Passer By

Travelling a well traveled road

Valleys and mountain peaks pass me by

Dusky deserts and luscious oceans sprawling

Somewhere there is a place unique to me

But I haven’t yet found it

There is no home in my life

I am a traveller, a passer by

These days I travel light

I carry little but my burdens in life

I have washed myself in the stream of life

And burned away dross in the primal fire

I have climbed the tree that lies at my center

The view from its peak took my breath away

I have drawn holy waters from the mystic well

And yet, I haven’t found my home

Perhaps at this journeys end

I will find my repose?

Many miles yet to travel

Many sins to unravel

Casting off baggage and clothes

Casting off ideas not my own

Although I increasingly find myself alone

I understand that we are all one

And it surely cannot be long

Until I find what I am seeking

She is beautiful and wise

Strong and yet sweet

When I find her I will be whole

I will unite with my soul.


Japan and Birmingham

I play a lot of music during the day as I work in my home office. It never ceases to amaze me the power of music. In particular, its power to evoke memories and trigger mood and emotional responses. If I want to meditate, I simply go to youtube these days and select a nice suitable piece of music and I am off to other spheres…..

Today, I played some Japan. It has been a long time since I did and I was immediately transported back to Birmingham and 1979. My best friend at college – Steve – introduced me to Japan one afternoon at his flat. We were playing Dungeons and Dragons and he put one of their albums on. I loved the music and the deep rumbling of David Sylvian’s voice. I immediately went out and bought that record – and the next and the next. I devoured Japan music. Now, I listen and I am back in that room all of those years ago……. that is the power of music. 35-years on but ‘Nightporter’ sends me back in time every time.

I also went to see Japan. In Glasgow while doing my Ph.D. Perhaps they were an acquired taste but I could get no one to go with me and so I went alone. Amazing evening. Given it was a sell out at the Glasgow Apollo I have to wonder why none of my friends wanted to go? The music of Japan accompanied me to Nova Scotia and periodically through my life. I still adore David Sylvian’s voice and have two of his solo efforts too.


It makes me wonder. What music will I associate with now? In a few years time, will I be transported back to my office in our apartment here in Brno by the sound of some artist or song? I guess I will.

Here is some David Sylvian to float to –




Dusky curves and veiled, shadowy lines
Tempting teasing tresses
Lie heavily on her naked shoulder
Bold breasts beneath emphatic caresses
She sucks me deep into her fiery world
Draws me, tempts me, ever closer

A smoldering, yet lingering look
Is all that I have to offer
Forlornly following her voluptuous figure
Tracing her curvaceous shape with my finger
My enflamed imagination still rising
Her sultry hotness pulled my trigger

Silken moistness moistly beckons
Tiny pinpricks of pleasure
A voyage of erotically rabid discovery
Honeyed tongue to steal my treasure
Flicked, licked and deliciously twirled
Building to an arching release of pressure


Image: Succubus by Jasonlan (Lan Jun Kang)


In indelible ink
Or the tattoo on my navel
Seared across my open palm
Experienced by the ladle

Snapped shut, my eyes
Drift across
Dreamy inner scenes
A life in perspective
Seeking a new directive

A sure beginning
A waning middle
And uncertain end
Simple sensational synapses
Reliable renewables relapses

I act but did I intend?
I hope and I depend
That the light at the end of my tunnel
Is relief and not further trouble

I got my opinions
And I got my views
Imagination aplenty
Creating cryptic critical crises
With dependable dull devices

In my biological genes
In the redness of my blood
Is it really pre-ordained
Or am I truly self-sustained?


New Year Celebration?

Please forgive me for being a party pooper but I dislike New Year. I think I detest it because I simply don’t understand it. What are we celebrating?

I suppose we are pleased to be getting rid of one year and welcoming a new one with all its potential. But don’t we do exactly that every single day? What is so special about this particular day?

And if I am to celebrate the potential of a new year then why does it begin with a hangover? what a great start – a late night and too much alcohol – the new year is already ruined before it even began!

No, if it were down to me, I’d be going to bed at a normal hour and treating it like any other day in my life. Frankly, I would rather it were still 2014 when I wake up tomorrow anyway. Why would I celebrate getting older by another year? Hell, I am still trying to figure out why 2014 went by so fast…

In fact, life is speeding up. 2014 was so quick and I know 2015 will be even faster. Slow down please!

No, I am sorry, but this is one tradition I could live without.

Happy Holidays!

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Tall Story

Afloat and at sea
Bobbing like a cork
On the widest of widest ocean
Comedy in perpetual motion
White tips go surfing by
Water, lots of bloody water and
Yet not a drop to drink
Only time to sit and think
A rocky shore lies off to the west
Fiery dragons reside to the north
Things are going south though
Thats not a place I want to go
Tall ships passing me by
Rowing now faster and ever faster
Tidal currents are hard to beat
Especially where pressures meet
Directionless, I move onwards east
I am following a lonely star
Shining brightly in the night sky
All I can do now is sit and sigh
As we drift on inner currents
Mapping the inner tides
Charting uncharted territory
Writing Act 2 of this sorry sordid story
To be read shortly on Jackanory
Another very very tall story

Lost in the Sea by O-Maryo-O

Lost in the Sea by O-Maryo-O

Cosmic Dancer

On Friday I will be going to see Slade. Yes – Slade. Without Noddy Holder but the rest of them including slimy Dave Hill will be playing.

