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"


Leave a comment

Nyangara (for Kesh)

20223_1448725642100566_620893720146094806_n

What is magic? We used to meet in Owold, and we were in deep, forget-me-not-forever assisting each other, learning to process together in actions and energy sharing. Exploring territories that were unfathomable, discovering where the shared experience began and ended, dreaming together in separate dreams full of intersections. The dimensionality of imaginary space. A time of innocence, another childhood of experience in some ways, a peak experience too. The moment it happened, you said, the world you inhabited was completely destroyed, and all sense of you with it. As you emerged anew you saw how where we live is the universe contained in our own heads. You saw a web of meaning that stretched between us all and out to every being, “It’s freeing because the world isn’t fixed like it was” you told me, “and the world isn’t fixed for other people either. The world is in part a world you have control over building.” You laughed about a comedy show where a person given the chance to make endless virtual realities makes their own neurosis again and again “so.. there is that”. I laughed too, without ever having seen the show I knew the story, only too well. You were with us though, and we were with you, and together we were learning to look at things from new angles, we were playing, and the plasticine was reality itself, well, maybe.

Physical effects occurred too. The shaking, pains, heart bombardment. The shuddering energies that take over us and compel us in strange directions. Something snapped. Although I yearned more than I can say to do so from my space of all this, it was so hard to reach you. In fact I had no idea if that were possible, or how. Although so many of us were on this path before that moment, had experienced related things before… honestly, none of us fully understood what had been unleashed. I was unafraid, most of the time, but the fear was real and was out there, was in you. At times these processes would become cruel and intense. I would shudder and shake for hours, sometimes in agony, sometimes in ecstasy, find myself on spontaneous vision quests, become nothing, nothing, a tunnel of light. I would feel vast electrical energy ripped from me, through me, was ever sensitive to every strange fluctuation in the world as I encountered it, heard wings all around me and rolling through me, dissolving. I had no idea how to integrate some of this with the rest of it or with the other world, the familiar world. While I didn’t understand, I felt fairly able to navigate the space I found myself in, like it was my natural state. I was consistently told by my nearest imagination beings that this was the case. I don’t think it was so with you, and the space you were in. I checked these sensations with you, and with a few others, and some were the same, and some were very different. In my sensitive state when the shift happened the energy shaking off you felt so heavy, so drastic. I understood how, after a time, you seemed to react. For a while we grew distant and you seemed to avoid us. I did spells to help you find a way out of the mires. I tried to be there for you but I also kept my distance.

We took up playing mbira together, I after you. We explored together again. You came back, tentatively. You were, once again, so soft and silly and wise. Things were calmer, and we felt almost like veterans of some crazy battle, aware, underneath, that fighting could erupt again at any moment. Some of the spaces we explored then were so vast, so ultimate, so indescribable. We could come out of them collectively and smile, say “that was a deep one”…  humm a little. Giggle. Go back in. It was gentle and simple and amazing that it was available to us. We were gentle with it, as gentle as we could be. It was more than we would ever get to grips with or really know, and we were all very comfortable with that. When the tides turned yet again they turned for us all, but so heavily for you. The help you seeked backfired, it chased you out of this life, and it is so scary to say that because it feels like something one is not supposed to say. But it is so. Seeking help is a wonderful thing, but it is fraught, as everything, all healing is, with danger. Snakes are doctors, and doctors are snakes. Every human being knows that. Nyangara. Up on the mountain. May that snake be gentle with your spirit, heal the process that was you. Send you on your way with love.

Advertisements


Leave a comment

Luna Hoof Heart

The moon afloat a perfect pitted sphere

 

Yearning, a / this yearning indescribable

          constantly contracting/releasing       

 

and you, us, adventure, it is

and this amorphous cabal, our hearts pulsating joy

pain

 

new life, new life

 

Indifferent, indescribable, imaginal

 

liminal fantasy, not spell,

 

told a game, we spun, spin, outwards, we

Nuclear fusion reactors, we

strange meat adaptors

we suffering, growing, growing, shrinking…

To ~

To just for once find a way to

tell you

but what? My notion that

this work, this

hurt us?

