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Happy

Happy about that last poem. It feels like it is about me, about my life.

Wrote it in the dark.

Right now poems are turning up as little vignettes in my head, vivid scenes like memories. In some cases they are memories.

I undergo very powerful dream states, always have done, even while awake. If I see something in my mind's eye, it is usually clear and quite distinct. The difference between such sights and the real world remains very evident to me, but I stay mindful, because varying forms of psychosis are not unknown to the family. Explanations and terms like 'psychic' enable reassurance and pattern making, and enable some form of acceptance, even a sense of usefulness. However they also come with a lot of expectation and baggage, most of it negative. I don't think I should have to be useful. I'm not a product.

The truth is, I don't know what it is. But I am very glad that my brain works this way.
Come to think of it, there's a lot that makes me smile right now.

Unicorn Poems

What she said, Old



Stay then.
I will not tell them of you
of diamond lilacs dappling your flanks
I will never mention
the snow on your skin
your mane like flowers
falling under the trees
No-one will know
You rested here
horn tilted to the ground
and when you go,
your hoof prints will be
covered or I'll cleave them
so folk say,
'It must have been a deer!'
I'll tell them that's what it was
and leave some milk
each day, for your passing.

What she said, Young

When the owl drifted by
And told me, all the seas of the moon
reflected in its eyes
I could have sailed them myself
 knowing it had to be true
I went to find you
and lit a candle in my window
To tell my best friend where I had gone.
I had no such friend,
but did it anyway
cos it's part of the charm.
 You were near, so near
when dandelion heads scattered,
and the barnshades breathed in.
The river stopped singing
And so did I.
There were stars in the woods
 I always knew you were there
And who cares if things break and fail
As long as you are in the world?

Zombie dream

The zombies were only a small part of it though...and I am annoyed at forgetting so much of the plot. All I recall are zombies in period costumes  spilling out of the woods devouring corpses and living people. I was with a very large group, but the zombies came close. I had one,a large male with straggly black hair, point blank,shot it twice in the chest and was out of ammo.  Having said that, we moved away with ease, for the zombies were slow and our group was well armed.  We left them behind very quickly. There was a figure to the right of my vision. The figure was watching me watch my dream. I can't recall why but it was significant.

The dream however,probably wasn't some deep truth dredged up from my psyche, due to being affected by beer and pizza down in Blackheath. A very pleasant night!

The Debate

I have only seen clips.

Trump's deficiencies are very evident, Hillary's not so much.

God knows. After the omnishambles that is currently British politics, I am astonished at those who deride the choices of the American public... As though rationality and commonsense are bywords in or around Westminster.

In other thoughts, my latest article is finished, and stronger,to my mind, than my first pass at it. We shall see.

The 50th Dream

My bro is 50 this December, right at the end of it. Trying to work out something sufficiently splendid for his tastes is hard.
I've already got in touch with the Beeb  - no,they won't let us watch the filming of Doctor Who,no they won't let us borrow a dalek;  makes you wonder what the license fee is for.*
There's the Mysterious Package Company, which I would go for, but that's an over months thing, they may be late, and it still leaves us with nothing for the day.https://www.mysteriouspackage.com/
There's the College of Wizardy LARP but the latest event is in November.http://www.cowlarp.com/

A friend has suggested an evening's dining at the Ritz in one of the private rooms. Now I like the sound of this, but the only two rooms left are the Queen Elizabeth and the William Kent https://www.theritzlondon.com/events-weddings/capacities-dimensions-and-floorplans/ which come together at 5grand up until midnight with added £500 per hour after.This includes VAT, but doesn't include the food,starting at £79 per person for the set menu, drinks,decoration or entertainment.And what would we all do anyway?

I have a vision in my head born of my brother's hobbies and obsessions.We would all turn up in pure best, black tie,tuxes, cocktail and evening gowns, and swan around the Queen Elizabeth room til time to dine is announced, at which point we would eat and quaff in the William Kent most elegantly... then the service would provide us with dice, books, and the Gary Gygax AD&D screen and we'd play til dawn rose over Green Park.

I don't know if Bro would laugh or cry...

*Reading this I wonder if I need to signal vague ironic overtones or something. Which just shows it is possible to spend too long on FB.

Angels

I had two in the tank, and one died.
I replaced it. The replacement died.
Instantly I returned to the fish shop. They looked in the tank from which they fished me the new angel, there was a dead fish floating on top, so they knocked the money off my next purchase.  Now I have a lone angel, who chases the other fish around. It displeases me to think of animals that naturally shoal being alone. BUT:

Angels are aggressive and territorial. The possibility exists that second dead angel, despite having been in a dodgy shop tank, was not a victim of ill health but of murder; that  existing angel killed both the others, or stressed them out chasing them til they died.  Angels either pair or decidedly don't,  becoming best buddies, or worst enemies, carving out swathes of territory and fighting each other at every opportunity. The former is more likely, though not guaranteed, if they are male and female but angel genders are extremely hard to determine, even by experts.  And I do not trust those idiots in the shop, who told me that gouramis and angels could live together in a tank;  a cursory google advises the contrary, that such a plan would be the  piscine equivalent of Hannibal Lecter and Norman Bates sharing an end-of-terrace.

