I was thinking about you earlier.

Thinking hard about you.

Bringing your face arms legs hair smile voice to my mind.

To send, or bring, love and kindness to you, for being you.

Wishing you to be happy and to be well.

And to thank you, thank you for being you and for being just a little bit part of me.

Jo, top up your bucket

William Morris (and me) may be disappointed

You may desire only what is useful and beautiful
though there is shit sitting there
its waiting dully just for you

Its sitting by your side
making love to your leg
making friends with your friends
taking the fresh air from your nostrils

Invite it in, make friends with it

Anguish - illusion?

Anguish boils inside me - like fire
but it is not a fire
its a thought

It came and seemed to burn
I felt it - bravely and with my own kindness and it was gone
replaced only by peace and then my
next thought

The Wise

Beware of the wise for they know only what is true

Thoughts

Thoughts, like the weather, come and go
They are as true as the moment
Listen to the wind

Know that as the wind - as the sun - as the rain - all may change

Drink the drink while it washed our thoughts away
to the sea
the the clouds
to the trees

In the trees - thoughts.

This is not rebirth - this is dying

When you wake I will be gone. The breeze will loose me.

It will take me from our sleep, part us for the last time and carry me away.

In its cold embrace I will fade like the morning mist as the day and the sun bring new life for you.

Pussy knees and nose, knees and nose

Today, unusually, I took the opportunity to smell the skin of my knees - they were dangling in front of my face, so it was chance not to miss.

The smell reminded me of skin smells - of a day many years ago. The day after a first fuck.

I was at work, bored - in a meeting. Elbows on the table I rested my head in my hand and drifted until the smell - very faint, still warm and sweet on my fingers - woke me.

Mmmmm warm cunt, face held in soft thighs .... raised my attention; as it does now.

I had to stop the fun, it was too much

I nailed my head to the door

I had to stop the wind banging it... thump thump thump

It was good to stop the fun too... I loved to bang my head against the door but

I had to stop the fun, it was too much

Idiots

I can see these people walking about - they are trying to organise a piss up in a brewery.

They have been running around in circles for years.

I have been avoiding thinking about them - but now I have little choice.

And what do I see - there is no brewery and there is no piss-up.

These people are not drunk; they are idiots.

What shape will you be to day Sir?

"Oh, I'm not sure, perhaps thicker at the top, tapering to a point near the floor - like a wedge on its pointed end please."

"Certainly Sir - I have just the tool for the job".

For an hour or so a most frenetic activity and buzz filled the small leatherette lined room. A fug of pain, a slashing of knives and the swift snitsnitsnit of neat little stitches.

Some time later the job was complete and the man tried to stand - but oh, he could not, not upon his pointed end.

"Sir, perhaps we could invert you?"

"You could" replied the man "but how will I walk on my fat ended head?"

"Oh dear Sir, I fear we have gone a little too far towards the artist and a little too far from, well, the practical outdoors-man. I fear Sir that you will need to contract the services of a burly servant to move you from place to place."

Boil me honey honey kill me.

Why is the boiling of my nerves not killing the butterflies in boots as I remember the thought: couldn't I be dead, just for a while.... just sleep like death and wake up when all is clear and forgotten - when I look at things straight on they look quite fine but in the shadows and in the corner of my eye there seems to be... I wish it would attack, smother and kill me or just stop.

Sniffing at elections

I'm trying to remember to type quietly and not to sniff.

Elections - what joy with the conlab bring us - shiny suited men with shiny suited smiles. A new politics - all agreement and spun into a yarn which is smooth but somehow smells even when white-washed... smells of something brown, shit brown rather than old brown Gordon Brown.

Gordon Brown, texture like.... crud. Bless him, monocular and brown.

Fuck, shit ,bugger - sniffed.

I feel sniffy at this election business - eek will it be a disaster, will it be great?

Nah, it will be "business" as usual. Bullshit, flannel and other such things illusory. Governments only seem able to get in the way of freedom - to fiddle about making rules for all for the sake of the few.


Perhaps we should be as we know we really should be - kind, helpful, busy. Keeping our hands moving to stop the devil taking them - keep him from making us stick 'em in the pie or from poking out the kittens eyes.


Poor wee blinded beasties stumbling off in to the cold dark northern night - not a mousy nor a housey for them.

Blue Birds Over the White Cliffs of Dover

You - you can't come in.

We live here in the green and tolerant land of free-speakers.

We are keeping the jam for us - now, off you go.