BlackBillBlake's Writings.

[BlackBillBlake]

I thought I'd put my stuff all in one thread for covenience. I'll be adding more as time goes on....please do feel free to comment/criricise!



Awakening Memory.



I am hardly aware of my surroundings yet. There is a kind of resonance, like waves of silence, rising and falling sounds ,but sounds impossible to describe moving in and around my head, above, below and surging through the very matrix of the body itself. And in truth, there is no solid ‘I’ who is hardly aware, but something like a crowd of potentialities, all seeking to emerge as that ‘I’ when the surroundings become clear.

At least, there seems to be nothing extreme or threatening in this place, that is insofar as the as yet limited perceptions are concerned. There is a tension for a moment, but I know I’m here again. I get up, and soon I am seated before hot tea, observing the rather dense grey of May clouds through netted window.

The universe then, consists of a series of domains of perception and their respective ranges of emanatory transformation, experienced via the perceptual configuration proper to the position within these domains and ranges of the percipient. The lower ranges of H-domain, of unconscious matter represent one end of the scale – at the zenith is the transcendent yet perfectly manifest being of the Macro-cosmic empathic agent.

The folks up there say yes. That was the feeling I had, although it was more than a feeling. Within a cycle or set of cycles of action, a point of completion or completedness is coalescing, taking form. In effect, it is done, but the terms of completion of the cycle are non-linear, and hence the action continues here, a mixture of the old and the new, the higher and the lower, the bound and the free. The results of both sets of conditions seem to spiral about the point of their completion.

We can conceive of a set of elements coming together to form a new fusion which is greater than themselves

.Here, a thing already complete in itself unwinds into its constituent elements, but the completedness is never lost and the elements themselves are but its manifest reflections. Both processes work at once.

If the pieces fit, the picture is formed, gradually taking shape, inevitable result of its own intrinsic patterning.

[BlackBillBlake]

Ghoul and Hobgoblin.



In Adrian’s mind all was far from tranquil. The universe is unstable. The more one struggles the more the energies become entangled. Nothing. Constant tansformation and fixed perspective – except – there is no existing yesterday. Existence coalescing into the randomness. All energy in head-rushes. I, ‘it’ needs must adapt.

Hardly aware, yes that was the feeling. Within a rising, falling sound, a point of completion. It is done, but at the very term of the matrix of the non-linear, hence there is no solid mixture of the old, but something like a lover seeking to emerge as the condition; to become clear completedness.
When you yourself invite the predator, then you must expect to get bitten. The predator feeds on such foolishness that thinks it can evade him by making an open display. He watches in the quiet shadows, awaiting the moment – a moment of hesitation, a moment of self-important indignation, the sentence that falls flat as the fool enthuses over how he has escaped the predator, he is protected, or that there is no predator, nor ever was.

The predator allows himself no grim silent smile as he moves in on an easy kill. The prey now exposed, in the open, vulnerable, far from cover.

A ripple of something heavy, alien yet somehow strangely familiar sweeps like a wave of rising panic through the scene. Glassy eyed and satiated, the predator is alone now in a dim grey waste. He has consumed the entirety of the universe as it was manifested to your perception, as you thought you saw it before you gained knowledge of the predator. He has consumed you, your awareness. And now although it still seems real enough it is only a kind of echo-world that exists. A world of replicant cosmic phenomena. Only within the assimilative mechanisms inside the body of the predator, as an alien glow, lending its half-light to other half-lights that half illuminate to the predator his own thoughts, his own continuation and memory. If he fails to kill, he falls, spent. Identity crumbles as the little lights that once were worlds blink out one by one. He becomes more dangerous then, totally unpredictable. Blind. Unable to know his own thought, any thought. All collapses into a chaos of unconscious and unquenchable hunger.

But now he sits and falls to fashioning a new divining stick. Once the stick is sharpened to a fine point, and the characters etched onto the shaft, he will find a pool of the foul, brackish water that collects in hollows here and there among the grey rocks that surround him.

Thrusting the rod into the pool, focused deeply on his hunters sense and instinct, he catches in the shining surface of the waters the image of the next prey. He trusts in the rod always to find the one who is ready….Quickly, the predator constructs a facsimile world, ready to replace the one he is about to consume forever, so close in appearance to that of the selected world as to be indistinguishable to all but the true adepts. He enters bodily into this facsimile world, harmonizing his appearance like a chameleon, with the surrounding hyper-reality. Walking the paths of the shadows he comes to the selected one in his secret house…

[BlackBillBlake]

Adrian’s Thoughts – a randomized sample.



The truth is that I was let down by my educators. Effectively, I learned very little that was to be of any use to me in life, except the basics of the humanities. That, at least I absorbed. And that’s how I became what I am to-day, an outsider, one with no functionality for the world at large.

