Bored

bored

Sitting here
Not sure what to do
I could start something
Or I could do nothing
At all
The truth is I am bored
Bored with my life
I’m looking for escape
Seeking excitement, or nothing
At all

Been half a century
Actually a little more
Been here, been there
Actually, almost everywhere
It’s all bland
All pre-canned
So fucking boring
Listen, I’m snoring

Bored with the politics
Bored with nationalism
Bored with the fighting
And jostling for position
Bored with the arguments
Bored with the song
Bored with almost everything
It’s been too long

Sitting here
Still wondering what to do
Shall I start something
Or do nothing
At all
The truth is I am bored
Bored with it all
I’m wanting excitement
Or nothing
At all

UDI For Me

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All my life I have worked so hard
I made some money too
But I spent it all on you
All my life I wanted something
A certain way of life
But caved in to the wife

U D I
Sick of living this lie
U D I
For ME!

All my life I did what others asked
Lived for them, not me
Is that why I’m so unhappy?
All my life so totally stressed out
Trying to make ends meet
Heart beating a different beat

U D I
Sick of living this lie
U D I
For ME!

I’m going to do what I want
I’m going to go where I want
I’m going to live for me
I’m going to please myself
I’m gonna spend money on myself
Yes, I’m going to be free

Life’s Junk

Just over 7-years ago, I arrived in the Czech Republic with one suitcase. Later, I shipped one box to myself. It wasn’t a large box. I left a large house stuffed to the brim with stuff and do you know what, I didn’t really miss any of it. Anything I did miss turned out to have a connection to someone in my life. I did miss being able to look at certain photographs of my family, my boys, my parents, my college days. I did miss the framed picture bought for me as a gift by my Aunt in New Orleans as it reminded me of my Uncle who died too young. I missed a few items – trinkets mainly – given to me by my father and by my mother. All of these have since been retrieved. I also did subsequently panic about where my Ph.D thesis was again because its a one off put together the hard way before word processors and easy printing. My son has it so its safe.

So here I am 7-years later and we begin to pack to move back to Brno from Prague. Once again, I am surrounded by life’s junk. The stuff you think you need but really don’t. The stuff you keep because you may actually one day need it but never do. How did I accumulate so much crap again? Why?

What is it that I really value? That’s the question I ask myself right now. To be honest, it is again the small treasures probably worthless to anyone else that have an association with someone special that are the only things I value. The photograph of my Father on Eigg, the photo of my eldest son sat in the cockpit of a 747 mid-atlantic (shows how dated that is!), the electric guitar that I spent more than a year delivering newspapers at 1GBP per week to purchase, the photo collection of my boys, my parents and my brothers, the letter Gabriela sent to me with a 4-leaf clover in it and perfumed, the family history notes my Dad made as we worked on our ancestry together, the drawings, paintings and scribblings of my daughter saved in folders….. you get the drift.

At the end of the day its about memories but more importantly its about people for the treasured items are people-focused and trigger memories. Those memories are both good and not so good but they are strong and vibrant. When I move, I take with me my memories. I don’t need to pack them in a bag they are just there and a certain item, a certain smell will conjure them immediately in my mind. I suppose these memories, experiences, are the treasure that we accumulate in life while we somehow also accumulate so much bloody material junk.

junk-pile

Astral Messages

The Magical World of G. Michael Vasey

Deep and deeper into the fiery depths
Down and down ‘neath the cooling stillness
Where obscured symbols serve for words
And standing stones encircle scented voids
Ancient primordial creatures stir
And other strange images form down there

what-s-inside-the-astral-plane-300x300

Midst blue and emerald mind mists
And the elemental mysteries of inner Earth
Where fires’ flames lick and dance
And the shimmering air swirls entranced
Crystalline waters trapped as precious opals
Sublime and regal royals enthroned
Through all eternity as cold and darkened stones

astral-plane

Images move and rise and fall
Emerging, emerging and then not at all
Half-formed figures born floating linger
Whispers and soundless sounds as tinder
To spark and fuel those inner flames
Astral messages calling ancient names
Billowing, enduring truths exclaimed

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Mystery and Conspiracy

I don’t particularly like conspiracy theories or the people that like to propagate them.I have always found that the logical explanation is the most likely and I have no need for cults, lizard people, worldwide conspiracies, aliens or any of that ilk to explain things. Until now.

Like many, I have been following the tragic story of the Malaysian Boeing 777. Now, I can understand how conspiracy theories occur as, let’s be honest, it hasn’t been handled very well by the authorities. Even worse, I can’t think of a single logical explanation for what seems to have occurred. In a world where we have ready answers for most things, Flight MH370 is a true mystery. It must be absolutely impossible for the relatives and those impacted directly by this event and our thoughts are with them but how can a 777 just go missing like this?

