Poetry/Prose Gavin Bourke

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE: GAVIN BOURKE

Gavin Bourke grew up in the suburb of Tallaght in West Dublin. Married to Annemarie living in County Meath, he holds a B.A. in Humanities from Dublin City University, an M.A. Degree in Modern Drama Studies and a Higher Diploma in Information Studies from University College Dublin. His work broadly covers nature, time, memory, addiction, mental health, human relationships, the inner and outer life, creating meaning and purpose, politics, contemporary and historical social issues, injustice, the human situation, power and its abuse, absurdism, existentialisms, human psychology, cognition, emotion and behaviour, truth and deception, the sociological imagination, illness, socio-economics, disability, inclusivity, human life, selfishness and its consequences as well as urban and rural life, personal autonomy, ethics, commerce, science, grand schemes and the technological life in English and to a lesser extent in the Irish Language.

He was shortlisted for The Redline Book Festival Poetry Award in 2016 for A Rural Funeral. Unanswered Call was published in the September 2019 issue of Crossways Literary Magazine. Sword Damocles, Falling was published in the October issue of A New Ulster in 2019. He was invited to read at the Siarsceál Literary Festival in October 2019. Louisburgh, County Memory was highly commended in The Johnathon Swift Creative Writing Awards 2019. Our Tree and Getting On were published in Qutub Minar Review International Literary Journal in 2019.

His first book of poetry (sixty pages) was shortlisted for the International Hedgehog Poetry Press (UK) Full Fat Collection Poetry Competition in 2019. The Power in Abuse, Beyond Bone, While the Jackdaws Watch On and Fair Trade were published in 2019 in A New Ulster. He won the international Nicely Folded Paper Trois International Poetry Collection Competition in 2020 for his book Towards Human which will be published by Hedgehog Poetry Press (UK) in 2022 worldwide.

The Past is Present Tense, Transcending Mind Movements, The Breaking Waters of Catharsis, The Never Heard and The Death of The Shepherd were published in the Decade Edition of A New Ulster in 2019. Aloneness, Underneath A Wicker Cross, A Life in Our Times and At Mercies featured in the April 2020 issue of A New Ulster. Shivered featured in A New Ulster in Spring 2020. A Rural Funeral was published in the U.S. literary journal Writers in the Know in 2020. Before and After Johnathan Swift Was Born, Malaises, My New Eyes, Turning Corners and The Mornings After Admission were published in A New Ulster in 2020. A Life in A Time was published in the U.S.

journal Tiny Seed Literary Journal in 2020.

The End of Their Affair and Beyond Bone, While the Jackdaws Watch On (2020 Version) were published in Poesis Literary Journal as well as In the Dead Heat in July 2020. Dream of Consciousness was published in E-Ratio Postmodern literary Journal in 2020. A Mourning Burial, Through the Rain and several other poems were published in Prachya Review Bangladesh 2020. The End of Their Affair and The Past Coming Through to The Present Moment were published in Qutub Minar Review in 2020. Before Love Was Legal was longlisted for the Ken Saro-Wiwa Poetry Award in July 2020 and was featured in a Maynooth University anthology published in November 2020. Off Life-Support was published in an anthology created by the Siarscéal Literary Festival 2020. His third poetry collection Answered Call (81 Pages) was shortlisted for The Hedgehog Poetry Press (UK) Selected or Neglected International Poetry Collection Competition in May 2020. Dreaming in The Liminal and What If were published in Poesis International Literary Journal in autumn 2020. Looking for An Eye in The Sun was published in Chiron Review November 2020. Anew was published in Iris Literary Journal in Texas U.S in 2020. Travelling Community and Eye Opening were published in Qutub Minar Review International Literary Journal in 2020.

In the Dead Heat, The Slowest Walk, Dreaming in The Liminal and Our Child were published in Poesis Literary Journal in 2020. Rhapsody for The Future was published in Writers in The Know Minneapolis, Minnesota, U.S. 2020. Rhapsody for The Future was published in October Hill Literary Journal New York City in October 2020. Sea Change was published in Litterateur Defining World literary journal in India in September 2020.

