Monolith

An exercise in inspiration – having a vaguely Lovecraftian mood on me I decided to just start typing and see where the mood take me. The first couple of lines sprang out of nowhere and I just let the whole thing flow without editing or pausing.

When in that failing sleep I rose

With eyes agleam in heart of night

I left behind my calm repose

And trod the path toward the light

That came unbidden through the veil

And whispered words of shade and doom

That called to mind a far off tale

And drew me onward in the gloom.

There scenes of ancient lands I saw

And cities cyclopean rose

And bands of armoured men at war

With shapes more fierce still than those

Those shapes were not the men I knew

Nor beast, nor fish, nor bird nor aught

That I could name or know for true

And with those ancient men they fought

But sword and axe and spear and flame

Could not prevail or win the day

But only a forbidden name

When spoken drove those fiends away

Its echoes rang when it was named

And allied men all cringed and wept

And felt their manhood’s honour shamed

And to their dismal halls they crept

We fell that day from what we’d been

From glory into fragile clay

And though the fiends no more were seen

The triumph saw a dismal day

For now they sleep, not dead, those things

For death and live are not their ways

And in their dreams a shadow sings

Of waking in a latter day

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U.P.G.

Loaded with metaphor, a seed signed and ready, Or clever code to upload, Somewhere in an abstract pocket, or third eye squint Or heart-glow or something It’s time to lay back and dark the eyes, and don’t think About the process (but you do) The veil isn’t some gauzy temple thing Or symbol rich tapestry It’s a rug, much swept-under, and all the sweepings wait And ambush with What If? and Why? and Arguments (in hindsight easily) to win, and Memories, and Tasks undone, and Snatches of old songs, and New ideas – so sneaky- much more interesting than This But press on without trying Don’t listen, don’t engage, as they take your hand And lead you through the streets till undone To Memory Lane, or Could-Be-Would-Be Land Pass on, pass on, pay no attention to the man The men, the women, the many, Behind the curtain Which is a rug much swept-under Until the noise subsides And images arise for you, to view, Distracting no longer, but odd Alice odd, not no but yes Od

Last Train Back from Trancentral

Back in 1988 there was novelty record called Doctoring the Tardis by a band calling themselves The Timelords which blended a ridiculously empty set of lyrics over a sampled bit of music, with a bizarre video of a car blaring out music and running over a bargain basement dalek. It was the number one selling single in the UK and New Zealand. Shortly afterward the people behind it released a book called The Manual (How to have a Number One the easy way) which was a cynical but accurate explanation of how the music industry works and the ingredients needed to game the system and get a number one hit. They’d followed their steps with Doctoring the Tardis and it had worked. Then the KLF began releasing a string of catchy dance hits, the lyrics and videos of which heavily referenced the lore from the Illuminatus Trilogy and firmly placed the performers on the Discordian team. As a long-standing, newly-sitting, sometimes lying-down Discordian sympathiser myself I was duly amused.

ICARUS TRIUMPHANT

I never dreamed of flight until the dawn called me And lit up endless leagues of worlds anew And then I stood each day upon the edge And dreamed and dreamed and dreamed, what if I flew? I dreamed of freedom in the endless sky And lands to find, new lands and tales untold And so I laboured daily in my forge And dreamed and planned creating wings of gold The came the day, the day I planned to leap And soar in triumph, freedom now complete, But then I looked aloft and felt the sun Its glory, and its power. And its heat What if that heat would melt these wings of mine? What if they’d fail, I’d fall from wings untrue? And now I’m old and dream no more My wings shine still. Alas, I never flew.

Tempus Ascendit

My son has recently taken up climbing. At first via an after school club but now he’s got a membership at a local climbing centre. This means he can now go scrambling up awkwardly shaped walls on weekends as well as schooldays which means I get to accompany him. Today was my first chance to do this. He went off suitably corona-masked and equipped with a chalk-bag and his new climbing shoes into the depths of the building while I grabbed a coffee and went to find a place to sit. Suitably armed with caffeine I looked into the open area with the climbers and I saw a young man scrambling with ease up what looked like a tricky section of wall. Perhaps one day my own son, when he is a little taller and stronger, will be able to do that, I thought. And then I recognised him behind the mask. My son was already taller and stronger than I realised and it took seeing him unknowingly to realise that. Lovely moment but astonishing too. Seeing someone everyday means the little changes turn invis

Wisdom

Cattle die, kindred die, Every man is mortal: But the good name never dies Of one who has done well Havamal, stanza 76

Otherworlds

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