Why Write?

why do we write? why do we music? why do we draw?

we have to.

is always the answer we have been given. then why do we struggle to write?

it is more an inate feeling we have to create and we all have our own methodologies.

i prefer simplicity and minimalism, like hemingway in  even shorter form.

ideally i love novels in a poetic form. taking away all that is unnecessary and condensing.

we  are all different. we all have our own voice.

i sound like a hippy.

this answers nothing.


Pure of Thought

flowing through streams of consciousness. watching, voyeuristically on society. feeding on the weak and insecure. flesh picked from their bones.

crows circling.

willow trees bending in the wind. the fear of death carried. so scared of death, life was lost. washing over me, just wash over me. the past is the seasons gone, leaving now.

the leaves wilting. the first frosts are coming. coming hard. bringing the death of millions. the world trembles, lies quivering. over the skies are the futile cries. the dead will forget but the living need forgiving. the crimes, unpalatable. destroyer, all the blame must be taken.

on the banks we stand alone. dreams washing away. they were all deceived. believed in the wrong gods.

all the fighting had come to nothing. life was over.

communion of souls. damned and sold for the glory. dreams of life.

The Truth

Act 1

Her legs bent up at her ears.
There is evil and hurt in those eyes.
Her claws stung as they sunk in.
Deep penetrating pain.
Their exacting standards; make you pay, with your soul. Once your soul has gone there will be nothing left but your greening shell. No one will come, they all know your a criminal. Spliced and put out for show. The woman using you to achieve orgasm. At last finally useful.
The world is ending.
Devastators are everywhere.
The seas have dried up, all living on substitute fish eggs.
All we need is a heart of gold.
All the fighting will be over.
He walked into the bar. She was bent over, welcoming him in. He entered. The waves washed over him, fighting to pull him away. He wasn’t going to lose his soul. He fought on. His skin going green, pulsating at the effort, he ejaculated. The world shook, he had found it.
The feelings were growing.
How could they, they had been outlawed.
They would be coming for him.
He saw the traces in the snow.
It was too late.
All she could was offer lies. He beat his hands on the desk. He needed to know the truth. If she could stop being parasitic long enough, maybe they could save society. Bring back the water. ‘Tell me about’. ‘All the women were great and the men athletic’. He knew what she meant, society was never utopian though. He had heard of the Karma Plan, surely it was just a dream. A whole world in united sexual orgasm with only sexual violence and no wars. This was the plan. Could this woman bring it to fruition, he needed to connect her to the grid. The world could become one.
God has forsaken them.
The world was just a car park.
Empty and lonely.
Nothing left.
Desolation, no hope.
Humanity was gone.
Burning all the truth and science.
A world of suspicion
and superstition.
The word of God.
Is the only, true word.
The word will save
The case was unravelling all around him. He now realised that she was the definitive answer. She could be the word. The one true word. How would he connect her to the grid. Her lies were the truth.
The sun was burning up.
Life was drying up.
Yet his tears never dried up.
The time of racial hatred was over.
Bring in the saviours.

Act 2

They rolled together
entwined consciousness.
Her skin soft to touch.
She was a peach.
He wanted salvation.
The lies were moving closer together now. As they got close, they seemed to merge and become an undeniable truth. The flame of truth grew brighter. The truth would bring salvation, or a teenage riot. He could hear the music down the street, it would soon be cut off, personal enjoyment no longer allowed.
The desire was growing.
He longed for her.
Atrocities committed daily.
Guarantees made by rockets and grenades.
All communications down.
Bow down or die.
Go out and clear the streets now.
The truth was getting louder now. It was causing the lights to burn brighter. The radiators were humming and vibrating. The floor was shaking. The desk exploded. He felt a relief wash over him. He picked her up. Bending her over he entered. He was going to try and make her explode. His head exploded all over her. She laughed, looking at the green shell that remained. He had been too weak, she needed someone stronger.
The whistling
comes in deep and low.
Out of nowhere.
Just keep moving.
This is how we live.
She picked up the green shell. Walking down the street, people moving out the way. She was pulsating with light, her skin shiny and taught. With each step she became lighter. She came to the non-existent sea and dove in. Pulling her shell behind. On the beach men strained to see her, this Aphrodite. Her sexual magnetism driving them mad. All the time the word was coming.
God the great deceiver.
Scourge of nations.
Killer of the innocent.
Burning to death,
the flames reinventing.
Living to believe.
Believing to live.
She reached into the shell; glowing in purple magnificence. Pulling out a foetus. Her body started to drain into it. Losing itself, the power of the word spilling into the new body. The foetus starts to purr and vibrate, the power of the word. The word was growing stronger. Her body orgasmed once more and vanished into the ether world.

Act 3

Whispered nothings.
Violent endings.
The foetus drifted up. Floating along the sea of sand. The winds blowing it towards the end of time. The sun burning up. Society crumbling. The word wrapped up deep within. The scorching air burning its skin as it started to grow.
The end is coming.
Live for now.
Forget the future
there is none.
Society is dying.
Life is failing.
Always searching.
The sky lighting up as the foetus grows. The sky constantly evolving, flashes of colour. Mountains exploding, volcanoes erupting, the sky falling. The word walks into a bar. The air musty and moist. Smoke hanging in the air. The old oak booths showing their age, the floor sticky with years of use. He walks over and picks her up. Takes her out into the dark alley. Presses her against the wall. Lifting her up gently, he pulls her pants to one side. Her eyes flash blue and green as he ejaculates in her. Her skin quivering with the force of her orgasm. She sees the word and realises the truth but too late.
Death is the beginning.
Lying and deceiving
was all you did.
Killing my soul.
Leaving me hollow.
Now your gone.
He turned around and walked away. Towards the marshland to the east. Walking past beggars and muggers, turning to watch as he past. He was the truth he was the word. A vibrating ball of energy. Then he was dragged into a doorway, a tub was placed in his hand. He opened it. There was a clenched hand inside, he opened the hand, there was a beetle there. Smiling he walked on. He could hear the distant banging on drums, the sky was phosphorescent.
Your silence was deafening
you can’t defend your actions.
Lying and deceiving
is all you know.
The end was coming
you knew but never said.
Playing with my heart
you left me for dead.
Struggling to breathe.
Massacred for love.
He could smell the marsh. Balls of gas exploding around him. The ground sinking below him. He carried on. The drumming was closer, he could feel it beating his chest. The pressure was making him delirious. He saw shapes dance in front of him, mixing and entwining with each other. The shapes making love to each other, all in harmony showing how the world could be. His face hit the ground and sunk into a glorious blanket of mud.