This

a process, which is Love

If you trust it it can happen

It can

flow, better

you with it

If you trust it hurts less, like still a heavy flutter sting…

Do I trust it?

 

Who are these beings? Is it a bet?

That stupid? That funny?

 

Are you ?

 

What is the dimensionality of imaginary space?

Does the moon hold specific indifference for Kesh?

Does he know how I love him?

Energy, energy

particle flitters between hands

It’s all

 

An explosion of hearts, stars, an explosion in US.

 

I want you to know it is still dragging on me, but love is the thing that heals it.

 

The giraffe is the moon. You are liminal starlight

 

I know you when you

Wings like rooks,

Hanging amorphous nothing space

Gentle light, endless power ripped from me, shaking

all over

simple words, trust, guiding hand in the dark.

 

I hate to see my friends suffer.

Were we ready for this? It happened.

 

still just broken winged birds learning to fly, forever

Interdimensional space travel

is our game, the Hove Space Programme

is our name.

Make a weapon, use it.

 

We grow, we love, we be

Love is a many splendid thing

 

The process is twists and turns

It lies, it has to…

it does not exist

Can there be such a thing

as cosmic friendzoning?

 

Sure can feel like it sometimes

 

(, softly, softly) I don’t suspect so...

 

I remembered what a world without love was like

I didn’t like it

Love, the web

Love, the mycelium

chatter, pulses, courses

Love the rip cord: yearning, being, tugging,

tidal

Love, the everything, the nothing of it all

Love


Leave a comment

Galaxy smash combinations

LIchen bark

For the Athens gang. Ross Kemp on.

Athens all sunshine and storms and tankies and tankards and tanktops and rebetika dances and St James’ Infirmary as the height of humans and gentleness and splendid yabbering and splatters of the same kind of BE QUIET THEY ARE PAYING MORE DOWNSTAIRS nonsense you get at home and ACAB and the best cheese pies and food in general. Oh and if you go to the end of the end of the line on the tram there’s a bunch of kids who wish they were in made in chelsea listening to that kind of minor key autotune power pop that makes me want to slit even vein or probably just walk away softly, which we did.

Elsewhere turf war graffiti. Golden Dawn is it? Anti fascist slogans. Symbols are so changeable. Fuck The Police. Glimmers of old worlds that remain above and below. Mountains peeking from the city surroundings. Make new bustle. Art Art Art. Destroy Smash Forever . No. It’s hard to say. A sense of resilience that seems unstoppable. A fragility. An impermanence. More hospitality blooming in one person than you might know existed in the universe if you had not come to this part of the world.

Passion flower tendrils pull world view magnetism, smash together lego block galaxies. A sense of getting this version of communism as intended by the people I know and others in a way I never had before. Magic as in a shift in every breath. Moment. Photon. Silence. Lego men visitations. No need to definite our questions of who or what. //Intention to keep any centralisation for the benefit of people and not for policing and punishment and that kind of power. A constant discussion on policing by the state, organisations, cops one meets in daily situations, each other, inside ourselves. The possibility of developing ways of living without any of that. Living better and for each other and ourselves. Not new ideas but seem newly thrown bandicoot like. A new PsychedelicAnarchoCommunism. Is it? Lol. Interesting debates with others encountered. Talk of violence/not violence. Not known. Worlds are the same and not the same. Listening. We are all confused and learning. Cosmic (and terrestrial) dafties. Destructive Writing. Breakdown professional focus. Tidy tidy mind focus. Sellable focus. Order best, their order focus. No Whitewashing. Gallery spaces. Worlds. Slowly building to cosmic bouzouki. Yes, proper cosmic.

No there isn’t a conclusion. It continues in here and out there. I myself feel a love for everyone I went with and encountered and played, debated with on that trip. Even the one person who was quite the sleazebag cop himself. Ha! But no, I digress – more things to destroy to make way – patriarchy and old men who consider the world and everything in it theirs to dictate and not a dance with those they encounter.

LOVE.

I myself intend to enter into such days long dialogue raptures at more frequent intervals with good and willing humans and to celebrate these moments when they come along. With those again, with others. Special fragments. Life.