There was a mould, and like the bed of Procrustes, all were to be fitted to it. The mould, they assured me later on, after I’d become rebellious, could not be changed to suit the individual. I doubted the universality of this mould of theirs, this template.

The shape my future was to take was not projected along lines that suited the nature, which was that of a sensitive and thoughtful child, given to dreams. My custodians saw something unreal. A universal template, a false world presented as the one reality.

I resigned. I ran. I was caught, snared , returned. Again I ran and was pulled down, distorted, changed. Made oblivious to my own true feeling, my own true self by the abrasions and the shocks. I was left with the streets, the bottle, a craving for drugs, sex and some not yet to be conceived apotheosis that I dared hope for in my still only three-quarter conscious state.



Custodians saw something, same old problem template. I resigned, driven by instinct, warped by my own true feelings, the mentalization of those abrasions and shocks. Machines to the streets! The bottle - damage. Looks like a quarter-conscious state. Back to the jungle.

An ‘educator’ effectively never seen previously. The basics of an outstretched hand, the shape of which, on personal grounds, was not projected alone. Thoughtful child given book with little ability.

Words were scattered abrasions and shocks, shower of rain through the streets, the bottle, the dying sun.

A higher mind descending as from a star itself had come. I leaned back, always back, into me in life, in the dim valley.

Darkness was a lie.

There!

Me, later on after I ‘d….

Was a lie.

Like a lover…..fields in the quiet she dared to hope for in a moment of quiet conscious state.

Here on earth my future was to take human species along lines that suited That in the being of now.

In memory, identity is descending as from a dangerous cone. Child given book of sand. I can assume the words were shit. There was assent. No-can, it seems….Hardly aware – yes, in the dim valley, edge of within. My discourse claiming constant rain. I doubted nothing at all.



‘No bomb in kif. No need for bomb. Plants will win in the end! Begin with plants, end with plants. No need resort to such measures’.



‘Magic – the action or manifestation of a higher or an occult force within the field of the ordinary consciousness’

[BlackBillBlake]

Denton’s Fears.



‘We can only assume that the world is going flat, and the human speices, as least so far as the masses are concerned, are undergoing a process of de-mentalization. By this I mean that the mental element in the psychic make-up of the human being, the evolution of which separated man from less developed primate forms is being lost’

Denton paused, letting the impact of his words sink in. In a grave tone he continued: ‘lost, or else indeed, withdrawn. What I am suggesting here is that from the viewpoint of a higher consciousness seeking to evolve life here on earth harmoniously, the mental evolution of the human speices has been an error, a mistake that is now being redressed’.

‘Well, it seems all this lot can do is mass produce endless copies of the same old problem types, and they’re just driven by instinct – or warped instinct’ Adrian looked a little uncomfortable.

‘Exactly! Warped by the mind, or by the mentalization of those ‘instinctual influences’. They’re basically machines to eat, shit, fuck, fight and damage their irreplaceable environment – the very thing that gave them life and now sustains them’

‘You could be right. And now in the west it looks like a reversion is setting in; back to the jungle! But it’s a concrete jungle, so I suppose its what they’re adapted to’

Denton went on ‘ And yet not all are affected. A small minority seem capable of continuing the flow of human history towards some kind of goal’

‘Shit Denton! I have to say that this is dark stuff, but it does ring a bell. What can be done do you think? The idea of all these mindless and aggressive over-grown freaks running round isn’t very appealing – maybe we need to start rounding them up’?

Denton smiled. ‘Certainly I think they should build more prisons. I fear they’re going to be needed’

[BlackBillBlake]

Something more lighthearted.........


The Strangers: a romance.