You can think of any number of quite logical scenarios but each and every one is flawed. If something went wrong, how come the plane flew for 7-hours undetected and no one made any kind of call for help? If the pilot hijacked the plane, how on earth did he do it with a plane full of people with cell phones? Why would anyone fly into a deserted ocean and wait to run out of fuel? There is no explanation unless there is something we are not being told. And that is how conspiracy theories are born isn’t it?

I’m hoping that sooner or later something will turn up and explanations will be forthcoming. Relatives need closure. Fliers need reassurance that if this was a catastrophic failure of an amazingly safe so far airliner that the cause is known and fixed. If it was really a pilot or people hijacking the plane then plainly additional security processes are needed. No effort should be spared to find this aircraft for any number of reasons. Just as importantly, what is known needs to be made public and any misconceptions need to be squashed and corrected.

mh370

I for one am sick already of hearing about alien abductions, black holes, Government plots and the like, but until someone lays out what is known and more importantly, until that aircraft is found, such theories will abound. Take a look at the wacky theories already out there. It didn’t help that Iranians traveling on stolen passports photos were obviously photoshopped either with both men sharing the same legs….

legs

Three Books of Poetry….

I have three books of poetry in print. All are available on Amazon sites in paperback and Kindle formats.

This is their story….

I began writing poems when I was a boy. It was an outlet. A few years ago, I found a huge pile of handwritten poems that I had written dating back to 1974 and, trust me, some were just downright embarrassing! Some, however, weren’t all that bad. I put these in a pile and typed them into MS WORD for better keeping and put them all in my poetry directory on my PC. I had about 50 poems there so I once again selected what I thought were some of the best and made them into a book. It was self-published off course but it was a nice little book of poems called Weird Tales: Other World Poetry (Booksurge, 2006).

Weird Tales Cover

A few years later, and many more poems later, I had what I thought was a bright idea. Poetry doesn’t sell well but what if I combined the poetry with some nice photos in an over sized book and targeted people who like to have the odd nice book in their lavatory! The idea came to me visiting a friend who’s little room had several quiet nice books in it including some short poetry books. This is how Poems for the Little Room (Lulu, 2012) cam about would you believe? Unfortunately, the paperback version is quite pricey via Lulu and I have never figured a way to get it into Kindle format so its only available via Lulu.com or from me either directly or from Amazon.co.uk.

BookCoverImage

Finally, this year I saw that I again had a lot of poems stacked up, some of which I thought were good. Again, I thought I would publish them but with another difference still trying to see if I could find a workable formula. This time, I would combine poems with articles from my blog Asteroth’s Domain in pairs. The poem and the article support one another and perhaps provide a basis for some meditation. The result called Astral Messages got a little lost in the marketing of my novella – The Last Observer – but nonetheless is out there…..

Cover

Now, to whet your appetite a bit, here is a poem from each…

Weird Tales – Heaven

Lips brush
Noses touch
Wrap myself around you
Tie you up in knots
And never let go

A hug
A kiss
Was all that it took
My knees go weak
And the heat rises

Life change
Motion
Headed in a new direction
And happy about it
Happy to be with you

A moment was all
How did I fall
Into the depths of love
A single meeting
An amazing greeting
And it was done

Darkness
Passion
I find myself enrapt
How I want and need you
And that look in your eyes

Hotel
Room spins
Kisses turn more urgent
And the smell of your skin
Surely, heaven is here

Poems for the Little Room – In My Head

I used to dream and imagine
Places I had never seen
I used to make up tunes
And sing them in my head
That world was real to me
More real than this one
I could be anyone
And do anything
In my head
I could be you
You could be me
In my head
In my inner world
In my deepest thoughts
Inside my head
I yearn to go back there
Visit more and more
What I create in that world
Is reflected in this one
What I am inside my head
Is what I become here

Astral Messages – Life’s Tapestry

The lines are blurred
And faces merged
The funniest thing you’ll see
Moments in time and space
Held close for eternity
Just pictures saved by memory
Like silent movies played
Flickering images passing by
Do these belong to me?
Or is everything I see
From another, not me
The colours and the smells
The angles lacking symmetry
The sounds and sights
Images bound in space
The inner revelries revealed
My life’s tapestry
Unraveled
Untied
Betwixt and between
Reality

Moments

A little reminiscing
Passing of a life
Not even thrilling
It’s been a long ride
Dancing through time
Losing my pride

Where did it go
Where did they go
All of those people
All of those places
Those ups and those oh so downs
Times and time, sand grains falling
Moments of glory and moments of hell
Moments when you knew that you’d done well

Listening to second hand Bolan
A Child of his revolution
Just like that Jean Jeanie
Crossing the Atlantic Ocean
Houston, I heard you calling
Or am I confusing you with the Clash?
All that trans Energy wasted
Never did make my splash

Where did it go
What did I really do
All of those faces
All of those names
The heights and the valleys
The passing of my life’s graces
Moments of glory and moments of hell
Moments when I knew I didn’t do so well

people-are-stupid-the-end-of-single-life

Overpriced, Overdone but Beautiful

So what am I talking about with a post title like that?

