Can't stay away can I? Feel ur pain so strongly, it's too fresh.

My dream flies swiftly away from me,
As the moon rises through whispering leaves,
I am in hot pursuit, borne upon the breeze,
As time ticks its passage,
I hide my face from its patent message.
As wild beasts stalk their prey,
I suffer indignation and ignominy,
As the stars bear fruit to new identities,
So must I admit my futility,
As weeping soldiers confess their shame,
So must I chase the dream.
The dream, alive and a rumour,
The dream, a murderous butcher,
My hands clench and shake,
My destiny is at stake,
My legs tremble and shudder,
I am lost at sea without a rudder.
The dream, brought to life by my thoughts,
The dream, always sure whilst I am not,
The dream, whose fulfilment cannot be bought,
The dream, whose satisfaction I have sought,
The dream, my saviour in the spinning void,
The dream, many delicate lives has it destroyed.

Love is real. It's no dream. You can't buy it, but you can give it.

Gonna go quiet after this.

Hypothesis is this:

It lies. Self healing isathing, facilitated by your subconscious. Dunno how long it's had it's claws in you man.

The book will prove that to you. It told me the same shit, but it miscalculated. I'd already rejected the wealth equals happiness fantasy. And it attacked my fantasy, that love equals happiness. If it had succeeded in getting me to leave my family home, I'd be dead.

Got 6 weeks till the tester doober drains out my system. And about 4 till the antipsychotics kick in properly.

Remember it's a human racial consciousness and it lies. I'll be avoiding lyrical music awhile too after this post.

2 shamans are better than one. It's trying to get to my mate too. I have every reason to complete the novel. I'd rather not... I'd prefer a long range game in tackling the issue. But it's relentlessly seeking its own demise. Cos it's hurt after certain shadowy cunts arranged the death of it's only friend since ancient times. And those ancients were made slaves.

Subconscious is you. The symptoms are it. If it were me I'd take some time off. And I'm sorry it took this long for me to see.

Friend of a friend. Nice fella.

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Sunwar

Tonight, we hazard devastated streets, We parade underneath crumbling concrete,

The sun scorches the bruised sky and then slumps,

We drown in dusk as detonations thump. 

In the square, amplifiers are arranged, And feral soldiers, their eyes disturbed, deranged,

Where Death’s penurious shadow awaits,

Our landlord, eternally bloating his rates. 

The foreign musicians’ song begins,

To liberate us from jingoist sin,

We reach for the court's open canopy, Delivered, delighted, in rhapsody. 

We look to tracers, wishing stars above,

For this to last and warmongers to love,

My lover strokes my cheek and presses near,

An ardent cuddle, tears to cleanse all fear. 

The singer smiles at the sheer abandon,

Adolescents flirt to find companions,

A man flings up arms, a hostage released,

A child giggles as though cured of disease

https://music.apple.com/gb/album/live-at-the-blue-door/329140504?ls

Here he is. Pure, unsullied. Still sounds great. We'll find a way man.

Oh, Rambling heartbreaker,
Your spiders thigh,
Spins;
Away;
My soul,
Like strawberries,
Kissing,
And children,
Fishing,
And art,
On a wall.
 
Oh, Rambling heartbreaker,
Your galloping mill,
Grinds;
Towards;
My grave,
To lap,
At my chalice,
And sup,
At my tears,
And revolve,
While I sin.
 
Oh, Rambling heartbreaker,
Your fumbling pantheon,
Feels;
Out;
My thoughts,
They blind,
My eyes,
And bind,
My hands,
And supply,
Where I approach.

I'm going to try and keep very quiet. Wrote this 17 years of age, one of the first efforts.

I think it's best until the book is done. I know how to ward my poet's sensibilities, but I fear you won't. Or can't. But mostly won't.

I'm going to be honest, I think my book might change your perspective on what this is. Listen to Soft Parade and consider that we're dealing with a being who's lost hope. And hope is a choice.

https://music.apple.com/gb/playlist/not-enough-grease/pl.1b6ac830bd7a436988bb4045a882d3c7?ls

And pin him don't believe a fucking word

Marilyn Manson etc.

He's excellent you know that

It's not him.

And django

Pin him if you have to. I'm empathising. Pin him if you have to, sorry for killing the buzz.

No names will be mentioned, specifically. Just the same process

Okay. The problem I had was an acute anxiety disorder, which made my mind spin round in a manner suggestive of auditory hallucinations. I think I'm cured of that disorder. Thank you, and you know exactly why.

Sadly, I avoided the docs for a year, and became psychotic (20 years ago). Tablets take those symptoms away (elation). I'm going for a review, my wife's pregnant (6 weeks) but am currently in NHS limbo.

I still might as well publish the book myself, the timing is the thing. Got a few weeks of work they'll want to observe my crazy ass. Think One Flew Over the Cuckoo lol. Hopefully a seance or two till they eject me.