Aloneness was published in the American Literary Journal Brief Wilderness in September 2020. Rhapsody for The Future was published in Writers in The Know, U.S. 2020. Cut with Blunt Knaves and Inflow appeared in The NonConformist Magazine in September 2020. His ninety-page manuscript Anew has been accepted for publication by Atmosphere Press as well as his manuscript What If? in North America for publication in 2022 worldwide. Towards the Headlights, As the Evening Fell and Dovetailing were published in Poesis Journal in Autumn 2020.

Eyes Gone Black was published in From Whispers to Roars Literary Journal, An Arts and Literary Magazine 2020. As the Evening Fell appeared in Tiny Seed Journal, U.S. The Heavy Weight Champion and Crow Lives On were published in The Non-Conformist 2020. Cut with Blunt Knaves, Inflow and Broken Dolls appear in the Autumn Edition of the U.S. literary journal Harbinger Asylum 2020. Was So Sudden was published in The Non-Conformist Magazine, U.S., December 2020. Purely Malignant, What If, Overhead and Dreaming in The Liminal were published in A New Ulster in 2020. Living with Death was published in The Non-conformist in Autumn 2020.

He was shortlisted and subsequently commended in the Jonathan Swift International Creative Writing Awards for The Night She Held My Hand in October 2020. Enduring Beasts was published in the U.S. Journal Shift A Journal of Literary Oddities 2020. His epic poem (Eight Pages) Unremarkable was awarded a place for the Proverse International Poetry Prize Hong Kong 2020 and is published in a university anthology in China, published April 2021. Dublin is Here A thirteen-page epic poem is published in Modern Literature in India.

Gavin was highly commended and awarded second place for an unpublished manuscript in the Hedgehog Poetry Press (UK), Local Dialects International Poetry Manuscript Competition in November 2020. Confucius For King was published by Litterateur Defining World in India in November 2020. Still Birth was published in Poets Choice India in 2021. Two Way Mirror, The Lighthouse, on The Green, Rain at Night, The End of The Summer, How to Be?

and Let the Day Begin were published in Modern Literature in India 2021.

The Most Brazen Wins was published by Harbinger Asylum Press (U.S.) in 2021. Hadn’t Noticed the Birds for Years was published in Autumn 2020 in Wingless Dreamer (U.K.) and was a finalist for their International Poetry Award 2020. Endless was published by La Piccioletta Barca in February 2021. First Tour featured in Better Than Starbucks in February 2021. The Night She Held My Hand was published in Writers in The Know Minneapolis, U.S. in 2021. Living with Death was published in The Non-Conformist, 2021. Late in The Day was published in The Non-Conformist 2021. Mirroring in Time’s Eyes and Continuums were published in Poesis 2021. Morrison Archetype was published in October Hill Literary Journal New York City in February 2021. Gavin was shortlisted for a single poem international poetry contest with Hedgehog Poetry Press UK 2021. Crossed Lines, Looking Back, Bone Dead and Soon Gone and A Meeting with The Riverman were published in A New Ulster 2021. To See If I Was Alive was published by South Dakota State Poetry Society in February 2021.

He had the following poems published in Modern Literature India, 2021, So I Shot Myself in The Face, A Snapshot and Delicious Apple Tarts. His poetry was selected for Rattle poetry critique of the month twice, livestreamed in March 2021 and October 2021 (United States) Through Drying Eyes was published on the blog for WINK Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States in 2021. When the Healing Begins, To That End and Covered were published in Poesis Literary Journal (U.S.) in Summer 2021. He was a semi-finalist in Tatterhood Review (U.S.) International Poetry Competition in March 2021.

I Dreamt of Clocks and Open Door to the Dreamworld were published by Poesis (U.S.) 2021. Before and Defaulted are published in The Hong Kong Review in the current issue 2021. Rhapsody for the Future, Purely Malignant and The Prettiest Little Things were published by Aura Literary Arts U.S. in 2021. Childhood Watersheds was published in Poet’s Choice India in Spring 2021. The Writer, So I Shot myself in the Face, A Snapshot, Mattress Mick and Inhuman were published in A New Ulster in 2021. I Took the Train Today was published in The Meath Chronicle in April 2021. Working A Shipwreck was published in the The Seattle Star, (U.S) 2021.

