Fitting into the the devick kingdom I had to know for years all that I had achieved when walking in Turkers wood and imbibing and soaking in dark atmosphere, wondering how do we fit and what is happening. Every shape is different and indifferent at the same time, irregular would be the accurate meaning, Mason was fed up of symmetrical urban modern living prescribed at every turn and signposted, so there must be another way, so mason turned to the ancient wood to disappear never to return and he told know one he wanted to go and that he did, in a precision mode he walked as if floating in auric mist of purity and the cleansing violet flame. As mason walked toward a Georgia rhododendron bush and in perfect seamless time absorbed himself as a line of the grain rippling his way to the energy of nature.
Tag: christmas
Crowded
Crowded, if appropriate on earth, colonised densities in domains of rank and file class appropriation demarcation zones, gated feral colonies of humans without and of palatial with only two to roam large general emptiness and voids. Basal life, food banking without a bank, a balance but only if you can walk straight. Hidden under life detritus only to clear and replicate as if no curve was learnt upon a theology. Landscape that all remains in cycle. Dropping at reapers gate in dots and digits life or is it virtual reality and oxygen starved versions of heaven on the road to ku??alin?
.
Words Don’t Dance.
Words don’t dance anymore vibrant happy inflection, gone in is the dark tone in anger, a new breed has bred and flooding every living space with beards from history. But no cause in justices name from the past. It is now a fashion in the anger of the pointless game of modern life and take note that earth does send it’s care for it knows not of words, it has no mind or tongue. Just wind to blow man’s self gratifying efforts away and leave static hiss, a signal for the giant craft to come what will they think when they inspect the damage we have done.
The Reapers Gone.
The reapers gone for his tea nothing left to get in his way, his blade cools his cloak black it is upon the hanger, the table is set. Fires burn logs crackle, but who hears the sound, if indeed there was. Know one at all. For he comes from the kingdom of nowhere and is responsible to know one.
Journey To The Sea
Journey to the sea restless inland upland hills and mountainside, the people now spillover the crowded land, all churches are forts, as ports, are locked down planes, are empty millions surround high meshes, sound bounds and rebounds from darkened town buildings sky black and birds fall, animals wail, no masters have they. As abandoned and wild in the wildest are they. Free to ravage scrap and limbs.
Faintly drawing and tuning a few isolated humans are the sound of a wind horn trembling in some distance, where this leads in compass like magnetic draw sneaking on the meek and lowly, creep past steaming hordes of foul broken democracy.
Where politics amount to nothing in confusing melee of the madness estate, in old Britain land where the union jack no longer lifts her time tired subjects but yet sound beacon drowns the ears and floods the brains of the chosen, for only they will hear as they are drawn to a crooked coast near oxbow waters of choppy seas restless gravitational and disturbed.
Mother moon squeezing cheeks and creating pressure appears to divide and spread apart this angry hiss of now parting sea, so strong is the parting gap that in it’s width ground is dry for meek incumbents to see, as they are drawn to what is to become a world enclosed beneath with former world reminded.
Now gone to a turbulent other land beneath and beyond all other and former known in acceptance of new Neptune. His staff now receding beneath irritated wild waves the poor and lowly now set upon an evolving journey as twenty first century Britain in notional sense of earth time, is left to its continual destructive finale, till her fires are drawn and out inland she remains as trees and fauna now cover without trace the blighted land devoid of the worst of human earth model only faint echoes of church bells added to the sky can be heard by know-one.