you have the right to remain silent

[detective]   ‘you have the right to remain silent ..anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law ..you have the right to an attorney present during questioning ..if you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed for you  ..do you understand these rights?’

[suspect] ‘well shit detective ..how much thought have you given them?’

[detective] ‘looks like we got a wise guy here ..I’d advise you not to get to cute ..understand?’

[suspect] ..just get me my attorney and we’ll do lunch ..big guy’

[40 minutes later he is joined by his attorney and the interview proceeds]

[suspect] ‘mind if I take notes?’ [ writing something on the first page of his notepad]

[detective] ‘I’d like to ask you some questions regarding your activities last night’

[suspect] ‘I may respond to some of your questions’ [..in a concilliatory tone]

[detective] ‘look this is a slam dunk ..we’ve got you at the scene of the crime ..we got the murder weapon ..why’d ya do it?’

[suspect] ‘you’ve asked me a direct question ..naturally you’re expecting a response but if I remained silent it wouldn’t be very pretty ..this is the politicization of silence ..if I don’t respond instantly it is taken to be an admission of guilt as a lack of denial ..in fact it would be even worse if I actually denied it later ..a non-adjacent denial ..not the preferred response ..its a basic little rule of conversation analysis ..all conversations have been found to be made up of little rules ..it involves the concept of turns otherwise known as adjacency pair structures  ..your initiation of it is called the first pair part ..my response or turn ..would be known as the second pair part   ..your strategy seeks to turn an act of voluntary co-operation into involuntary compliance ..good luck with that’

[detective] ‘you’re a pretty sharp dude ..evading my questions ..seems suspicious ..got something to hide?’

[suspect] [writing something on the second page of his notepad] ‘well ..you are paid to be vexatious with you’re reasoning..arent you?..just like a lawyer [winking at his lawyer] ..in my case ..its all for free’ [smiling]

[detective] ‘we know you’ve been harassing his informants ‘

[suspect] ‘look ..if I asked you a question ..you’d only play ball insofar as your second pair part was only some kind of clarifying response ..otherwise ..you’d fail to offer an adjacent response ..now.. you’re  misinterpreting  something I did or said or didn’t say ..in fact you’ve been trained to ..the preferred response here is for me to ‘let it go’ ..yet if I wish to clarify it at any later stage not only does it look worse ..sorta like I’m changing my story..it also falls outside the framework of your rule-set ..meaning you’re likely to respond with a disjunctive shift’

[detective] ‘you think this is some kind of a game ..a fucking joke ..smartass?’

[suspect] [holding up the first note taken earlier ..it reads 'you think this is some kind of a joke?']

[detective] ‘you just don’t give a fuck do ya [leaning in close ..menacingly] ..listen professor ..I ain’t got time for this ..I got a dead undercover cop ..a family of seven that needs some answers ..and a bunch of cops out there ready to play hardball ..understand?’

[suspect] [holds up the second page ..it reads 'this is where you probably make some sort of sarcastic ad hominem ..possibly even insinuating a lack of basic humanity ..possibly even a thinly veiled threat' ..he screws up both pages into a tight little bundle and tosses them into the waste basket] ‘..you might want to get the fingerprints off that ..are we done here?’ [looking at his attorney]

[attorney] [on their way out] ‘you don’t like cops much ..do you?’ [a half smile]

[suspect] ‘I don’t have a problem with cops ..just some of their rule-sets’

masked moon

In earlier posts I sported with my fondness for a simple quote from Shakespeare ..’no more..’ ..this line has such dramatic qualities of gravitas ..minimalism ..and if you like ..flippancy ..that it seems to me to be as old as theatre itself..Shakespeare used this line a lot ..in fact I once queried a Shakespeare database so as to ascertain how many times he used it ..to my surprise the search engine found 500 instances and wasn’t capable of compiling lists beyond that scale ..so as in some form of continuity I decided today to write yet another post on this timeless line ..

No More

wherewithal they should so wit the page
we dread their measures on our stage
sweetly read of cruellest honeys
sagely bread ..so spread and fed
owed on owned treasured moneys
sought and lost at fountainhead
found at cost by honours bed
so squandered all the flower said
unblossomed by errors of simple praxis
picked a part where the masked moon waxes

Arden of Feversham

I’ve been reading of late an interesting little book I picked up in a thrift store

~Minor Elizabethan Drama (1) Pre-Shakespearean Tragedies ..consisting of four plays ..Gorboduc: Thomas Norton and Thomas Sackville; Arden of Feversham: [?]; David and Bethsabe: George Peele; The Spanish Tragedy: Thomas Kidd

I started out with Gorboduc but quickly lost interest with it not so much for its tedious style but for its striking similarities to King Lear, and so abandoned it for ‘Arden of Feversham’ interesting for a variety of reasons ..it has a good flowing style ..it is perhaps one of the first English plays about private men and their affairs ..rather than courtly life or continental themes ..as it concerns an actual murder of the period ..Thomas Arden’s wife Alice loves him not ..she bestows her love on a fellow named Mosbie ..together they plot Arden’s muder through the agency of two well known ‘cutters’ by the names of ‘Black Will’ and ‘Shakebag’ ..of all things ..there is the obligatory subplot of suitors for the hand of Mosbie’s fair sister-Susan ..proving to be a sufficient appeal for drawing accomplices into the machinations of their scheme ..’Black Will’ and ‘Shakebag’ prove to be somewhat bunglers of their craft ..naturally luck refuses to be easily complicit in their commission

I rather enjoyed this play ..finding perhaps the two most intriguing things about it to be how the faltering pact of the lovers resembles that of Macbeth and his Lady as also in the curiosity of there being no clear cut hero to speak of ..That this play has been attributed to Shakespeare comes as no surprise ..as I recall reading somewhere that around the vicinity of Arden ..lengthy festivals which were said to be of ‘Faerie’ in nature took place ..and it has been speculated that a very young Shakespeare may well have attended the activities ..perhaps even providing early inspiration for ‘A Midsummer Nights Dream’

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…noooooo !

Othello

have just been watching Oliver Parker’s adaption of Shakespeare’s Othello ..with Fishbourne in the lead ..an excellent work ..a very masterful essay on deceits so familiar to so many of us ..piecing our lives together from what remains of our humanity

..life is somewhat like a jigsaw puzzle and its pieces..or several.. ~our impressions of ourselves ..our regard for others ..our worldviews ..our sense of right or wrong ..all assembled from fact and fiction ..honesty and lies ..hope and fear ..objectivity and subjectivity ..charity and malevolence ..freedom and control

if you’ve ever tried to live outside the jigsaw ..if you find yourself there or have been there for even a moment ..you will no doubt know how hard it is to remain there ..where it often seems that every dynamic and interplay conspires to force one back into the image of the puzzle ..where the pieces are lonely for completion ..where the process and the picture serve to imperil every promise ..it is such an effort to not become a piece of someone elses puzzle ..

fuck that ..seriously ..fuck that ..don’t stand for it ..and if in this you cannot succeed ..keep at least a part of yourself ..outside a puzzle

Aaron should have such an Othello trespass within ..or Cain be so Able
a halfmoon struck so poorly coined upon some fable
where many a puzzle pegged as pieces
fitted as keys to turn some wheel of fortune
full circling those dizzy spirits spun to be spoken so

Tolkiens latest must read..

some years ago now ..I sold a rare edition of a book on 14th century poetry ..with a rather compendious glossary compiled by none other than JRR Tolkien himself [published 1900]..it constituted some 40 % of the entire volume ..this book inspired me sufficiently to finally get around to reading him [in my early 30's] ..I appreciated his legacy of pioneering the 20th century fantasy epic despite fantasy having become quite a sophisticated form in itself ..recently I have read that his elderly son has edited a complete and previously unpublished poem of his fathers on the legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, [J. R. R. Tolkien: The Legend OF Sigurd And Gudrun -Edited by Christopher Tolkien] ..and I look forward to reading it at some point ..for in this sort of work the man was truly in his element.

shamanism

I have been reading of late ..Roger Walsh in his book: The world of Shamanism: New Views of an Ancient Tradition ..this is a well researched and cogent offering on the phenomena of shamanism and ‘NeoShamanic’ developments ..it gives sound insight into traditional origins as well as current trends

..I have always had a lot of time for people who devote themselves to this sort of thing ..-even though I have never considered myself to be one such as they. Shaman are for the most part dedicated to community ..culture and tribe ..in this they serve ..culture is a thing I as an artist see fit to be transformed  ..in this I mean mine ..and no-one elses.. I would not be so presumptuous ..I for my part have seen fit to pursue community through synonomies of attribute ..activity and disposition ..-other artists ..writers and suchlike ..there are yet still more profound differences of outlook to consider ..while I have a great and abiding interest in all things metaphysical ..we differ significantly in our perceptions of the spirit world ..it is my contention that when death occurs that life is an entity no more ..never suchlike again ..when I experience what others refer to as the spirit world ..I am referring to psi like resonances such as I believe to be within the facility of any human to know ..an aspect of collective consciousness or race-memory if you like ..such as the trance like state numerous tribal groups undergo to commune with their ancestors ..so I believe that when a person encounters these spirits it usually indicates that a person or persons very alive and real are thinking in certain ways ..the spirits encountered are quite substantial in a manner of abstracts ..significant psychological phenomena ..all things being considered I believe real shaman to be of a higher academic pedigree than psychologists ..

the acolyte

the young man sought but a few words from a fellow he’d never met ..though felt like he knew
..he climbed that mountain ..an arduous and harrowing task only to ask him…

‘what should I do to learn things in the way you did?’ ..the old man took so long to answer the younger that the clouds had been usurped by the breeze ..’you must find yourself in that zone where there is no enduring honesty to be found ..only the logic of suspicion ..the jurisprudence of superstition ..the logos of failure ..you must come to know a collective essence of self deception so as to be able to definitively answer the question ..What is it that stands in for a surrogacy of being lost to a devolved nothingness that is determined to grasp it’s own apperception?’

