Three Certain Things

Three things are certain in life:

1. uncertainty
2. death
3. change

Could sound depressing that but turn it around…. 

1. I’ve always loved surprises, big or small.
2. Everyone dies one day and no one knows what happens next. Thinking about death is like pressing fast forward on your favourite music.
3. Sure, life can be shit, but change is the biggest thing in the universe! Change has always been there, and will go on for ever. Did a god or spirit create the universe? Maybe but before that there was change. Change will always be around. May as well embrace it!

I don’t know. If, but, and… do.

If change is infinite yet we experience stuff. Then perhaps stuff that we’ve experienced can be experienced again. Maybe from a different perspective. What’s going on? I don’t know. Why? I don’t know.

I like to think that infinity is absolute experience but also something beyond that. I currently experience things with this body and mind, in mostly similar places (all physical things). If you remember the possibility of infinite possibilities, it is maybe possible that once this physical experience is over, (Perhaps our visible universe dies and restarts a few times or something) maybe they’ll be something different to experience, something less painful, or something more painful. It’s all speculation. I honestly have no answers. Who knows?

I’m probably complicating things.

The idea is simple. Change is about cause and effect, a process, present as the laws of physics are now. But even change itself is subject to change. Whose to say when we’re all dead the laws of physics won’t eventually change? They’ve changed since the very early universe according to the large hadron collider (or so I am led to believe).

Whatever you think. Accept you thought it. Accept that eventually, it might be of no consequence. Things change. Things are destroyed and created all the time. Why? Can any living thing really know? Even the smartest brains are only a limited size after all.

Speaking for myself. It’s important to respect other’s right to think and believe what they want and like. I’m very cautious and careful about so many things. Just, in life I seem to have too much ‘faith’ in what could possibly be. I don’t fear death, nor do I understand it. However, I do want to enjoy life in the present at the same time, and a lot of my caution is preprogrammed (genetics/upbringing/instinct). I’m not a risk taker. That could change though.

Blue Wales of my eyes

“What’s wiv all da H’s in your name dude!?”

Ummm…. I don’t know, what my given names mean to you.
It shouldn’t mean a thing, I hope it doesn’t, that is true.
Softly spoken answers to questions, aren’t always real (no).
It’s just a dream I had once, doesn’t mean a great deal (two U).

Anyway, I digress:

H is for Hollow, H is for all the great Hopes,
H is for the Horrid times, by, H is for History.

With many thanks in big ways I point my hands north,
Blue takk helps sticking ceiling space to the pours,
The texture of the paper on what my friends do draw,
Times I look at the maps to remember what my brain is four.

So:

H is for Hollow, H is for all the great Hopes,
H is for the Horrid times, by, H is for History.

I hear U calling out through my record player,
Something I can’t quite make out, someting I did not hear,
Whatever, nevermind, I will not let it dwell,
Sometimes, somethings just don’t go so well.

So shhhhhhhhh:

H is for Hollow, H is for all the great Hopes,
H is for the Horrid times, by, H is for History.

An Earthling’s engWish

“John are you ‘avin’ diss for tea?”
“Neyow!!!!”

I will refer to your look, as a light, happy, glance.
With a hue just off blue, that caused a dot to dance.

Collectively we are a shape. Not knowing what it is.
Parameters of what were; are, changing!

Hiss, for a happy life:
Hiss, body will be healthy.
Hiss, goals will be plenty,
Always a future for you.

Never asked to be born, but I have to thank you for a chance.
The inspirations, the artists and singers, the individuals, all of them, thanks.
All of them, alone or together, on this soil, on this Earth.
From myself, you will never know, you own true worth.

Smile, my friends, smile.
Smile, my friends, smile.
Smile, my friends, smile.
Smile, my friends, smile.
Smile.

I will refer to your look, as a light, happy, glance.
With a hue just off blue, that caused a dot to dance.

Where are you from, and where are you from?
You were cooking for us, now,
This Sheff is cooking up a meal,
I just want you to have this steel.

{echo until fade}

Saved by an elf

Me saved, you entered my head in a wavy dream,
I’m fine, you gave me art sweeter than Ice Cream!

A story, It was so good it taught to sing songs too,
Before I go, I’ll need some support from friends, just a few.