At The Edge was published in Harbinger Asylum (U.S.) 2021. A Disused Railway Line in Navan Town was published twice in The Meath Chronicle in May 2021. Gavin was a semi-finalist in The Button Eye Review (U.S.) international winter poetry contest in May 2021. The Spectacular Spire, Black Art, Treasure Chest, The Wonders of Weaving, Sawn, Your First Summer’s Love, Between the Lights, Down Memory Street and My husband Had A Miscarriage were published in the U.S. poetry journal Poesis in 2021.

At The Tallaght Parade was published in the Echo Newspaper in June 2021. He was shortlisted for the Wingless Dreamer International Poetry Competition June 2021 for Broken Dolls. His poetry features in the current issue of Chiron Review, New Haven (U.S.) Your Right To Live is currently published on the WINK blog Minneapolis, Minnesota, (U.S) Private Oratories, The Getaway Lake and Lakeside and back and The Sound of Bereavement were published in Poesis Literary Journal (U.S.) 2021. He will have a forty-poem collection published in India in 2022 for worldwide distribution.

He featured as a spotlight artist with Aura Literary Journal in Autumn 2021 (U.S.) The Sacred Hill of Tara was published in The Meath Chronicle in Summer 2021. Because the Night Was Over was published by Wingless Dreamer in 2021 in an anthology. (U.K.) Times and Time and Covered were published by Sortes Magazine, Philadelphia U.S. in 2021. A Genuine Hector Quine, Stuck for Now, Revolutions of a Cycle, Memories Matter, One

Summer Evening at Donaghmore Church and Round Tower, Seaside, Private Oratories and Lakeside and Back will be published by Poesis International Literary Journal (U.S.) in 2022. Molly Malone: A Dublin Statue Poem was published in Poets Choice, India, 2021. Addiction is an Illness, In Darkness, Down by The Ramparts, Anna Livia’s Home and Alternative Life were published in A New Ulster 2021.

Mobile Home and Vacancy for A Lighthouse Keeper were published in Poesis International Literary Journal (U.S) in 2021. Poolside was published by Wingless Dreamer (UK) in 2021. Long poems Getting Through and Other Sides were published by White Wall Review, Toronto, Canada in 2021. Upon the Sword of Change an epic poem was acted and performed as part of the No Bars Community Project Competition, Leicester (UK) for poetry on the theme of incarceration and is now available on Instagram and was published in an anthology in September/October 2021 available for purchase on Amazon worldwide. The Apex of Never, Sea Saws and Mirroring in Time Eyes were published in Poesis Literary Journal (United States) 2021. An Autumn Evening in Navan was published in September in The Meath Chronicle. It is currently published on the Meath Chronicle Website. He is currently awarded a place in a major international poetry competition based in China for his poem The Tusk which will feature in an international anthology in 2022 published in China.

Gavin was a finalist of the Dream Stones of Summer Writing Contest 2021 with Wingless Dreamer (UK) for his poem Poolside. One Autumn Evening in Navan, A Night Away and To the End will be published by Poesis International Literary Journal in 2022. Times and Time and Tires were published in the most recent issue of Sortes Literary Journal, Philadelphia, USA, they were also read by the editor at the launch event in October 2021.

His poems One Autumn Evening in Navan and Closest to her Heart will be published by Poesis Literary Journal in 2022. He is currently a semi-finalist in a major international literary competition based in China, for his full-length poetry collection manuscript (145 Pages) ‘Evangelical Heart’. He was shortlisted and subsequently Commended for The Johnathon Swift International Poetry Award for his poem When He Went In. He was shortlisted and subsequently Highly Commended for The Manchester Irish Language Group Poetry Competition 2021 for his poem in the Irish Language Ár Dubh Linn, Ár Baile Átha Cliath. His poem In The Company of a Clock will be published by Flat Brush Review (U.S.) in 2021. On the Nightshift is published in an anthology published by Wingless Dreamer as is Bonfire Night. The Constant Candle and The Duke of Somewhere were both published by Wingless Dreamer, India in Winter 2021 in separate anthologies. Today, Happenings and Waiting for Words were published in A New Ulster in December 2021. Christmas is Coming to Navan was published in the special Christmas Edition of The Meath Chronicle in December 2021. Paltry Trade will be published by Writers in The Know, Minneapolis, Minnesota in Spring 2022.

