Posts Tagged life



What means solitude?


Is it the freedom to think

without the intrusion of the bore?

Or is it the quiet required

to contemplate what lies before?


Is it the unsated lust

who’s quiescence just wants more?

Or is it the unusual beauty

of love only imagined?




That gentle curve

from neck to pretty shoulder.


That imagined amalgam

of beauty and brains.

Those twinkling eyes so wise,

and those seductive curves.


Mystery of someone exquisite

who may be wiser

but also answers something animal.


Someone who echoes my needs.

My call that answers me.

Solitude is the absence of these.




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If you could be without cognisance of

or involvement in the human world,


and simply be an intelligence that’s

aware of the wonders of the universe,

then you would be a supreme being.


If you’re a supreme being

who’s existence depends upon

the cognisance of human beings,

then you’re a contradiction in terms.



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The essence of all is consistent.

What adds difference

and lifts the plain to shining peaks

or reduces it to valleys dark

are qualities.


Beauty stands proud

as the mediator

that defines mediocrity

and all that is foul

and all that inspires

and all that gives life value.


It slows our time

and distracts the mind

and the eye

and causes the soul to cry

and to laugh

and to ponder.


Be beauty science

and the grandiosity

of knowing.

Or the pause that knowing gives

to observation.

And the gentle confusion

that then arises.


That response we have

to a mere curve

or to a change that’s different.

Or some shift in balance between weights

that has some hidden mathematical rhythm,

or some subtlety that knows

real wisdom and causes us to falter.


Some subtle insight that speaks

of an embellishment to our view

and which stands just slightly out of reach.

That soothes our heart

as might the passing glimpse

of a friend who smiles

but who we don’t know.



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Hot air cicada song thrum,

constant in the smokey heat.

Peach drips across sweat sticky skin

as orange sun casts long shadows over dying land.


I loved you and meant well.

A future once seen cascading like a waterfall,

became a trickle.


Birds dip in dusk light to chase fly by nights,

and land burns red in quickly blackening foreboding.

Cicadas still sing. And I do too.


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Regular day

I may as well be on a desert island.

Surrounded by sea seamlessly connected to sky.

With a magic supermarket run by AI

That feeds me and provides a regular supply

Of washing up liquid and beer and tobacco

And sausages and pizza and shit like that.


Sometimes I see shapes like people

Walking amongst the stacked shelves.

They move slowly and sometimes they stop.

But they don’t see me.


And outside in the baking hot sun

That dazzles off glass and distant splashing waves,

I pause for thought and listen to the sounds around me

That seem like silence and never carry my name.



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