I jog along, getting fitter everyday, under 13 stones now – always been lucky for me.
I’m never off my psychic phones, texted out messages, picking up calls, I do it free.

Oh what I am saying!
Small mercies, I’ll do anything….
Anything, just to see myself see the light at night,
I’d go through self put fright after fright.

Cancel my appointments,
recognoise my voice, tonight.

Listen, I can’t concentrate in this vacuum.
Show me previews of what life can be like.

Er..flume.

I’ll never be perfect, but anything is to me.
I’m difficult, but the easiest person you’ll meet.

I’m going to change,
I’m going to change,
I’m going to change,
I’m changing now.

Now-ow-ow
Now-ow-ow
Now-ow-ow
Now-ow-ow

Me, I’m saved, I scream your art now, it’s what Ice Cream.

Now.

{echo until fade}

Cân Gymreig

Cofio (beth yw) coginio.
Arnofio (dim mwy).

Cyn y nghysgod cawl pysgod.
Gwelwch! Oh! Gwelwch yn dda! Gweld dwbl, gyda fi. Pysgod chwythu gysan!

Coginio dim mwy.
Llysieuol. Llysieuol. Llysieuol. Llysieuol. Warchod dim mwy.

Someone

I saw a photo of someone and I want to smoke a cigarette with her,

just her, just because…

Well because… She looked lonely as me, she was a pea in a bowl trapped under cling film, I was a glimpse – an image, a moment in time, seemingly screaming alone in an unspent void!

I don’t even smoke anymore.

Take a seat, I’ll be your chair for this evening.
Tired, it won’t be long before you’re leaving.
Take some heat, I’m highly strung tonight.
Giving off warmth, you might, just might, just might pluck my branches until tomorrow afternoon. So let’s fight!

****

Tomorrow afternoon, we can play and have a sight of the sea, draw the rocks on the beach, weigh up options, how much balance does it take to say thanks for being a snapshot.

Lass, you move differently to how I guessed, but you leave me shaking, dissecting truth from my words, you are everything I need. Of course you might never know if the mirrors aren’t set up well. If the angles are wrong and the camera isn’t set.

Dreamland

Steam coming from you is like the sun in the West.
Dipping down after days with no rest.
Water really never did anything for you.
Ice or steam is all that you knew.

Dreamy days will pass you by,
trying hard to live your lives true.
Stories sang, the stories you live,
shape your heart, give you more to give.

But I know I can’t sing, so why I am trying?
I just don’t know, my left from writing.
Only wanted to show you that I can join in.
Believing now in a journey but where to begin?

One daytime soon I’ll catch sighter her voice,
Varied in character you’re a whole play at once.

“What”

Ok but tomorrow I’m reading how to melt cocao butter.

They all look the sane she said about your drawings.

It’s act one, still, in a play of actors and animals. At night and backwards, a colour-blind unripe banana looks towards you as you seem to be jumping on a deer, my dear. It’s a protest, acting your rage in front of two loud helicopters. Average salary is three sticks of celery and a hairy smokescreen. The windows are closed and the curtains shut, there’s a what? And it doesn’t look all that, good. Kazoo Solo and his wife look at tired imitation. Depressed on my chest is a chest of jewels and brass thinklets melting into a drip of squirrels. Building a fence is Kazoo and he’s using hockey sticks on a hockey stick ocean. Blurting and blubbering noises come from a helicopter and you are winched up inside a giant orange. The magic bus stop potion is ready as you fly off over the ocean. The rhymes stop, and the lizard flies its flirty eyes at your misdemeanour. It has reached the end and daylight breaks the glass hockey stick ocean and Kazoo is tired.

Pencils and Pens

I like pencils and pens,
writing materials and paper.
Lions and tigers,
cheetahs and leopards.
I like jumping and puddles,
getting muddled and confused.
Plants and flowers,
flour and bread.
I like eyes and ears,
sensing life and feelings.
Thinking and reversing,
negative photos and drawings.

Waiting On A Return

You’re selling us our health after making us ill.
Ripping up our human rights so we can’t get our fill.
Want to share a bit of culture.
Want to build a bridge, a friendship.
But who cares about us.
But who knows how long you’ll live in denial.

You’re waiting on a return.
Putting all ends together as one.

I prefer an unravelling spiral. Something to aspire to.