Shining threads

Shining threads

Sunday, 28 January 2018

Smiling metaphors and meaningful similes

Metaphors be with you.
Smiles with the similes.
Holler at the holographic truths.
Wry looks at the rhymes.
Driven by the rhythms.

Sunday, 26 November 2017

The random miracle of landing the right side up

Fellow falls
This side spells disaster, that side just the 5 second rule.
Could go either way.

The random miracle of landing the right side up. 

Sunday, 19 November 2017

More than

we are more than black and white
more than male and female
more than leave and remain

we are more than lgbtqi - what about acdefhjk etc?
we are more than a tick or cross in a box
we are more than this or that
we are more than left or right
more than feminist or reactionary
more than nationalist or globalist
more than fascist or liberal
more than cool or square

we are more than up or down
more than in or out

Confuse the categories!
Jumble the judiciary!
Mix the machinations!

we are divine hybrids,      
             holy combinations,          
               sanctified collections,  
                 crowned cross-overs

the just-so is where the precise (and precious) ascends to the unnamable.
the annunciated becomes the smile.
the detail merges into the whole.
the character traits are subsumed into the soul.

More than

Sunday, 24 September 2017

All the colours of darkness

All the colours of darkness
Hidden in potentiality.

All the shining threads of the void.
Tapestry of many hues.
Mosaic of majesty.
Darkness allows only light.
No shadows.

And distant darkness
the tyranny of sheer illumination
of stars that may be already dead.

All the colours of darkness
Conspire to become rainbows
When day breaks.

Friday, 15 September 2017


The vile lies of evil. The supercilious superfluity of the superficial. The officious offishness of officials. The delicious delights of the delectable. The freakish frenzy of the fervent. The frail fractures of the frigid. The linguistic limits of the loquacious. The probable possibilities of the potential. The endless ecstasies of the elect. The smirking smiles of the smug. The compassionate care of the cooperative. The suave subtleties of the superlative. The dark dank of the dangerous. The alliterative allusions of the All.

Thursday, 27 July 2017

The Perfect Storm

Thunder came announced,
just after unexpected lightning.

It could have been many things - fireworks, a flashlight, an alien landing - but this time - it was a naturalistic abruption. (it's okay to make up new words)

They appropriated the discourse of Silicon Valley - declared a disruptive political movement.

Not playing by the rules. Introduce something new.

A perfect storm.

Storms are morally neutral.

A performance, an interruption, a tantrum, a crescendo of preceding heat, a destruction, a cleansing.

An assertion of Nature's partial dominion.

The balance of power varies, between the gods of natural phenomena and the entities that construct their lives within the [spectrum of existence].

The perfect storm is almost too much. It strikes with an awesome wrath which has no mercy and yet we indulge its excesses, out of respect and a sense of impotence with regards to this overwhelming electrical frenzy.

These days we are safe, as long as the waters do not rise too high and the trees are not felled in the direction of our dwellings.

These days we are safe, with our technological belongings and virtual networks and multiple media streams.

The predictions seem off-kilter, wild, an out-of-control spiral into a dystopic environmental desolation.

We can handle these discrete storms, marginal increases in heat and #flash-fires# & #flash-floods#.

The every-day people do not do the maths. We just want a quiet life.

And so the SUM of the equation, a progressive addition, subtraction, multiplication and division to overall elemental outcome, remains obscure.

Nobody knows - only these models can predict and philosophers can theorise and sages can warn.

We know disaster is possible. We know one person, one house, one village, one country can disappear into withered atrophy. The ways of destruction are many.

Yet this sense of a world in danger is too much of a           leap for those who find holistic vision distasteful - as if Enlightenment were an overreach of polite conduct, which must restrain truth and expression, in order to keep a civilised sense of, if not peace, then at least lack of disruption. Scepticism keeps reality at a safe distance. The discrete whispers of the unconscious can be easily ignored.

And then the Perfect Storm strikes.

Always outside. From the perspective of the sheltered.

It reminds us.

Thunder and lightning are symbols of our elemental power.

When we can match their intensity, then we will have arrived.

It is not dying, just forever.

It is not dying.
Not the flower.
Not the cells.
Not the meal in front of you.
Not fish
But perhaps the river
which cycles through Earth and Sky.

It is not dying.
Not the cat.
Not the tree.
Not the latest trend.
Not flame
But perhaps the fire
which burns everlastingly,
casting its gaze over all sparks.

It is not dying.
Alchemical recipes.
Haloed words
Which animate the air.
Resonating through the ages.
Despite the rhythms of existence.

It is not dying.
Poetic vision draws forth.
And those few that walk into the fulfillments
Of promises made amidst dark despair and disparity.
Faith which was realised through movement and constancy.

It is not dying.
Infinite transformations
Despite transcendental sublimities.
We enjoy BOTH.
And between alertness and relaxation,
Eternal expressions of endless fascination.