The Underhill Journal

I feel like a lab rat
stuck in a huge
hazy
maze
carried on scurrying
panicky
feet
trying to find the reason
reward
way out
rushing headlong
with mindless
purpose
not seeing very far
beyond the whiskers
on the end of my nose.

How the hell do I know
where I'm going?

I wrote this earlier today. It's an investigation of some of my negative feelings.


Erecting barriers
In the dark places of my mind,
Trying to stop the spread,
To shield my thoughts,
To hold back the dread,
Which is seeping through everything.

Nothing is working.
Everything I try is failing.
It feels like I'm sinking,
Further down in the dark,
Can't tell what I'm thinking,
Now everything inside is hollow.

I'm completely fed up,
But I've said that before.
Been following this circular road,
Round and round the same ground,
Until I can feel my my mind erode.
Can't get out of this rut.

Between riding spikes of anger
And wallowing in troughs of despair,
I feel detached and numb.
I can pretend to function
And kid myself I won't succumb
To the lure of this perverse roller coaster.

Just a few lines I threw together last night. Not sure how good they are, but I had some imagery in my head I wanted to get out.


Softly
his voice whispering in the darkness
his breath caressing
the soft flesh of her neck
the glint of moonlight in his eyes
the hint of promise in his words

her own breath escapes
ripped free from her
by the satin touch of his lips
she's helpless
bound by desire
chained
in his heated embrace

I fell apart today.
I do it a little every day.
They call it the "Human Condition",
but it's hard to find any good medication.
I suffer inside, it seems so strange,
to feel alone and unable to change.

When I look into another set of eyes,
there is suffering beyond disguise.
Often we pass without word to each other,
constrained from reaching out - one to another.

Why do we hold ourselves so far apart?
Why can't we open up our hearts?
Why do we feel we must not tell,
when inside, we're living in hell?
Why do I think you can't empathise,
when I can see my pain shared in your eyes?
After all, you're as human as me,
If we should speak, how much better would it be?

Here's two small poems that I found while sorting through some old work of mine. The first is from the viewpoint of a Celtic type Goddess and the second is simply something that came to me while working on a piece of prose.

1
I am one with my mother earth
Spirit and body we are blended
In me all she is is given birth
And through me, unto the stars,
She is ascended

I am sovreignty, truth is my power
I know the child in every mans eyes
I see his fate, know his final hour
But ware to him, for I see also his lies.


2
Through flights of fancy
And a sea of mist
The wheel of fate begins to spin
A swirl of destinies conjoin
And battle to reign supreme
One path will out
The others will fall away
But never assured in victory
The price of the victor
Is the blood of the vanquished

A little poem I wrote while listening to Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang.


The bedraggled bride
Blood stains on virgin white
her head hangs, her hair drips
just like she was on their wedding night
The astonished groom
Mouth gaping in shocked surprise
His hand shakes, the gun rattles
He can see murder in her cold, dead eyes
A bullet flies
Then another, and once more
While she advances, unrelenting
His hand goes limp, the gun hits the floor
Such cold hands
Clutch his face, pull it near
He is choking at her necrotic stench
Staring in her eyes, paralysed with fear
He hears her voice
A gurgling whisper, a half-formed rasp
"You may kiss the bride,"
Icy lips touch his, he hears his own gasp.
Pain flowers in his chest
Bone spliters and blood explodes
He feels the wrench, a staggering agony
Then she rips his heart free and his chest implodes
It beats in her fist
She lifts it to her rotten maw
And bites deeply as his vision fades
His last sight, his blood dripping from her jaw.

Icy wind
Prickles
Snow is thick
In the air
And puddles on the ground
The weak evening light
The only sign of spring
Winter holds March
In it's raw grasp.

Drying Greens
Are white
While pegs flutter
Like leaves on an autumn vine
A lonely view of houses
With people tucked so deep inside
That they seem lifeless
And huddled
Against the cruel wind.

Shapely Mountains
White as Icebergs
Cut across the Blue Sky
Like giant, soft pillows
Rising above the bed of land
Life is stirring
Beneath a heavy blanket
Of Snow
The sunlight tugs back
The covers
Birds sing a wake-up call
And Suddenly
Lambs Spring up
Across the fields
Crocuses, Daffodils
And Early rising Snowdrops
Lift their pretty heads
Blades of grass stretch
Up to the sun
A world awake
And drowsy
Until the sun
Warms it's bones.

This is not actually finished, but as it has been some time since I worked on it so I'll post it now and maybe gain the impetus to finish it from that.


She watched
While he danced
A dance of blades
Flashing steel
Crossing and Twisting
Twin shards of light
He moved trancelike
To their song
His breathing percussive
His footstep whispering
Across a floor polished
by the tread
Of a thousand lifetimes
His skill drew her eyes
Compelled her to linger
To admire
To acquire
The essence of understanding
Him
A restlessness grew
Inside her
To know
Intimacy
Clashing Blades
Crossing Breaths
In the space of his dance

He hears the hiss of steel
Her steel
Her smile's
Facing him
Entreaty to enjoin
Duet or Duel?
2 against one
She blocks
Pure harmonic
Metal chorus
She is a hurricane
In silk
A satin tornado
Slashing eye of the storm
He is the beding reed
Immune
Unyeilding
Snake in the grass
Fangs poising
Striking
Lightning fast
But she absorbs

This is philosophical revelation in the loose guise of poetry. Make of it what you will.


No fate but what we make…..

We built the world out of our own minds, fashioned it, ordered it and declared ourselves masters of it.
We look at history as a story for retelling, re-enacting, repeating, remaking.
There is nothing new under the sun.
The future is a fog to us, so we recycle the past to force ourselves a path to a future of our own devising.
The legacy of our devising - men who do not know the truth telling lies to hide the circumstances.
How many combinations of thought can 6 billion minds have?

Knowledge, once held to the chests of those with power, is flooding us now, breaking thought into a myriad of contradictions and debates. We are rendered incapable of action.
We live in a society which encourages not forgiveness, but accusation.
Truth is a fractal. You cannot know it without the whole, you cannot fathom the immensity of the whole.

Once there was a book which justified human dominion, now we have a world which is crushed beneath our weight. What next?
Control, the desire of every man with doubts and fears.
Desire is a fire, feeding makes it hungrier.
Every man wants to be god in his own world. How big is your world?
The majority fear drug use because it requires an acceptance of loss of control.
Ego is the illusion of self-control.
Sometimes admitting the truth requires loss of control.

Nothing is all bad, a little of everything is good. Satisfaction comes from having enough. Have you had enough yet?
Nothing has an end, everything has a point of moving on.
You don’t die, you become bits of paper, photographs and electrical impulses in the minds of those still alive. The more people who know you, the more life you will have after death.

I no longer dream of heaven - I dream of an Internet where I can upload my “self” and so cheat death.

Population annihilation on the basis of retaliation, causing worldwide devastation and ending with massive depopulation.
Can blood cleanse?