I thought the world gone crazy. Inner voice said I was wrong.

I sometimes try to listen. Sometimes I try to be that strong.

‘There’s a movement without leaders. They want what they can’t be.

They use the web and ignorance. No sense that they can see.

Some people just love danger. Like the Joker, they do yearn…

To take away the beauty, and see how the world will burn.

The mood was psychedelic.

The vibe was out of mind.

There were smiles and some nudity.

Not a road map for the blind.

The enchanted were enlightened.

The trip was great beyond.

The Guru’s all kept taking turns.

At the moaning groaning blonde.

There were feelings of forever.

You just knew it couldn’t last.

There’s a lesson to be learned I’m sure.

All just memories of the past.

The ‘wise one’ told me that I have to learn detachment. Which is an art of separation from the emotional baggage of others

This should be fun…

Someone, not me said “No one is hated more than he who tells the truth.”

I have always called people on their bullshit, which means: I Am Difficult.

I think this part of my life is over because I don’t really care anymore who believes what.

I am now entering a new phase of silence and solitude. These are early days and I suspect there will be growing pains.

Marcus wrote, ‘When you arise in the morning think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive-to breathe, to think, to enjoy and to love. ‘

Now there’s a meditation.

It might be important to note that Mr Aurelius was the last of what was considered to be in Rome…

‘The 5 Good Emporers. ‘ A period of about 200 years that ended in 180 A.D.

Marcus was also a Stoic Philosopher.

The Edges lifted slowly.

Saw something in their eyes.

They were choosing words so carefully.

Building manufactured lies.

I was less than loose and goosy.

And more than just a breeze.

I was feeling cruel and dangerous.

With a glare not meant to please.

They were nervous from the get go.

I was feeling filthy right.

And left them in their misery.

To contemplate their plight.

It started out as leisure.

Just a story with a name.

Just a dirty little poem.

With no guilt that wasn’t shame.

Then there was the paintings.

Looked like something maybe art.

Then a thought became a film.

Just no stopping once we start.

Was a murmur from a choir.

And a voice that rattled hymn.

From a note that just got higher.

In a light that knew no dim.

In the moments that were awkward.

I learned to listen and looked to see.

Saw the living and breathed spirits.

You can’t guess which one is free.

I am reading again… Savage Art, a biography about Jim Thompson, the author of The Killer Inside Me & The Grifters.

Here’s a quote:

“There are 32 ways to tell a story, and I’ve used them all. There’s only one plot. Things are not as they seem.”

Brilliant Mr Thompson!