How I Work
This is the way I work when creating an article. I write as the words appear in my head in a stream of consciousness. Then I print it out and lay it all out (in the photo there are 10,000 words). Then I read through it and create a series of headings and sub-headings. Then I start a new file with those headings and cut & paste the text from the original file to go under the new headings. This is the article “Making Sense of the World Today – Including Trump, Brexit & the Apparent Brokenness of Everything”
There comes a Watershed Time
THERE COMES A WATERSHED TIME when the truly evolving person will finally cease from the daily mêlée of conditioned madness: openness to brainwashing and deception, ignorant contending, struggling, thrusting, grasping and sniping; unstable posturing; desperate gestures; self-deception; empty virtue-signalling; getting offended; being stuck in destructive relationships; having easy-to-press buttons and being easily fazed; placing all hope in human institutions, lovers, coaches and gurus… and, instead, will go within, find the centre (the eye of quietude in the midst of the storm) and b r e a t h e while smiling gently and knowingly (sometimes laughing bemusedly) at everything swirling around us in this crazy, temporarily broken world (even though that world will call you mad — a compliment, if ever there was one! 😉 ). When that time comes, one will know that there is no need to be anything other than authentic, joyful, loving and pro-actively creative. From that point on, everything else of worth will follow and, linking minds and souls with like-minded others, in the fullness of time [and not without a great deal of global turmoil] a new world will be born. {PS: It’s already happening}.
Grace in the Dirt [poem]
Aside Posted on Updated on
Looking at an onion with the utmost wonder
in my curiositical heart is a ritual I practise
at the start of every sunrise day. It speaks to me
of many layers — most of which are hidden —
and reminds me of the way that circumstances
oftentimes unfold in ways by which we only see
the outer coating of the skin when there is
so much more within which we ignore.
“The Key” (official video)
“THE KEY” – THE VIDEO by Alan Morrison. The official animated video, displaying lyrics. This inspirational song for the downhearted, from my heart to yours, builds to a climax of orchestral & choral power to accompany the message. This is the title track from my new album, “The Key”. It has an 8-piece band plus the Stockholm Concert Orchestra, including tubular bells, timpani drums & choir. The credits are at the end of the video. Here is the essence: “For I have found that when I love, then strength will fill me from above.” Please share as widely as possible on social media. Thank you!
(Click on the link below the video to read the lyrics)
Read the lyrics for “The Key”…
Millstone [sonnet]
A millstone had been hung around my neck;
some several years it dangled slyly there.
I fooled myself it’s just a tiny speck
of dirt — ignored my state of disrepair.
Dear Friend
DEAR FRIEND: THANK YOU FOR YOUR EMAIL COMMANDING ME TO REPENT for my allegedly pornographic use of the word “cunt” in a poem on my website. Honestly, I would normally ignore such an email but I interpreted your message as a cry for help; so I hope you’ll bear with me as I respond to your words. First, let me say that I am not a pornographer but a poet. This is an important distinction in the context of this poem. It would seem that you are a fundamentalist Christian. If I may say so, it has been my experience that many who share your religious affiliation are not very well-versed in the panoply of historic literature and the arts in general and tend to have more than a streak of anti-intellectualism. This may account for your unfamiliarity with the usage of the word “cunt” in history and literature. May I suggest that you read the works of Geoffrey Chaucer (1343-1400) to begin with. Chaucer is known as “the father of English literature”. He used the word “queynte” (the Old English version of “cunt”) a great deal in his “Canterbury Tales” — a classic work of English literature which appears on just about every school syllabus in the subject and has done for at least the last 70 years! I think after reading his works you will see that the single use of the good old English word, “cunt”, in my poem, is quite trivial when compared to some of Mr. Chaucer’s interesting turns of phrase!
Life is a Gymnasium
(in which even what seems “bad” becomes good)
EVERY MORNING WHEN I AWAKEN (after feeling gratitude for a life still lived and some considerable amazement that I’m still alive!), I make this affirmation: “May I be open to *any* experience which comes my way today?” I always place the accent on the word “any”. It’s easy to be open to pleasant and familiar experiences but how open are we to unexpected ones – even what one might think to be “unpleasant experiences”. This is the space where I want to be. Every day. Even though there are some days when I say it with some trepidation and wonder if I’m going to bite off more than I can chew (though I never do)! To be continually able to regard every occurrence, no matter how seemingly “bad”, as an adventure and a boon in my life.
2 + 0 + 1 + 7 = 1 [sonnet]
It’s time to clear the air — to wipe the slate;
to cleanse our lives from interfering strands;
to free ourselves from those who vacillate —
from those who drain us with their vain demands.
Naked Knees [a poem-prayer]
May I never have my knees securely underneath
the fleeting table of this passing world,
imagining that it’s the only way to be.
May I never live without a dream adventure
taking me to distant reaches way beyond
where I have ever been or ever wish to see.
May I never follow spineless grey neutrality
but always, with the utmost clarity,
may I refuse to take the level easy way;
instead to walk on stony tree-lined unworn
bridal-paths where mediocrity & all the other
dark hypocrisies could have no sway.
Please stop saying Sorry [poem]
I’m wond-er-ing who made you feel
you have to say “I’m sorry”
almost every time you speak?
Who almost crushed you so
the sparkle from your eyes
and roseness of your cheeks
were wiped away? In other words,
who is it that decided it is better
that your personality be weak
so he could minimise your flow,
keep you in your place & thereby
curb your spirit — exercise control?
The Naked Troubadour 