Summers Sun soaks into my soul, like the sand beneath well travelled feet. August has never passed so quickly, yet it leaves behind a warmth in every memory touched. Day dreams laced with sincerity and colours so sublime, fragments of everything that has ever been and past. I see blue and gold, shapes that [...]]]> Summers Sun soaks into my soul, like the sand beneath well travelled feet. August has never passed so quickly, yet it leaves behind a warmth in every memory touched. Day dreams laced with sincerity and colours so sublime, fragments of everything that has ever been and past. I see blue and gold, shapes that transform the moment consciousness reaches them. A certain feeling of connectedness with spirit, with hope.

Moments fade to be replaced by forms dancing freely around this surrealist place. I wonder what will become of such things as day passes graciously into night. But those concepts of time soon slide away, merging and becoming the rhythmic sound of the shore. Somewhere between the ebbing and flowing of the sea, a secret exists. A secret revealed in the wind, the rain and every ray of sun. They say that understanding can be found in even the smallest grain of sand, the universe manifest as pure potentiality. Blues turn to white, and I realise I’m neither asleep nor awake, instead I drift beyond conscious thought and live amongst dreams.

(29th August 2009)

Note: Living Amongst Dreams is a textual preview of my forthcoming visual art series ‘The Colours of Summer’ (working title), due to be exhibited in October 2009.

In a town where the words just don’t feel the same, I think of dying. White turns to black and back again, in a room where the doors have no purpose or refrain.

Falling down, I feel like I’m flying but I know that the ground will be the last sound that I [...]]]> In a town where the words just don’t feel the same, I think of dying. White turns to black and back again, in a room where the doors have no purpose or refrain.

Falling down, I feel like I’m flying but I know that the ground will be the last sound that I hear. My mind takes me back to a place I used to play, when you and I were just good friends, and we knew nothing of despair.

One day we ran through fields, lost in the moment of the chase, without comprehension of a beginning or an end. Strawberry sundae sunsets collide in a space somewhere inbetween this life and the next. We stop to look up, seeing nothing but the place we have come to call our home.

Stationary clouds shroud a brightly burning sun, weightless in a sky that knows more than we could ever dream. Every blade of yellow-tinted grass sways gently, on the hope of better days to come. But rain will bide its time, waiting for the day the sun turns black.

Alone again, I’m still falling. Please stop me from falling further than before. In this room, in this town where every footprint is covered over by the sand.

(27th August 2009)

It’s thirteen thirty four in the afternoon, and you’ve left me all alone, in a building where the walls hide secrets that lie inside.

There’s a difference in the air, or in your hair, but I guess it doesn’t matter, when you’re floating on your cloud, looking down, at everything you’ve ever loved [...]]]> It’s thirteen thirty four in the afternoon, and you’ve left me all alone, in a building where the walls hide secrets that lie inside.

There’s a difference in the air, or in your hair, but I guess it doesn’t matter, when you’re floating on your cloud, looking down, at everything you’ve ever loved and lost.

It’s true that you should be my queen, but instead you choose not to dream, don’t you know that time will only drain you grey.

If I offered you my hand, and took a walk along the sand, do you think that if I held you, we could go back to being friends.

All the things that went unsaid, and the thoughts inside your head, the first time, I looked deep into your eyes.

And maybe this is fate and something we can’t change, but I’ll tear down time and space, for just as long as it takes to see you face, and tell you that I love you as you are.

(January 2009)

Washed away eyes, and vacant minds pace a distant shore, waiting for fortunes to change. Time seems to have a way of taking our lives away from us, before we’ve had chance to live. But not today. Although my clock reads 15:18, I know that I’m already late. Countless opportunities have been and gone, [...]]]> Washed away eyes, and vacant minds pace a distant shore, waiting for fortunes to change. Time seems to have a way of taking our lives away from us, before we’ve had chance to live. But not today. Although my clock reads 15:18, I know that I’m already late. Countless opportunities have been and gone, far more than I care to remember or recount. They say that a brush with death heightens the senses; maybe I should take more risks, live a little while I still can.

It’s in my dreams that I come face to face with the coldness and finality of death, like a room long forgotten, silence and time roam free. I don’t have all the answers, and just like everyone else I’m struggling to keep afloat and make some sense of this incomprehensible world. I do know that your unquestioning eyes and sincere smile make everything ok in that moment, like medicine for the soul.

Did I ever tell you that I’m in love with you? I wish I could, and we could run away far and free, to somewhere we played when we were young. Words serve no purpose, as swings motion back and forth fleetingly. Speaking seems so unnecessary, so we just sit and live for the moment, reading each others eyes like Shakespeare’s sonnets. Why can life not be like this forever-more? To live in the gap where time and place collide. I guess I just need to share the feeling of empathy. To let go to such a point where we cease to exist as individuals and become just pure experience. Did I tell you I love you?

