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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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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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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Karoo Invocation

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Home desert gives free flow to

twisting genetic

freeze frame in strange pattern space.

Bring up processing tension weight release…

Guess I came here to do this. Forgets how spikey old memories that never

happened, to you,

looping trauma patterns.

Shared together, held alone

in empty expanse,

Wider scale than eyes can, tiny details,

perfect flowers at miniaturised, shrub plant, thorns, focus.

Desire to weep, unknown difficulty, but I know I will and invoke safety in it. With all its vaguely teeming with snakey mambas, stacks of bones, its endless vast potential to be lost, this place is safe. I feel it’s gentle hum deep always, and although I am filled with age old chasmic sadness, tears lurking,

it holds firm, steady soul, parental hand in rattle boom storm.

All the stories here, although weighty and familiar, are still stories.

Karoo continues, ta ta ta, ta ta ta, train – hosho rhythm.

Silence. Wind in howls. Wide winged beings taking flight.

Depths in dust.

Connections as they are: loving, strong, essential

will come through.


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Untitled (spells on that mountain)

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A hearty mystery

to stand barefoot

on that ancient rock mountain.

10 million years, back to sand.

Vista on rolling potential

mapped on wand, found

Body Map

Sky above

Feet

Dirt

Space

No need for sense.

Senseless shift.

To trust in grounded

home space,

to wide open heartfelt greetings

Energy zoom to space,

flow smooth and strong

on this big rock,

on this bigger rock.

The tugs are tides I accept not to understand

And every Will the ocean.