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"


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Folding Substrate Dream

Ex 

      p a n d 

      ing, 

 

~pulse ~

 

buzzing, we spores explore, 

          find other stretches ~ our own

  mycelium strands. Beautiful 

outcasts play for night-time 

deathly serenades. First met dream

collaborators, sweet, swift,

we tunnel and toil in

joy, connect 

 

~ pulse ~

 

 share energy 

and information

       to expand, 

accrete, 

become. 

Flow

           tick~track~tock 

trail all

cuckoo out the illusion clock.

      Roots, symbiotic 

systematic, 

expand into paving structures 

breaks for our zip-zapping, tracking

exchange, energy network scales,

breaks down these once

living forms, exquisite corpse, break 

    to grow, dream awake 

  the whole in supine fruiting

body, orgasmic 

organism, overnight composite compost

     work in

folding substrate dream.


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To start again

So soft scoop 

spike screaming

skip fandango 

melting fluffy over

this incandescent range

deep emotions bury // unearth themselves,

a waveform fluctuation of sediment. Maybe that

transitory moment(s) that set off 

such ricocheting tremors of 

joy and

rage, only weeping nothing, alone

again or in these cave times,

winners and losers tighten up 

to expend themselves and 

this seems like such a dull 

charade. Surprise! Party, remember

what it was like last May and 

the June before that,

your eyes and the glistening 

drops of liquid in the sunlight

on the glass, concave, perfect,

forming their patterns to be 

sloshed over the tide, and 

the dreaming of so many 

humans, their presence, awareness,

energy just infiltrating all 

space, being one’s surroundings. That

moment on the beach when could 

almost feel it, beautiful and

fearful, tantalising. And all this

time I’ve been playing

hard and refusing work 

and working hard. All this time 

the dreams have been shifting

possibilities beyond. But just now

It looks hopeless and my mind

adrift in where you 

all , where, where 

you you all 

and I don’t remember how 

to take a step out into the 

beyond, put on a face, start here

from the resonance of 

this fractured heart, the endless flow

That spins through the breaks, that

flows in and mends them. I wonder 

how to start again.


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human process

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Awareness situates 

  above below

  language, in

vision  of human     animal

       presence

    could be

us, play this dream

flow

through

brightening

lush 

forest / jungle

mission, clearing 

to process process

           starshine

             into system

               waves

              fan-like leaves

                                    hands

                  textures

colours

 

thought breaks in joy, become creatures made of (wo)man

body

layer

experience

a world

could be simple, (couldn’t it?)gather, dream 

and

sway, sing, move, 

  sunshine

dances, what words?

 don’t exist and worries

never did, whatever’s needed can be done differently, hold deep dark holes

I/we/they feed through loops, away 

                                        and no need to know what

                                                                                       is there

 

oh, too big for .


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trace

Mossy mountainside

encounters with squiggle-haired goblin

fairy folk, trace walking lines

of kinship

we were trained

millennia to ignore. Yes

ours travelled,

thousands cross

the ocean, opportunity

dance // take over,

slash and grab

homestead.

The static motion

of these shores, influx

overcoming waves

of violence and later

strange broken

acceptance, oh sing-song!

oh silence! Our worlds

still hang there

beneath surface. Through

the glassy table. We always

saw, yet never

saw, not just because

of our own ancestral

adventures. Fear

wracks this land. Waves and

waves of conquest to

and from and over the shores,

rolling. People

come with no agenda

but their own safety,

a place for children to

thrive, survive. Yearn

with nothing but welcome and

Love through the

new and old

barriers, hands touch, silence,

strong stories in silence. What

is it reclaiming ….?

Dance! Dance! Dance!

cuckoo, echo,

money

Goes

Pop!


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Other Albion

exiting, existing – burning fire out bro heel daggers.

We, unknown and known super individual at a moment

   of 

       perception shift, a shift of perception

that tailormade skip, a fart and a 

cock shaft – laser pen chases

divine birthright claims,

hyperbole magnification of

business as usual in this racist albion

fractured, forgetting folk

deep, dark tunnel of treasures,

golden portals, light in cross pollination.