Act 4

The response
was never, forthcoming.
Playing, a game.
There was, always going
to be one loser.
Death was coming.
The mud was enveloping him. He was sliding helplessly through the mud. It felt so good against his skin. Sliding towards the centre of the earth. He felt something grip the back of his neck. He was getting pulled back up. She was beautiful, her skin glowing in the light. She was completely naked. She wrapped herself around him, knowing it would be the end. She wanted the truth though. She could feel him enter her. The world was glowing, she could hear him groaning. The world exploded. She felt her body contract, she became a beetle. He put her in the tub. The drums were getting louder.
Fidelity was nothing
to you.
The great deceiver.
Death was all, you brought.
Lies – were your tools.
Let us become one.
The world will explode.
Death and glory await.
The mud was becoming harder. The air smelled of sulphur and slavery. The story was unravelling. His feet were growing heavy, the pressure of the word bearing down. The trees growing in clumps, with strange flies the size of birds flying through them. Killing all they touched, dogs barking in the distance. His feet wearing him down, falling to his knees he begs for forgiveness. The word will destroy them. The word is the truth, a flaming hot weapon. The most deadly of all weapons, it knows no compassion. Society will be devastated, the devastators will rejoice.
We will dream of future generations.
They will look back and despise.
Killing the world.
Leave nothing.
always owing
never fully paid.
Living in the now
the future – empty and dead.
The source of humanity,
hidden and buried.
Never to be found.
Death will come.
He pulled himself up from his knees, he had to carry on. The word needs to be unleashed. His head falling apart, strange growths spurting out. Radiant in the darkness, glowing and moving slowly in the breeze. The word trying to escape. The pain driving him mad. Shooting pains, making his eyes go black with pain. The door opened.

Act 5

We travelled bringing death.
We thought it was salvation.
Saving your soul,
by destroying your life.
The door shut. He was in a room, nothing but a fluorescent glare. His head crumbling, a thousand thoughts dying. ‘ We know you have it, give us it’. Who was making the demand, it was printed on his brain, nothing else around him. He struggled to his feet. She was there, coming out of a desk. He watched her, she came over. ‘I need it’. ‘Not here… ‘. ‘Where them?’ ‘Follow’. He opened the door, stepped into the marsh.
The commodities
are what we all need.
Control the workers.
Life is yours for the taking.
Consideration is always missing.
She turned him around, pulled his zip down. ‘I need it now’. She pushed him into the mud, the smell of death washed over him. Standing over him she lowered herself. Squealing, her body contorted. Changing shape, containing all his past memories. She was raping his thoughts. Too late he realised. He ejaculated. It was gone, the word had gone. Standing up she exploded, turning into shards of iridescent jade. He picked up the pieces, cleaning the dirt off them. Placing them in his tub.
You are free.
You can do anything.
Lies perpetrated at school.
No one is ever free.
Life is over at the start.
He picked up the tub, it was vibrating and glowing. The word was trying to escape. Escape and reveal the truth. Walking gingerly he headed back to town. The marsh turned into cobbled streets. The street lights no longer working, he could hear the sounds of life coming to an end all around him. He walked into a small dark store. Showing the shopkeeper the tub, he was guided into a back room. Opening the tub, the beetles had eaten the jade. The shopkeeper picked them up with forceps and dropped them into a jar filled with formaldehyde. They squealed and imploded. The jar was foaming, putting a lid on it he walked out the door. The bombs were exploding in the distance, the night sky tinged with regret.
the struggle of life.
Always battling,
never winning.
Society is addicted.
Can’t live without it.
The regret and sorrow weighing him down, he trudged on. The jar was getting warmer. The suffering was making it heavier. Society was struggling to find the answer, if they stopped the struggles and wars they would see the word. He could see their shapes moving through the trees. The mist lying on the ground now as if it was hiding. The sulphates in the air were burning his nose. The jar was moving so hard now he could hardly hold it.
The politicians, of the world
united by greed.
We need – a compromise.

Act 6

The starving are neglected.
We have no sincerity.
Just keep the TV on.
Ethics is a dirty word,
it makes no money.
The jar was burning him now. He had to make the drums, they seemed to be growing fainter now. The bombing was lighting the sky up. The air was getting heavier. The world was being eaten alive. The humanity was lost. He knew he could no longer hold the jar, he kept on. She rose in front of him. This was another trial. He knew he could no longer escape. She lay him down.
Letting you down,
is the best I could do.
We should never leave
but we did.
Death was stalking.
Life was evading.
It would all end.
The explosions were coming.
No one will ever move.
The fights can’t go on.
He was resisting. Trying to fight her off. She clawed at his face, with long feline claws. Biting and chewing his neck. He picked the jar up, smashed it off her head. Too late he realised what he had done. There was an explosion in the sky. The word exploded across his mind. He stood up and shouted. The world stopped, the word was free. The fighting came back fiercer than ever. The world
Good intentions
are not enough.