..on his way back down the mountain the young fellow wished he’d taken his notepad

fatted chance

governance spurned
like a worm turned
away from the high table of patience
or a gorgeous glutton of fatted chance
Juno strutting to a piglet dance

the consultation

Opus

her 3 o’clock was waiting ..quickly changing from her pant suit into a silk top ..sheer stockings and micro skirt then positioning her chair just so near the couch she opens the door and ushers him inside   ..her favourite client ..he shuffles in ..unkempt and slightly disturbed ..he tells her he had the weirdest dream -something like a movie and would like her thoughts on it ..younger than her she liked everything about him except his argot ..she gestures toward the couch with a reassuring smile

‘it all starts out like I’m this journo dude ..for years and years the city’s been terrorised by ..like this serial killer ..we call him the The Happy Cat Killer ‘cos he always draws like a Felix the cat face at every crime scene ..naturally there’s like loads of copycat killers ..known locally as Leotards ..but this dude is real clever right ..sure the public know that every seventh victim is positioned theatrically alongside the composite assembly of trophies taken from the previous victims ..but what they don’t know is that the dude always stuffs some sheet music he wrote in every victims mouth ..thats how the cops know he’s the Happy Cat Killer ..see ..so I know this cop she’s not real cute and don’t get out much ..I play her right ..just to get the guff on the investigation ..thats how I know ..anyways you know how I went to the conservatorium n’shit right ..so I gets her to copy the manuscripts so I can study ‘em right ..thats when I discover that whoever wrote it took particular care over the Viola da gamba parts ..just beautiful ..I mean only a virtuoso could play stuff like that ..so I take a punt that Happy Cat is a Viola player …meanwhile he’s killin’ peeps and firin’ off sarcastic letters to the mainstream press all about how freakin’ dumb the cops are ..tauntin’ em n’stuff noamsayin ..I’m researchin every viola player in town ..till I come upon this one virtuoso that only ever recorded stuff ..was a complete enigma ..no-one even knew what he looked like ..so he like just disapeared from the scene years ago ..I track him down ..no sign of the dude ..then I get a phone call ..its him ..he asks me to meet him in an underground carpark knowing that I ain’t gonna tell the cops ‘cos it’s my big break right ..so I’m there waiting ..in the frikkin dark ..an I can tell you I’m so scared I’m already tryin’ to wake up ..suddenly the place is flooded with light I can barely see ..then there’s this shadow ..his shadow ..like he’s some kind of freakin’ giant in a cloak and cowl..his voice is dark ..he calls me by name and talks all about stuff I thought nobody knew about me ..I’m so offended ..insulted that I rush toward the light and stumble over this freakin dwarf in a cape standin on a chair ..he pulls a gun on me and I know I’m for it ‘cept these like Israeli security dudes ..who I’ve already told you about ..waste the guy right there ..and then the next thing I know I’m stumblin around the university in some kind of stupor ..can’t remember anything but my name and I’m asking these dudes where Meridian House is ‘cos all I’ve got on me is this key with a tag and a room number to the place and they’re laughin’ at me sayin shit like ‘hahah ..dude ..you’re out there man ..you’ve been cut up’ ..so they take me to this cafe called the ‘Babe cafe’ ..where this squirly old chick serves us coffee at like 3.30 in the mornin ..and all through this dream there’s this like song goin’ on ..acoustic guitar with this really sorta cynical feral voice ..really deep ..singin’ stuff like

‘fell through the sky ..winged from a lie
walked down wet streets ..no shoes on my feets
drunk as a skunk ..’least thats what I thunk
for every good thing I done a bad thing
where is my son ..whats he done with my gun’

just when I’m thinkin ..where’s the freakin’ chorus ..the tenor kicks in ..some Irish dude who suddenly goes all alto on their asses ..and I’m like ‘nooooo!’ ..so these dudes finally take me to my room ..and its really weird ..the floor is like so spongy I’m up to my ankles in carpet ..and there’s no TV ..so I go out to the common area ..and theres my TV with my room number on it ..and some grungy dude watchin the other one ..and I’m all like ‘is that my TV?’ ..and he’s like ’sure ..it’s been here for ages’ ..so to start up a converstion I say ‘I’m here for the infrastructure ..how about you?’ ..and he goes ‘I’m studyin’ sportscastin’ ..real mumbly like he’s embarrased about it ..so I take the TV back to my room and take a powernap ..and then I woke up’

His psychiatrist seems puzzled ..looking at her watch she says ..’look ..we’ve run way past time ..but we can continue this later if you’d like ..wanna catch a movie?’

©Gregory David Andrews 2009

playhouse

Self portrait

where is the poet

where are his scripts

that man of ideas

of timeless quips

why won’t he join us

when we live for the word

to die for a story

we’ve never heard

flickertease

Swift Metempsychosis

A young man on his way home after a heavy night of serious drinking falls asleep behind some topiary near the footpath ..he is awoken to hear a racist and crazed tirade being uttered by a very nasty and disturbed woman who then lays a malicious curse upon his people ..unaware that she has been overheard by an extremely vicious revenant warlock in his 78th incarnation

[I'm thinking Toby MacGuire would be cool as the warlock]

A Princely thing

A struggling actor finally achieves staggering success in his first major role and is catapulted to stardom ..having concealed a violent and murderous past as a cage fighter  ..after watching the girl of his dreams being slowly destroyed by paparrazi he tips off his victims with exclusive scoops regarding his ‘whereabouts’ …and one by one collects increasingly gruesome trophies

[this would be really cool if it had Mickey Rourke or Woody Harrelson playing the lead]

gravitas

‘you think she won’t know her condition is not truly serious?’ ‘…oh my Lord theres no way …it’s completely tasteless ..she won’t know a thing ..other than the false sense that she is on deaths door’ ..he’d been asking of a special drug -Leononine …the Duke had more than suspicions alone…something had been eating away at him for almost 20 years ..’let me get this straight ..you’re saying she will have no idea what’s going on   ..yes?’ ..’oh absolutely ..my Lord ..if you want to get to the bottom of this ..there is no better way’ ..said the Dukes alchemist ..’well ..then make it so ..drug her with the stuff and bring her to me on the battlefield where I have devices of my own’ …’..as you wish my Lord ..you know how eager I am ..as you are ..to see this matter settled once and for all’ ..it had gone on unattended for too long   ..Duke Wellsingdude had even more than enough of these apes than Merlin knew ..the Duke had devised a secret plan of which Merlin was seemingly unaware …..he’d instructed his alchemist to concoct a potion that whilst not being truly lethal  ..would seem so to it’s mark    ..Lady Sappho trusted Merlin completely and everyone knew she was unwell …to have the Dukes own alchemist administer her ‘medicine’ was quite a favour ..a favour a sickly woman was unlikely to query ..and so it was done ..after some time it was reported that she was on her deathbed ..and begged to be taken to the Duke ..wherever he may be ..-a favourite of Queen Mab ..no-one hesitated to acquiesce ..so in the midst of the heat of a battle …the Duke was called to a ‘deathbed’ confession of a ‘dieing’ woman just when he was laying siege to the enemies palace  …everything had been prepared in advance ..he stood on a dias to hear her final words  ..she was utterly oblivious to her surrounds ..’my Lord ..there is something you need to know ..my daughter ..Lady Nimbin ..is in fact your daughter ..I know I took advantage of you while you where drunk ..and you had no intention of anything more than a litany of kisses ..yet I swear she is your daughter despite insisting to your face that she was not  ..and I have never had the soul or courage to tell her the truth’ ..the Duke  is the very picture of empathy  ..stroking her pale cheek ..wiping away her tears ..’how could I not know such a thing ..I always thought so ..from the moment I saw her ..and to have this confirmed now is to have my heart put at ease -finally   ..good woman ..you denied her nothing ..except her true father …and I at least forgive you for it ..what else could you do?’ ..’I had such fear that you would take her from me ..and I knew my people could not survive your wrath ..should you ever learn the truth ..I see now that you are a good man  ..a man I never truly knew ..but for that one time ..and I wish I could take back this evil that I have done you both’  ..’shh ..sshh ..do not cry so Lady ..we have it in our hearts to forget these things ..and the power to make good of past wrongs ..be at peace woman ..be at peace’ ..he says kissing her hand ..’God bless you sir ..God bless you ..if only things had been different’ …’sshh …sshh ..what is done is done’ ..he says stepping slowly back..turning his head sadly away … silently mouthing the word ‘pull’ to a group of his men ..as suddenly the trebuchet sings with all its pent up gravitas ..as she goes hurtling ..screaming through the sky

grudge report

Is there anything funnier and more pathetic than those folk who bear grudges? For most of my life I was quite the slow learner with regards to this ubiquitous aspect of human nature..there was a time when I could not fathom what lay beneath a persons surface charm ..never sensing the animosity that bubbled therin like a truckload of sardines in the belly of a bitter or jealous whale ..as a writer I discovered this amongst a myriad of things that people can harbour or develop or be motivated by where they otherwise might find themselves without any sort of effective thrust ..I discovered that the high and the low ..the good and the bad ..the near and dear all have this facility ..and that a person may be able to fall in and out of love at the drop of a hat  ..whilst never being able to rid themselves of their cultivated hatreds ..historically this has proven to be a most useful aspect of human nature and is the key to understanding much of modern human affairs ..I wish I could say I am above it ..certainly once there was a time when I could ..a slow learner I may well have been ..not so now ..sure ..I could put this down to a writers need to personally experience every shallow depth of humanity ..tho’ I suspect there is more to it than that ..perhaps we have within ourselves a compulsion to balance extant needs with anything that lacks closure ..more than pride and honour go before this sort of fall ..so some Kantian loglines ‘n’stuff then

At the appointed time: Recto

Constantly trying to improve her own opinion of herself ..a humble woman learns to interact with a remnant of her next existence in order to become more competitive with the meaning of life ..she meets an angel who refuses material existence because he discovered he was created by God to create those things that God could not personally bear to

At the appointed time: Verso

Constantly trying to lower his own opinion of himself an arrogant man learns to interact with a remnant of his last existence in order to become more competitive with the senselessness of life ..he meets an angel who refuses material existence because he discovered he was created by God to destroy those things that God could not personally bear to

Invasion Day

After another mass stranding near Jellulabubnerarrabran ..angry reprasentatives of the Wirradweeb people call on state officials to take decisive action ..’they come here and take our fish ..now they think they own the beach’ ..tribal elders say they will now refer to the event as invasion day

nothing like a Kangaroo

‘A mouse … a mouse’ ..Renmao shrilled striking out here and there with a flail…overturning tables and chairs ..skittering madly about the shadows..quite an unbecoming thing for the Pharoah’s accountant ..passing close by Suten Anu …the Kings favourite scribe ..who casually extends a foot ..tripping him up ..Renmao falls quite heavily ..there is even some blood ..’you shall regret this Suten Anu ..you may have the Pharoahs ear ..but I have his money!’ ..Suten Anu gives a withering smile ..’it is not a mouse it is a Jerboa‘ ..he kneels down hand extended …making kissing sounds as a strange little creature ..comes timidly to him ..jumping onto his palm ..’look here Renmao …see his tiny little forelegs …how quite extraordinarily large his hindlegs are …how long his tail is? ..Renmao is blinking ..still wiping the blood from his nose ..Suten Anu continues ..’this little one’s name is Sokkwi …he is the beloved pet of Anok Sabe …the Pharoahs second son …interestingly enough the last person that interfered with Sokkwi ..Anok Sabe had none other than General Hetshepsu himself personally drown …quite the sentamentalist is our little Anok Sabe ..perhaps you’d like to tell him yourself’ ..it was sort of put like a question ..one that Renmao seemed loathe to answer ..’I see ..I see’ said Renmao …’such things are good to know ..thank you Suten Anu …you always were the wise one’ ..Suten Anu sets Sokkwi down again, smiling craftily ..’see that no harm comes to him’

prelude

a contrapuntal candlelight
in heat of nights dreaming flight
burning truth into sight
like frozen stars in spiral dark
silent signs of distant marque
a diamond road to deaths delight
sequined through the Janus night

so very slow

what a funny old timepiece
…it loved telling the time
..yet prefering it to be done in a style
beyond its own capacities…
it loved that way so much
it went about contriving situations
that saw other ..more gifted clocks
measure the fleeting moments..

tho’ it took all night to finesse
an ivory monstrance of moment posessed
marking shadows as pendulum’s way
each hand had some timely delay

Garuda

bless you Garuda
for you were ever my only true friend
no-else comes screaming after I go
no-one else knows what I know
thou art no desert lie
thou art no foreign sky
thou art feathered to rise above
the poison of these doves
and I loved nonsuch as I loved you
..so brutal …so true

never a tear

for those of us from here

vespered vaunting

evolved by imitation interpreted as it appears
personified by spirit art fondly volunteers
every subtle nuance expression souvenirs
beguiled by invitations offered over years

formed to fashion a hallowed haunting
diamond dazzled vespered vaunting
charming stars from darkest reach
heavenly orbits of fluencies speech

honoured by dancing candlelight
dreamers do divinely write
tempests spun from secrets of a lie
swanning through some shamanic sky

no other illusions so worthy to concieve
for senses so costly…so destined to decieve
clouded in eyes of hopeless consent
misty with all it surely meant

The Associationists

Party Animals
When archrivals learn that they were twins in a past life ..they set about seducing each others electorate.