He is currently working on his tenth poetry collection. Gavin is also a multi-instrumentalist and has been a songwriter, composer and guitar teacher for the past thirty years. He plays Classical/Spanish guitar, acousticelectric guitar, bass guitar, jazz guitar, electric lead guitar, banjo and bouzouki. He has written songs, music and lyrics, recorded albums, collaborated with many musicians and songwriters and has performed in venues all over Dublin. He begins an M.A. Degree in Philosophy in 2022.

13

After Hemlock

Post-partum conium maculatum, dived deep through the noise

and rope twisting around the bloody veins like vines

jagged-edged thorns piercing myelin sheaths

poison was not the cure for the poison I never took

that done away with Socrates after tea

black leaves on wet cement

feathers and pain drawn deep into the palest skin with the blackest ink

never ending hair of the dog, unending detoxification, played games with fire

strangers ran from the overtures so horrific, the Medusa resemblance

crab fishing baskets, dead eyes full of black holes disappearing into tunnels

leading to Hades depicted in The Phaedra

the dead shall have their day eventually

the gall of impotent fashion-doll heads

the arrogance flushed down drains

empty bus-shelters, fresh sharps and needles, the seagulls started to die

lay down flat in the streets like geese or swans

regurgitating dead fish-heads in the skies raining blackbirds

snuffed out the candle with two wet fingers

stitched the portholes with nautical clocks and stories of drowned sailors

was the blackest of says today

held the cartridge of black ink to the village lantern until it turned dark blue

threw the dogs to the wolves

to leave in bad circumstances for stealing the light from the brightest eyes

heard the dark notes first in the old concrete driveway of a small house

the downy feathers made their own way through the synthetic material

along with the pungent smell of hand gel

the alcohol, the ethanol cleansing the skin of plague juice and endless words

projection, diversion and wilful transference to hide morbidly selfish rage

stabbing pages madly with fountain pens

exercises in futility, carefully curating self-images

hiding and running from cruel reality unsuccessfully with filtered bias

finding meaning and purpose in among the ashes of burned down houses

pig iron melting with karma’s promises the veins bleeding blue ink in drops

to be dragged from the heart to the split silver metal nib

pouring species and energy into rainbows, mirrors, gravestones

reflective surfaces and raindrops

the black dogs hang by their necks on clotheslines

boar’s heads bloodied from barbwire headaches praying for a luxury death

with no taste to follow or come before

the shaken ink, stains the fingers giving life after metaphorical death

cathartic, varicose, watching the skeletal survive and thrive

poured like iron ore back into foundries

to be refreshed in the cold and the ice

rolled in allergic vermin, the dead flesh akin to hemlock tea

to the mice, rats and mindless carrion lacking choice, will or consciousness

sabotage by bitter will, controlled by evil and hatred, delusion, hallucination

and the dark arts of treatment resistant derangement

stitched the words with hemlock instead of the suicide tea

for which there is no known cure

plenty of time to walk the funeral fields with the dead and dying

dragging the carcasses.

So, it is preferable to practice living well

for as long as possible

there is plenty of time to be dead

life is not a waste of time, life is time, time is life

we cannot conceive of anything, including life unless we are alive and conscious

and functioning well

with contentment and happiness as our goals as well as love for our fellow humans