They walked down to the old hotel
The skies were raining but you couldn’t tell
They were not a part of the scene in that way
They were there but somehow far away…..
They kicked open the green swing doors
The piano player held an F minor chord
At the corner-table card game all the aces died
The people at the bar slowly move aside.
They stepped up to the counter bar
Said ‘We’d like a room with en suite shower’
But the bartender just stood and stared
While Mary-Lou sidled over there
Saying ‘Howdy strangers, like to buy a girl a drink’?
But by now the bartender had had time to think
So he handed them the keys and the book to sign
One said ‘can’t you see I’m an androgyne?’
‘Well I don’t even know what that means’
said Mary-Lou while her dark eyes gleamed.
‘But what are you boys doin’ in a town like this?’
The other one said ‘ oh god!she’s pissed!’
They turned their backs and climbed the stairs
Mary-Lou just stood and stared
She’d be dogoned if she cared
But something in his voice had got to her.
They opened the door and went inside
Then they stripped down to their naked hides
They climbed on the bed and had alien sex
Said the one called Joe ‘I love you Tex’.
Now Tex at that time was in the female form
But soon she’d revert to the neutral one
Then she’d become a he and Joe his female mate
And the cycle went on night after night.
One time they got seen in a hotel room
By a maid who ran to Sheriff Bloom
Crying ‘Sheriff! They ain’t natural creatures
I seen with my own eyes their changing genital features’!
Now Sheriff Bloom took a deputy along
But by the time they arrived the strangers were gone
And they didn’t leave behind a single clue
And there wasn’t a thing that old sheriff could do.
The plan was to rendevous with their ship
At the landing site near a crater’s lip
In the stoney desert at a sacred place
Known only to the Indians of an ancient race
They called them friends and the reason why
Was they knew these were people from the sky,
And they told those Indians secret things
In songs those Indians still sing.
But back in town they had business too
They’d a job on the human race to do
So they dressed and continued analysing the data
Till Joe said ‘I’ll see you at the crater’.
He walked down to the bar and up to Mary-Lou
Said ‘come with me, I’ll show you a thing or two’
So they went up to Mary’s perfumed room
He said ‘I’m going to implant a new race in your womb
A higher race than the human kind
And you’ll be mother to them all, isn’t that fine’?
She didn’t really understand but she’d taken a shine
To this particular androgyne.
Soon it was done – she moaned with pleasure
Said ‘this is a moment I’ll always treasure.
Just to think! A new race will spring from my womb
He said ‘they’ll grow up fast and breed quite soon,
And the human life-stream will slowly change
Though the changes may at first seem strange.
In the end our purpose will be clear
And it will all be thanks to you my dear’.
He dressed again and said goodbye
Mary-Lou just looked and sighed
She looked so sexy in her black silk slip
Then the strangers flew away in their spaceship.

[BlackBillBlake]

I've posted this before in the poetry forum, but it was well received, so I'll put it in here too.


John Lennon Airport.



Flying into John Lennon airport
Above us only sky
Flying into John Lennon airport
Like lucy with diamonds flying high
Flying into John Lennon airport
Getting back where I once belonged
Flying into John Lennon airport
Singing only a northern song

It was in an airport
So I’ve read
Bob Dylan introduced marijuana
To your head
Then a dentist
Gave you LSD
Leary said you were a saint
As far as he could see
Will they re-name an airport now
For leary?
You wrote so many songs to please us
Maybe you were bigger than Jesus.

Flying into John Lennon airport
Still kicking Edgar Allen Poe
Flying into John Lennon airport
Maybe one day I could meet Yoko
Flying into John Lennon airport
Relax and float downstream
Flying into John Lennon airport
Dreaming my no.9 dream
Flying into John Lennon airport
What chance revolution now?
Flying into John Lennon airport
You were right about evolution somehow
Flying into John Lennon airport
Sent back your OBE
Flying into John Lennon airport
Like you said you got to be free
Flying into John Lennon airport
Yeah I got my ticket to ride
Flying into John Lennon airport
Flying now inside
Flying into John Lennon airport
Giving peace a chance
Flying into John Lennon airport
Unfolding spirit dance
Flying into John Lennon airport
Here comes the sun
Flying into John Lennon airport
Cold turkey’s on the run
Flying into John Lennon airport
Nah no-one in my tree
Flying into John Lennon airport
On the tarmac the blue meanies wait for me.

[BlackBillBlake]

Our Equivocation Led Us.



Our equivocation led us. Levelling all, looking into the abyss of utter defeat. The prize, the great prize was ours; the word’s anhililation. There is no war. There was assent. No court, no prison; our advance was but you. The twilight is a lie.

And so we turned to depths of the word, the burgeoning word, to find that the war was won. And for the victors? Out like a candle. The war gone to sleep. Invalid, and in truth, the war rages on. Probably a cowboy way out. Rome was the prize. The inrush of darkness is a lie. Depopulated my discourses, claiming the cold desert. No bread and almost constant rain. The ground is quietly, hardly nothing at all.

The half-light of their usual lives shows the predator at war. Unpredictable blind endless browns and greys. Should not dissolve it now before you get to the way of sand? I can assume all that exists, take it in with the inrush. The army has gone back. They were told the war was their own thoughts. It was printed there in memory. Identity is a waste, de-populated and dangerous.

Hardly aware of castles here on the edge of within. You must let me see a completion. The beach is level once more, it is the day of the high tide, of the matrix. Is no solid mix. Gone to sleep. My conscript like a lover. The predator feeds in the bitter fields, in the quiet shade. There is no other moment. A moment of roads, but only one passenger.