South of the border
An unsuspecting wizard is run out of town by a violently angry group of women when they learn he has come to undo an enchantment that left their menfolk speechless.

The Associationists
A mans sense of self worth becomes enhanced every time he associates himself as added value to an enterprise ..he becomes so intoxicated that he makes annual pilgrimages to himself.

The Tutor
A sneak thief having gained entry to a secluded mansion discovers it to be completely empty apart for an ancient old man asleep in a vintage wheelchair ..the old man crumbles to ashes after the thief steals his watch ..when he puts it on he is suddenly transformed into an ancient old man ..too feeble to remove his watch

Cthulish dreams
The day to day serenity of a Kraken is reduced to chaos when one by one her tentacles develop minds of their own.

the troupers

no quillwhipt casts mere pounce of rehearsal
flickering through the spotlit significances
a crystal feathered focus by overstated reflections dark
soliliquy with silvered voice in deep mask there
a metamorphosis of meaning by character shifts
mere forked talk with masks to mean style no more vanities
in pomps pouted frills of rouge masque charade
showcasing verse witted grotesques to the bantered want they will
all curiosities crush.. expectations doubtless by lured suspense
duelling inspirations of zen touched personifications of performance
a suddenly decisive deadpan playwright pens a stunning glare
glass in stars inspiring eyes by inkwell
..each character some shy authorship
pimping dreamed elegance over penned excellence
leers by simpering well worded sycophants sublime
smiling years upon Caesar’s mystic ideas
the kitten purrs for muse magnificant verse

praxis

… a song without a soul
a people without a conscience
a desire without a heart
a voice without a mind
hungry for more than ideas
seeking the soft road to satisfaction
we say nothing
…when the shadows prepare
listening to the mission statement
…smelling it there
…craving new misadventure
up for a share

there’s an equation in their guile
fortunately eluding us
…a unified theory of lies and fact
a secret revelation of malice and tact

this must be where all the energy goes
never becoming a thing it knows

the press are manufacturing monad tears
not just in denial
…they’re the spies of the river itself
trying so hard to own the years
pointlessly trying to wash away
every sign of their failure today

truly making a world of worldliness
living only in the red
not doing those things
no-one else would do
surrounded by a sanctity
more alone than thought
shaping fashions of unity
only as capable as they prefer to be

hoodwinked

strung along a loophole
winking in the hood
unicorn at the hawser
dragon by the snout
humoured by gravity’s loft
drifting down the mountains
carved by lateral moraine
sliding through the valley
prancing past the clouds
a silverpoint of sky
drooling braided streams
…of meltwater moment
indulged by flowing dreams

the love pony

‘…what about that mystic… Elfincrest… why don’t we get him?’ ..’Elfinloft…maam …such as he styles himself’ ..the queen was viewing the latest intelligence reports ..a number of neighbouring states were covertly placing themselves on a war footing ..beyond that their wasn’t anything conclusive in the report ..’..I’m afraid we can no longer source his talents’ said the General..  ’why?’ ..asks the queen ..’..he disengaged over a year ago maam ..right after we rigged the election in the upper house’ ..’..can we win him over?’ she asks ..’..it’s unlikely maam ..he moved to the country ..a small city ..aspects of his reputation preceded him ..it is an insular community ..they are actually quite backward and well ..kind of vile’ ..’..inbreds eh?’ she offers ‘..most likely maam  ..though they seem religious ..it is in fact simply the basis for a petty and corrupt network of nepotism and cronyism that threads its weave all the way through to the press and parliament  ..whom he also refuses to counsel ..in short maam ..he counsels no-one and due to the nature of his current circumstances has never been further away from doing so’ ..there were other mystics  ..they just weren’t psychic as well ..there were other psychics but none that could see the future   ..Elfinloft was a recluse whom had been quietly studying numerous things for around 32 years  ..the queen has that ‘Ive got an idea’ look about her as she asks…
..’what if we got him a pony?…..’    

Rock Star Support Group

of course by this time they were all quite familiar with each others trauma ..they met as often as they could ..quite an achievement really ..considering some of them were still getting gigs ..most of them tho’ were content with their philanthropic works ..it made a lot of sense to give something back ..took some of the pain away ..Suedefish was the first to arrive ..he just sat there playing that lick from ‘belly button window’ on his Obamacaster® ..waiting for the others ..they met at Frothingtons ..in a teak panelled room sporting an enormous fireplace ..persian carpets ..ageless furniture ..cigar smoke hung about the place ..now and then the tinkling of glass on glass ..a pretty cellist barely audible over by the waterfall ..by 5pm they’d all arrived …sitting as close to the fireplace as comfort would permit ..as usual it started with them all catching up on each others activities ..this time Slick Velour ex frontman from Glimmering Authority spoke of his charitable foundation ..’The School for Ugly Children’ ..seeking and recieving support and validation ..first to start the session was CC Foxdazzle of Hickjacket ..he spoke of his ongoing addiction with powdery or shiny things ..how he’d come a long way since last time but still had a ways to go ..one after the other they spoke of their personal hardships and as usual DiamondTexta just sat there ..as if in shadows ..saying nothing ..not joining in ..Suedefish finally has a crack at him ..’Diamond you’ve said nothing again ..seriously dude ..why do you even bother coming man..we’ve all had the guts and good graces to open up to each other..’ ..now the others are all starting in on him ..despair and frustration clouding his visage until MC Juan Afterelle sofly asks him ..’you know ..now ..don’t you ..c’mon Diamond ..we’re here for you man’.. Diamond is now nodding ..gesturing with his hands ..’enough already ..ok ..ok ..its hard for me dudes ..but yeah ..I think I’ve made a breakthrough..’ ..he lays his hands helplessy in his lap ..keeping his eyes low ..’..you know they said I’d never do another album like ‘Quintessential Salmon Elevator’ ..and it’s true man ..I’ve been struggling ..like I lost my mojo or something ..its like I’m always travelling and never getting anywhere’ ..he wipes at a shy tear ..’..so I tried to take a good look at myself ..and ..[more tears] ..I learned something that ..I dunno .. I guess I should have known all along’ ..he leaves them there ..hanging on a thread ..they erupt again ..calling for him to get it off his chest ..’ …ok ..ok’ ..he is close to hyperventilating ..’..last night ..sitting there trying to write ..looking at what I was trying to do .. I realised ..oh man this is tough .. I realised I’ve always wished I was ..Joe Strummer’ now the tears are flowing freely ..silently ..next to him Suedefish leans in ..drawing him into a hug ..Diamond grimaces, his eyes squintly little stars, as that first ..always silent cry heralds a bout of whimpering’ …suddenly MC Juan Afterelle is crying too ..openly ..shamelessly  ..sobbing ‘ ..aaw..Diamond..dude …                 ..I wish you were Joe Strummer too’

…tell the other Directors what you saw

time out was called ..swatting at yet another mosquito, skip said something to the male lead ..they both disappeared into his trailer ..everyone else went to lunch with the real stars …the caterers ..inside the van Mr filmstar was being dressed down ..skip had left the air con on ..they’d cracked a six pack ..’your delivery of key lines is shearing towards the wooden’ ..the actor asks for an example ..’the line ..whoah ..I just divided 60 by 1.32 and got 45.45454545 etcetera,  I feel like Pythagoras dude ..what are the chances of that?’ ..the actor interjects ..’ aaw c’mon man ..I put a lot of emphasis there’ ..’yeah’ says skip ..’the wrong kind of emphasis ..the punter needs to know that not only does this guy love numbers ..they love him’ ..the actor is laughing now ‘..c’mon  ..dude ..eheh ..who sez shit like that anyhow ..eheh ..and what’s he doing in the freakin jungle anyway?’   ..skip is already into his second beer ..’right ..this is how it’s gonna be ..think rgb ..red green blue   ..red is toned by anger or …decisiveness ..green is toned by passion ..obsession ..madness ..blue is toned with despair  ..angst ..regret ..you got that? ..we’re gonna shoot everything 3 times ..in red ..green ..blue ..are you up with that?’ ..the actor is stunned ..silent for a pause ..breaking into a grin, saying ..’I like it’

eight weeks later ..an extraordinary parallax of coincidences ocurred.. if you were lucky enough to observe their simultaneity ..during post production ..skip was over the moon ..’there’s enough here for two good movies at least’ ..dollar signs in his smiling eye’s

hope …not dread

straight up ..they’d gotten off on the wrong foot …he’d almost compromised his mission right there …it took such a lot of finesse to bring it back from the brink ..for a while there he thought she’d never speak to him again ..in a very short space of time he’d learnt how sophisticated and subtle the dainty humours of these strange and cosmopolitan people had somehow become ..a prince disguised as a jester is usually a prince well out of his comfort zone ..his performance thus far showed him to be no exception to the rule ..he’d gone to these extraordinary lengths to covertly observe the complex choreographies of the dandified nobles of the Wiccan court ..he wanted to make an entrance   ..needed to make a splash ..so he chose the most beautiful girl there ..a platinuum blond angel with 4 foot dreadlocks  ..he’d gone dashing along after her ..sliding the last 10 m on his knees ..till he was beside her ..tugging at her hair  ..saying ‘hope  ..hoooope …[eyes imploring]  …not….  dread …noooot dread’ ..he was instantly set upon by numerous guards …who manhandled him into an ante-chamber ..where he was presently questioned by some quite sinister folk until he was eventually rescued by the young woman he’d surprised ..who turned out to be a Princess …discreetly whispering to him ..’I know who you are …Rufus ..what is your business here?..’I can assure you I didn’t know who you were ..and for that I am now most contrite ..I am receiving so much conflicting counsel that I decided to come and have a look see myself ..early discovering the full measure and scale of so much ill advice ..you have nothing to fear from me beyond a sense of humour that would rather have you school me than otherwise  