Dream a dream of bus drivers and

sailors. A new home, away, on the road.

It was always one for the road

in every phase of love, clinging movement

faster, scream.

This dream comes out of a spiral funnel,

spinning Spinee, are you, escapade? 

Escape?

Are you?

(g)nothing

Are you in my bones and cells and molecules,

are you a way out?

are you in those helix structures,

same yearning drift process of my broken not-yet-ancestors?

we ourselves

dead already, 

ancestors already

telling witch tales, walking people, look away…

A circle which is a process

is a spiral. Call it,

speak it. The voice in the moonlight electricity,

learning at last to be gentle in violent times. Yearning, to

let go of… those spiralling accusations, hurts, 

spat vitriol. You, BJ, you are but 

a projection, symptom of this land.

I’ve never understood it. The rules of 

who is spoken to, how to, who not. I’ve willfully 

misunderstood it. Hoof and horn, baby,

is better.

Don’t sweat it. You can’t claim.

Those inner/outer gods remain 

ever One/Many. Ever

Us. You can’t, your centuries at it,

this war, imagination, art

this war, the deaths, brutality,

oh our stories! It’s a dance. You can’t

claim anything that matters.


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Starfolk

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Accept 

we are starfolk, skip lightly

those trails of dust. Here, now

interstellar scene shifting helpmate reflections, dreamers, weird kids, 

seekers, seers 

steadfast. The shifts 

We create in ourselves, each other

reflections to step into

awakening within, resonate

together deeply 

and giggle, remember it’s ok

this is

absurd, but

do you know it? Sense

it? Look inside, deep heart

space, look back, you

always knew. Follow the patterns,

work, go through process,

trust, speak, be silent

and bide time. Our inner collective

process mission. Wings flap 

in resonance. Feel resonance, allow,

allow it to be, allow it to

dream awake 

Being in eternal Void

Dance (G)Nothing, true

life vision, abundance dance

yes, for all and

space to see, hear,

understand. The way 

presents 

itself. It is Love.

Together, always,

no separation, one process

full of eyes, bursting, flowing

Heartspace vision, connect 

to distant Home, always. 

For this here, now transforming

moment.


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Home, London

Home, London. That deep grain hometown feeling in this amorphous human expanse. People don’t know the vast galaxies we made in the corners, central supermassive black holes that could pull us the world outside in a moment, translate out our activities everywhere in a neutron flash. Finding your strange style, and ours, in fashion on the west coast of Mexico, before I knew about the patterns life throws up, yes, but still I tend to think that one was our celestial fashion vomit. And the deep vein connection / anonymous comfortability. Our legs sweat against each other, bus seat thighs. Shades of skin and expression. Cosy down into this, shouty silent safety in the shadow of the city suited thieves and their machinations, illumination symbols twisting around the lot. A twilight Thames embankment walk with my work boss teaching me all kinds of meanings to this imagery I grew up with, always surrounding us. Brixton, Dalston, Brick Lane bustle and swirl, a jumble pot of lives, dreams and hurry… bright orange lights and glowing shop fronts at the top of late 80s Crystal Palace Hill, with its tall metal tower characters and Victorian monsters hiding in green trees. Feet out on grassy parks in warm summertime, humbum, people and people for centuries and miles and miles, views out of windows, from hilltops, endless endless habitations, vibrations, perception points. The mysteries made at playtime, breaking out our moves for shifty molecular twists, vibrating resonance in our threads and stories. Oh, dreams, customs, food, festivals, telly soaps, potions, gods, candles, a same but different choose your own adventure yearning, playing, building, oh joyous sore confusion in the gritty caged playspace, digging for an Otherworld in the dry dirt under a lump of concrete, beneath the holly tree.


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In allowing

Working out, feeling out

where to flow

through

these unrelenting injustices, complex

and desperate human battles, where,

how, to apply the lessons.

Acceptance, as a journey

through process. Be like water.

