Going on Inside


Time is due for giving back the dues
Oh right wing Banker, a demand
Of summons upon reasonable doubt
The clerical medic flew offshore slides
The disappearing act with rubber gloves

Sanitised or satinised still dirty filth
That matter, always matter to talk
To talk some sense of reason, meet Frank
A Bruno of brutal words that pass

Slow it is not in seeing of sight
The hand to fist upon action
Clenched, holding bills from birth
Passed down in the folds of matter
Greasing the palm with flattery

Just a finger to raise with point
The middle one with courtesy
Up in the air for displays
To see which way wind blows
Testing direction of sense

Can it follow the logic?



A visit to Oxford University


A break from chasing global corruption and scientific horror stories, time for a trip down memory lane. My teenage years were spent growing up in Surrey, the white middle-class suburbs of not much happening. Perfect is you love horse riding, Barbour jackets, pub rock bands covering an ear bleeding version of Eric Clapton and donna kebab fights (always the salad, never the meat thrown?). If really fortunate you could even get a taxi to the worst night club in the world, buy a shot for £5, witness lunatic girls crying over men in the toilet,  then bust some moves to ‘It’s raining men’, ‘I will survive’, or Womack & Womack ‘Teardrops’. Followed by strange ‘follow on’ party invites,  whilst waiting for a taxi home. …Ah happy memories. Within this domestic dwelling, there was a friendship made at school with a girl who lived down my road, she became one of my best friends. She, a refined scholar of the classic arts, me a socio-political spectator of all times, she Oxford material, me more pub landlord debate (taxi driver philosophy – truly more reliable than media).

Anyway, skipping on, as I entertain myself, we shared many interests in common, from entirely different perspectives, yet many of our views agreed at points. She was probably one of my most interesting friends. At 18 I went to a small university in Bath, because I liked the place, she went to Oxford because she was Oxford material. One weekend I went visit her in halls of residence, it was quite an experience. I met all her new friends, within 1 minute I knew I was going to be a social embarrasment. It was like visiting Hogwarts, only sterile, the architecture beautiful, but the atmosphere? Pompous is an understatement, delusion swelled up through the floor boards and seemed to contaminate the oxygen in the room. I was left gasping for some common sense and frankness. The pressure to be intellectual was greater than showing any unique intelligence. The bigger the words, the more nodding of heads. Rather than talk, I decided to observe this unique situation. As someone was talking a “yes, yes, you are so right”, kept being repeated, along with head nodding. It went on like this….

After this was over we went to a quaint pub with an open fire and a warm vibe for dinner, just me and my friend. Looking at my friend’s wrist, there was a large mark that looked like a recent burn. I enquired as to how she got it, “stress” she replied, she had been scratching her wrist in stress because of her workload and managed to infect it.  Looking at my reaction she said, “don’t”. I said “that’s the price for keeping up with the Joneses, is it worth it?” She never replied to that, instead we changed the subject and went on a tour of Oxford. Amazing place historically to view. But I’m thinking about Oxford university and I have a criticism, it institutionalises students to believe they are intellectual over inspiring with insane intelligence. Insane intelligence comes from addicts of their craft, their passion oozes out and pulls people in to learn. People can’t wait to be around them to study, they enjoy the work they set to challenge them, even put in extra work to impress. They don’t scratch their wrists in stress, they expand in enthusiasm. I wonder about this iconic reputation in outstanding education, seems like a brochure experience to me. Very much I like the building, it’s missing all the learning blocks of atmosphere though. The atmosphere is the learning experience.

Seeing to Compare

Hey World, I can see you. I can judge and compare difference too, I can even judge myself and compare difference on and to who I am. In fact, I did that for a long time, loyal to the way I was taught to compare myself. To bathe in every inadequacy and imperfection, every difference that wasn’t in the average mold. I was so good at it, I could barely look at myself beyond seeing every difference to compare.  So profoundly good at comparing the differences, something important was missed, I don’t compare to anyone else. When you can observe every minutiae detail as I can at speed, you will see a bible of comparisons to judge yourself by. The reading is always the same, unworthy of any attention.

A self-crucifixion that starts from the first moment of getting up in the morning, seeing any mess, seeing the reflection in the mirror, hearing the tone of the voice, the height, the weight, the shape of the nose, lips, the style of clothes, the hair thickness, the colour….God, does it ever end? The job, the car, the house, the makeup, the earrings, the shoes, the children, the husband or not, the parents, the family, the income, the friends, the faith, the breast size, the rear size, the thigh size, the wrists, the hands, the eyes, the feet, the whiteness, the self righteousness, the confidence, the insecurities, the level, the attitude, the timeliness, the presentation, the sense of humour……is there anything someone hasn’t compared me on or to in my life?

When do I see me, when there is so much to compare me on or to?

