Archives For Sun

Split

August 6, 2017 — Leave a comment
I’m flying to Florida from Britain. To live. The thought of it makes me nauseous. As though I am walking away from a great museum to visit a theme park where nothing is real and all that appears to be real is an illusion.
A place where building sand castles on the beach is a method to distract you from what is going on in the real real world. Not the illusory construct of pickpockets and shady dealers who descend on the State to take advantage of those blinded by the sun and the hype.
fullsizeoutput_4f4.jpegThis is where I am going. To live. To exist. To walk away from Britain, the greatest country in History.
Going. Fast. I’m lying to myself.
Greatest country in the world?
 
Was. And as the wheels lift off from the tarmac and we are sliding into the clouds I watch other aircraft land with people coming back from Disneyworld and other noble distractions. And the non English speaking bodies ready to take advantage of the softest Social security system in Europe. And they are welcomed even though they hate us. Just like Disneyworld. Except we give them our money. The changing face from glory to ogre and a mess that will remain.
Yes, the moms and dads and their ridiculous amount of luggage consisting of Mickey lego and Star Wars toys they could easily have bought in their local High Stores. But no, it’s special because they could feed the mouse and say hi to Minnie. With memories and less money and nobody but themselves really caring where they have been. And they can tell their co workers and families about the way they had to stand in line for Splash Mountain and how their beds weren’t properly made and no-one gives a flying fuck.
And they’ll go back the following year because they will be dragged by their ego and envy. And then one day they will be dead and gone but the Mouse will still be nibbling his cheese the little bastard and the Imagineers will have created some other spectacular ride that they will hype all over the world and at the end of the ride and the day it means absolutely nothing because it’s done.
Except for the new kids building sandcastles on Cocoa Beach as the pick pockets and shady dealers work out new ways to distract you while you are blinded by the sun and an ever growing ignorance. The pick pockets and shady dealers are the imagineers who leave the Theme Parks as holograms to sit beside you on the beach and talk directly to you through your 3D mobile phone and you are so immersed and fascinated by it all, night falls and the day is done and your money has disappeared along with the affection you should have shown your children unaware, that they are the pawns in the game that are always first to be destroyed.

Water and Ice

July 29, 2017 — Leave a comment
ice-foto-topic-snowflake2-4
I recall a short story I had written in school back in Scotland looking out of our window at the whirling snowstorm blanketing our streets, roofs and gardens. We were young. My teacher said we could reach for the stars. I questioned that statement.
It fell fast and hard as we threw snowballs at each other in the back green. We stopped and together the three of us made a snowman. Over five feet tall with chestnuts for its eyes and baby carrots for its lips. I was so uncomfortable, perspiring as a chilly wind blew through my thick wooly jumper specifically made to keep you protected from the elements.
When completed, I stepped back to admire my work. The snowman’s expression was not one of joy but fear. I rearranged the lips physically with my fingers turning them into a smile. But as the snow fell faster the expression changed once again and looking into the chestnut eyes of this inanimate object I knew there was nothing else I could do.
There was nothing he could do either. He had no brain, therefore no courage, no heart therefore no pulse, and regardless of my desire to alter this thing I could not change, I watched helplessly as its physical appearance morphed moment by moment into something I had not created. A thin crust of ice had formed around the body. There was nothing left but a large lumpy pile of snow as icy blasts shot through our garden.
And they told me I could be anything I wanted to be. That’s what the teacher said. Anything. Reach for the stars. And I guessed it was all a lie. I knew at the end there was one ultimate truth. Whatever we were here, we would all disappear, regardless of our understanding of love and hate.
I walked towards the snowman and systematically pulled it apart. I swiped, punched and kicked as the wind blew harder and the fierce biting wind attacked every fibre of my flesh. I crushed this thing until it was gone. The water was still water, the ice was still ice but the man was no more. Because, quite simply, he had never been in the first place.
I looked up at the dark grey clouds and felt thousands upon thousands of snowflakes swirling around me, melting on my lips and blinding my eyes. I was awake and I knew I was not dreaming. I knew I was alive and I knew in my heart I would be spending some extra time in space on this little planet.

Purposeless

February 27, 2017 — Leave a comment

images

I woke up tired today.

Hot sweet

Expressos

In tiny white cups,

Stirred me a little.

 

But  lethargy,

And the heat,

And the crushing  humidity

 

Made me anxious,

Gave me palpitations,

Made me light headed

And confused.

 

I had no plans today

So I sat at a pavement café

Sipping expressos,

Staring at people.

 

And when the dehydration

Brought on

Panic attacks

 

I was no longer tired,

And even though

I had absolutely

Nothing to do,

 

I was terrified

And saw quick stars

And white lines

When I closed my eyes.

 

And I just cringed

At the thought

Of the nightmares

Just

Waiting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image from medical daily.com

 

 

 

 

Good afternoon.

Some wine,

Break bread,

Listen intently

As the afternoon breaks,

Out of

Morning’s cold clutch,

And becomes

Luminous,

In its own right.

Pulling the river and the people

Quicker

Towards a red silver evening.

A Sunday on La Grande Jatte - 1884

 

When The Sun Settles

March 18, 2016 — 1 Comment

921066_928524077216657_6829829807981814422_o.jpg

I know what the sand on a French beach feels like

Underneath my feet and startled by the friction feelings

Heightened by the foam lining the rocks

Much harder under

My body pressing down

to push me through the cracks

Silver lined with water

Swirling the rocks

Slowly

Teasing my vision to keep moving

Through the orange hue

Sunshine

Sitting on the horizon

Her heat going to sleep

I am her dreams.