werds n that

We will not stop! Love will not stop!
February 25, 2012, 7:22 am
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We will not stop! Love will not stop! How do I know such things? Because if it was not so I would not be here, these fingers would not dance across the keyboard to speak out to the world for nothing more than a need to express truth, to encourage life to continue and continue with song and optimism and joy. A long time ago a woman grew a child inside of her, it was uncomfortable, it was painful and inconvenient but she did it anyway, why I don’t know because I don’t have a uterus but I know that her suffering resulted in me and despite my misgivings about being born I am most eternally greatful that I am here, in this world with all of you, all of you who read these words, even if you never read these words. You see what she was doing was defying the dying universe. She was was bringing light out of the darkness, that is what all mothers do and and we can all be mothers we can all bring out the light, we can insist that we keep our babies safe and warm until they are strong enough to stand and speak and love all on their own. Those babies may be beautiful delicate and real with tiny toes or they may be poems or songs or inventions or paintings or anything else we choose to risk everything for. I talk and we all talk about how bad the world is, how corrupt and dark and horrible it is but that is not really what I believe and it is not how the world actually is. All life, everything, is an expression of love and defiance and strength and trust. Love is to Live with a different vowel.

We will not stop! Love will not stop! This is what fear and its followers cannot grasp or understand, that no matter what we suffer, no matter what we endure, life in all its glory and beauty will never give in, it will never stop wishing and hoping for more, it will never stop crying and singing into the night for more love, more time, more beauty, more truth. Fear is restrictive, Love is expansive. Fear and control deprives while the mother of us all and the mother of the earth feeds us although she almost bursts. She, The Great Eternal Mother strokes her beautiful smooth belly and whispers encouragement to the sparkling gem of creation inside of her. No matter what we throw at her she will always love her baby, she will fight tooth and nail, she will die to see something new and innocent grow. How can such devotion ever be defeated? Even if you throw all the products of war at her, she breeds an army for eternity. Have no fear brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers because that dark and lonely 1 percent can never rule a Universe built from Love. Love is the Will that lifts dirt towards the stars and it will never ever, ever, ever, ever stop.


February 25, 2012, 6:42 am
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Well this article gives me some serious relief about why I haven’t finished, editied and published my novel yet. I’ve still written a fair chunk and I have published a fair amount of poetry but it’s hard, it really is, especially when after years of writing, research, self-searching and more you realise it isn’t upto scratch and you’re going to have to start again. Still I will continue as I am now way too old to be anything else.


From the e-mail pile today:

Whenever I hear about a “new” novelist, they turn out to be in their 30s. Why is that? It seems like you hear about new musicians and actors and other creative people in when they are in their 20s.

Excellent question. Leaving aside the mechanics of why it pays to be young in the music and acting industries, here’s what’s up with those old new novelists:

1. Writing an entire novel is something most people have to work up to. Because you know what? Writing sixty to one hundred thousand words of fiction is not something most people cannonball through, even if they assure you, with the appropriate amount of false modesty, that they’re really better at long-form fiction. Maybe they are, but they still had a long walk to get there.  I’m better at long-form and it took me until I was 28 before…

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Was my true love hit by a bus?
February 25, 2012, 4:23 am
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We are all in this complex mess called life together of that I am sure we can all agree, that wherever we are coming from in our hearts, if we have hearts, is a place of wanting to be happy, wanting to be loved, but we have been hurt and hindered by the heartless and our own heartlessness that we cannot trust, that we cannot believe that love could exist, that to hope for it would be foolish, that to believe in something real and eternal in this fucked up craziness of human relationship’s is impossible.

Still I don´t believe that to be the case, love after all is all we have ever been seeking, we may build bridges to serve a function but we are driven by the urge to be seen, to be respected and of course to do good to others, we all want to see and portray ourselves in our best light but that is often so fragile, so weak that we don believe it is sufficient to see our beloved in the gloom of the world.

I may never taste your lips again but as our friends, the physicists know, matter is eternally intertwined like balls of string stretching across the infinity of the universe, every atom of ours that has ever touched, is forever connected and literally moved instantly corresponding to the other, this is not science fiction, this is the current reality of our universe as our best knowledge of subatomic physics tells us, so even physicists in their searching have found love and an eternal one at that.

Though what does this console us in the dark nights of winter? We cannot hold and kiss and laugh with atoms. We want to know how to find the true one that we love, that one may well have been hit by a bus, but, they were out there. We want to find our other, our complimentary particle, our harmony, our straight or funny man or woman, our friend.

You all want to find them and hold them and never let them go and never make any stupid mistakes ever again but we will, of course because we’re human, but what if you found them and you were already perfect and complete without them? That’s impossible, you say and I think it might just be, if not impossible, incredibly undesirable, love after all is a dance, a poem, it needs polarities, so it can roll against itself, it needs counterpoint, it needs the thing that seems in such short supply, that is, grace. I have had it poured on me at times in my life and felt alive but I want to live in grace and I think the only time I have ever felt it for any length of time was with someone close to me and the way they looked at me and the way I looked at them.

