Flesh
Evolution
His soul doth run
on rails of steel
towards the focal point.
Legless, armless, sightless mute
he mocks the builder in refrain
and dreams about
a woman
dark and deep
desperate to keep
she lopped his limbs
with do's and don't's and
stopped his ears with moans
of need his shriveled seed
unable to respond.
Where there is a god, there is a sinner.
"Life on earth" is a misnomer. Time and space, for the human race, is the death zone in our journey from the absolute to the infinite. When we choose or are chosen to be born we enter the zone where we start to die and decay and have to fight to stay alive long enough to figure out how to get through to the next stage (death) alive, with our consciousness intact. (Just like an extreme survival game on TV)
When we enter the zone we forget very quickly where we have been and where we are going because we have to adapt to a total and urgent reality, that part of our journey that takes us through meter and matter, tick tock tick tock the clock never stops and some people forget altogether and settle down to count the hours towards their doom, unaware that they don't have to die. Others have intimations through extreme situations of a task long forgotten, this deep forgetting we do when learning to tie a shoe. And this dying happens so slowly, slowly we go, distracted by delight and despair, never quite there, anxious for the future, guilty of the past, the last..................
DRIVEN
Hormones?
Bollocks!
My father drove me with his foot to the floorboard. Flat lining.
You can't drive another person if you don't know where they're going.
"Don't kick up such a stink, my son."
"That's the smell of burning rubber, my father"
***
Retro-Active Karma (Do unto others as will be done to you)
The scene.
In your car.
At a T junction.
Waiting to feed off into the main road.
Stuck behind some dozy clot with a “Hoot for Jesus” sticker on his bumper.
Now, he (or she) can't hear what you're saying, but your ears can.
The trouble is, you're speaking to an idiot.
The body, knows to be. The body only knows how to DO. It doesn't know how to DON'T. (As in DON'T just sit and wait for Christmas.) The body doesn't know words very well, and it doesn't know you're speaking to SOMEONE ELSE. All it feels is a strong emotion and an urgent directive from the mind……DITHER.
And sooner or later you will hear that hooting from behind. Retro-active Karma. This is how we turn the wheel. Backwards.
***
The mind is a tool that mankind has not yet come to grips with.
The mind maniulates the Matrix behind matter, as opposed to stone tools (e.g. particle accelerators) that only scratch the surface of reality.
The blind mind has become the mad master of you, curbed with caution and custom and her little box of pills, drink, drugs, music, art, tv, travel, sex, enlightenment, something new on the old horizon at all times, looking back and lurching forward, never in the now
how
deep the love
that saves the day
just breathe in
it's only moments away.
***
I started smoking, or carried on smoking rather, because it cured my constipation. Thanks to my father I was highly strung and anxious all the time. Smoking helped me calm down and relax. I've stopped because I want to live longer and stay with my darling Hannah.
(Hannah gave me my wisdom. I am much more people friendly now.)
The ballet we have been writing for the last twenty years is nearly complete. The Music is wonderful and the story is exciting. If you like to know a bit more about it, then please
***
Notes on the ballet.
Mother in glittering black evening dress. Cruella in extremis persona mode.
The sight that stuns it's prey. The ultimate evil beauty, queen, mother with a band around her outstretched neck, from which hangs black lace like the web of a spider on her bosom of flesh. Exaggerated to almost like the Black Queen in a Disney animation. Dramatic smoky entrance, the awesome bitch from hell has arrived.
She must be conscious of her immortal beauty and her terror
her suffering and her sacrifice smile through her slightly parted lips and tipped teeth tongue, as her eye seeks through her (whip) lashes, the object of her intentions.
The Audience.
The Dancer has to present .
The dancer has to wow the audience with every move in beauty,
quicker than the eye can see,
like an arrow to the heart,
they are smitten before the start.
I am,
the shape that pleases, the character that thrills,
pure desire.
Utterly recognizable.
Utterly loved.
You can bring them to life, or send them to sleep.
Technical excellence is no substitute for character and courage.
Good isn't good enough. Ambition is stillborn success waiting to be buried in fame. Only passion will overcome. Only this moment is real.
