When you can see Everything too Clearly
When you can see (into, through and behind) everything too clearly it can either blind you so much that you’d rather see nothing at all (mostpeople – though mostotherpeople are blinded already) or it can shock you so deeply that you’re forced to overhaul everything you think, understand, do and are. But then you’re faced with three choices: Suicide, endless ironic laughter at the twin realities of absurdity and hypocrisy or “I think I’ll go to Bali and disappear into the volcanic mountains forever”.
Filigree Dreams [poem]
There is a weeping willow tree
I wish to climb.
It’s branches lithe and lone
hang droopingly
inviting me to hold its trunk
in summertime
I stood not far from where she grew
and touched her bark.
Her heaven scent perplexed
my solitude
while hazy clouds of dreams divined
a latent star
Thunder in my Soul [song lyric]
Waking up to thunder:
It was rumbling in my soul
but I didn’t hear a sound come from the sky.
Then it tore me clean asunder
and my joyfulness it stole
but I still won’t be dissatisfied.
There’s a special kind of lightning
makes a flash without a sound;
you never hear it coming till it’s come.
When it struck it wasn’t frightening
though it threw me to the ground
while my heart and veins were frozen numb.
Isthmus Incident [poem]
If freeze can melt we’d grasp that
every little gesture that we make;
all the frantic measures that we take;
everything we do no matter how much
it may seem to be spontaneous, impulsive
or haphazardly impromptu has been carefully
designed with just one crucial phrenzied frantic
crazed and desperately gigantic fazing theme in mind
Every time we dress or fluently determine to impress
some other out there human in our field of view
or otherwise ignore someone we judge to be
an utter bore or smoke some stuff or drink
more than enough or waste some time
on celluloidal fantasies then digitise
online we are simply covering up
one outsized grossly elephantine
intrusion in the room that’s dogged
us from the moment we were born (by
which I mean the startling instant when we
grudgingly or wilfully became a conscious me
a separate subtle entity apparently forsaken and
forlorn) or should I say impertinently torn—not only
from the warm wet womb but even from that vastly
darklight unknown inexpressful space where we
1ce were when we weren’t we & now though
we imagine that we’re free in truth we are
enslaved by just one single fazing thing
which I presented in that line above
to wit that we are herefully alone
impostors on a dream enthroned
meandering our wiseless way across
the cosmic interplay of one intruder of
the airwaves to another while we foolfully
and ignorantly shovel heaps of decomposing
detritus to thwart the crippling solitude endured
by all the pinpoint parts of separated consciousness
which individuatedly play hard and compensatingly
caress the countless shards of beingness arrayed
through time and history—a tale of lifesome
tragedy unless one cares to look between
the pages of the book entitled “Melody
Behind All Things” where every type
of mission and adventure will be
thrillingly displayed….eventually
© 2012, Alan Morrison
Deathwish [poem]
If I should die before I’ve had the chance to look
an angel in the eye and say with all the impetus
my rusty breast can cry: It’s you I ever want to be
with when the time has come to say goodbye then
cut the finger from my ringless hand and burn it
fast without a single strand of sentimental mercy
till the flames blood red have formed the letter Y
Blob of Love [poem]
A question like a shooting star (the cosmic face of why)
had hurled itself like cobweb dreams across the milky sky.
Just what is love? the meteor streamed —
to which no answer came (at least it tried).
Followed soonly by another query posed:
I said what do you think love is?
To which a myriad voices then replied
and gave their stilted theories which
I here below repeat condensed so you can see
just what the blinding blaze of love is up against.
The Next Time you are asked to Play for Free
Very nicely put! Far too many people expect creative artists of all kinds to play for free. (Imagine if they asked the plumber to mend their pipes for nothing!). Well it’s time to turn the tables on them. Read below! 🙂
Domino Theory [poem]
When cold possessive mine becomes instead expanded
warm impassioned mind and ropes and chains are
used to form triquetra shapes entwined in
place of shacklebondage pantomime and
prisons change to light refracting prisms
and chainmail suits are made for two
instead of one, then dominoes will
tumble back to back in one long
line until the universe is rid
of every vision-crushing
brain-concussing
cul-de-sac
© 2012, Alan Morrison
Leadership in the times ahead
Just brainstorming a pile of thoughts & feelings about the need to prepare for leadership in the times ahead. I don’t mean political leadership because that’s part of the problem. I’m referring to the kind of personal guidance & support that many are going to be needing when the shit really (openly) starts to hit the fan across the world. There will be much confusion, fear and questioning. There will be betrayal amongst friends and relatives. It will be a time of testing. I’ll be speaking about all this at a gathering of people on Saturday. It’s a subject very close to my heart.
Rhyming Couplet [poem]
I always say too much so please forgive me
if my words seem like a gush. I promise you
will never drown beneath them; they have
spaces in between so you can safely dream
and breathe them into common sensely
sentences if that’s your only chosen path
across a weird and widely lifesome epigraph.
The Naked Troubadour 