Thursday, July 5, 2012
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
There was a naughty boy; I do not know what his name was, but it was not Charles, nor George, nor Arthur, for those are all very pretty names: but there was a robin came in at his window one very cold morning — shiver — shiver; and its poor little heart was almost frozen to death. And he would not give it the least crumb of bread in the world, but pulled it about by the tail and hurt it sadly, and it died. Now a little while after, the naughty boy’s papa and mamma went away and left him, and then he could get no victuals at all, for you know he could not take care of himself. So he went about to every body — Pray give me something to eat, — I am very hungry. And every body said, No, we shall give you none, for we do not love cruel, naughty boys. So he went about from one place to another, till at last he got into a thick wood of trees; for he did not know how to find his way any where; and then it grew dark, quite dark night. So he sat down and cried sadly; and I believe the bears came and eat him up in the wood, for I never heard any thing about him afterwards.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
A Meditation in blue
I still alone with straps around my head that urge my thoughts into a structure of right ok and wrong. My feet are a source of cold cooling the socks that bind them to my feet. Alone in a blue room with the bright lights as my only companion. I'm surrounded by black boxes and a purple cup. This is my existence to dwell in this room and wonder why and what.
one box in 17 vibrates beeps twice vibrates and goes silence. I pace teh room and cover my aked body in a white sheet and stair out the window into the colour red. It stills idle and I find it hard to focus on it. I walk back into my room and colour my face and toes in orange. I open one of the boxes and its full of copper plates and brass cultury.
one box in 17 vibrates beeps twice vibrates and goes silence. I pace teh room and cover my aked body in a white sheet and stair out the window into the colour red. It stills idle and I find it hard to focus on it. I walk back into my room and colour my face and toes in orange. I open one of the boxes and its full of copper plates and brass cultury.
Journey through Purple
Driving through a semi sea. Lines of red spawned from past journeys race ahead of us as pale dots of beige return. The world, a simple canvas of deep violet and blue canvas, a backdrop for dark green trees and a road lined in steel on either side as electric candle burn furiously to signal to the world of our approach. 16:55 blinks in deep red continuously, as inside we heat up to resist the sky outside. splashes of red break against the world beyond and we sprint on all fours ahead into the darkness.
An orange house stands solitary in black. We are under water now and we don't want to change it. we are forever lost but we travel, we run on the spot and the world moves around us, the road is black as charcoal and is lined in ice cream white lines broken and uniform likes civil servants keeping the unspoken peace.
Trumpets blow continuously in and out of tune to announce nothing. Inside princesses and harlequins that were never to be chew the fat that hangs in the air and ring exotic bells to expel the silence . Televisions turned on to show nothing but a black picture fuzzing from the hidden light behind, running around and around the clock that shows 17:09 now in pink. The light in front of the bus shows the front garden that sticks onto the front of the bus and journeys with out new home.
Now we are in a stadium and it snows and snows and snows. White rain starts from the ground and floats up. Little booths rest on their sides in the center with their lonely orange lights switched on. The center of the stadium is lined in yellows lines and spot lights that punch holes into the green sky. We are surrounded by empty red seats. As we leave the stadium behind we past massive signs that tells us about christmas trees on pluto and show soliditary letters. 5 i p z xt and j.
I just look out the window and explore my imagination. I turn my head to the front and look through the fish bowl into space beyond. The road and the sky and switched as the stars line the land in front of us in a column of three. Suns and plaents race each other into the darkness behind us and we sit to watch lonely lamp posts in white coats of fireflies stand as landmarks in the deep black ocean of the distance.
A small poet sits beside a mechanic on a tug boat that floats along to a tape recorder playing the sounds of a train journey. An orchestra sits in teh next room tuning their instruments, as a group of jugglers make their beds in the room opposite. The poet sits looking at a dildo that dances to the tune of the untuned violins of the one armed virtuoso.
As it lunges forward the world is created around it
An orange house stands solitary in black. We are under water now and we don't want to change it. we are forever lost but we travel, we run on the spot and the world moves around us, the road is black as charcoal and is lined in ice cream white lines broken and uniform likes civil servants keeping the unspoken peace.
Trumpets blow continuously in and out of tune to announce nothing. Inside princesses and harlequins that were never to be chew the fat that hangs in the air and ring exotic bells to expel the silence . Televisions turned on to show nothing but a black picture fuzzing from the hidden light behind, running around and around the clock that shows 17:09 now in pink. The light in front of the bus shows the front garden that sticks onto the front of the bus and journeys with out new home.
Now we are in a stadium and it snows and snows and snows. White rain starts from the ground and floats up. Little booths rest on their sides in the center with their lonely orange lights switched on. The center of the stadium is lined in yellows lines and spot lights that punch holes into the green sky. We are surrounded by empty red seats. As we leave the stadium behind we past massive signs that tells us about christmas trees on pluto and show soliditary letters. 5 i p z xt and j.
I just look out the window and explore my imagination. I turn my head to the front and look through the fish bowl into space beyond. The road and the sky and switched as the stars line the land in front of us in a column of three. Suns and plaents race each other into the darkness behind us and we sit to watch lonely lamp posts in white coats of fireflies stand as landmarks in the deep black ocean of the distance.
A small poet sits beside a mechanic on a tug boat that floats along to a tape recorder playing the sounds of a train journey. An orchestra sits in teh next room tuning their instruments, as a group of jugglers make their beds in the room opposite. The poet sits looking at a dildo that dances to the tune of the untuned violins of the one armed virtuoso.
As it lunges forward the world is created around it
Sunday, August 10, 2008
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