What collocation of beginnings
side by side in the sky
looking through window
at a fiery gas and ox flame
woven in lurid clouds,
the unit of beginning
3 seconds of origin
awoken in the mist –
then return to the tunnel
of thought, drug and routine
as a dark spiral without
exit.
Of the living
clod of reality,
the bladed streams
of circumstance,
in the incinerated rush
of experience;
miracle of memories,
the enigmatic ordeal
of existing –
postponed,
quietly repressed
in the lethargic hum
of your
original routine!
Smooth sounding rain stroked manifold layers of green quivering leaves
Smooth sounding rain stroked manifold layers of green quivering leaves
Smooth sounding rain stroked manifold layers of green quivering leaves.
Silence whilst listening to a thousand voices of cold tropical drops smashing into leaves and edges.
Silence that is grey;
profoundly incomprehensible.
And a voice that wraps things full of wonder with words full of emptiness.
A layer of skin that pierces darkness and absorbs the world into a
Then again and again there is a plan, a prospect. The vertigo of wonder disappears…
Echoing thunder is heard… far beyond the touchable.
To be one with what has been,
what will be…
Those rotten truths and the atrophy of written words
life is outside the inferno of cadaverous literature
the ever-increasing waste of past thoughts
attempting impossible resurrections
free the world from fossilization
allow it to burn and dismiss its ashes
our best experiences are never contained
they roam beyond the frontiers of definition
close those covers of inky nothingness
step into the bare unadulterated flux
mend with the unknown
Flee from cages of routine and metropolitan nonsense
recognize the hollow of every day
reject the veil of prospects and careers:
usurpers of wonder and transformation
children of nowhere
creators of ambiguity
exorcise the daemons of logic
celebrate your insanity!
Beyond Language 
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