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I paint, make collages and mixed media work. I write poetry. I reflect on the Tao.

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

A Poem Written in Real time on Twitter

Something coming through to me tonight against the flow beating its wings against the window pane.

A thousand miles away the last radio was playing. Somewhere dawn was breaking and somewhere else the lost god knows that everybody has an answer to last a season, a purpose and a chance for a lifetime.

Beyond the gates of Eden the lonely swallow swoops, Her dreams, a glimpse beyond the demon of originality riding out of the west.

A transient impression of desire. Reclamation of the open heart. The human cost of fear. A renewed significance. Mass digital surveillance of the human heart.

Don't stop the human dance. When all music is stilled and the drummers in chains, sway to the beating of your heart and the sound of your breath.

It's nothing to be swept away by nothing that breathes into you, even when they have opened your head and taken your mind. I can hear nothing. I can hear nothing. i can see nothing. I can feel nothing. Swept away. Swept aside. Swept under the carpet of history.

Beyond the gates of Eden the swallow beats her wings against my window pane. The Answer, I have placed myself in, will no longer hold for the question I dare not ask.

written !st February 2018 11:55 AM to 12:15 PM Australian ESDST

The poet in the end days snatching shards of language, hollowed fragments of words, voided pitchers of thought, like some demented potter desperately scrambling among the debris of catastrophe, hopelessly trying to reconstruct a shattered masterpiece. 1:35 the same day