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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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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Strip

 

who?

 

I

boy

girl

woman

man

shift

thing

 

I, seven layer burrito

~ every shimmer of empty moment space

 

Those boy/girl things. Girlie boy, boyish girl things.

Race into the park after dark, fizz-shimmer of dungarees, muddy paws,

don’t stop bawling, BMX, rock kid beatnik posing. Tumble deep inner world

of creation, girlz run the world OK, in delight in strong friendships,

nurture potential, hunker down and make a world not founded on

all of this.

 

Strip endless

layers

in deep magic,

as

big breast mama, all and many,

realised,

embodied abundance,

pure and endless giving. // In shuddering, perverse,

joyous

masc effeminacy sensation, in free flying, sun of

atomic fusion process, hair in wind,

tall pretty prince of my dreams, myself to

save me, the world, boys

and girls of immateria, our transience, found in

your grace, shy swagger.

 

peel back, discover

hurt aggressor

you don’t want to but it happens and

you do want to,

grabbing manchild all power

push, the worst, in, out

a panic of drive, bug greedy for

bodies, caves,

bodies and

land – all actor, forget to see

humanity, see godspark in

self or other – so fearful, so broken

make tight tangle spark

electricity with hurt

soul, girl. Strange seat of abandonment

slave, girl

I am her

hurt

soul, woman. Strange seat of abandonment

howl, eternity in shit and puke

Death, alone – that whole hole is there

it seems, in this now. In both sides of the switch, relation.

All these are all, beings, godhead –

this being what is left if we leave out the animals ~

the smash bash panic of it all – and ~ breathe ~

feel into the spaces, personify,

allow these relations to smash, waves on shores,

break apart into the nothing they are, and ~

 

the you that speaks to me as I do so,

strong presence, holds,

feels out with me, plays in the

deep darkness with, and guides through become

wildest Light, you, brightest , bestest

masculine energy – you are me, too ~

 

~ spasm` out and small girl, yearning in haze

of sensation and realising – in

climbing rocks and rolling down hillsides,

in explorations on beds and tactile wonders

through landscape soundscapes,

all waterfall meanders, light through trees

and rocks and wind in leaves across

oceans of desire, curiouser and curiouser to

imagine being proud and possible

beaming in expanse with skill and openness ~

boy in desert girl, holed up in all things,

in longings for the ‘pre-op’

girls in phone boxes, perfectly strange

parrot of patriarchal scum phrases

‘best of both worlds’ in ~ not realising

that this ~ feeling !  is not how

everyone feels, secretly

inside (don’t they?), but who are they and

what is it , gay boy in a

young woman’s body vision ~ how is it

possible to make a world out of? That’s not how I ~

~ what I

how is it possible? To glitter and dress up, eye

liner and neon lights in dark corners

poppoppopop pop !

Claim a stake in some kind of being here,

hole up and make a life here (new life, new life)

to spin out shake out sister,

be the best girl, a woman

all breasts and love women and love those women and be also otherwise and be women and love them.