You don’t have to think,

not all the time, not in the ways

you were taught

…. trust

and act from love. A cog in a wheel

that you surrender, a tipping into,

part of the pattern, flip

in-outwards… act to change, here

butterfly wings, there a trick, a word play,

soft grandmother words. In energetic alchemy,

a piece, a spin. If necessary

violence, too, to feel deep, and still keep

detached perspective

in allowing, work

through me… get out the way!

This is a game we play, but we

are played, danced. And we each dance

the whole dance, and we are

wholly holy, each of

us. Resistance only gravel

don’t sweat it, move, sometimes

the process needs

gravel, doubt and questions

holy holy, and you, you are

made to do this

your way.

Don’t ever doubt it. Those mountains,

those oceans, desert valleys,

motorcycle gangs,

are no obstacle.


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Eschaton

For the 69 Cerne to CERN pilgrims, the stay at home pilgrims and our friends in Damanhur

 

Wide open heart, cracks wider, further, more

your lush expanse green mountain shores

overtake us, fully.

We become in this process, this again and again

merger with spirits, with small beings, with Gods, some assigned human at birth.

Learning those coming togethers, a flow motion,

69 mirrors, reflecting ourselves. A bus of fools particles

in shared waves of emotion

follow the clues, be like water, dance

in astonished surprise!

You see the light, in the eye? Each time

it blinks you disappear

to that gnosis feather tickle, that Great GNothing

that doesn’t exist, that is all

that is. The love growing, building in our dandelion hearts, in seeing

community of others like us – dream it, be it – in creation of a

being to make love to the everynothing, ebb

and flow, dance and oscillating power

sparks, energy tunnels up and out. Eris invited

to the party, her maypole dress rotates, green grass vision

of light, delightful play space of

vibrating particles before my eyes, waves,

dark matter. Beneath the earth, the treasure.

Finding each other in the crisp morning light,

from first foot on giant’s hill, climbing, singing,

being, the never knowing, the never why,

the ever flowing, oh my! my! my!

Learning new ways to be and become, jokes and

expression, fake teeth, toothy gums. Bright

brilliant sunlight, deep tunnels of gold. Growing and

Gknowing, new world from the old. Tree and branch,

reverse out of time, Merlin in us, seeds scatter divine

mysteries, possibilities, first fluttery wings. Whatever this is,

as it begins, inside us, unfurling, to reach out to others:

The end a beginning,

we make our way home: in each step, in each beam, in each breath

we make art, we make war, we make it,

how we don’t know,

if we did we couldn’t do it.

Step up and into each piece

between the viaducts of your dream

magnolias, dandelions,

ferns, those spirals unfurl, the expanding tendrils of

a new world.


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What if there are no men and women?

These days it seems amazing to me that a majority of people tend to largely accept the role they’ve been told is theirs to play in sex encounters, in gendered interactions, in relationships, and stick to it… I always knew this way of doing things wasn’t for me I suppose. Having sex as a woman, in the woman’s role in a hetero situation especially.. it never felt right. Being perceived in that way in the world didn’t either. But it wasn’t that I felt that I was a man inside either, at least not most of the time. I had close friends who were trans, and that wasn’t me. I also had people close to me who did seem more like I was, but we still had no way to define it, and explaining it even to each other was often surprisingly tough. Discovering the concept of gender fluidity in my early 30s was such a liberation. Things have come so far so fast. Finally there was terminology coming into people’s consciousness that actually expressed how this was, in my world. It took me a while to claim it for myself, but once I did the possibility of explaining this side of myself briefly to even people who didn’t know me, was amazing. A part of myself that had always been denied so much publically, even by those close, that I couldn’t help but repress it in myself was suddenly able to blossom, to exist.

