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Holy Blasphemy, Batman (A Four By Six)


If You are all this then
As You tell me I am
Then are You not me too
And I conversely You




Once contact
Replaces labels
– Like a costume
– Like a mask
Fall away

For why need
One name or other?

Ill-judged attempts
To define or

For shame: betrayal
Of such an intimacy
Or such unwarranted

Gratitude and mystery
Sprout soaring wings
Escape the net of words

The Plot


So here’s the thing
The bones of the plot
Indentured – sent here to seek out
Some divinity’s golf ball
Lobbed ineptly into the rough
And lost the plot, dammit

What to do now then?
Make it up as you go along I s’pose
Keep up appearances
Develop the plot – obfuscate
Protagonist or antagonist?
Still working on that one

Nosing into who knows what
Nosily, noisily researching
Day by day, day after day
A gradually unfolding autobiography
Maybe already recorded elsewhere anyway
Plots within plots within plots

Move the goal posts – travel
Pick up a few subplots – partner, children
The odd sour note – bastards!
Relieve the monotone at least
Fandangle, froufrou, superfluity
At the end of the day

Still, no use complaining
Go check the codicil
Play the victim, all innocence
Perhaps in a sense I am
Though inner sense tells me
’twas I devised this plot in the first place



What about married people? – I beg to know.
My hands have withered and I am grey.
Hear what I have done – I have refused to sing.

There is more to music than sound;
More to dancing than movement.
What do these walls mean?

Why should we break them down?
Shadows, dust, caution – or freedom.
No longer an enemy,

I no longer squirm and punch
At that part of me I call the Watcher,
Having discovered that she is the Light.

I will grab your waist and shout in your face,
And then you will know me.
I will push you through desiring –

Food, sleep, people, gods –
Right to the deeps of despair.
Only then will you learn not to need them.

The wind brings me leaves;
I bring a lemon
To place before this tree.



Pesky boundaries
Are part of the illusion
If not the whole think

The Four Yugas


There once was, or is said
(Within that strict restriction
Born by some imagined time)
A Krita Yuga, a Golden Age

But time in time moved on
Having nowhere else to go
Puppets demanding rituals
So birthed the Treta Yuga

Empty rituals have their day
Then lose direction, pass on
Smothered in moss and ivy
Dvapara Yuga, Age of Doubt

Doubt, a castle built on sand
Spews conflict and confusion
Good job we now have words
Record the current Kali Yuga

Stop … step outside of time

Abandon ancient scriptures
Except the ones that declare
There’s but a single moment
And here it is once again …

One’s Name


Light and dark couple
Identity a mind game
Question: Shall we play?

How Things Began


Evolution an arid nonsense cloned incessantly,
its gaping cracks unquestioned, papered over.
Creation a tribal fantasy regurgitated blindly.

Fact is we know not whence this place, nor how,
nor our boney selves, strutting self-importantly,
butchering the heretic, the infidel. Inane, insane,

scrabbling for debating points or duels to the death.
Time best spent smiling in a cloud of unknowing,
for truth be told we know nothing beyond fancies.

The Karma Garden


It is an important moment
When we realise that karma
Is at root all about the mind

Remaining firm and correct
The wise gardener will work
In harmony with Nature and
The seasons and elements

For given both sun and rain
And not overrun with weeds
Seeds give birth to sprouts
To flowers and fresh seeds

It is an important moment
When we realise that karma
Is at root all about the mind

The God Science


Without true knowledge
They fall prey to theories
Ad infinitum

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