So assuming they have not, been hit by a bus and are out there, how do we know who they are when we meet them? Perhaps they should develop an app for that, but fuck that, we know and it surges and burns in us and keeps our eyes from closing so we don´t miss a single thing.
The powers surge around us all, great vast powers of time and space and coincidence and chance and evolution and myths and gods that speak over our shoulders. What does it whisper in our ear? That we are lost and all is hopeless in our restless search for love or that everything is fine and that love can never be found because it was never lost, just mislaid. That it is everywhere, obvious, right out there in the open. But some of you seem to show it more than others and I want to talk to you in particular, so leave a message after the tone.

Christmas on The Street of Flowers
January 4, 2012, 2:55 pm
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In a strange land, with hidden places, towering buildings bundled one on top of the other, organic, growing from river to the sky, the streets outside are mostly quiet but I can’t be certain of that because I have barely left the house, left the bed where I have found many a splendid distraction, many a succulent excuse to not open the shutters, but life flows everywhere here in Porto, it penetrates the walls, life seeps into the ground, it hangs from windows and calls from roof tops.  I can catch a glimpse of the city in the summer or the spring, people moving slowly, languidly through the streets, hot with days of sunshine, the warm nights, the lights.

I woke up on Christmas morning, to lots of splendid gifts so I must have been a good boy this year, Santa hadn’t visited due to the apartment lacking a chimney but I’m not too bothered I don’t really need a wooden toy train set or even an iphone.  I have all that I need in my head, my hands and my heart.  I carry myself away from things because things will always carry themselves away from me.  I prefer skills, wisdom, knowledge about how I, others and the universe works.  This cannot be lost, not even in the timelessness beyond time.  What we know and experience and feel and think is transmuted into the eternal, so choose your thoughts wisely or more wisely than I have done at times.

Do I write about private moments that happen beneath blankets?  No somethings are not for the page but are secret treasures of the mind, they’re not for translation into words, words are after all the least effective form of communication and yet I am forced by my own inclinations and powers to use words to explode the myth of words.  I use twentysixletterspureandclear to expose that twentysixletters can never truly describe, detail, document or destroy the majesty of existence, of a raging universe filled with splendor, of time and space.  These words can’t express the fundamental joy of love, they can’t laugh with you, they can never hold you, they can’t eat with you, they can’t celebrate and commiserate with you.  Words are just that, words, they are at the moment our best way of communicating our unique, personal, human experience.  Though remember this, they are not and never have been life.

back in the … back in the … back in the boro…
December 15, 2009, 4:48 pm
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well it has been maybe three weeks since getting back to my home town, the boro.  the place that forged me from steel and coal and PCP’s and psychedelics.  that toughened me up and tickled me silly.  i’ve returned from distant sun-kissed shores, pacific paradises at the end of the world.  where the sun shines all day though people don’t seem much happier for it.  whereas here, where now the skies are leaden with cloud and  many look a lighter shade of grey, i still find people amusing me more than anyone i’ve met in my years on the road.  a friend called it gallows humour, i don’t know if that’s true or just that we genuinely do see the funny side of life.

you see so many, many people are taking life so very, very seriously and that is just a crime.  a crime i have committed at times but i’m reformed now precisely because what’s the point?  i mean to be cliched,  ‘nobody gets out alive anyway’, ‘tomorrow will take care of itself’, ‘live for the moment’, carpe beerem.

while away over the years, everyone seems to have produced miniature humans that are completely hilarious, adorable, confident, free, natural anarchists.  running around defying the man’s rules and the only thing i lament (only slightly) is that we tell them not to pick their nose, or say rude words, like fuck and fanny (which to me are beautiful, wonderful words) but would be very impressed if they said fascism or fiscal futures (when in fact these are wholly nasty words).

so i’m back on the blog and because i’ve decided that i’m gonna be good for nothing else soon i better get my arse into gear and start writing for a living.  anyone need any words writing?  £1 for a hundred and fifty! i can do you a bloody good cover letter (if you do insist on applying for jobs).  i can write a poem for that bird you’re trying to impress and undress (£25 to pay for my shushed conscience).  perhaps you want some jingle for your re-launching of geordie jeans?  whatever your word needs i can deliver.  so long as it doesn’t promote the following; war, segregation, separation, annihilation, mutilation, killing, bullying or badgering.

quotes available upon request.  work delivered when the pub receives payment.