I could and have driven myself mad beyond compare, there has been at points nothing in my head but comparisons. The general picture is that I’m not the same as everyone else. Years have passed when I have not seen myself, those were the unconscious or self-conscious points. Horrifying those points are to reflect on, the absorption of comparisons, with the comparisons claiming themselves are beyond compare. In a statement of being overlooked, I could see all that I wasn’t and nothing that I was in existence. Even now that statement of honesty upsets me to see that I wrote it. Twisted, contorted and bent out of all natural form, that was the view of myself, it reflected back. I’ve been untwisting that tangle for a long time. To the point where I can now see myself a bit more clearly, rationally and with sense. “Ignore it” they say, on the comparisons, it’s exhausting ignoring it all. There needed to be a new way to see.

Acceptance, total acceptance is the easiest way to see the self in honesty. Even if it doesn’t feel nice or natural at first, it is a start or step towards accepting truth, not comparisons. This world is really messed up right now, the flow of natural order far removed from what it should be. I don’t compare humans anymore, I judge by my own standards of what is acceptable to me, people can have a problem with that or not. It’s life on my terms, something I created for myself out of nothing. Creating life on my terms has probably been the hardest thing to do. It meant ignoring all comparisons and going beyond what they see.  There is a journey that I’m on every day, it’s getting to know who I am and what I can do or be. I was not taught this, I’m teaching myself what it means to be a human, consciously sharing what I learn in experience. Because I know the world is messed up in forgetting we all have our own paths to create on our terms. We are taught the maps and routes someone else has for us. I reject that way of teaching, something drives me beyond it. It is a will to see and experience more than is on offer, it can be labeled anything, but that is what it is. There is only so much one person can achieve in a day, a month, a year or a lifetime, but if I manage to achieve being me on the whole journey, then my life was on my terms. That is the will of my learning way. It will not relent for anyone in comparison anymore. There is a map there anyone can use if they want life on their terms too, the education comes free of charge. I can’t teach anyone how to be someone they are not.

Honesty in Awareness

What is art? Good art is honesty, in the safe space of art.
What is poetry? Good poetry is honesty, in the safe space of words.
What is science? Good science is honesty, in the safe space of numbers.
What is music? Good music is honesty, in the safe space of sounds.

Clear? Very.

What other kinds of honesty are there in awareness?
There is plain talking, with no planned or defined form. Just for the point of doing it as it comes and flows consciously. As I am doing right now. There is no point to it at all, it flows from somewhere in my brain and out into the world, for other people to consciously pick up if they wish. There is a vibration around that, at this point in time. It is how I am feeling consciously in a way of learning how things work. Consciously I’m feeling what I have been taught doesn’t work for me, how I learn for myself does. This is how I learn, I throw something out consciously and deliberately into the world, what comes back from doing that teaches me something, always. Even if no one responds, reads or pays attention to what I put out to be found or noticed, I still get to read it later. I’m still learning about myself and what I was thinking at a point some time ago. Then I will notice my own changes and variation, I learn myself in a way no one else can understand me. It’s called decoding and unlocking the self into conscious experience, this is what I am learning as I talk. In the expanding of my thoughts comes the unlocking of what I am truly thinking. Until I start talking, I’ll never know.



The NERVE of endings or beginnings to start, It’s got a nerve as far as I can see. It’s also got a mouth, brain, and heart connected to it all. For some strange reason, I can see beyond all the flesh, muscle or fat, keeping it all in place and stood upright. There in exactly what it is, a skeleton form with parts making it work and parts that can be easily broken. Actually, it is quite weak and vulnerable, in others ways it is strong.

What exactly is it?
It is a matter of life or death in the physical sense. In the conscious sense it goes beyond this way of seeing and thinking about what it truly is. Therefore it is metaphysical.

Get to the point?
Ok, the physical sense of seeing in a material way of life and death bullies the emotional conscious sense out of its conscious experience. The logic of seeing in a material and only physical way tries to blind the individual out of the freedom of experiencing themselves and world beyond physical appearances. It does this so it can experience more physical things coming its way in the conscious world, mainly through money. However, it does profit in other material ways too, that being with many forms of control over all forms of energy. Those energy types vary in the many forms in which they come, logic has an obsession with controlling all forms of energy type. The energy types can be food, oil, emotional energy, ego, water, electricity, nuclear, DNA, love, any kind of input for the output, it will try and control the input from expanding beyond its control. I would like the world to consciously recognise that logic has an emotional problem with control over it. That is all for now, just to consciously recognise it for what it truly is, control over all its energy points, that get to its nerve endings. That will no doubt get on a few people’s nerves, I suggest they get control of themselves. For others, I hope it brings energy freedom.

Ape Appreciation Club


I can talk to the animals
Even squeak and squawk with the animals
A doctor of do little in faith

I can dance with the animals
Even play and prance with the animals
A regular menace of being in saith

I can draw lines with the animals
Even eat and gather with the animals
A chest-beating gorilla not waif

I can bang drums with the animals
Even drill and bash code with the animals
A swinging monkey, the Galbraith

I can be pious with the animals
Even be biased and lie with the animals
A homo sapien of the interfaith

I can’t pretend with the animals
Will not bend or pose with the animals
That’s the Neanderthal’s pure haith.