The United Kingdom actually.

I left the UK in 1992 and emigrated to Texas where I spent a good 17-years before returning to Europe and settling in the Czech Republic. Periodically, of course, I get to go back on business or a for a family visit.

Over priced – The UK is expensive. How do people there manage? So far as I can tell, salaries have gone up incredibly since I left but despite the fact that people seem to earn what I would have thought of as ‘silly money’ back in 1992, prices appear to have risen even faster! Being in the West Midlands this last week, I paid over four pounds for a pint, had toast, eggs and a coffee breakfast for 15 pounds and all I can say is thank God I gave up smoking last year! Meanwhile, I was told that some remarkably ordinary looking homes were fetching 600,000 pounds and that people at getting mortgages of 10-12 times their income…. a recipe for total disaster. So, yes, over priced and by a long way too. By comparison to other parts of Europe, the UK is simply incredibly expensive.

Overdone? – too crowded, too full of people, too many cars, airports too small. The UK is full to overflowing and I fear it will eventually sink (south east first) under the weight of that steaming mass of humanity. The result is stress, aggravation and very rude people….

But something must be going right because I passed home after home in Birmingham that must have cost 500,000 GBP or more with 2-3 cars (BMW’s and such) parked all over their front yards. Somebody is doing well.

No, you can keep the UK. I don’t much miss it if I am honest except for the football, the beer, nice little country pubs, English gardens, Yorkshire, the west cost of Scotland, Wales, Cornwall, Fish n Chips, Pork pies – pies in general actually, sticky puddings, treacle pudding, shepherd’s pie,the east cost of Yorkshire, York, the moors, the history, little English villages,small churches…. Well maybe I do!

Englands-green-and-pleasant-land

Coming back its the greenness that always amazes me. From the plane it simply is a brighter, richer, deeper shade of green. Its a beautiful country.

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Given that, I should visit more often but live there? I could not afford it.

A Tale of Magic and Reality

You will forgive me for writing the odd blog about my books as it is probably the only way I have of promoting them. Last August, RoundFire issued my first attempt at a novel – The Last Observer. The book has received mostly great reviews and I am slowly working on a follow up or should it be a ‘before up’ as it is a prequel called the The Lord of the Elements.

LO Cover

The Last Observer is a tale of modern magic wrapped up in Quantum Physics and the nature of reality. I believe that we create or co-create our own reality and that a magician trains him/herself to do this extremely efficiently. The story involves a bookworm called Stanley who has very strong and well-honed imaginative faculties. His life is turned upside down as he finds two groups of magicians – black and white – are intent on recruiting his skills as an ‘observer’ to change the world……Meet Edward, Zeltan, Alison, and …. yes, The Lord of the Elements, in my Dennis Wheatley-like short novel. The book features a Foreword by Anthony Peake. Here is a preview…..

Its available on Amazon and all other book sellers in both paperback and eBook formats at a great price now. You can buy it from Amazon here

