Deep cover

Deep cover

The universe fills my lungs
So as to understand itself
And in certain cases
Why some of its souls

Choose paths from the pack
While others cling tightly
Bonded by value matrices
Maintaining critical density

Unostracised from safe zones
Of deep biotic imperatives
Imprinted until imprinted
With mobs’ black blinkers

Negotiating a death pact
In preset local hierarchies
May be some solid reasons
For breaking yellow moulds

Start by accepting aberrance
Patiently predict transformation
In others’ native adaptivity
Them fermions, you boson

Prepossessing in animation
In rearranging the multiverse
Wanting to keep the sac fluid
Bones hard, nerves electric

Free from centripetal frames
Providing collapsed reference
Super-positioned to exist
Unencumbered by justice

Time dilation

Time dilation

Time is an extrapolation
A guide to the achievable
Spewing from the navel
Lifelong perpetual extrusions

Progress dresses in exponents
As populations swell the ranks
Of aqueous sacs of synapses
Each ensconced in personal space

Except we’re über contiguous
Interlocking into our tesseracts
Horse-trading dilation devices
Ignoring cellular growth patterns

What change outside alludes
To stagnant surroundings
New neurones echo errors
Unawareness extends endless

Integrated into this filter
Mixed with promises of respite
Are actions seen precisely
And life drawn out slowly


One Last Thought

It’s funny how some things slip your mind so easily, I’d forgotten until now I’d been a child once. But now it is as clear and real as the outcome of the next few spilt seconds. As if I were them I can see myself from my parents perspective leaning over my pram to tickle me, strange though… to see myself from their eyes.

Continue reading “One Last Thought”

A Bullet Slides through his Skull

A bullet slides through his skull, fired from point blank range and tipped with teflon. The proverb is broken like ill spoken words from behind a trembling barrel. The loss of an execution in a kung-fu movie.

– I don’t believe in the gun, I hold faith in a man who can wield a sword comfortably, regardless of whether he can use it.

He slides through the crowd, he steers and accelerates, brakes and leans. The girl attached to his side moves in symphony, but her serenity belies that he is the power to her sidecar. He turns occasionally to that side, in moments of losing his cool, smiles broadly at her before smugly turning back to the street scene.

A face flashes through the crowd as if it were shape-shifting and morphing. The memory as short as the moment. The old man turns sharply and, as if looking into a mirror and finding he is someone else, finds a person with whom he is acquainted. Antiquated because his body was well crafted, clear in his communication as if you would understand him regardless of the words he used. Emotionally intellectual.

– Every time I see you, you seem to be eating into your spare capacity, the friend beams leaning into a welcome hug, slapping and receiving warmly.

Their left hands resting on each others necks and the rights seemingly still united.