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hidden deep / deep / deep / deep
under layers of obfuscation and
misconfigured relational database
tables there are clues left for you
to see; see the signs that all is not
lost; that lost can be found; the
finding the lost art of being; being
and thus becoming – unhidden
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Once comfortable in the delusion that
he was capable of anything he set his
eyes on the big prize – toppling God
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beneath every suite and
buttoned down shirt is a
beating heart –
though you would not
think so …
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angle grinder on iron bar
the smell and sound of childhood
the days of youth tinkering
welding / grinding / creating havoc
so far yet so near
I realize
the future is
an open book
with an infinite
stack of pencils
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She got to choose whom to love, and
that was her undoing. Indecision
leaves the fruit hanging, amidst the
storms of the heart.
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She had no fear of
missing out
the things she saw were
bad enough
the fear a constant
in her life
She felt no fear from
missing out
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I remember it clearly as if it was
yesterday, the day I was offered my
first jaysome. I declined as I had seen
the warnings in the newspapers.
Jaysome is not natural…
Jaysome is addictive…
Girl aged 13 found safe after being
lost in woods for two weeks in search
of Blue Jaysome…
Scholars debate the jaysome nature
of fictional characters …
I said no that day, but fate had other
plans.
Years later I attended a conference
on The Merits of Dark Chocolate
Layered With Strawberry Cream.
Little did I know that in the same
venue there was a talk by the
renowned adventurer R.Jay. The
topic was
Have You Had Your Jaysome Today?
I signed up, and my life changed on
that day. Jaysome became the light
I now follow. Jaysome became real.
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As I look down on the thin layer of ice
I realise that I struggle to remember if
there is a puddle or a lake beneath me.
The cracks grows with each step
I take and my mind begins to paint a
picture I do not want to believe. I am
crossing an ocean, there is no ice; the
cracks I see are cracks in the fabric of
reality. My hands are bound, the
chain extends to my right. There is a
bright light hovering there, waiting for
me to carry on. Vaguely the face of an
angel appears, and all becomes clear.
I am finally going home.
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bathing in napalm
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I bathe in napalm / oily fumes
awakens my writing demon / craving
feedback / validation / yet fearful of
the burning / the torch you throw me /
I hunger / as once I hungered her
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Her journey through the forest was
long, and made longer by the lack
of a real path to follow. But she had
heard whispers of a well somewhere
deep in the ancient wood, a well that
would show anyone that looked
down it a reflection of their true path.
As a lost soul she craved that insight,
and her pursuit of the well a small
price to pay.
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