Getting another angel means that if it is smaller, it could be bullied, if it is bigger the angel already here could be bullied. There is always a hierarchy,enforced by, I don't know, however a fish that is basically a profile enforces its opinions.

Christ these are mean difficult buggers. No wonder God threw them out of Heaven.

I am going to call this one  Samael.

Go Tell The King

These are jewel-pressed days
These are wine sweet days
These are the days of plenty.
Go tell the King
His royal house is ready
And the poets sing
Without one clouded augury.
Go tell the king
That since he went
the messenger birds grew
languid, the bees pollen-crowned
gold as his horses,
say his bride is cream and honey
Dressed in silks from the sea.
Fresh almond trees blossom in her bower,
and only the wind stirs briefly
at tales of his far far war.
Go tell the king
When I see that silk, wind rippling,
and the corn reaching up to the sun,
I stretch out my own arms
I too am golden,golden.
Go tell the king
Whether he stays or goes,
A kingdom's joy untainted
grows under my heart.

Jezzah

Of course he won.

He has the mandate,if he can't win, let's see him not win.
Why can't he win? Because the right wing press owned by billionaires, collaborators and tax evaders screech it at us every day?

Labour showed a complete disassociation from its roots when it failed to understand the heartland of its voters in the referendum, when it turned away from socialism to try to recapture Blair's middle ground. Can't be done right now.  Many voters are caught between plutocracy and nationalism and Labour hopes to take over charitable conservatism. This is nowhere to be found, and in chasing after the love of the middle class, Labour lost its folk to the skinhead right.

There is room for socialism in this country. Socialism is what actually made the country great, however, I am not entirely enamoured with Jezzah for 3 reasons:

1) I have not yet seen him lead the party. He is more iconic than pragmatic. Maybe that is a good thing, maybe a politician just for once not edging to the dark side for victory's sake is what we need. But still, he should have been able to gather able and loyal advisers around himself, and at a time when the Tories are fighting their own corpulent bloody-toothed shadows, he should have been shining light on the whole thing.  Has he done that?

2) Getting rid of Trident etc. If a state cannot defend itself,is it a state? And if the answer is yes, then for how long?

3) He lied ever so slightly didn't he? Just an almost... He was totally up for Leaving the EU like the merry old demi-marxist he is,though he reluctantly said otherwise.  Now, though I am a Remainer, holding this view doesn't put me off him. But fibbing about it? I don't quite like that.  OK, allying with Cameron was an obvious charnel chalice. But if he had stood up and campaigned in the North stating his reasons for wanting to leave, defusing racism and standing by immigrants so that the Leave Campaign didn't become the stomping ground of the most vile, he could have protected many and won hearts. I am not sure I share his vision, but this was certainly the time to demonstrate what that vision was. Of course, hindsight is 20/20.Instead, he left the referendum to become a sword tearing the tories to pieces while he stood back,and I still don't know if that was wise. But Labour didn't do its job of standing up for the vulnerable.  On the other hand, maybe the country needs to glut itself on right wing excesses before it remembers why we needed a welfare state in the first place; that realisation might bring him to power.

So I don't know. I don't know if he is efficient, I don't know if he is adept, I don't know if he can do this job.

I do know the party want him, I do know that party membership has grown, and that  if there is a middle ground to be won, Owen Smith is not the man to win it.  Come on Jezzah, if you have the talent, move. Show us what you can do.

The Dear Good Folk

Those days I told you to leave,
I never said, 'Take what you need,'
Because there was still time, I said;
'Take only what you love. The cats, your china.'
I didn't want you to see what I had seen,
what they would do to anything you loved
imagining your face when you found it.

You objected, for the dear good folk
 smiled daily, pleasant and rational.
You said nobody smashed doors and windows,
because decent people can hold different views
without, without , without...
You were still protesting at the station.
I waved goodbye, knife in sleeve.

There's purring from our windowsill,
The china's in the dresser
And you sleep softly in
our house, sweet as a carol.
Only my knife and I recall
And even we smile in the dark,
waiting for the dear good folk.
oh damn I wish that I were dead
absolutely non-existent
gone away from here from everywhere
but how would there is always bridges –
the brooklyn bridge but I love that
bridge (everything is beautiful from
there and the air is so clean)
walking it seems peaceful even with
all those cars going crazy underneath
So it would have to be some other
bridge an ugly one and with no view –
except i like in particular all bridges –
there`s something about them and I`ve

never seen an ugly bridge

The writer is Marilyn Monroe.

I post this,not because of  any sadness -  life is generous and wonderful right now -  but because


applies to pretty much everybody.  Three ficpics? What?

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