Month: July 2013

Mind-Fuck [poem]

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mind_fuck

If I could fuck your mind I would.
By what it would be fucked I cannot tell.
But something in me wants to fuck it hard;
I think I read you also do as well.

Bodies drenched in skinsmooth beauty
forn (and fawn) and porn themselves like
STD confetti on the potent wind of lust.
But physical attraction (when divorced
from mighty dreamfilled powers of mind)
is something I can never inly trust.

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Unchained Threnody [sonnet]

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unchained_threnody

Free from you at last. Where once your sandals
fit my feet in random patterned fever;
now I walk the street without love handles,
dangling in extremes — an ex-believer.

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Train Crash near Santiago

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A number of friends from around the world have been asking me about the train crash near Santiago in northwest Spain which looks to have killed at least 80 of its 218 passengers. A few have insinuated that they think Spanish transport could be to blame as if it is not of a good standard. Let me say that my experience of the Spanish transport system is that it is extremely well-maintained and engineered. The train service is excellent. The roads are of a very high standard indeed. Driving on Spanish roads is to me a much more pleasant experience than driving, say, in the UK. The train crash today is a one-off occurrence in an otherwise very good record of service. Looking at the security camera footage of the impact, it is a miracle that anyone at all survived. And the vast number of Spanish public who went to the aid of the dying and injured is a real testament to the warm-heartedness of the people in this country. They didn’t hesitate to throw themselves into the fray. I know only too well that such an accident issues in a high number of amputations and even decapitations from flying glass and metal. Yet these people rushed from their houses with blankets without hesitation. Angels every one. I take my hat off to them and the emergency services too. Must be difficult for them to sleep tonight. A truly shattering experience. I’m sending hearty, supportive thoughts in their direction and that of the families of the dead and injured. How slender is the thread of life. An event like this puts things into perspective. Grasp the whole of life with both hands while you can. It’s as long as a whispered breath. Live each day as if it could be your last…

Imagine if I announced…

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IMAGINE IF I ANNOUNCED that I was writing a novel about a civilisation on a planet where what people eat is determined by corporations whose *only* desire is to make huge amounts of money and most of what they produce is not only non-nutritious but actually harmful, in that they cause a welter of serious conditions such as cancer, obesity, behavioural disorders, heart & and circulatory disease. What’s more, those corporations continually advertise their “foodstuffs” by making out as if they are healthy, yet no advertising standards authority ever stops them and governments continually support them. And, what’s even more is that anyone who tries to expose all this is publicly ridiculed and ostracised or even assassinated (while “scientists” are sponsored to write “independent” whitewash reports which exonerate the corporations’ activities). And, what’s even more than that, mostpeople just go along with it and eat all that shit even though they know it to be shit (that’s probably the most shocking part). People would say I was writing another “1984” and how relieved they were that such an awful thing couldn’t happen here. Until I told them that it wasn’t fiction! 😀

The Princely Path [poem]

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the_princely_path.jpg

A certain foetus (who I cannot name)
has slithered down the birth canal of life
into the world today. And in no time at all
I guarantee will slither out the other way.

They come.
They go.
Whether royalty or paupers
they all play their tawdry bit parts
in this raucous
hawk-filled
rotor-bladed
moving picture show.

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Twelfth House Moon [poem]

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A twelfth house moon fills up my view
and itself too
and fills the space between the forms
of me and you.
By you I mean not just a single soul
but every written scroll who ever lived
(for that is what we are —
some holy words breathed into flesh
from where we lose our way
our minds enmeshed
in mercenary dreams
and acquisition’s
jaded schemes
unless we let
the moon’s
unspoken
light into
our mind
and find
that we
are just
(in spite of what we may believe)
reflections too.
The moon
the mirror of the sun
and all of us
a shaft of light
each one.
.
.
© Alan Morrison, 2013
.

Underground Awakening [poem]

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Cells stir now from sleep
like unused muscles
stiff inflexible and yawning
rubbing their eyes in disbelief
as a burnt horizon makes its way
toward these dry undesperate
once-were-drumming fingers
on the polished table of chance.