Shining threads

Shining threads

Monday, 24 April 2017

Words consume worlds

The world is being consumed by a few 3-5 letter adjectives.

Opinions vary as to whether this is bad, sad, good, nice or great.

A radical suggests, provocatively, that we might stretch to include 6 letter adjectives.

This is declared a 'lovely' suggestion.

On hearing of the acceptance, the radical says 'that's great' and that 'it will be good to hear some 6 letter adjectives'.

'That's nice', says one person encouragingly.

'That's nice', says another person condescendingly.

A starry-eyed person sees this step forward and joyously says 'what about 7 letter words?'

A crowd puzzle together over whether this might be feasible, until they declare in unison that 'it would be AMAZING'.

An observer muses that their response was 'very nice', the way it was so co-ordinated and gave a sense of positive agreement.

The council of the Oxford English Dictionary look on with heads full of richly descriptive adjectives, weeping at the linguistic reduction taking place through society.

They are sad.

The world is represented by words and words animate our perceptions.

This was a great piece of writing, written at a good pace, on a nice computer, with a touch of sadness shared with the OED council and perhaps a touch of contempt. Oops. My bad. 

Thursday, 16 March 2017

Decades of Decadence

In the 1950s, a woo bop de do wop rolled into town and a tipple named skiffle was the latest craze in the cultural maze. 

In the 1960s, pies go t hip. Man gave service to his lips. DSL was their fuel. Those cats, they spat rhymes. What they lacked for in time, they made up for in crime. 

In the 1970s, the stories became rocks and glitter-glommed and disco-slammed and funk punk stunk and the microphones span.

In the 1980s, the Gospel was Goth and the Good News was Romance for Simple Minds and U2. Indie end the Queen was Dead and the House that Jack Built rocked da house.

In the 1990s, there was a ravelution, a dum de dum de bass and drums, and the trip hopped and the penny dropped and Gays' shoes looked mighty fine.

In the Noughties, the dance-floor was grimey in the discos of Cor Blimey and New New Wave Wave waved at the eighties to see who they could Spotify.


Written January 2016

We are the ocean

I see the ocean.
We are the ocean.

I walk towards the ocean.
We are the ocean.

I sit by the ocean.
We are the ocean.

I dive into the ocean.
We are the ocean.

I drink the ocean.
We are the ocean.

55% - 60% water and a sprinkling of salt.
Saline - Aquine
The potions of the ocean
Make motion.

Tuesday, 21 February 2017

Eyes

Eyes spy with my little eye.
An object beginning with the letter 'X'.

X marks the spot,
between my eyes.

There is only one 'I' in the alphabet.
But a dictionary has countless eyes.
Words staring at us from without,
wanting to get in.
To join our set of options.

Eyes are curious - pupils of reality.

Drinking deep from the well of experience.

Future islands

We are in the trees.
We are the wind and birds and rain.
The vast astonishment created and crafted,
with song and sounds and laughter.

We inhabit future islands.
Places we cannot see yet.
We've been there for a long time.
And yet, we move invisible and resist labels.

The chatter of Babel.
The linearity/normal/conform/crush/enslave.
The command control concentration centre.
These Nazis all around us - pretending they are good.

We've left the wood. It was a false construct.
We are in the trees.
Open up your imagination and you'll see.
The Everything is all around
and yet it's hard to perceive,
when attention is focused on
mind-problems made manifest
in society's attitudes
which conspire to make each other less.

We inhabit future islands.
We are in the trees.
We are in infinite sands
We are in endless seeds.