outsideinroads

Life games, music, magic and all the rest. Adventures of the fringe of the fringe amongst the.. "People's Republic of Brighton and Hove"

The Past’s Future

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Open | Sun | Shimmer | Movement

Slips between channels,

our experience, energy

moves from

place

to

focus. You, the heavy weight,

tall hoof of the past’s

future, you burning neck,

soul inside my heart,

trapped and

breaking

Out, weak point

must be strong to hold

space for you.

The largest

form

an everything

for endless expanse,

still tracking under !Xu’s wide sky,

while these layers of

Power struggles

demand sugar in the cement.

For shudders, kicks,

expulsions, pushing towards

our future, our past

presents itself now in threatening letters,

to loved elders,

whose home is here.

Who once welcomed

to Britain

as young folks,

descended from the people

ancestors of this country

stole, sold across oceans as slaves

into the hardest life on

those soft wave shores, the ones who survived

and broke finally free

into a world which has

never yet stopped trampling on those

Bones, those humans, adding

accretion to inheritance

trauma, constant battle ground

to be known

as human, to live in peace,

share in, and hold

wide network of Love and

All, for those ghosts

that haunt the bones, raised each time

Words are spoken or

threats or guns are raised. The Windrush

a n  o p e n i n g

of its time, another expectation

of servitude, to previous

powers, now in need. One dressed in

fancy best and invited

for tea, which we drank in your living room

when we were very tiny, so sweet, so

Delicious. My first attempt at a school friend,

I digress. And you know

on a day like this

in 2015 I

wrote about hearing Miriam Makeba

in the sunshine in Brighton,

Our own adventures in community

and amplified political

horror had

just begun. Whirlwind creation

of spitting fire between our hands

You kick and sputter, you

Hoof hands, you heart

neck attack, the world,

the life and

death

oh my. Half a million souls

across the waves to reach these

shores towards attacks, you know the

signs in windows, fists in

faces, words, attitudes,

Integral structures

against

and hopscotch

Imagination games, playing out

Beautiful mergers, our

learning, playing

music, dancing

our attempts to make some sense

of belonging

Together

Apart

to build what we saw,

make magic in the mountains of

our dreams, like, no idea

what the power of stories,

words | breathe | touch

could be. Still. A woven dream of

a moment in the

brutal

Interruption, a vision of a home to make

somewhere. That

somewhere.

It continues, perhaps on purpose

the layers have kept

Pouring in the same patterns in the

mould.

Mold may grow in

Different shapes. We weaponize mold

to grow new forms. If fungus can eat

plastic

we Mycelium are the fungus

that can eat these structures, it is not a drill but a

Growing, and the patterns can be moved through,

Can be adapted or SMASHED

We say NO to this

repeat pattern built of slavery. We say it

with real process inside and outside

of ourselves. We say it with care and love and

Setting fire. We say it throwing seeds and spores in all

Directions and ready to water | wait | tend | protect.

We say it with sigils. We say it with alchemy.

We stand together in our home.

We build that astra

Diane spoke of.

We say it with those we love.

We say it looking

at who we are.

We say it clearly. We say it with words.

We say NO to this

repeat pattern built of colonisation

and slavery.

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