A Few Reviews

  • This book is FUN. It is a very fast paced read with more emphasis on action than on detail… or so it seems until you realize that along with the dose of entertainment you’ve been drawn in to an intense lesson on the nature of reality. It is a good adventure story which delves into the underground world of esoteric magic and flies into the more airy concepts of quantum physics – and where the two seemingly opposite realms merge. ( Note: I am relatively clueless about quantum physics.) It reads like a cross between the concept of the Matrix and an early 20th century occult thriller. While overt Christianity is absent, there is no relativism here. That would have created a completely different book. The Hammer film The Devil Rides Out, adapted from a Dennis Wheatley novel, comes to mind. The protagonist, Stan, a reclusive bookworm, finds himself sought after, and literally pursued by both sides of a cosmic battle. Their target: a man whose inability to fit comfortably in the so-called real world brought out the full force of his imaginative talent, a gift that both shapes and defines reality. The observer/recluse is really the spinner of the world. Imagination is reality. Stan’s introduction to the unfamiliar occult world who has reached for his soul is rocky. The farther in he gets pushed, the more is unveiled, and the reader is invited to learn along with Stan the nature of that world, its values, and how to discern the motives and workings of the participants. His counterpart, Alison, is a naive and somewhat lazy seeker of the unseen who is drawn in by the wrong side and falls hard. Both have much to learn. And learn they do. Without giving away the plot twists I can at least venture to say that Stan emerges from the adventure wiser and a solid support to others in his newly cultivated field. But enough of the Serious Stuff. Go read and enjoy. ~ Darcy, Amazon.com
  • How would you feel if the reality you knew as intimately as your own thoughts was suddenly brought into question? If, in fact, you became aware that the two were inextricably linked, not just within the confines of your imagination, but in actuality? And if you could begin to understand this strange, unsettling concept, what would you do when it was borne upon you that someone wanted to hijack that reality, twisting it for their own ends and putting more at risk than your life? Such is the position in which Stanley finds himself. He is just an ordinary man, a loner with a vivid imagination who finds himself dragged into an unfamiliar world where those who share his talent are disappearing in strange and violent circumstances. In a strange and unexpected encounter, Stanley meets Edward, and the dangerous adventure begins. At the centre of this dangerous web is the enigmatic figure of Zeltan, drawing in the human threads to weave a tapestry that could rewrite history. Dr Vasey’s intimate knowledge of the world of ritual magic is used to dramatic effect as its darker side mirrors the twisted mind of Zeltan, painting a vivid and harrowing picture of the abuse of the potential of the mind. In ‘The Last Observer’ Dr Vasey explores the nature of reality and the human mind. With his usual incisive style he exposes the knife edge where ego and ambition pave the road to a personal hell and highlights the illusions under which we live, both in regard to the manifested world we see around us and our role within it. This slim volume packs a thought provoking punch and is an addictive read. The fast paced story leads the reader through the twists and turns of the plot with a feel of being caught within the story. As indeed we are. Do not look for magic wands, happy ever afters and fairytales within the book’s covers. The Last Observer hits home at the point where science and magic meet and will leave you questioning the nature of your own reality and your place within it. ~ Sue Vincent
  • This fast paced story takes us through the process of unveiling the true nature of who and what we are as Co Creative aspects of all that is , its as much a learning tool as it is an entertaining read ! The Last Observer is tailor made for those that love good story telling based on fundamental truths that are empowering and help to illuminate the way towards greater expansion of who and what we are. The ending of this story is “Brilliantly” thought out and represents our true nature and the incredible power that we have in shaping both our collective and individual realities. ~ Seth willis, http://www.apocalypse-how.com

The Haircut

I have always detested having my hair cut. It seems such a bloody waste of time and besides, I really don’t like looking at myself in a mirror for 30 to 40 minutes. For this reason, I always tend to leave it a bit longer than I should.

However, this morning I had my haircut. I go to an old fashioned barber’s shop in Prague where they really do a good job, use old fashioned blades and you get a good head massage as well. Of course, I had to look at myself sitting facing that mirror.

Perhaps it was the background music – a mix of seventies and eighties classics like Meatloaf and Patti Smith. Perhaps it was just my mood and state of mind right now. Who knows? But, as I looked at that face I began to see the wrinkles, the deep set lines, the beginnings of the sagging jowls and the greying hair. The contrast with my young hairdresser didn’t help. In his twenties, his skin still had that tight, fresh and vital look of youth. I am aging.

This thought triggered a sort of dispassionate sadness. I can’t explain it better than that. A sort of recognition that there is no escape from this process of aging nor would I wish to except perhaps to go back and take another crack – another bite of the cherry – knowing what I know now.

I don’t yet look decrepit. Just a few weeks ago, in the darkness of a Prague pub, a group of people we were talking to put me in my early forties or late thirties. Nice of them but they were obviously drunk! I have never looked my age and didn’t even start shaving until well into my late teens (well early twenties!). I was a late developer and spent a few years embarrassed by my lack of progress when changing for school sports! Perhaps now that is paying dividends for I am a young looking mid fifties guy.

But that’s changing now and changing quite rapidly so – in front of my own eyes.

It makes you think looking at yourself in the mirror for any length of time. Each line, grey hair and wrinkle has its own story. The story of our lives right there, etched in our skin.

I still see myself in my mind’s eye as perhaps mid twenties to mid-thirties. Still vital and energetic. Still chomping at the bit for life’s experiences and somehow naive and woefully innocent. The thought crossed my mind leaving the barbers that it is this energy – this life force – that is slowly abandoning me. It is as if that force, sensing pastures new, is readying it’s goodbyes. Somehow, I need to focus on maintaining that life force and energy where it is at least a little while longer.

Sometimes thoughts keep coming back. Going round and round in circles for just yesterday I had watched David Bowie’s video of Thursday’s Child. It seemed to have a similar theme or thought and I am, in fact, a thursday’s child myself……