Taipan

verge (n)
Etymology:
Middle English, rod, measuring rod, margin, from Anglo-French, rod, area of jurisdiction, from Latin virga twig, rod, line
Date:  15th century
1 a (1): a rod or staff carried as an emblem of authority or symbol of office (2)obsolete : a stick or wand held by a person being admitted to tenancy while he swears fealty b: the spindle of a watch balance ; especially : a spindle with pallets in an old vertical escapement c: the male copulatory organ of any of various invertebrates
2 a: something that borders, limits, or bounds: as (1): an outer margin of an object or structural part (2): the edge of roof covering (as tiling) projecting over the gable of a roof (3)British : a paved or planted strip of land at the edge of a road :   – Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary  2009

Taipan

be fearful of your footfalls
the queen of the pond is 14 foot long,
you linger near the verge of a Taipan
gifted with venom to instantly nail ya’
now so predisposed to test it to failure
being one people or the other
as opportunity requires
even on ocaission seeming all as one
when it suits her
making her three times the snake
we’ll never be
loved by any one of her faces three
softly this way…tread carefully

in the merry month of …meh

…cruelly infiltrated
surreptitiously slipped silken..
positioned precisely
..one alone
waiting
inscrutable master of a soft tower
50  futons high
apple of a ninja’s eye
eh heh heh heh
in the merry month of …meh
even in her dreams
scheming with whispers of night
sleeping smugly
…snugly
in deep cover of quiet
embedded in burdens soft increase
no stranger to her dreams of sweeter peas

broken pipe

Portrait of Christian Bale and Michael Phelps

Uncanny ain’t it ..that the kind of thing that set Christian Bale off happened at all on one of the most major productions of that year ..it must be the bane of any top level actor to have to deal with such things when almost everyone on set knows that an actors ideal is to nail a performance in one take ..-if they can..it should be everyones ideal ..tho’ I’m surprised he didn’t just take 20 minutes off to chill.. reminding everyone that the longer it takes the more it’s going to cost   ..soooo while I’m here I may as well hold forth on the topic of Michael Phelps …who seems to be enjoying almost universal support for his faux pas ..he can have mine too …just don’t bogart that joint dude ..seriously ..the outraged should consider the kind of money involved when one adds the potential taxable revenue from legalising the ‘erb to the combined costs of policing it as well as court costs as well as corrective services costs..but hey ..it’s not like the governments of this world are having money problems right?

Performance enhancing? …c’moooon …have a cantaloupe    ..the guy is clean..get over it  – must be the unhappy Stepford wives with ‘role model’ expectations that are the most disappointed ..as for sponsorship repercussions ..tell me it isn’t like he just massively broadened his appeal ..I was actually going to quickly pen a little vignette featuring Phelps and Bale onset together …acting …-playing a pair of plumbers …repairing a pipe … they take a short bong break ..and Phelps breaks the bong ..naturally Bale goes ballistic ..bringing Phelps to tears ..but this is not enough for the cruel Bale ..whom has already sent ..by mobile ..a photo of Phelps bonging ..to their boss …then I thought ..no ..let them work it out between themselves …the bastards

on writing

Recently on the web there were numerous articles and exhibitions revolving around the writers workspace ..generally featuring desks and studies etc ..my apartment has an open plan ground floor …comprising the lounge and kitchen …it is the largest space in my home …it also has the new aircon.. I like to keep a clean desk ..I like to see space on it …which is why I love my wacom bamboo 6×9 pen tablet …its usually all that I use ..being able to put aside the cordless mouse and keypad ..I have 2 pc’s both connected to the same 22 inch LCD monitor ..one is always online ..the other almost never ..they are not networked ..at the moment I also use 4 notebooks ..red …green and yellow ..as well as another that is folio size ..sometimes I construct the work in notepad form before typing in to my offline pc ..using XP’s onscreen keyboard ..to undergo further rewriting ..otherwise it’s direct into my offline pc …oh, ocaissionally I write directly into the text editor of this blog ..usually when I’ve been drinking ..there are also numerous works commited only to memory itself ..because .. I’m like that ..I can write anywhere ..pretty much under almost any conditions ..so on ocaission I may be found writing in a bar ..tucked away in a booth somewhere ..just not so much these days ..

I sometimes work rewriting older ..more romantic pieces I wrote in my 20’s ..I am almost always listening to music when I write ..notably 181 classical guitar ..groovera ..secret agent lounge  ..Datempo lounge [all online] ..I often give voice to my writing by performing it as I’m writing it ..with little regard for what my neighbours might think ..I particularly enjoy fabricating convincing cathartic outbursts as a kind of hoax episode ..one never knows when one is being profiled and it’s always fun to flag soft spots of irresistable sensitivity for future reference ..you know …games people play and suchlike ..it’s also a way of adding something like drama to my fairly undramatic life ..I like humour and romance ..though I find it difficult to write about romance [as realities beyond ideals] when I’m not amorously connected to anyone ..this is why I enjoy rewriting my own accounts of love since lost ..I use Verse perfect …rhymezone ..and even mobysaurus ..as well as an old Oxford concise that has utterly deteriorated into something like a loose leaf heap of grubby neglect

sirensong

a people so like others of late
already broken and addled with hate
surrendered to big-brother the reins of state
an Oedipus to the nanny who made them wait
and so sired a horror that soon becomes their fate

have you seen the smiling ciphers
…we find stalking here?
not so arrogant to believe no-one would see
the sweeping shadows of their duality

we stood with the right when the left was wrong
we walked away when the left was strong…
…harassing trapped dissent to milk it’s ideas
credit being due where it disappears
nanny has a siren to sing your fears

the audition

‘hhmmm’ ..Spillforth humms at his desk …he looks grumpy ..several manuscripts are neatly stacked in front of him.. he drinks wine ..mumbling as he writes something on a scrap of paper ..presently looking up at a young woman  -Emily   ..around 22 or so standing before him ..he smiles unconvincingly  ..somewhat of a glare in his stare ..’good .. good ..you read well and have a fine memory..’ ..she blushes happily …’now its just a matter of seeing you improvise… you’re doing really well’.. he reaches for a manuscript then thinks better of it.. rising from his chair he stands over by the window ..he lights a pipe ..running his hands through his hair .. ‘..it’s a romance ..after much travail ..we have finally had our first rendezvous ..even until now we have not spoken ..we have just separated from a passionate kiss .. after I recite what follows..then you follow…do you follow’ he asks her..’oh yes ..yes of course Mr Spillforth ..’ she waits quietly ..patiently ..for the words to come to him ..soon enough they go rushing by her like a mountain stream…

[Spillforth]

here now wings a deep delight
in new extremes of fancies flight
love bestowed where it plateaued
over it flowed beyond a gracenote
twilight raptures of silence embrace
surpassing stealth of a shadows grace
speechless in the quick of crystal bright
a moment well held to swift recite…

[Emily]

…the moon holds my heart in a chalice sky
she bids me …speak of our love..
…no more

….no more!… [she is screaming it now]

[Spillforth]

ever may I sunder sweet sunrise from mourning skies
…if upon this day love were to lose its pride..

[Emily] —[still screaming]

..no moooooooooore !

..nooooooooooo moooore !

..no moooooooooooore ! [now frothing at the mouth]

D.O.A.

it was wrong…
…all so very wrong
inexplicably agitated ..unsettled
his scopic drive… subverted
oversaturated by red shifts
looking for something
…somehow not there
no longer a spectator
..yet somehow not an actor
no more superfluous jouissance in the mirror
a very real feeling of destiny
transformed into a looked at being
revisited by lost involvement
weak from ennui
he could take it no more
barely able to walk
he stumbles down dark streets of despair
faltering ..falling
seeking the expertise of only one man

…the masterful Dr Lacan

incredibly …against all pleasure
he finds him in his shabby clinic
begging him to run some tests
a specialist in metynomy
he is obliged to acquiesce

..he waits
not daring to hope
anxiety in his shallow breath

Dr Lacan returns
it is not good
.. he seems grim
surprised

“how bad is it …doc?”
suddenly so pale

“its liminal poisoning “
such sympathy in his voice

“give it to me straight ..doc ..how long have I got?”

after show party

soooeee …what a hoot …got my name on the door at Plenty’s …funked out after show party for some artist named Perninni ..oh ..and some old tosser who seemed to rig up a polaroid to a holo-projector ..what a woos   ..Perninni’s works were these hoopy figurines called strangels complete with kick-ass packaging ..totally rawked …there was a lotta tension which turned out to be hilarious ..first when Perninni and the masters daughter totally moshed out to ‘theme de yoyo’ by that band ..talk about dirty dancing ..Hetronicle was there -programmed to give his shadow a dancin’ lesson …I hear he went home with some geeker chicks ..then as it was all finishing up and getting a bit more intimate Pernnini springs a surprise on his master ..presenting him with a whole other strangel not included in the show ..so its all quiet and Perninni says to him ‘..this is for you ..honorable teacher ..this is Saloah  ..the eleventh strangel …or was he the first .. he is the strangel of strangels ..the anathema of control..his fetish is blindfolds ..see how his armor nicely peeps out here and there from his cloak and cowl  ..holding a thunderbolt ..I initially wanted him holding a small galaxy ..but I can only do globular clusters ..sooo …oh ..and wings of liquid crystal ..its his way of showing that he knows what people are thinking” ..the old guy was quite touched and left in happy mood ..then the party pumped until 4.00 am ..heh .. I woke up in a float tank with a coupla limbo ladies

