let it all go

Tags

2011, 5*, abstract, centrifugal, centripetal, habit, identity, illusion, interdependent origination, letting go, looking, pointlessness, practice, talking to myself, world

                                              strong habit
                                abstracting
                from a pointless world

                                              me versus the world
                                whenever it solidifies
                centripetal to my centrifugal

                                I should let it all go

                                              by looking
                                where I am
                geographically

                                              emotionally
                                completely
                cleanly

                                              once again
                                hundreds of times
                all the time, and

                                              emerge
                                from it and
                watch myself

                                              and the world
                                spring up
                like illusion

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

identity & looking wormhole: AT-tennnnnnnn – waitfrit waitfrit – SHUN!
letting go wormhole: trying to focus / on walking
pointlessness wormhole: hello, luvvey, do you want a cup of tea?
practice wormhole: substance
talking to myself wormhole: happen//ing
world wormhole: travel

 

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poessay X: soul love – poewieview #2

Tags

2016, 7*, appearance, art, assimilation, asymmetry, Bowie, bread, butter, centrifugal, centripetal, chords, communication, defining, depression, dichotomy, eclectic, existence, gold, I, identity, illusion, inside, insight, leaves, liberation, living, love, meaning, music, naïveté, nose, octave, others, outside, piano, poessay, right & wrong, seeing, semantics, soul, superhero, syntax, warp, weft, words, world

                poessay X: soul love

                thin depression
                like butter over frozen bread
                when things go well, a shoulder tap,
                the superhero mask with no nose;

                somethings is not right
                outside or in, oneself aren’t what I thought, we
                just don’t co-ordinate as we should
                creating havoc with syntax; but there

                the gold, the outsight,
                that things isn’t quite right
                allows a cleaner, naïve sights of your leaves¹ as long as ‘I don’t fit’
                doesn’t get in the way;

                maybe ‘things’ don’t exist as they appear (or,
                even, shouldn’t),
                that everything are wrong (with
                trans-dualistic semantic); where depression

                is trying to maintain an illusion in a world we did not create (‘wauuugh’),²            
                not proof that ‘we’ is wrong but insight
                to what ‘things’ truly is, and where
                art could be liberative,

                if communicative; which is why Bowie w/is
                important: no sense but the weft of asymmetry
                and the warp of dichotomy in … love
                for other/s-ness-eh city, where eclectic

                assimilation is the means of meaning, always
                far wider than defined, where chordings and octaves are
                centripuntal to word; or not …
                with damn good piano solo

 

¹ this piece of work grew out of a conversation with Johnbalaya which we had over coffee and jam on toast one mornings in the pages of Powieviews; orange juice anyone?
² an mlewisredford No-Prize if you can tell me which character’s strap-line this is; c’mon, c’mon …

Read the collected movements in David Bowie: Movements in Suite Major

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

Bowie & identity & naïveté wormhole: sixty four sixty five
communication wormhole: … the discipline of shamatha / the waft of vipashyana
depression & music wormhole: Poewieviews
gold & living & love wormhole: finding my own true nature – Plumstead, Woolwich, 190915
leaves wormhole: along
meaning & world wormhole: let the dreams / become the ghosts they / always were
others & piano wormhole: com- / mute
poessay wormhole: poessay IX – … just saying, is all II
seeing wormhole: Office at Night, 1940
superhero wormhole: sit
words wormhole: when writing // stay

 

stuck free to move within

Tags

2013, 6*, anxiety, centrifugal, centripetal, clouds, dharma, doing, hope, life, light, morning, nostalgia, panic, pointlessness, reading, settling, silence, sitting, spaceship, sun, talking to myself, walls

 

 

 

                there is no sacred action
                there is no mundane action
                other than anxiety makes it so

                my pointless life is stuck free to move within it
                                not before it
                                not out through the other side

                I can’t see where to go
                I can’t remember where I’ve been
                other than panic propels me around
                both centrifugal and centripetal together
                both hopeful and nostalgic
                                together

                                              but
                I’ve read the books (so often now
                that I keep on missing the point) it is
                the quietly turning centre point of all the anxiety and panic
                                              that will illuminate the whole wall
                                like a spaceship cloud at sunrise

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

anxiety & settling wormhole: no biggie:
clouds wormhole: open window
doing & life wormhole: contemplating my painted copy / of Vallejo’s Conan
light & morning wormhole: sitting up in bed s i m u l t a n e o u s l y
pointlessness & silence & walls wormhole: Tulips by Sylvia Plath – How Far To Step Before You Raise The Other Foot
reading & talking to myself wormhole: day off
sitting wormhole: !
sun wormhole: a cup of tea, gov

 

first a mishap then clear vision

Tags

'scape, 2014, 6*, age, being, career, centrifugal, centripetal, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, circular poem, detail, distraction, doing, elemental, form, glasses, hope, identity, injustice, journey, letting go, life, looking, lost, moment, name, pointlessness, reading, realisation, role, society, tide, time, vague, vulnerable, waves, world, writing

first a mishap then clear vision

                        face it
  let yourself                 there is
 but never                       no point
known it                           no victory
     always                       no justice
  and you’ve                 there never
                          was

                                                        all the effort
                                   again using                           of reading
                        willing to build                                     writing and
                 for the way back                                              accumulation
                 around hopeful                                                   creating hope
                     and looking                                                      of a salvific
                         I am lost                                                       point but it
                        accept that                                                   plateaus ever
                       and I finally                                               as it is made
                             is stumbled                                       and takes in
                                  before a trip                           miles of amble
                                                          and wander

                                                              but

                                              the natural plain of this life’s journey
                                                              is to gaze un
                                attached past the complication and
                                              across the complexity
                                              to see clearly all the detail
                                                              and form in itself
                content to look unfocused and elemental
                                until my age and career
                                required glasses
                                              so that now
                                I react centripetal to the world
                                              that calls my name in shower and wave
                                and I become
                                centrifugal and solidified
                                (vagued and vulnerable) to
                an identity I can never find
                                while the world keeps leaking
                                              and escaping like gas

                                                                                  so

                                                                          (let them all …
                             and no hope of identity                     disperse
                           with no need of hope                              clean into the scene)
 as the energy fans awry and around                                    like a ‘scape until
                                  and slip-slide                                        the next moment
                                                  only                                    which
        and the shift and chirrups of élan                              moves
                                                          just                       both slight and extra
                                            to the roles and tides

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

being & doing & identity wormhole: ‘I come from the brow …’
career wormhole: what I am about to say is true / what I just said was a lie
Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche wormhole: 25% scaffolding & rope
circular poem wormhole: may the supreme and precious jewel bodhichitta … // … take birth where it has not yet done so … // … where it has taken birth may it not decrease … // … but may it increase infinitely
distraction wormhole: tag cloud poem V – draft-ness
glasses wormhole: all the while / the flagpole rope / occasionally flaps / the breeze
letting go wormhole: sounds // suddenly / stop
life & society wormhole: they find their life growing together –
looking wormhole: the retriever the daughter and the mother
pointlessness wormhole: letter 080514
reading & realisation & time wormhole: only the Batman realises that he is dead
waves wormhole: gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared
world wormhole: the declensions of constant possibility throughout times
writing wormhole: too cold to sit outside / and write flowers of / individual poems