came out of the crack

behind the closed and open eyes that lead to the heart and soul

the shadows on the blinds resembling doves and kind soft shapes

white, soft shaded out lines

the music dictated the moods

you can only tell black from blue and blue from black

when they are side by side

people are afraid of consciousness

the undulating ebb and tide-like flow, behaves like water

unpredictable, uncontrollable, unfettered

glorious and wonderful

the truest essence of being, living and breathing

wondrous consciousness married to time’s inexorable forward movement

seeking alignment of all possible clock movements

for unity of time and purpose

moments and meaning

making perfect sense

to begin living with, living for others as well

wiring more than money globally

for higher purposes than simply

selfish patterns of conspicuous consumption

as a methodology of existing on a continuum which will end

at some point in your own time in time

concluding the individual experience of your lifetime somewhere or anywhere

let go from the perimeters of nothingness as before

to the eternal bliss and utopia of being without an existence in spatial terms

as a conscious living entity on land or water

there being no need to understand death to appreciate the great gift of life

and the beautiful experience of living

enjoying the freedom where freedom exists

to be on your own terms

witnessing personally, the autonomy of the self for the greater good

careful of the requirements of ecosystems as curators of the planets and moons

suns and solar systems

during our anthropological duration here

wherever here is

whatever now is

fundamental concerns and questions require sufficient answers

maximising the light through the pupils, irises, beams through cracks

holes and tears in darkness in black walls of the opaque and impenetrable

to release the tension of the real

for comfort with the human scenarios and situation overall

loosening the taut, tense, tungsten wire often rattling to reveal

pure unadulterated showers of golden light to be savoured

best to live life in the light as opposed to the dark

requiring a shift or change in perspective or perception

for ultimate harmony

of minds, bodies, hearts and souls

to attain the highest most optimum position possible in time

the programming that has taken place to have taken what we are this far

is anything real, therefore?

Flirted with the shadows to get higher than high as if high was not enough

it never is

laws of diminishing returns

where is God in all of this?

Pictures worth thousands of words.

(GAVIN BOURKE)

Writing Time

The power in the process, withdrew the negatives to find the space where I can do magic

the positive version, the best outcome for reality where the light is

black in white, white in black, black in black, white in white, parallel with sensation

eyes, vision, perception, reality, have to compare it to something for contrast and comparison

always has to be a frame filtered by time, rain or water the giver of life

the needle-prick for a new-born to test reality in the first tears, waited for a flurry or run

into the nightlights from the mind and heart to the pen, the words forming first, the sounds

followed by the sentences, opened a hole for the eye to see through and through again

a gateway to transcendency, the place where everything flows perfectly, organically

as if meant to be, the zone where it all falls into place, to step back from life

to do something extraordinary, buds, flowers, leaves, trees, symbols of nature in action

metaphors for generative force in motion, turning hurt inside out to face the warm wind

to interact, to create a balanced beneficial interplay, creating time out of time

it connected with people because it was real, because it happened, because it is history

part of memory, I wonder will I ever feel it again for the first time, chasing dragons

escapees of the mind, of the past, of consciousness, now merely phenomena

out of the eye of the mind, sunshine, sand and seashells, time that never stood still

despite pleas to a god or the heavens, running out of the bright lights of younger years

disappearing like dust from a palm, dandelion flowers floating around on gentle breezes

prescribed addictions, the excitable that keep us going, the voids that slow us down

we carry with us, the pointlessness of over-examination of the now

of the investigation of every second, all we have is time, the railway tracks and the stations

the passing destinations, the expected and unexpected, the real and the imaginary

the desired and unwanted, you could say anything is a crisis of epic proportions or not

everything being subjective, regardless of objectivity, a standpoint or position to it

so that all is interpretable no matter what, versions of reality with positive spins on them

so the needle never has to scratch the record in its revolving motion,

clear in direction and continuity with the universal purpose, much of what we concern

ourselves with being hardly worth thinking about in the broadest sense of the words

we cannot control our own consciousness, the organic nature of thought processes

watching car crashes in slow-motion, mimicking the way it goes, for now, the reasons

for anything going forward, almost like an over-provider, the organic stream

of consciousness, sometimes you can’t do things differently, they go the way they do that is if they do at all, minds borrowing minds, for mind sake, young eyes coloured by

emotion, stream of consciousness probes, art opening up new eyes in the day

to look through the god of disdain, fogged up glasses and unattended classes

grading gradients and other natural forces, of grace or graceless, in the scheme of things

imaginable, neutralising malicious forces with kindness, to see the sun as nothing more

than the sun, relative to anything, positive weapons, less with the quality going higher

talking to the wall, the ticking clock does not wait, skin reversal, emotional registration