young Perninni steals the show

Meet the Strangels

“all your figures are so beautiful.. innocent.. child-like.. you are a fine sculptor.. quite prodigious.. I hope I live till you are older..I want to see you finish some less divine examples of humanity.. someting with a bit more ooomph..rather faces that tell stories than fairy tails that tell faces”
the lad seemed to take it so well..inside he was furious… after begging leave of his master and patron.. he consoled himself in the arms of his sweetheart..
“everything I do.. I do old school ..that old prick uses the latest Holo-paint programs..with the kind of composite analysis wizards that tell you when the ears are too low.. or the elbows too long.. I’m gonna make my next ones outta real stuff.. using my bare fucking hands.. and little pointy sticks n’shit noamsayin?… when we have our next exhibition he’s gonna look like a fucking relic…”
and so it came to pass..some months later..the exhibition opened to uncertain acclaim and certain controversy ..the old masters holograms were always recieved with sentimental attention.. and this time he’d outdone himself with the sorriest collection of knaves and felons a millionare had ever studied.. and yet the public swarmed about the boys work.. ten small figurines.. made to look like dolls.. highlighted with groovy packaging and everything.. when the master found him he persuaded the boy to guide him through the works..
“I call them Strangels..this first one here is Equonon.. he’s the strangel of karmic disparity.. otherwise known as the anathema of philosophy.. with wings of stained glass.. an ’80’s style jet pilots helmet.. skate shorts.. black tee ..sandals and knee high white socks.. his fetish is infidelity ..ever wondered if anything goes on in there beyond the strange telemetry of skepticism?”
“this little lady is named Ashkura.. her fetish is pathomimesis.. loves to pretend she’s drowning in the pool.. very sexy ..she’s the strangel of dysfunctional innocence.. or rather -the anathema of psychology ..she has wings of velvet plushie ..translucent lingerie.. cats ears in her hair.. golf shoes..”
“here we have Faerasus..the strangel of critical misperception.. and the anathema of real politik ..his fetish is uncertainty .. or is it certainty.. wings of elastic.. camo fatigue pants..leather jacket.. moccasins..goatee..orange goggles.. an actual beret ..and look ..he’s carrying a kitten”
“cute as a button is Sothearus -strangel of gestalt exploitation or .. taran tara ..the anathema of sociology.. wings of Teflon.. oversize head.. large outsize eyes.. looks like a small child..but she’s ageless you know ..grey smear of a badly drawn smile.. reminiscent of the crow or the joker ..more of a seagull really.. carries a scarecrow plushie.. she’s hot for idiots “
“Esotaluna.. the strangel of wandering fixation ..the anathema of the dance -carousels get this one going .. wings of moodstone.. gold lycra micro-shorts ..topless apart from a pair of x’s taped over her nipples.. 8 inch heels when not wearing tap shoes.. elbow length black silk gloves ..carrying a water pistol of some kind ..perhaps a super soaker”
“Primapriori ..the inimitable strangel of divine inelegance ..anathema of consciousness.. she’s into massage ..wings of lava lamps ..neat huh.. hiking shoes.. psychadelic stripped leggings.. oversize turtleneck sweater.. dreadlocks.. carrying a butterfly net ..naturally”
“Next is sweet Neoteneo.. modelled on my girlfriend ..she’s into sundials ..not my girlfriend .. I mean.. wings of sharkskin..pink vinyl lederhosen ..would that be vinylhosen ..umm..white stockings.. pirate shirt.. snowboots.. greek fishermans hat in red velvet ..carrying candy cane ..she’s the strangel of ridiculous satori ..inevitably.. the anathema of art ..”
“Now this one was quite a challenge ..took forever to get her feet right ..Laersophrossi ..the strangel of ornamental wisdom ..also known as the anathema of music ..really into gadgets ..wings of fimo.. tie-die singlet.. loincloth.. combat boots.. carries a microphone”
“and so to Hypheulus.. anathema of history ..strangel of cosmic contempt ..his fetish is.. the last word ..wings of velcro ..baggy trousers ..tangerine hoody.. size ‘F’ clown shoes.. carries a backpack for his wings when his self loathing gets the better of him”
“finally we come to Cosimadeus ..matchless strangel of anthrocentric projection ..really an odd sort of fellow ..anathema of anthropology and all that ..deeply into vibrations ..knee length denim cut-offs ..gumboots ..rodeo shirt.. carrying a pichfork ..oh.. wings of knapped obsidian ..you know like those stone age arrow-heads ..oh I really liked your pieces by the way ..such a visceral appeal ..nothing sensualist at all about them ..bravo master ..bravo “

aliens know

If there’s one thing that characterises my childhood it would have to be books..my father is still a bibliophile and had a substantial science fiction collection when I was a 5 yo…I especially liked them as they had trippy cover illustrations that appealed to my fertile imagination ..I can recall being called in from the yard one fine day in 1969..my Mother thought I should see the delayed telecast of the first moon landing..I was surprised to learn that man had never been there till then..I guess I had a lot to learn..it seemed more scientific to me than anything else…my reading patterns quickly developed their own predispositions..I was already somewhat of a purist with regards to literature by the time I was 12 and regarded most science fiction as little more than pulp fiction..it amazes me to think on how many of such works some SF buffs may have read by the time they are like 80 or something..thinking on this..just this morning..I wondered how many stories this or that novelist or scriptwriter or film maker has read..how certain they may or may not be when they assume they are dealing with an original concept or treatment..what qualities determine their expertise etc..it seems futile to speculate when so many science fiction fans are more than happy to see/read multiple tellings of the same story..variations on the same theme etc..I’m wondering if they ever get around to factoring in the possibility that some of the viewers/readers have that level of familiarity with the genre or if they even care..

heh..tho’ I must say at this point..that if some of those people have moved on from the genre because they feel that their special needs are no longer being adequately catered to..then someone may very well have done them a favour.. :]

the art of archery

he can be seen stalking the waterfall
a stranger that thinks you know him
he makes no effort to silence his footfalls
he is savouring the moment as he draws near
his long shadow reveals his weapon
now he is upon you
as you are tethered in trance
meditating
just as his shadow smiles
something shines in the sunlight
an angel poised to dive
somewhat silvered
first here
now there
tugging at his shadow
wet with ribbons of blood
an arrow in his neck
he kneels before you
speechless in loss
a darkness taking him further
into the arms of death
when you open your eyes
rising to go
wondering where the blood came from
knowing you’ll never know

true enough

‘yer doin’ it right kid..inna cupla years Granma’ll let ya start firin’ the 410′..young Angus is all like..cool..then..’whats a 410 Grandpa?’..as he..pretty expertly for a young’n..fitted the bolt back into his Parker-Hale..Granpa quickdraws an odd looking shotgun from his full length Dryazabone..’I calls this baby my sawn off solicitor..its just a scaled down shotty..with the right shells..it can still waste just about anything in close quarters’..Granma has returned from the garden..busying herself at the woodstove..-or the range..as she called it..slipping on his gloves like a surgeon..then putting on his black balaclava..already on his way out..saying to Granma..’just off down the bank love’..as he sits down to eat..Granma tells Angus that he’s now allowed to go dingo trapping with Uncle Bill..he’s so surprised..so pleased..wolfing down his food he’s out the door ..running across the pastures to Bills little shack near the fence line yelling..   ..’Bill..Bill..Granma sez I can go trappin with ya!’..breathless he’s there..to see old Bill smiling quietly ..always his way..the politest man he was ever going to know well ..tho’ he didn’t yet know it..’feel like carrying me gun then, Angus’ ..it wasn’t a question..’aaw can I?’..is his hasty reply..Bill gathers up his traps with their long chains and substantial stakes..draping them over his elderly shoulders..passing over his Merkel to young Angus ..Bill always carried side by side 12 gauge shotties..but this one was special..it was ornately worked with very fine engravings that Angus fancied were scrolling off the metalwork onto his hands as he handled it..communing with this beautiful weapon..they set off across the fields and meadows of his Granpa’s farm..till at last they come to the tree line where Bill last tracked some Dingo’s..the dog had pulled up the trap and its path through the underbrush was easily visible as Bill always attached a 4 or 5 foot branch to the chain as a sort of a drag ..’Wait here..will you Angus’..signaling for him to pass him the Merkel ..as he limped off ..lamed from an old legacy of a hunting mishap years ago..young Angus wondered again why they were doing this ..the oldies were saying stuff like..’they run down pregnant cattle causing them to drop the calf which they happily eat’..he’d never seen it before..in fact it wasn’t until some almost 40 years later that reports of Dingo attacks  ..especially on children ..were becomingcommonplace ..especially at Fraser Island..well after the Lindy Chamberlain affair ..looking back on it all..years later..he realised that those oldies were quite wise ..the family farm was often seething with small children ..disappearing off into the bush unsupervised ..the upshot of all that trapping saw the Dingo’s adjusting and never setting foot on his Granpa’s farm again ..suddenly young Angus hears a shot and then Bill calling out  ..’allright then..come on over’..it wasn’t hard to find him ..standing there next to a dead dingo..some 5-6 feet long from tail to nose..’look at this’ Bill gestures to a nearby stringy bark tree ..recently scorched black from a bushfire..it had been ringbarked ..stripped down to the red raw bark 4 inches or so wide and an inch or more deep..’she must have been in that much pain..she set upon the tree’ ..nothing was said for ages..it struck young Angus there and then as being almost mythical in proportions..and still does to this day

poor little match girl

Trust in the tale
A drunken and delinquent angel takes an already disturbed matchgirl on a tour of Hades.

Misery cuts
A malignant narcissist..gainfully employed by a popular webnews site..struggles to keep a clear boundary between her online cover story and her real identity when she falls for a celebrity psychiatrist

Clownshop 9
Natural comedy is on the verge of disappearing after a new style unique to ‘Clownshop 9′ -the industry standard in visual gag software.. becomes increasingly ubiquitous

Heart for love
After 6 years of abstinence a shaman finds his spirit finally returned to an adolescent state where he is vulnerable enough to love again.. through a series of almost perfect liaisons he learns he is not so vulnerable that he can love anyone other than his soulmate.

Spinal Draft

Spinal Draft
An elite team of crack scriptwriters are selected to beta test some 7th generation scriptwriting software in a reality TV contest filmed at a luxurious eco-resort in Oz..a Russian military satellite has crashed nearby..leaking stem cells into the environment..Koala’s mutate into crazed vampire like beings that drop from the tree’s with a taste for human spinal fluid..plot points ramped up to..eleven.

Goodness Thief
A holy man is welcomed into a busy country town..people begin to change as they become familiar with his ways..until it seems they are being sapped of all their goodness and mercy..they turn on him and martyr him in the belief that they will be restored to their former selves

The Embarrassment
Creative and healthy …capable and talented..Joost is the constant victim of the wrath of envy..doomed to be endlessly *cured* by sick people..just to make them feel better.

ace of shamrocks

a diminutive merry fellow….always smoking a pipe
fond of rainbows..riverrunning..and journalists
an accomplished fiddle player
his smiling eyes are his hidden assets
..bushy eyebrows
dedicated his life to inspirational mischief
drinks stout from a pot of gold
never leaves home without his knobby little club
tho’ a wordy fellow with a sharp tongue..he is sentimental at heart
his patented magic dancing shoes have made him fabulously rich
he has a habit of wandering off when no-ones looking
always ornately dressed -matching buckles on his shoes belt and hat
fancy buttons on his green velvet coat
he always wears green..even has a suit of shamrocks
…lost the ace sometime back in the ’80’s
listens to Gilbert O’sullivan

Jump cut

Just discovered an excellent film journal  – Jumpcut…while following up on Metz’ cinesemiotics…and an essay that kind of relates to my previous post and elements of the raison d’etre of  Shadowloop.

Here are two extracts:

“The multiple voices (codes)in the texts end in a superior voice, a singular voice which finally silences all other voices. That voice is no less than the voice of the subject-author fully constituted by the singular unique textual system. In that sense the dominant code “speaks” as the code of unique individual expression and creativity. The text literally constructs a transcendental subject as the source of the text. To whom does it speak? It speaks to me, the reader-subject. It establishes a social exchange, a communication of meaning between subjects, author and reader, or more precisely, producer and end consumer. The text has become complete, replete, in short, a product. The textual system becomes the expression of the author. The unique expression of the author is the unique textual system.”

“The cinesemiotics of Christian Metz marks a crucial beginning for a critical semiotics of the cinema. The gaps, the contradictions in his writings point to the necessity for a genuine return to the text, not as site of finalization, as ultimate goal, but as opening, initiation, commencement into an infinitude of difference, play and pleasure.”