Straying towards the light
February 23, 2009, 5:49 pm
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In these modern times, with so many channels, so much info and fantastic all round, good humiliating entertainment and devastating news it is an even better time to step out into the world, to share and communicate and change the way you see the world. Change the way you see others and most importantly the way you see yourself, you are after all such a complex thing, with thoughts and memories and feelings and such like and beliefs. Just a big old bundle of beliefs, but beliefs can and do change and so can yours on this day. This day when the sun rose and set again and so many of you missed it. I missed it, unforgivable. Then there’s stars and oceans and smiling faces and voices and laughter. I think I would like more laughter in life, everyone seems so serious all the time and I pull my face taught to join in but of course oftentimes I just want jump and scream and shout. Wake up you sleepy heads, walking routes, running routines, all your waking days. You are more than this, life is more than this, it’s more than patterns and “they’re my beliefs and I’m gonna stick with em no matter what.”

You might think I’m blowing smoke, selling old rope, but I’m not. Got no rope and yes I am blowing smoke but that’s for creative inspiration. The arouser of thought switches on receptor sites. Why do I know that the world can be more enjoyable and you can deal with all those “things” that happened long ago? That you can experience a joy in life which defeats all external consequences? It’s not rapturous ecstasy, it’s not a long term drug high. It’s accepting in the words of a little kid from the Shetland Islands “It’s just like this, only a wee bit higher.” I think he was talking about heaven, then again he did live on the Shetland Islands which are beautiful. Still his point I think might be seen as this world is good enough, we just to have appreciate it.

I know that you can change your beliefs and change your life. That’s personal mind, subjective, totally my experience. Not external truth dogma or catma for that matter. I know because I have witnessed my dark passanger, as we all possess and battle in the silence of our hearts. Talked him down, outsmarted him, shushed his raging voice, stepped out to meet life and keep meeting it and the past is left or transmuted. I know because we can forgive almost anything if we realise it’s not about excusing but about letting go and living.

So how do you get higher, a wee bit higher? Just plumb your depths, sink your bucket to the bottom of the well. That’s where the water sits. That’s where crystals form in winter. Where crystals become jewels of mind and body and soul. Breathe, very important, breathe. Pay attention, there’s always something going on. Talk, listen, stay as calm as possible, then get drunk because you don’t wanna stay calm anymore. All good, do what you want, what makes you soar, what makes you roar? Ask these things. Wait for the answer, reject the first fifty. Oh and start living now, finite time, remember. You will more than likely not do that bungee jump in your seventies. Remember where you came from, remember where you’re going, enjoy exactly where you are now.

Listen to music and make love. It’s not hard.

if you can remain still and loving in the middle of maddness and change
February 6, 2009, 12:12 am
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Here we come, we are freaks, we are unique.  Our future is calling in high notes and fine riffs.  It is shouting at us to come and play.  It is organising parties in expectation of our arrival.  It is clearing the runway in anticipation of the crowds who cluster at the end of history. Not the world, that will remain and man and woman and dog and donkey will remain, though history is about to be forgotten or seen or realised or whatever.

It doesn’t matter where you are or what your nationality, sex, gender, colour or cadence is, only that you are human and seek greater happiness, more fun than you can shake a fucking stick at.  The future is now brothers and sisters, it is etched into the night sky by psychadelic lasers.  It is beaten into the ground by billions of dancing feet.  We blog and post our personal perceptions of this insanely complex, beautiful planet with trillions of life forms interacting, intersecting and interconnecting.  We are sharing our personal dream.

One planet, one mind and meanwhile I anticpate adventures in the wilderness.  Out in the dessert, as I go walkabout and see what it’s all about.  One man, one pair of legs, one bag, one train ticket, one dream.  To step out of the world and into the dreamtime.  I hope it’s waiting for me, I hope I’m ready to step through and meet the Rainbow Serpent.  I hope it’s not venomous or vicious.  There’s quite enough of that serpetine activity in this vast, red, scorched land.  There are also rainforests, and hidden beaches waiting for a contemplative to dream a day away on. 

Indeed I am readying and steadying myself to leave this metropolis, to say au revoir/hast luego to new friends, who feel like old friends.  Already having partied enough for a lifetime.  Reconnected to my passion for parties and knowing they’ll always be there waiting for me to don a ridiculous constume or drink myself dancing.  Think myself drunk.  Smoke my way to nirvanna.  Breathe my way to liberation and what is waiting out there in the world beyond the screen?  Beyond the TV and computer screen and windscreen and sunscreen?  What lies out there in the wilderness?  Well I guess it will just be nature sitting patiently doing its thing while we rush around making a mess and creating something awesome.  One interconnected world ready to help and share and point us in the right direction and party and love and all the other stuff we would never want to do without but still seems to take a backseat in this modern, electronic, machine we find ourselves in.

I invite you all out into the world beyond concrete, beyond pavements and paths and roads laid out before to fill certain functions because it is not our cage.  We are not mice in a maze ready to run the gaunlet for a paltry piece of cheddar.  I want the whole wheel of cheese.  I want the fromage moon to shine down on my head and wash away work, wash away duty, rinse responsibility down the drain.  Come on get your arse outside; beach, forest, dessert, jungle, field, farm.  Listen to what’s going on.  You’ll return to the city.  You’ll need to charge your iPod before returning to the field to listen to The Beatles and grin at the sky.