Is the audience waiting for the interval drink?
Trying to see the time by the light of the exit sign?
Unless ye dance like children you will just be a pain in the arse to watch.
The characters must be real yet larger than life.
A coSmic caricature. The most that that character or person can be, free from the past and parents and what they think of you, and what you think they think of you, and what you must do to make them think well of you. You have to let your feelings show free of fear. Conquer them with love, not through the subterfuge of expertise.
***
Here's my problem. I have seen a subject i want to address, but I feel it's a critical waste of time. And I can't let it go.
Republican candidates for the 2008 election.
Mc Cain and "Sarah the barracuda". (Yes folks, that's what they call her.) Sounds like fish and chips to me.
She's from the frozen North. They shout "Drill, Drill" at her and she kicks through the legislation to supply more fuel for her friends and their suburban gas guzzlers.
She's a rootin tootin
moose shootin
beauty queen
and self professed hockey mum.
(Mum's the stick, the child is the ball, and the goal is the Whitehouse. Whack!)
The only difference, she tells us, between her and a pitbull is the lipstick. (What an extraordinary thing to say. Only the Americans don't know what they mean.) So what I wanna know is, is she like a dog in every other respect? And does she foam at the mouth, and is this a quality to be admired in a woman, a vice president and a human being of the 21st Century?
Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address, March 4, 1865
"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan - to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations."
Is Sarah also a balm on troubled waters? Or is she a puppet of the paranoid population pulling a no-nonsense noose around the neck of namby pamby nature loving ninnies like Oba(l)ma.
This woman's more butch that I am. A ballbuster out to beat a man at his own game gawking at the girls in their swimming costumes despising him for their predicament.
He is fooled by the "lipstick" you see
the teeth
too late
"I am rather inclined to silence, and whether that be wise or not, it is at least more unusual nowadays to find a man* who can hold his tongue than to find one who cannot."
*?
And now I'll hold mine. On this subject at least. Unless I think of something very funny to say. Or something nice about her. I'm sure she's a nice girl too. It's just that she's got so much power and so few brains. Reminds me of momma.
***
Below is an excellent exercise for constipation, anxiety and for getting into the body (cause that's where it's at).
First, take off all your clothes. Ha Ha. Only joking.
Just sit comfortably and feel the tingle in your toes, your hands and your lips. Now take your time and try to be aware of all three places at once.
Now let your belly sag like a Buddha. See how low you can go. You can tense your torso a few times and relax again.
Sweep the floor with your invisible umbilical chord.
Don't forget the tingle.
Relax your shoulders, chest and arms. Be always aware of the tingle at the same time as relaxing the belly. It's easy with practice.
The trick is to try and concentrate on TWO things at the same time. This ensures absolute concentration from the mind and is the only thing that will silence those damn voices that are causing the tension. If you lose focus you can add breathing into the mix. Slow, shallow, through the nose. Listen to the sound. Be always aware of the tingle to keep you in the now. Tingle, breath, belly, sweep all at once together.
Persist with the belly until you start to feel (after TEN MINUTES sometimes) it will start to release and your stomach will start to gurgle. Keep at it. You don't know how uptight you are until you relax.
A short story
There are things you can't bring back with you. Like your car, or socks. Sometimes (like this time) you even come back where there is no internet. But there is rain. Lots of rain.
There were lots of people at the arrival place. (An empty lot.) Some were waiting for arrivals – some arriving. All very emotional and tearful. There was also a small creature that everyone was avoiding and I instinctively put my palm on it and it calmed down and stopped running around so much.
I met a guy there as we left. (I had nowhere to go really because dead people don't have a home anymore.) He took me home with him to a ramshackle front door and upstairs to more ramshackle doors and then he stopped and waited respectfully – not looking into the flat in case she wasn't presentable. I barged in, then quickly came back and stood next to him.
There was a kettle on the counter.
Eventually a woman came out and said to me.
"I'm not your kaffir!"
I said I could understand that (in my friendliest accent) and went downstairs and tied up the laces on my soggy boots. The man came down with a sigh, put his hand on my shoulder and showed me to a coffee shop down the road.