Monthly Archives: February 2015

Vincent the wanderer.

I met a young man today whilst walking back through Leeds from a meditation meet. His name was Vincent, and his aforementioned youth did not establish itself in my mind because of his vaguely worn clothes, or even his looks really; he was bright and kindly eyed, and even seemed in manner like he maybe thought himself a little subservient, but he definitely wasn’t snivelling. When he asked me to have a guess at his age I told him I thought he looked somewhere in the area of forty to fifty, wanting to give myself a wide berth as to not be so pointed.
He looked genuinely like he’d weathered another twenty years under the sky past my own age – at this stage he’d already told me that he’d been living pretty hand-to-mouth, travelling around, spreading “God’s message” and doing anything over and above these things completely as a secondary to and allowed by his success in these first – in other words, he’s a leaf in the wind – he has such faith in a higher power that he is willing to kick to the kerb any self-first inspired impulse in order to be morally allowed to rely on “God’s” power of giving him a bed i.e. whether or whether not this person I’m presently approaching to ask will give me somewhere to stay tonight… it could go either way.
He had a little bit of grey hair under his hat there, I noticed before guessing and built it into the final guess. I imagined that with this, what would be called a “bum’s”, life, his evidently thick, black hair from his thirties had faded to a snowy grey.
He soon smashed this into bits by telling me he was sixty-four and had been living like this for the past forty years, along with all my ideas about how the tramp’s life takes it’s toll – even Orwell made it sound like a bit of a drag. Wow, he looked genuinely brilliant for his age, I can only assume there must have been some positive effect of riding around, place to place, relying solely on the kindness of the great unwashed on the street and being happy with very little. The less we have, the more our mind is bare, shining out from beneath all the little emotional pulls towards things, possessions, habits of thought about ourselves and others etc. It must be literally easier to keep yourself in check and be really good, thinking of others and other basic stuff.
Anyway, I had to get off so I wished him luck, told him I’d ask the little lady whether she’d be cool to let him stay at the flat if he ever got stuck and shook his hand firmly and told him what he was doing was surely an important thing. I really believe that and hopefully he’ll see this bit of writing as he asked me to write down the link to this site when I said I was a writer (when he asked) – hopefully his heart will be warmed and he goes on to spread more leaflets and love and hope to other people and hopefully my girlfriend would let him sleep over at the flat, although I do doubt that.

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Little scientist lost.

It is only the scientist that wonders whether or not animals experience love and emotion in the way that humans do.

Humans are also animals – don’t forget!

The artist knows truly that a non-human being is of the highest of poets, it knows nothing of anger, fear, pregnancy and love whilst experiencing the frequencies that these labels are tied to in such raw intensity that the struggle of man is left with nothing but to pale and pale and fade into dredged banality – and the non-human will sing and sing at the very thought of these conditions.

I mean, what is the purpose of a couch?
And why do we feel close to clocks?
We live in the middle of an ever-relative quantum drama and there is no reason for it except to be its own entertainment, I don’t know about you but I ain’t gonna be holding any rulers up against That. I’m so glad I ballsed up my biomed degree!

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Our krishna.

Our Father, who is in Heaven,
Hallowed are your names,
Your Kingdom will come,
Your will shall be done
On Earth (being really Heaven),
Give us this day
And our daily bread,
And help us to forgive ourselves our own sins
In the same breath as we forgive other people theirs.
Help us to avoid any temptation
So that we may dissolve any evil
As poison is neutralised in the blood of the snake.
OM!


Steering.

The pessimist complains about the wind;

The optimist expects that it will change;

The realist adjusts the sails,

The king of death cannot see he who adjusts the sails.

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Dunno, sit sit?.

Sit sit, sit in silence

Sit sit, sit in silence

Sit, sit, sit in silence

Sit sit, sit in silence

Sit sit, sit in silence

Sit sit, sit in violence

Sit sit, sit in silence,

Sit sit, sit in silence

Sit sit, sit in silence

See how much time passes before your mobile phone goes off and fucks it up, and should it cause such a chaos?

Why have we created little machines that beam us right out of nature and into a strange, robotic, pseudo-advancement world?

When the apocalypse comes will the Earth transmute into a big floating icon and if we click on it some funds are transferred straight to our account sir?   Did we all get hoodwinked by that screensaver in the nineties?

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Hai(lf)ku, the other (half)’s a regular poem.

I could always just sit still and prevent my mind from busying around like a little bee, but my own self chooses not to,

Why is that?

I could always lean back into the gliding grind and just fucking stop it, repeated attempts must be enough.

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