(April 2008)

If I count to 3, perhaps the pain will go away. This silence is killing me, but it’s not the sounds that I miss. Today was yesterday, and I’m in need of something new. The stars are still shining above my head, but I’m too busy looking down. It seems I should find a [...]]]> If I count to 3, perhaps the pain will go away. This silence is killing me, but it’s not the sounds that I miss. Today was yesterday, and I’m in need of something new. The stars are still shining above my head, but I’m too busy looking down. It seems I should find a place to dream.

If there were no stars hanging in the sky, would we still look up in wonderment? If you kissed me on this winters night, would I ever wake? And now that I see clearly, and know what lies behind your glaze, I wonder if you really see, what it is that makes me fall.

(February 2004)

As I press keys on my keyboard, words appear, spelling out my insecurities like a Polaroid from years gone by. I painted a picture the other day, it’s facing me now, as if it had it’s own thoughts and preoccupations. I stare blankly back, looking past the layers of oil to the bareness of [...]]]> As I press keys on my keyboard, words appear, spelling out my insecurities like a Polaroid from years gone by. I painted a picture the other day, it’s facing me now, as if it had it’s own thoughts and preoccupations. I stare blankly back, looking past the layers of oil to the bareness of canvas which holds the image together. The more I look, the more I feel myself falling into the captivating emptiness that peers so painfully out into my soul. This subtle yet immensely powerful communication offers me understanding, a fragment of comprehension about the nature of my life. To me being an artist isn’t about art, it’s about being. This moment, this feeling, this is my art.

(April 2004)

What really matters? Sitting here monotonously chewing gum, looking past an empty reflection of myself in the monitor. Is it the words that I write, or the smile that they bring? I turn on TV, and see images of horror paraded like a carnival for the waiting public, and it doesn’t matter how much [...]]]> What really matters? Sitting here monotonously chewing gum, looking past an empty reflection of myself in the monitor. Is it the words that I write, or the smile that they bring? I turn on TV, and see images of horror paraded like a carnival for the waiting public, and it doesn’t matter how much they denounce it, it doesn’t matter how many times they tell me it’s a terrible thing- the expressions are permanently etched in my mind. I need a space to think, away from the microscopic analysis of docu-drama news, away from my own thoughts, and away from this world of self alienating destruction. [stop] and then I heard a voice. Low and distant at first, but the exquisite notes reached me somehow, somewhere, and I knew there and then that I was not alone.

(April 2004)

Walking through another blackened wall, my thoughts crash against the mortar that’s holding me together today. My eyes are open wide, but the darkness is drowning me again, flooding my vision with discarded images, like a photo album time forgot. But it’s ok, really I’m ok. Tomorrow is only a day away.

(April 2004)

A copper moon falls from the sky, like a blackbird unbalanced by the wind. I breathe in this polluted air, thick with lies and resentment, a cloud of disruptive gloom hanging over my heart. -pause pause- I wait a moment for the pulse to catch up with my wandering thoughts, a cyclone of ideas [...]]]> A copper moon falls from the sky, like a blackbird unbalanced by the wind. I breathe in this polluted air, thick with lies and resentment, a cloud of disruptive gloom hanging over my heart. -pause pause- I wait a moment for the pulse to catch up with my wandering thoughts, a cyclone of ideas washing my soul ashore, battered and broken, and longing for the sun once again. -pause pause- partially submerged, I stretch out towards salvation, but only glimpse a look of despair. -stop stop- the sea can’t wash this delicate smile from my face, broken I am, but that only makes me more determined. Fuck your negativity and fuck your awkward smiles, this time I’m not dying in your arms.

(May 2004)

This smile can’t hide my broken memory, as the light bulb flickers in the corner of my darkened room. I’m still here but but people keep on walking by, a hint a invisibility, and my mind wanders to another place another time. When I awake, my eyes burn with a deep restrictive glow, a [...]]]> This smile can’t hide my broken memory, as the light bulb flickers in the corner of my darkened room. I’m still here but but people keep on walking by, a hint a invisibility, and my mind wanders to another place another time. When I awake, my eyes burn with a deep restrictive glow, a symptom of this modern paranoia, a symptom of my delusional self. I reach out to make sense of my new surroundings but my sense of touch has faded to a dull thud. As my anxiety begins to intoxicate me, as I look towards the floor for a semblance of orientation, but all I see are stars. An array of lights spinning below me, out of control yet in total equilibrium. This is a vision. This is my vision.

(May 2004)