I didn’t much like Slade back in the 1970’s. I was into the more gentle magic of Marc Bolan and T.Rex and Slade seemed raucous and too down to earth. There was no magic, no white swans or Wizards with Slade – just poor spelling and loud music. I moved from T.Rex to Status Quo. Corkscrew hair and spandex was replaced by greasy hair and denim. Fantasy was replaced with a gritty, monotonous reality of life in the north.

Of course, now I look back and enjoy a lot of the music of that era. Even stuff I detested at the time now has a certain nostalgia about it. I’m not sure the music has got better just that it takes me back to a simpler time, a more innocent time for me. I shall enjoy Slade on Friday night and I may try to take in Suzi Quattro next year when she visits Brno too.

I have said before how for me music can evoke memory, mood and magic. The opening bars of Hotel California always send me back to an outdoor bar in the south of France and a wonderful holiday, and The Jean Genie always puts me in a schoolroom for some reason.

Even as I type this I am listening to music – Blackfield. The whole of their first CD reminds me of a day in Austin, TX. The whole of their second album makes me want to write poetry and every single line of every poem in Moon Whispers was written listening to that CD. I use music for mood. I can relax or energize with music and everything in between.

Marc Bolan captured a bit of how music works for me in Cosmic Dancer….So here he is to explain…

I was dancing when I was twelve
I was dancing when I was aah
I danced myself right out the womb
Is it strange to dance so soon
I danced myself right out the womb

I was dancing when I was eight
Is it strange to dance so late
I danced myself into the tomb
Is it strange to dance so soon
I danced myself into the tomb

Marc Bolan.


Confusion Ends

Lying prone
And quite alone
Images forming
Arising, slinking
I hear the words
I see the signs
I know it all means something
I watch the faces
I travel afar
In my astral car
Still seeking, looking
So tired
Really wired
Images rise
Under indigo skies
I listen to the sounds
I explore the horizon
I know it all means something
I follow leads
And look for clues
In my astral shoes
Still seeking, searching
Did I arrive?
A story to contrive
Did it just end?
A permanent ascend


It’s A Mystery

There is so much that we do not know and probably can never know. I have to be honest and say that that pisses me off! Among the first thoughts that I can recall thinking were things like who am I? What am I? and things have not changed. I still ask such questions on a daily basis and I am still frustrated in the knowledge that I may never know the answers. I know that I am something – I think, I feel – I am. But what am I? Will I die and simply cease to exist? What is at the end of space? What is it all for? Is there a reason for all this – the out there – what is it anyway? It’s pointless I suppose to continue thinking and asking such questions but if you knew me you would know I cannot simply ignore these questions.

Perhaps there is no out there at all? Maybe it is all inside me and my mind and I am simply alone imagining all of this? If so, why?

These are the things that I write about, obsess about and explore through magic, meditation and my imagination.

The Stream of Life

Bobbing along the stream
Sometimes fighting
Other times alighting
For a longer look
Checking out scenery
But no real choices
Except to go with the flow
I go where I need to go
Can only slow
The inevitable
As I start at the beginning
I must end at the end
That’s the way it really is
Life is like a stream
Winding its lonely way
Always just passing through
Never sitting still
Ripples speak to movement
Movement is my destiny
One day, I will reach the Sea
And that, my friends
Will be the end of me.

From the Moon Whispers collection of poetry

This need to know and that I am always asking questions is a part of who I am. When I was born, I sneezed myself to life and breathed by myself as if in a hurry to get started. I have been hurrying ever since wondering why everything is. What makes this all a tad worse is that I have a distant memory of knowing. It is as if one day I will wake up and remember what I had just forgot. As if, one day I will realize that I knew all the answers all along but had momentarily forgotten.

The Story

I am going to tell you a story
Although it has a beginning
It’s ending is yet unwritten
And maybe has no ending

Once upon a long, long time ago
A boy was to a woman born
He sneezed and started his life
He was the family’s very first born

He grew and grew and grew
Tall and thin but quite bright
And off to college he went
Seeking out truth and inner light

He looked and searched all about
Examining all manner of places
Never finding what he sought
But he covered all the bases

One day in despair he sat
Quietly contemplating naught
Tired of seeking, he took a rest
And lost his train of thought

The inner vision grew and grew
Discovering very strange places
Filled with even stranger men
And their weird eyeless faces

He journeyed on and on afar
Deeper and deeper he did travel
Until he met a beautiful queen
It was then all began to unravel

The Queen you see embraced
Our weary and worn out hero
And he drank her kisses deep
While floating as if in limbo

I have the answers that you seek
Said the loving yet listless Queen
I am your eternal polar shadow
Living life somewhere in between

I am the answer that you seek
She said between those kisses
I can make us both complete
But our hero became suspicious

Tell me then, he said to her
What is the meaning?
And why am I here at all?
Because surely I am simply dreaming

The Queen hearing this did smile
And began to sing a familiar rhyme
About rowing a boat down a stream
And when he heard that final line

That life is but a dream
He knew
Do you too?

The Story from Best Laid Plans poetry collection.

For some reason and for right now it is all a mystery but perhaps one day I will wake up and all will have been revealed?


Who Am I?

Try so very hard to be me
The one you think that you know
A persona imagined passively
Minor differences in take
Patterns in my speech
It’s not about the things you make
But about the who that you are
And doesn’t that vary, be wary
I can be anyone I want to be
I can be anyone that you want to see
Image is like clothing for the ego
Nothing is certain in make believe
Nothing has real solidity
Floating variations in psyche
Revolving interpretations inside me
I project and you receive
But the me that I want to be
May not be the one that you perceive
Am I real then?
And are you?
Imagined shadows hurtling
Through some forgotten plane
Like some silly
Computer game
I digress
A kernel of truth
Remains aloof
My higher self.