Metz and film semiotics:  opening the field  -Sam Rohdie
from Jump Cut, no. 7, 1975, pp. 22-24  ©Jump Cut: A Review of Contemporary Media, 1975, 2004

Jumpcut

Laboratory zen

My interest in drama and film is purely amateur..almost a year ago..being between jobs..I decided to study film.. I had already done some indie acting when I was young and smoldering and still practice it purely because it improves the choreography of pen, paper and voice ..being a research expert meant I could design my own curriculum …which was the whole point…my interest in film was twofold ..mainly to add more dimension to my writing…also in an effort to understand contemporary drama..After not watching tv for..like forever… I had just ponied up for a HDTV USB device..which worked really well..it was just a shame about the content is all..[pawned it after 10 days]..I also needed to amuse myself beyond select DVDs..I go through cycles with my reading…and haven’t been reading fiction since 2001 or something …tho’  I am a voracious reader still.. I rarely even read poetry anymore …just the facts thanx…oh and sorry, but I don’t care who wins the Booker, Pulitzer or Nobel prize… never did …probably never will and won’t ever read anyone on account of them either …anyway after another bullshit job in Mediocrutopia..I find myself between enslavement’s and in the second phase of a pointless learning curve..[I thought I should 'fess up to this to the 5 or 6 people who on ocaission visit this blog..-which is more of an online collation of unorthodox notes on non-existent curiosities of drama and film than a choice selection of biographical moments]…

I started out by stormin’ up loglines -300 in 3 weeks..I love a challenge..it was a wholly worthwhile and instructive process.. I learned that insofar as developing a compelling idea is concerned originality should probably start right there…and that it is not as easy as it at first seems..[even if you have been writing poetry for just under 30 years...]
Then of course there is so much fun to be had dabbling with plot structures.. I tend to consider it a kind of primary math meant to map dynamics of event via an algebra of character

Film and to a lesser extent, drama…also interests me as a visual artist… -something I’ve been doing longer than writing.. but it is the same appeal..the same mystery..the same challenge.. a visible syntax .. a narrative stripped of language… a transequential montage of symbology..universal transitions in plasticities of consciousness..the hybrid realities of personal iconography…the work of film theorists such as Mitry and Metz..have an interdisciplinary appeal that speaks for a structural order that wrestles with the urge to remain silent..

Poetic licence

A country manor…a harpsichord is playing…diverse small birds flit about a great hall..wine is being served…an artist is sketching some actors ..others pace about practicing their lines..dwarfs on stilts tilt at each other, rehearsing pratfalls, several poets are swapping couplets while a beautiful woman cradles her lover on a lounge..over near the lovers a fool plays the lute…eyes full of tears…softly whimpering as they neck like swans..the lover raises his head from her shoulder for a moment to say…

[Darkertower]

…be generous boy

…my love has lost track of my style
searches with sparkles strung trembling by smile
all composure outwritten by a prettier quill
and still…
…it’s all there

the luckiest look to see in her eyes
for just a moment more
breathing kisses to adore
a mouthful of rapport
…willowed in affections

I fear

…have me fainting here

his lipstick smeared face is again smothered in murmuring kisses as the boy plays on…until their pleasures are interrupted by an exuberant bard who gathers them all together to speak

[Spillforth]

I have just madly dashed by coach from Hushminster to bring you the best of news in the greatest haste..Prince Rufus has issued us with his royal licence…

[he commences to read an from an elaborately penned document]

Rufus I… by earthly graces and natural dominion etcetera… To all our ministers, Mayors, Constables and other of our officers of might or motion ..loving subjects. Know ye that we of our facility fond and worthy, exceptional humilities and mere merit, have licenced and authorized and by these flourishes do license and endow these our subjects; William Spillforth, Gregorio Darkertower, Bunter Toffin, Simon Pond, Kit Marley, Orlando D’angelillio, Winston Weston, Amadeus Strange, Chesterfield Defoe, Scarlett Hepburn, Constance Chatterley, Fanny Swift, Miriam Columbine and all others associated with their labors, freely to study, teach, practice, produce, perform and compose; comedies, histories, harlequinnades, grotesques, tragedies, masques, mysteries, pranks, shenanigans, foolery, japes, romances, bungles and pratfalls to shew or otherwise exhibit, to the utmost of their considerable talents, imagination, learning, wisdom, flair and finesse within a purpose built house henceforth known as Darling House and to be funded from the public purse..as also in setting forth about the ale-houses, taverns, inns or any other convenient places such as town halls, universities or cathedrals within the liberties of our free dominion and having our special dispensation of theatrical immunity so that they may refine their art with clear conscience…..witnessed ourself at Hushminster…this 23rd day of May…

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

Diet of Smaug

had an idea..as well as some red wine..began to flesh out some characters..perhaps I might script some exchanges beyond the 5 or 6 or so that inspired it..it’s unlikely..it woulda been secret anyhoo

Prince Rufus -Conqueror of Smaug: he has cut a dashing figure..little is known of his socio-political outlook..not known for surprises..being so young -the council imagine him to be easily managed

Atticus -Archbishop of Smaug:  amiable..very busy..more of a planner than a thinker.. loves parties

Cardinal Reynard: supercilious ..forceful..more threatening than persuasive..believes Parliament is not fit to consider certain issues..

Lord Vandalf  -Earl of Daintree: an utter enigma..no-one has heard of him..

Lady Parnell -Viceroy of  Smaug: charming…intelligent..sensitive.. decent.. scary

Sir  Gecko -Lord of the Ministry:  overall a good man..infrequently impulsive..cautious..instinctive…-yet with mediocre intuition ..imaginative only within design constraints ..a tad more superstitious than he should be

Flashman Tuvoc: charismatic..clever..passionate..creative..inspiring in the way he appears to be more of a risk taker than he really is

Field Marshall Cardioblast:  …never grew into anything worthwhile

looking up Goethe

In the round
While traveling abroad a sculptor discovers a 400 year old oil painting in an obscure provincial gallery to be identical to a bozetto he is currently working on.

The gatekeepers
A community of spirits that failed to accept their ‘inner child’ haunt an enchanted dream bridge they are unable to cross..

Fatima falls in love
A pedophile cardinal converts to Islam only to discover his secret online arabian boy lover is in fact an al queda agent named Fatima.

Sikh cooking
After decades of fruitless searching an archeologist finally unearths the fabled glass onion..said to reveal all the world in its transparency.

The little people
Anxious to exhibit to his foreign counterparts his Machiavellian decisiveness a ruthless statesman boasts that his psy-ops people  will ‘turn’ a well known atheist  dissident into  a devout Muslim…

the exile

It is a place of utter neglect…a shabby trailer bristling with aerials moored alongside a rambling shanty part consumed by ivy…a half dozen lazy cats lolling about on discarded car tyres…numerous car wrecks litter the yard…ham radio traffic from inside the van peppers the silence between passing trains..a chopper lands..a group of smartly dressed people hit the ground running..while numerous bodyguards stalk the grounds..two men and a woman gather at the trailer ..rapping on the door…the radio is silenced…no response..

Lenny: c’mon …you know its us

Luciano: I don’t know you ..you’re dead to me

Pete: I gotcha a cappriciosa from Farferello’s

Luciano: slide it through the catflap ..

[all six cats then sprint through the catflap]

Julie: Arty says hi…

Lenny: c’mon.. open up buddy…we’re still from the same streets..we went to freakin school together..

Luciano: Julie could you tell Lenny that those days are over and that he should just move on?

Julie: how could you Lenny? [stifling a laugh]

Pete: Lurlene’s still asking after you..

Luciano’s face suddenly appears at the screen…..he is unkempt…eating pizza..cats meowing vociferously

Luciano: she still doin’ that navy pantomime?

Pete: uhuh…yeah

Julie watches impassively as a bodyguard is pursued by an amorous goat

Luciano: I always liked that girl

Lenny: c’mon Luciano…c’mon in from the cold man…we need you ….finish the script..show me you’re better than that..bygones dude

Luciano: you hurt me man …you hurt me really bad

Lenny: hey… you hurt me too …you didn’t consult me … I’m not just a businessman

Luciano: yeah …well look who bounced back..

Lenny: I haven’t forgotten a thing man…everything…its all still up here..you remember them days when we were like 13…we’d cut Wednesday afternoon sports to hang out up on the hill..at the old town reservoir..we’d lay there sunning ourselves in our shorts after a swim..sharing a smoke..looking at the clouds..laughing at all the schmucks back at school..sharing our dreams..do ya still dream, Lucky…huh..do ya? [wiping at real tears]

Luciano: I dreamed that friends don’t leave each other behind..Lenny..it was just a dream..and Lenny ..try it from here…[tapping his heart]

Lenny: c’mon Luciano…I’m like a junky here…you’re my pusher man..I’m addicted…no-one writes the gags like you do..just a skit…huh? I’m beggin you. Just a skit…

Luciano: if I do this thing for you.. Lenny.. you promise me ..no-one will ever know?

Lenny: aaw …hey …forgeddabardit…

Luciano: you come back next week… I’ll finish it.. now..geddoutta here … your breakin me up

Clipping into their seats as the chopper ascends they all look very pleased with themselves

Julie: nicely done Lenny

Pete: you think he knows about the residuals

Lenny: what residuals would they be Pete? …[laughing]

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

splash

The movie Gothic fairly intrigued me when I saw it in my early 20’s ..principally as a poet who had just read Don Juan..also due to the eccentricities of Polidori..who happened to be so uncannily like some of the ’special’ folks I was sharing digs with at the time that I was quite astounded and became suspicious that  certain pathologies were more ubiquitous than I’d assumed..over time I learned that those who present as dedicated to change..often never did or do..or that the change was merely a ceremonial lapse of self..a rite of passage only to come full circle..of those that do..not enough can be said of them..-this tho’..not being the place..how a ceremonial lapse of self can lead to real change seemed mysterious to me..as most examples I’d encountered really only signified shallow transformations..