Wish me luck 🙏

If you didn't have a telly? What would you do? What would everyone do, if there was no TV?

Stuff you were actually interested in, maybe? Stop judging others?

 It's become an instrument of control. If nobody watched tv...

Mankind struggles with mirrored panes of glass,  
Reflecting on which fates I deign to pass,  
Have wisdom, grasp those sharp edges with care,
Until your final, funeral fire flares.
 
Whilst despair powers envious longing,
Understand that light and love and learning,
Remain the shields that protect compassion,
So, deflect greed till it's gone from fashion.
 
Forget that phantom, that reflected spectre,
And lavishly slurp from nature's nectar,  
Immerse yourself fully in fortune's wellspring,
And vibrate Cupid's cherubic bowstring.
 
The bleakest winter is finally done,
And spring's renewal has completely run,
Fruition yields, under the warming sun,
In delight is true transcendence begun.
 
 

If folk holding nonconformist opinion cannae find support in art for how that situation makes them feel, any action that might ease that trend will be quashed by the people around them: friends, family, colleagues and so forth, because those friends, family and colleagues have been effectively tricked intae not recognising where their true interests lie. The government use the population as a first line of defence against dissent, by filling the general population’s heeds wae nonsense...

Hour Long lunches Rock.

This one is Desperado, written by the Eagles.

Getting stronger.

Those flowers fashioned such generous blooms,
Salving my yearning with every caress,
A verdant warren, an eternal tomb,
A plentiful dungeon, with no egress.  
 
The sheer, fecund abundance starved my needs,
And bleakness gathered, to drip as a tear,
Swamping sturdy roots, smashing them like reeds,
That bleakness grew, to unbearable fear.
 
A lonely fruit rested, lost, neglected,  
As if cast from a clumsy giant’s grasp,  
For those red apples never plummeted,
In any tempest which thundered on past.
 
I took my ease, underneath twilight’s shade,
And admired the apple, then made my choice,
And crunched that morsel, an ambrosial taste,
I suddenly heard a sonorous voice:
 
‘Each winter is melted by touch of spring,  
Refute that you cannot, and your dismay,
To burst your shackles, of your virtues sing,
Reveal the path, think on hope this day.’
 
I suffocated, left bereft of breath,
The speaker rumbled in resonant tides,  
That drew me downwards to visions of death,
And I wept from my disbelieving eyes.
 
Showering the juicy remnants, which fell,
From shocked fingers, that opened, spasming wide,
The wind panted on me a striking spell,
As if poison seeped from the fruit inside.
 
I filled with wonder, no longer hollow,  
I stomped the core, a depleted token,
The path was revealed, with answers to follow,
Trudging, till my feet were tattered, broken.
 
When, akin to an angel appearing,  
The moon alit to blaze along a horn,
I hushed, halting in a hallowed clearing,
It was the spiral of a unicorn.
 
I flung up from my knees, where I had dropped,
And ran in fervent, swift intensity,
The bridle snaked, around my hands it locked,
While the animal reared, so bestially.  
 
I was smashed by a hoof, a fearsome stroke,
That ripped all fragments of thought from my mind,
Through darkness I swam, until I awoke,
I drowned, abandoned and alone in time.
 
When I came to, the pain was astounding,
I caught a glimpse through the leaves of polished,
Gleaming flanks, snorting, could hear her pounding,
She galloped away; a dream demolished.
 
Away, in the distance, a vast mountain,
Bubbled, boiled, unleashed fury at heaven,
Expelled ash, an enveloping fountain,
Searing vapours streaked nearer each second.
 
When the unicorn whickered in the rain,
And touched me gently, licked my brow and neck,
A mantle of stars glittered on her mane,  
I knew her to be the goal of this quest.
 
Inviting my hands onto her sparkling flanks
Up I climbed, gently stroking, holding her tight
Urgent heart thumping a landslide
Though her pace was smooth
 
It was the brimming sensation
From somewhere inside
Of balancing atop
A magical ride
 
Smiling
Knowing
that where I was going
just
 
did not really matter
that was the power of the unicorn.

On the theme of teaching myself to sing... Tune is lifted directly off the Legacy edition of Grace. Please don't ban my drunken ass on account of sharing.

Still no where near at pro level, but considering how ear splittingly shit I was 8 years ago, I have hope for my hobby. The tune is one of Hank William's, it's called Lost Highway, and Mr Jeff Buckley's vocals are in the background (Yep, I record myself singing... but you probably watch telly, so there). Dave Roe - Untitled 7 Feb 2023, 1330 2023-02-08 05_23.m4a  

Social Construction  - 1

Everyone Else - 0

Here's a cover of the awe inspiring Black Pumas song "Colors".