Meanwhile though, an even better thing had been happening. I got together with the love of my life, who is trans but also genderqueer. Our embodied, imagination space, shapeshifting sexual play emerged very early on in our relationship, well before I even came out as genderfluid myself. It was felt out and in the first years boundaries were pushed, conversations had afterwards about the most intimate and scary feeling elements of our inner spaces. We held each other through openings of trauma spaces, surprising twists, stuck masterbatory fantasies that came up in this new open environment. We learned to use the bodies we had to be a multitude of archetypes and paracosmic possibilities. We learned to love the bodies that we had, and realised their potentials in a myriad of beings. It was pure joy and also embracing of darker fantasies that had always seemed out of bounds, or only for guilty moments masterbating. I grew a penis with my mind, we fucked with two pussies, two cocks, suckled from her beautiful breasts, tumbled through embodiments of feathered winged entities, insects, other animals, rolled through so many different scenarios of age play and incest, danced through every side of visions of sacred prostitution, torture, slavery, the pain of women and of men and of children and our own jumbled folk through time and place… became goddesses and gods, journeyed into visions of light and flowed into dimensions without a body at all. We did all this through exploring our bodies, and our minds, what they could do and be. Feeling into things as they emerge and being open and gentle with each other. Incorporating tantric techniques, breathwork, energy stuff. All sorts of S&M stuff too. And opening up what our bodies can be, being in them and understanding them. What can a woman with a penis do? A man with a vagina? All types of that sort of thing, sure. But even more so what if there are no men and women, only two sparks of consciousness in particular loving, powerful bodies, interacting and playing and becoming in each moment whatever is called for, feeling and responding, in ecstacy. Allowing the transitions to be gone through, and through this sometimes something in them transmuted as the forms change, something inside them healed, transformed and/or accepted inside ourselves. Sometimes something about our physical bodies or the visions we are in embraced, loved, held.

Nothing has ever been out of bounds, but we always listen to each other. Caring for each other is essential, checking in constantly in a way that doesn’t break the flow. I’d never felt so able to call things to a halt if necessary, so sure that would be heard at once. Or indeed to be able to just gently move things in a different direction as they flowed if necessary. It has made me realise how many people have not fully taken that approach in previous relationships I’ve had. And I always make sure I’m tuned in enough to be as responsive as that myself too. Of course very occasionally small mistakes happen. We’ve been at this seven years. When they do it’s how that’s responded to too, taking care and never getting defensive.

So why am I writing about this? I’m really very happy to keep this loveliness between ourselves, but I guess I want to find ways to let people know, who may not know, that we don’t have to accept that we are just what we are told we are, in sex, in the world. I want to open up the imaginative space of genderfludity and sex, and not just for those of us on the front line of gender, for everyone. I’m sure there are loads of people working and playing in similar ways in their sex lives, and in other ways. I’ve certainly read the odd blog that talks about parts of this really beautifully. But encounters with the kink world as it is out there have honestly (disappointingly) seemed to me almost as limited in really exploring these mutating, flowing possibilities of sexual embodiment, as vanilla sex is. I hope there are avenues of it that are consciously doing this stuff, and I’m certain there are loads of individuals, couples and groups who are…  but if there are wider threads that are open about and encouraging of this they don’t seem easy to find. So much has opened up in recent years. Yet the stories we are telling ourselves about sex and sexual play are still so two dimensional. And especially in the straight world they are often so overwhelmingly binary. Even where pathways open to play roles other than ourselves they are often so defined and stuck by gender…

It astounds me to remember how trapped I felt in the past into playing a role.. that importantly never felt right… but also primarily was just so limited. These bodies, these minds, our imaginations and the energy that flows through us… we are able to do and be and embody and play out so much more than we are told we are. And it’s a wonderful way to live, and deeply helpful and healing too. I hope, if this resonates and you aren’t already getting up to such things, that you go out there and play with your own deep inner worlds, find others who are open to this, unafraid and loving, or open up such possibilities with your partner. Do so on your own too, open yourself to loving all your parts, transform masterbatory experiences by flowing through the things that have made you ashamed and allowing them to be loved, felt and to twist and move.

I hope you know that you don’t have to be a woman all the time. You don’t have to be a man all the time. You don’t have to stick to the roles that would be expected of whichever of those you may happen to be mostly in life. We don’t have to stick to anything. Our bodies and minds are much more open places than they may seem. These explorations can be pathways to healing too, although like all healing it is strange and imperfect, I have really found this to be the case. I’ve not gone into details of that side of things here, but yes, and in my experience it doesn’t need to be thought about too hard, just felt into deeply with love and acceptance, and things happen. And what fun it is too! There is so much to explore!