I became interested then..in the notion of deep ceremonial transformation ..especially as a writer  who preferred his characters to be unique as well as convincing..it seemed especially necessary at that particular point as I found only a few people to be actually convincing in real life anyway..so I developed a personal science of prototyping fictitious identities by means of immersion..[ nothing to do with sensory deprivation or waterboarding ]..this involves expert research..real experience ..keen observation..a perceptual rather than judgmental mindset..and so on..one becomes keenly aware of complex factors never seriously noticed before..oscillating capacities of self..-their ability to see themselves clearly or coherently ..perceiving their own behaviors with varying acuity etcetera…

Interestingly enough..at 44 I no longer have a high regard for the works of Byron..

velvet forest

her dreams fused with such melancholy…

held in a hue of bottomless blue

a velvet forest…just passing through

…nothing she could do

a fluttering falling cry from the sky

raining wings of butterfly

…only a matter of time

before…she…you know…

[sniff]

…asks herself the obvious question

On consignment

Clueless drags himself into the diner at about 4.20 am..Lurlene pours him a cup..handing it to him..just giggling..’you don’t wanna know’   giving her that look..she’s already serving a spacetrucker  ..anyhow.. he takes a window booth..no-one gets tired of watching the nearby pulsar..Clueless sat there fidgeting ..trying to grasp some elusive train of thought or something..whispering into his player every now and then..’can’t believe my luck..I got a consignment of robots  ..one of them was some kind of hinky AI..it just sat there sulking like an unwanted marionette..just facial expressions and lots of eyework..I shut it down and ran a full diagnostic on its bioware  ..nothing..so I check the software ..almost totally reprogrammed  ..250000 thousand new words in its vocab..some kind of word association/ ident crapplet running the most demented set of personality configuration plugins I’ve ever seen ..most still enabled and in conflict with each other..it appears to have re-written its own programming and circumvented its data protection systems by wireless..after restoring the system..I asked the little guy ..no longer an AI..what he’d been doing to himself..he just gave me an idiot grin and said..’acting’.. but thats not all he’d been doing..he was working on a play’..[he reads from a scrap of paper]…

Bauhaus Masterscene: No more.
” It is twilight..drapes are fluttering pennant like..revealing another glorious sunset..marbling over the polished wooden floor.. martinis sit chilling on steel and glass.. Leonora is liberally spreading pate on ciabatta.. Juan turns to her..saying callously…’oooh Leonora ..I can’t believe you went for corduroy on this lounge’..there is the startled shock in Leonora’s eyes ..the coldest of pauses.. the clatter of that knife on the floor…a flurry of sobbing footsteps..the slamming of a door.”

‘does he mind being taken back..no..sometimes tho’..I kinda get this feeling he’s scamming me’..

flowers for the game

a most interesting character..soo obstinate in some ways..so easygoing in all others..an atheist mystic of all things.. once..while we were making our way through busy afternoon streets..we were accosted by a group of evangelists..he shouted at them.. ‘get thee hence false prophets..I do not venerate the works of man..the victim thinks about God’..and he strode off.. fuming..-I had  to quite hoof it to catch up with the chap..he has no time for politics either..best summed up in his own words..’I know  you’re not up with the very latest developments in philosophy..so to give you a lil’ heads up..a code of ethics is not something that requires decryption’..he spoke further on his existential outlook by describing himself as a rogue ethologist living amongst a virtual community of artificial beings  ..playing a theatrical game he called Schizethica..one of the special characteristics of Schizethica is a free market approach to identity and intellectual property..yet no character is permitted to refer or otherwise allude to any other characters ’schiznicity

‘..that is to say.. those things that they may project as.. or ..believe to be ..constituting their substance.. usually assertions of ..race ..politics ..religion ..psychology ..philosophy ..intelligence or integrity

..Due to the implicit dynamic.. all of the players simultaneously find themselves at the lowest points of their character arcs..its also a world that is frequently hacked..complete with a rampant trojan that amplifies suspicion into hatred..hatred into obsession..until the game itself retaliates..

Silverlight Lantern

Unicorn Diaries
A gang of trolls reinvent themselves to get hired as erotic dancers in a trollettes only strip club. They conceal numerous cameras and orchestrate a lucrative blackmail sex tape racket until the clubs three owners, Psychepatra, Unaminerva, and Persepholilah wise up to their scam. In the midst of all this one of the trolls learns his brothers have been lying to him and that he is not a troll at all…

Vever
Already intrigued by the mysterious and charming 47year old ‘Wolfgang Vever’ -assigned to her as a convicted safe cracker, a young parole officer is amazed to learn that he was also an ’80’s porn star. Her curiosity leads to obsession as she begins collecting his films and losing her self control.

A Tragedy of Triumph
A secret family heirloom -an unknown folio of an unperformed work by Shakespeare is inherited by a journalist. Realising she is not clever enough to  pass the work off as her own, she swaps it for an apartment in Dubai.  Although an instant Bollywood hit, she is scandalised in the UK press and just when she thinks it can’t get any worse, she receives a ghostly visitor…

Acrolatte
Shipwrecked for 20 years, a monk, upon returning to his little city learns that he was presumed dead and posthumously canonised due to a series of miracles falsely attributed to him.  After abandoning the city in disgust he returns, posing as a sophisticated and urbane merchant who sells the very latest in beverages -”Acrolatte”, a name he gave to an unusual strain of coffee he cultivated on the island that, when prepared with hot vixens milk, causes an unconscious urge to speak freely..

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

Gothish

cloudswept silver spun pearling
a sky scented jeweled mysterious
spirit shrine to butterfly dreams
chrysalis weave of shadow lace gossamer
moon frosted velvet blossomings

Sad Cologne on a rainy day

One of only two works in the public collection by the little known Artist Mausengeist who embedded elements of self portraiture into landscape works…a sprawling canvas in brooding greys and sultry silvers… currently in the Gothenhoffer…his only other cityscape is fused with considered washes of coral and gold -Cologne again …naturally

Gotholalia

in honour of his new flaxen haired wife Brunhilde.. Percival Fletcher named their first son..born on a moonvexed Friday eve..Tor..and so he became known about the county..after learning every detail of the family stock in trade..the young man grew into an audacious fellow ..surpassing even his father in craft..and learning more on his own account so that soon his wares were sought even from abroad..if a man can be defined by his friends we can define Tor Fletcher as being somehow careless and suspicious ..calculating and candid..his best friend Slickwit ..a heavy drinker..a dandy and a dilettante ..a heavy set small man Tor appears younger looking than he is possibly due to the fastidious grooming of the same feted flaxen locks his mother generously bestowed upon him.. quick to vent an always under the surface spleen or burst out into laughter he is mostly considered an engaging fellow..he is sometimes want to spout strange words in a made up foreign language which his local priest refers to as Gotholalia ..despite his best efforts to expunge certain bawdy ballads of his supposed trysts with ladies above his station he seems destined to fail and doesn’t seem to mind ..always keeps abreast of the latest verse ..an excellent swordsman having three times being called to account for his dalliances..none surviving his skill..all about his business he has numerous workshops where the finest arrowheads and bolts are crafted..some would even say..jewelled..his laminated bows are finished with exquisite detail..intricately engraved..a far superior range ..naturally anyone who was anyone wanted a Tor bow…

Talent scout

well known and highly regarded by everyone in the business.. he is engaging and warm.. believes in impartial integrity and takes care not to say anything that may be politicized.. often refusing to take sides on anything at all.. an easy smile and an unassuming nature he is always immaculately dressed.. likes home cooked food.. fast cars.. diplomatically adroit and always seems to know what to say when that unexpected complication arises.. in his mid 50’s he has old school charm and quite a way with the ladies.. uses transparent vocabulary to impress a point.. capable of swiftly enabling a group to express what it had apparently been thinking/feeling all along.. only resorts to his considerable personal charisma when moved by acts of greatness.. utterly mystified by his own true nature.. ever vigilant for public opportunities of self reproach or random acts of kindness.. still flicks at a no longer extant fringe from time to time.. once implicated in a counterfeiting racket he became the star witness for a prosecution shakedown of the mob and was whisked away to a new life by the witness protection program and was expertly tutored for his new role as talent scout for a major recording label.. he fit right in

Constance

pretty much keeps to herself.. sings in a band.. works in a surf shop.. 20 or so.. studies art at University.. on her desktop one of her sketches depicts a pair of adolescent angels.. a boy and a girl.. knives drawn circling each other in a cloud.. lives on a property owned by a friend of her Moms.. has her studio in a tepee.. a dancer since she was a child she is very graceful.. a tall platinum blond with numerous dreads.. she is very attractive.. guys find her adorable and intimidating ..she reads science journals.. likes whole food.. graphic novels and revenge thrillers.. everything she wears is some kind of a statement.. she often dresses almost ceremoniously.. tends to avoid too much direct eye contact as her eyes are devastatingly beautiful and can easily add too much emphasis.. kind of half seriously learning to play guitar.. likes protest music.. once sabotaged a bulldozer in a rainforest.. very polite and well spoken.. often smiling as if keeping a little secret.. very self contained posture.. desperately wants to fall deeply in love although dislikes most guys she meets.. sees herself as gifted enough to challenge mainstream expectations with her work.. secretly reads Vogue

Lionman

strangers come and go there all the time.. a coffee stop in the very center of town.. so another tall athletic young man hardly stood out at all.. waiting for his coffee.. his eyes sly with furtive contact.. all the women working there noticed.. until he held his gaze lazily over the machine hissing and frothing in front of him.. strangely intrigued by an image struck on a gold medallion fixed to its exterior.. a winged lion holding forth an open and weighty book.. at one moment.. looking further afield.. out on the periphery of his vision he spied the lion turn another page.. Taking his coffee outside.. he found himself a place in the morning sunshine.. to sit there thinking about that childhood ordeal with the lion.. recalling how he was found as fortune may sometimes have it.. by the rest of the tour group.. somewhat agitated and with no memory of the days events.. until now.. fourteen years later

“I have had many names for I am very old and you.. you are new.. however I shall spare you.. for until just now.. I hadn’t laughed for a thousand years..” smiled the lion.. picking himself up.. “don’t be scared ..it’s a variation on a theme..” he said.. his body taken with strange light.. shapeshifting into a man’s form.. with the head of a lion.. Taking him by the hand he led him back to his people.. bringing him near enough to hear their frantic calls.. saying to him “we shall meet again one day.. when your life turns another page..”

Sipping at his coffee.. lost in a Manga moment.. he just sat there.. confused

Only a boy

the little fellow had run so fast for so long that to be trapped here.. finally, certainly felt like relief ..still, he was sad and a little angry that he was only seven .. so unfair ..it all ends ..here ..like this ..a tireless and ferocious lion had cornered him at the cliffs ..and he could run no more “after I die lion.. my spirit will rise up to the sky and I will deliver unto you and your kind.. a thousand eternities of daily ruin and dark despair” even as the lion roars ..with fullblooded triumph ..his rage cannot be deflected “also know ..psychopussy ..that I shall set upon you and your kind all the other skyfolk and together we will visit upon you and yours ..a thousand eternities of utter devastation and starstruck carnage that you will wish you ate a sage instead” at this the lion falls on his haunches laughing uncontrollably ..now and then wiping the tears on his shoulder then blinking out again laughing  ..wiping ..stopping for a bit  ..laughing again “now where did a boy like you learn to talk like that?”

Zombiethustra

This guy loves flowing cloaks, dark cloth, to be wrapt in gloom cosseted in misery, for him, every night..is a dark night of the soul for he completely lacks phenomenal consciousness, he knows his existence may be possible because it is conceivable ..and learnt this from his zombie intuition ..works as a property developer..has a hunch that the interior world is an elaborate illusion which he refers to as the zombie-matrix..shares his deepest secrets with his sleep therapist Really large eyes..thousand yard stares..he thinks with them and they often give what little there is..away.. a general stiffness in his cadence when he walks..can lurch from side to side when at speed..has difficulty running..not good with children..often recites Poe..has nightmares when anomalous elements of consciousness manifest.. he is sensitive enough to experience guilt/shame even when it is not due

..loves cats..a dedicated worker..keeps a tidy home..loves his wife Scyllastein very much ..he’s quite tall..very pale..and under that cloak he always appears to be wearing his best suit ..has lately taken to wearing inscrutably dark sunglasses..cannot remember his own birthday ..appears to be in his late thirties..tho’ he knows some seriously famous people he never mentions them..his usually expressionless face can sometimes reveal confusion or wonder    ..listens to trance..a regular visitor to the Drudge Report..also reads the Guardian
a keen interest in the trivial and the bizarre he is quite the allocentric
..believes in the dynamic emergence of total phenomenal unity..

