What ever you’re doing – stop. Close your eyes, listen…
The idea of arresting increasing climate related disaster was recently taken up by the Extinction Rebellion (XR) movement in the UK. XR represent a confrontational if disruptive demand to hold government accountable for the denial or dallying of their roles in practices shown to disrupt climate stability. Greenpeace, NRDC, and countless other environmental and humanitarian organisations across the globe have continued their efforts to hold industry and government to account since the 1840’s.Read More
What’s not to love about a little love poem ; )
impatiently to savour
the smokey taste
tobacco wine chocolate dark
traveller’s lips upon mine softly
once more to hear that husky voice
chattering like water coursing across
mossy mountain rocks singing
the delirious song of being
into my soul under my skin waiting Read More
After an especially dark and internal winter, the light of new creativity and power have been welling up from within those murky depths, the looming horizon becomes present, the Phoenix rises – it must be spring! Here’s a graphic to honour the phenomenon.
It’s winter – I’ve been writing a love poem for death – maybe it’s a Scorpio thing, I don’t know, but here ya go.
what heaving wings fell through the black night
spinning down to earth, hot body crouched
in the moist ground
pressed over naked form – the beloved
crumpled wings and heart
a kiss of tenderness, longing and loss
the angel has descended, into gravity’s well
she is no more, but the density of blood, feather, bone
upon this earth…
Everything you and your mum need to know about the new distributed currency and the decentralised information revolution – how and why to get onboard, in a nutshell.
I had forgotten how completely and utterly fucking nuts India is. It’s so scuzzy and chaotic you still can’t believe it. But vibrant, colourful and exotic like nowhere else. Hop on your moped and into the foray and it’s adrenalin carnival all the way… Read More
an ode to sex, desire, rebellion and fallen women
Found this artwork in centre camp at burning man a few years ago (tracked down the artist through the playa vine for attribution) then stumbled across this poem and thought… they belong together!
Autobiography of Eve
by Ansel Elkins
Wearing nothing but snakeskin
boots, I blazed a footpath, the first
radical road out of that old kingdom
toward a new unknown.
When I came to those great flaming gates
of burning gold,
I stood alone in terror at the threshold
between Paradise and Earth… Read More
Our one world will be saved by beauty
when we remember how to see
with the eyes of a child
into the golden heart of every living thing.
We will feel deeply
the earthly memories
etched into the mountains of home
the forgetfulness in the oceans heave, the forgiving Read More
reflections after watching the haunting film of the same name.
Just as an individual person dreams fantastic happenings to release the inner forces which cannot be encompassed by ordinary events, so too a city needs its dreams.
A Pattern Language
is the seminal (1977) work of architect Christopher Alexander et al. describing a functional system to meet humanistic needs in the design of buildings, the urban environment and vital community.
Pattern number 58 “Carnival” is a prescient and perfect description of what has organically arisen as the ephemeral Black Rock City – otherwise known as Burning Man!
On his way back to Earth, having just walked on the moon, Apollo 14 astronaut Edgar Mitchell experienced a radical transformation in perspective and thus consciousness. As he approached our planet from beyond it’s sphere of influence, “he was filled with an inner conviction as certain as any mathematical equation he’d ever solved. He knew that the beautiful blue world to which he was returning is part of a living system, harmonious and whole—and that we all participate, as he expressed it later, “in a universe of consciousness.”
Getting a handle on culture, perspective and future.
Consider this: there can be no omniscient, impartial chronicler of history, culture or identity – it is all subjective. Accepting this on the cultural scale has been a tremendous liberation as I understood that my people, my city, my country, the English speaking world, are not necessarily better. There are of course no “chosen” people anywhere and indeed, my spiritual beliefs are equal to any other aspirant of the divine whether Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Pantheist, Shamanic cosmologist, or astronomer on the road to awe. Read More
This morning, through the twilight, the sound of lovemaking enters me through the open window – such an arousing, hauntingly beautiful sound – a sound that could heal the world. Strange though… whenever this ardent song strays on the breeze, it’s only ever that of the woman I hear, never the man lost in his own rapture. What’s up with that fellas?
Lithe bodied, we dance tall
swaying arcs of verdure leaning
into curved mists of space and aeons
as heaving earth-body
pulsing in tune, exultant
sun, sultry moon
we sink our roots, feeling
deep around you, and swirl
with wind, and stars reaching, we rise
upon the long song, of creation. Read More
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou can’st not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never never can’st thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal – yet do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Keats – Ode on a Grecian Urn
WINTER: In the darkness, gestation.
Until the Phoenix rises, once more, exultant, free
to love and love again, soaring across
the ancient white peaks, the dazzling, clear blue
skies… Read More
Searching heavens deep, she is sailing
mid silent stars, scintillating, the moon
Bold round gate, to silver garden framing
ferny path to heaven, calling, the moon
Sublunary torment – fruit of desiring
sweet, gravitas – gratifying, the moon Read More
Half moon waxing or is she waning did I lose my sight
heaving moon half dark half heavy moon light
pulling at this floundering soul one long or lonely night
and somewhere peers an owl west or east at the speckled sky
sitting naked up-on the roof lanky cat and I
as from the north blows in a wind Read More
No one can be certain the body is not a plant created by the earth to give a name to its desires – Lucien Becker
“A helping Hand-book for victims of Follies of Youth”
A numinous gem found in the library of the Maha Mantra Meditation Hall – a Hare Krishna temple in Penang, Malaysia, where I stayed for a brief spell back in 1990. At that time, this was a marvellous place to meet wild, free spirited travellers looking for free board and lodging on the ragged roads of the East – the only requirement being to get up before dawn and chant Hare Hare for a bit – yet the characters and curry were exceptional.
In Manhood Rescued, we find the quietly hysterical, delusional, if righteous conceit of man, demonstrating the dazzlingly pompous nature of the opinionated.
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another’s being mingle–
Why not I with thine? Read More
Rabindranath Tagore, timeless poetic meanderings after my own restless heart (forsooth)
“Where roads are made I lose my way.
In the wide water, in the blue sky there is no line of a track.
The pathway is hidden by the birds’ wings, by the star-fires, by the flowers of the wayfaring seasons.
And I ask my heart if its blood carries the wisdom of the unseen way…
As a moon struck writer and mad surfer of consciousness, it surprised me how insightful and self reflective a tool okcupid turns out to be! An intelligent and compelling, new(ish) paradigm of social networking for potential lovers, whether casual shag or serious spouse! We’re all looking for a potential mate at times and I have indeed met some unique and wonderful persons, shagged a few in fact, and fallen in love at least once (unrequited) …
– start at 22m15s
. . . A little while,
a moment of rest upon the wind,
and another woman shall bear me.
~ The Prophet. Khalil Gibran
Drifting through the formless void, darkness
there is a shimmer of sound
I am circling around God, around the ancient tower,
and I have been circling for a thousand years,
and I still don’t know if I am a falcon, or a storm,
or a great song.
Rainer Maria Rilke ~ from A Book for the Hours of Prayer
Oh yeah – that Hallmark holiday where we pay lip service to the duped warriors of the nation sent out as fodder to feed the military industrial complex and protect corporate interests at large (America – global arms dealer #1, America – consumer of oil #1, hmmm)
Yet the returning warriors or their remaining families, instead of being honored and supported in a meaningful way Read More