Fables and Revelations

The circus is in town, and the met is having an exhibition on superheroes. http://www.metmuseum.org/special/superheroes/index.asp I’m standing on the other side of things; things are never really, what I thought they would be. I’m calling out to angels to be with me tonight, should I leave the lights on? Pretty faces and fancy places glimmer at the corner of my eye, melt into wax at the light of dawn. I sit in the corner on this cool night, the wind moaning in anguish at the passing cars and the trees wave in protest at these mechanical demons that speed through the chilly night. I touch the covers of my warm leather bound journal and wonder about the world, of the people and places and the quiet silent passing faces on the buses and trains. Of things done and undone. Dreaming of the nights when I can lay listening to the rain on the tin roof, where the warmth of the night elopes me and your arms around me. The breath of the living calms me and sends me into a tropical slumber. This w...

If you want to get to know someone travel with them...

I have a chilli plant named Rocky. Everyone is talking and no one is listening, he sits and listen to the wind and the rain. To the passing cars, to the lonely twittering of the birds and the howls of the dogs, cold and wet in the chill of the rain. The plants whisper softly and tell tales of stories that fade inside, of people who once were alive. Who shared secrets that held true, of love of war, of you and me, of a world that bleeds. The world turns and the seasons change, do we really remain the same? The world is moving, life a water wheel of ever flowing perpetual motion never cease to move back, embracing the now. Watching ocean so blue, glancing across the river, the waters sparkle like diamonds beyond reach. You take my hand, when I wake up and love me even when I am down, even when the world collapse around us in rubble, and the waters rise to down the living. You are here with me, holding me, with me. This week ahead would be filled with trials and tribulations, of anxiety ...

A new day takes me into it’s breath, the midnight air awaits the siren song, flesh and bones burning cold, singe with life. A chemistry of stars that makes us real, the aurora swims across the sky and falling across the months and years like paint down a running stream burst into fireworks of what once was. No one gives a damn in the cold wind that swirl round the wintery evening. Standing alone under the sun kissed glow of the Victoria lamps, I peer into the lighted darkness, brushed by the gentle glows of street lamps. The time slips like satin sheets over my bosom, soft, smooth and comforting. Watching the twinkling bodies moving amidst celestial beings in the woven blackness, I couldn’t believe it’s over. I listened, I touched, I saw and I spoke, yet like doubting Thomas. I lack the belief, the belief of passing events. Like a macabre dream in a winter’s night, I remember the echoing voice and the memories that roll like marbles in my little head. Point me into reality. Exit stage ...