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

The writer and the actor

Quite a stir ensued upon his arrival. Everyone recognised him as he was shown to the exclusive balcony setting, where an older fellow looked up from a menu. Having concluded formalities the older man, smiling..asks ’so..you’d like to know more about your part’ ..the actor smiles ‘everything is fine insofar as character arc and transformation within the script is concerned ..but I really want to nail this role…and I thought if I could get to the source…that is the author of the work the screenplay was adapted from..I might learn more about who he was when his adventure begins’ …he places a recorder on the table…

The writer grins, nodding sagely, his eyes closed …’well…he has a lot of intellectual arrogance..his parents were academics..in his case that meant distant and eccentric..sees himself as special and enlightened on account of it..he was left alone to his own devices as a child ..subsequently was often deemed to be too intense or even too mature by other children when he tried to make friends.. he later sought solace in this..and endeavoured to cultivate his intensities..he can be quite quirky…but never talks to himself..which is sort of why his work never amounts to much…he grows more and more accustomed to seeing himself as some sort of dark horse..or force of atonement.. he frequently attracts women..yet rarely scores because he usually wierds them out..or pisses them off’..the actor is chuckling now, saying ‘excellent …this is exactly what I need’…the writer goes on ‘ he makes a fair bit as a mid-level geek..and manages to save quite a bit..being as frugal as he is..he holds a lot of stock in the power of personal charisma ..despite exhibiting little..oh its all there..except it only comes out online ..he has an ongoing struggle between solipsism and scepticism and yet curiously, he believes in a soulmate..’

‘What of his intensities?’ asks the actor as the writer sips at his merlot…’aah..’ says the writer..’his particular intensity..that is his most contrived intensity..is his belief in the uniqueness of his personal vision..ask him what this in fact is and he would obfuscate..as if unsure anyone could be trusted with such priceless intellectual property..when in reality he doesn’t really have one..hasn’t even bothered fabricating one’…at this point their meals arrive..though they keep at it.
‘He’s an absolute sucker for any kind of friendliness or charm…tho’ conversely he flares up at any hint of being patronised…you see -its as if he see’s that as his special privilege alone..politically he’s extremely superficial ..the complete populist..always wanting to be seen to be saying the best possible thing at the best possible time..shallow..but a seasoned social survivor..insofar as religon is concerned..it is just the same..he keeps fish..tho’ never bothered to name them..his thoughtforms are more his favoutite pets..and well..needless to say his favourite hobby is other peoples lives.’

‘How about his tastes and whatnot?…’ the actor asks narrowing his focus..’Hmmm..in my mind..I always kind of saw him shopping at hipster dufous…drives one of those little bubble cars..collects really weird old suits ..loves hats..listens to jazz and movie soundtracks  ..loves to hang out in trendy or bohemian coffee shops..often loiters around that part of town where all the seconds and cheap womens clothing shops are…for the chicks …drinks at jazz clubs cos’ someone told him divorcee’s go there to get laid…he’s really quite naive, even for a psuedo-intellectual..sort of a child in a way ..sometimes shuts himself in a cupboard to gather his thoughts…any dream but a directed one seriously disturbs him..which explains his expertise with them..like a lot of people he is certain he is destined for something significant   ..and tries to look the part..you will see him often near fountains   ..adopting either a poetic or philosophical expression   ..in fact he rehearses a small suite of expressions almost daily ..of his mannerisms ..such as they are..most are contrived ..lifted from key performances ..and purely contextual..as he likes character driven stories ..publically his posture is as affected..very classic..very noble   ..yet alone in his own home he sprawls about..the master of his own myth..he is in reality ..constantly in a kind of a state of confusion   ..repressed or submerged confusion..shut away somewhere so his ‘tactical persona‘ can call the shots..this nebulous state of certainty/uncertainty has underpinned all of his choices and reactions for most of his adult life..he is in a sense..half asleep at the wheel..and remains this way until he actually cares for something which is genuinely at stake’..the writer has obviously concluded ..the actor switches off the recorder ..saying nothing..mulling things over.

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

being

a moment transcending its own specificity
carried beyond identity
lingers longer than it lasted

ringing like a bell

struck by the resonance of always

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

filipendulous lethologica

Composite creativity and soul incubation
multiple matrices vying for ubiquity
the transphenomenality of translucidity and quantum continuity
projection of useful profiles and the persistence of belief in self regard
proprietary omniscience as inbuilt obsolescence
pre-emptive transcendence expressed at its own peril
initiated by victories incisions -like blood from a cardiology of soul
converging on the moment of discovery

a singularity oscillating certainty
every imposition of egocentric inquisition
a spontaneous discovery of endless division
charmed ghosts of vexatious equivocality
somehow lost without fallacies of recognition
stone deaf to disguise..made sightless by success
whispering weaknesses of inarticulation

instrument of self as universal diagnostic..
even if the instrument has to seem poorly fashioned
being only in concordance with other instruments
..mis-shaped by the same design
..all in concert..at the mercy of the virtuosity of speculative composition

can the butterfly resist classification by the pedagogue?

a well mapped singularity openly persuaded or
covertly reinforced by natural or contrived intervening stimuli
may precipitate extraordinarily predictable outcomes
unless the same factors were also inadvertently or covertly mapped

….there sometimes exists reasonable ethical grounds

…to appear not to be free

all that they project born of no respect..no humanity to intrigue them..
no honesty to plead them..
false maps never yield them their disguise.. share the prize

a self fullfilling prophesy …another false embassy ..a sophistry of soul

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

esoteria 26

speed

bloodsong chills a death most sudden
a slipping mantle heals an ancient wound
marked by the mask
a diamond in the groove
linked by moons of betrayal
…a circuit sliced in the mirror
ash black petals of nightblown roses

patience

a point bled of all anticipation
a gloss of eyes silver-crossing the sun
all a blur of unseemly disguise
swiftly intimate ephemeral surprise
sabotaging the script
being principally equipped
to elaborately depict
all the telling truths
the lies outstripped

finesse

a serpent soothed by pendulous sword
seahorse in the well there to tell
a lion snared by its own revenge
caged by the dweller within

direction

a scheme so schemed
it begged to be dreamed
woven in threads on chances loom
a tapestry of soul in spirit perfume
a throw of a switch away
a tripwire of tragedy strained until

pursuit

a troop of vigilantes that want for eyes
the mindless charm the vicious blind
a dragon mimics the jackals mind
a talisman in the garden
hidden by craft
a blade buried deeper
than its darker haft

protection

a cunning honed by armors calm
sweetened to the point of honeyed charm
wired through the roots
a current surges with venoms repute
all through the forest
the trees are mute

risk

the ancient ones are gathering clouds
a winding path is worn with hours
silent stars are quiet with flowers
a symphony falters
an orchestra in disarray
the conductor has escaped
to live another day

space

transmissions eluding covert spaces
set aside by nights desolate places
decryptions applied to no real sign
the message is quenched in oils of time

preparation

shifting sands of altered states
signs occulted from future fates
crystal shaped by secret hands
designed to resonate forgotten plans
the one that sees the eyes of time
to catch the jade before the crime
restores the summit to its climb
to see the clouds in their prime

alchemy

by the next transmutation
the die is cast
elemental forms transcend their past
by the last transmutation
all has begun
three times closer one by one

spirit

ribbons are held across the way
to mark the moment the line is crossed
turned by the tide till all is lost
blogged into a corner
where the shadows were tossed

future

butterflies weep for dreams decieved
beating their wings to be believed
an ocean that hears only silence
a thread burning with finalities violence

past

the trajectory is set
the bullets are poised
chambered…pointed…released
five beads of darkness
a pendulum cut from its trembling wire
one last shot…
plunging through and through
a fictitious dreaming mind
…and everything it knew

mettle

hardened by hammers of outrage
honed to the quick of focus
hovering above insatiable flame
an anonymous potential
poised to plummet

solution

elusive revelation thrice transmuted
never beheld and already refuted
ephemeral method by chance informed
tree of knowledge wholly transformed
uncommon depth guessed before seen
a strategy shaped by what it may mean

quest

query the quill that pre-empts the fact
to know the will before its act
so mind and soul are left intact
for the greater good and its impact

potential

a treasure so surpassing all others
…to know it humbles a person…
-lies waiting to be thieved
the moment its perceived
…even ghosts are played to games
strangers waiting to stake their claims

dimension

a place is hidden secure in all hearts
shape shifting to whim of obscure arts
a desire that sleeps deeper than all
a knowing secretly overflowing
an etheric singularity
a crystal dance of cascading flux

fusion

a solar resonance of defied decay
intangible shadows strike at their prey
the jaguar purrs in the velvet moss
the lion scents an uncertain loss
birds have grown quiet
with the passing sun
clouds swollen with moonswift pride
through threshhold of night softly glide

fission

a crucible of separation
just to pickle a blade
a firestorm of devastation
hidden by the shade
anonymous gravitation
an impressive cavitation
collectively displayed

motion

fractal footprints of a selfish past
a torus turned inside out
passing dopplers into rings of diamonds
heavy with scattering shadows
a softly tipped crush of dust
ground by wishful thinking

medium

early come the aces cluttering up the hands
an overflow of hearts broken covenants
though the house seems set to win
by all the laws applied within
the jokers wild by any extreme
a conclusion held in high esteem

prophesy

ashen gray smiles washed away by rain
kisses blown deep inside a strangers pain
a frozen moment carried off by the breeze
escaping the enmity of expertise

healing

leave to rest the wounds of learning
tightly wrapped in fond discerning
shaping cures that end in sleep
to heal a heart love would keep

challenge

each and every milestone by passage of day
passes into night along the way
a journey finished a task performed
a challenge completed a story transformed

sorcery

they had no art for the best of things
their best of faith in the worst of things
shaped by forces as frightening
as all their own spent lightening

©Gregory David Andrews -2008

Voice

avoid by means of addition
all increase to attrition
deeper still…
frame those moments in lingering endurances
that transequently…
place all proximal necessities
fittingly within
a contextual specificity of exemplars
or…as a sample in salience…
let connaturually synonymous comparisons
define corresponding equivocalities
so craft juxtaposition compellingly
through another’s eyes…
to put it in its little black dress
let clarification be pervasive…
for where cause will contingently inspire
effect may be nuanced by supervenience
qualified…
without modesty,
a concession to convention
consensually accounted for
functionally conclusive…
on purpose

thought I might add that this monologue..on transitions of thread..is voiced  during a nice tryst with a pretty lady …perhaps ..she asks for his name..he may say something like….’Winston’…

…’Winston Churchill…and I am not wholly …from around here’…

©Gregory David Andrews 2008