marking meaning to keep going, lightning flashes, commoditisation of flesh and bone alone

chased a dead bird to its death with years of built-up spite, a black dog will leave in bad

circumstances, overwhelmed, hopefully dead for good, time on the wall for the little gammy

man with two club hands born without a throat like a stoat, seasoned oarsmen lost at sea

under hairy thumbs with nautical devices, the ego, the will and the right way to go forth

knowledge, power and Foucault before interactive conscious flow with artificial reality,

as standard practice, they often say it is catharsis even when it is not, association and

dissociation, styles of interpretation, movement, molecules and cellular reactions

boring repetitive news programmes, to see how many times you can use the same words

with a straight face and great lips, treated and treated, chronological change and

measurements of changes, acceptance and denial, the inside out, the outside in gradually

alkaline battery power through epic blue lagoon pupils, wonders and wonders,

mathematics and philosophy returned together after a few hundred years apart

what is worth wondering, the balance of a self at the time, the inner and outer lives combined,

slowing down slowly, the hurt illness can cause unintentionally to loved ones, pigs best

sent to market, they are all laughing at you, things can happen and when they do they do,

then they have happened, then they are in the past like anything that occurs whilst passing

through the processes, processed and unprocessed, manufactured and unmanufactured

the neutrality of fruit and vegetable markets in the early morning with the forklifts driving

and the palettes stacking, what is meant to be and what is to be, intended or unintended

under the influence of, tapping into the crying, drying well to soak up the remaining

dust after everything is on or gone, connected to death, fizzing, always on, they become

what they do, like murderers, intertwined, embodied, drunk on rewards, drunken reward

systems in operation, splitting down the centre, some people have no friends,

fall in love with substitutions, two sides to a story of addiction to virtual reality

who you are, who you are not, who you would like people to think you are

regardless of whether or not it is false, it is, make believe for mood elevation,

affirmation, validation, second-hand living, time for nothing, nothing for nothing

no need to wait for negative impact, endurance, stamina, sustainability

the saboteur at the end of a dark enclosed tunnel, second winds in night-time kingdoms

visits by the dead, passing through the mind this time, snatched from memory

singing from the same glass hymn sheet, exaggerated features and exaggerated reactions

all plugged into the new universe, meta-vision, continuums and stages, phases

and timely outcomes, uncontrollable consciousness, lack of regulation, wild rivers

of the will let loose, unfettered with free reign to power, through money, only money

can make money, the turning wheels pay for our days, fed by the gears and the grass meal

artificial reward systems and consequences.

(GAVIN BOURKE)

When I Opened the Tin of My Grandfather’s Carpentry Tools

For The Very First Time

When I opened the tin,

I took out the newspaper covering the tools

dating back to 2004.

With bread soda and vinegar,

I began cleaning the wrenches

and the brass box ruler

before proceeding with the wooden chisels.

Beneath the layers

of grime on the surface,

I discovered his signature

on a few of the handles.

After the old wood plane,

I finished with the brass grease gun

and the stainless-steel plumb bobs

attached to twine,

this time discovering his initials

etched into the metals.

From his hands to my hands,

unknowingly

I had opened-up

a portal

of new memories.

(GAVIN BOURKE)

What Comes to Mind

Passive death wishes things being amiss today being a new day

putting on faces brightening presences presentations countenances

atmospheric changes and transformations feeding seagulls inland

encouraging frenzies the spaces between love slow moving canals

passers by grey light mid-November riding waves into unknowns

emotional and cognitive reactions to perceived stimuli everybody

deserves to be happy levels of functionalities and comprehension

comparisons and realisations dreams and the unconscious

trying to tell us something work and wellbeing looking back on today

in time screaming from slaughterhouses running with the wolves

properly acknowledging the passing of time opening portals

to higher plains closing doors opening others closing open doors

opening closed doors withdrawal conscious or unconscious loneliness

returning to communal thinking compass points carved into vertebrae

tunnels leading in funnels sicknesses that cannot be hidden

behind false grins all addictions taking much more time

than they are willing to give complex cognitive emotional and behavioural

processes the black hole waiting opening into something else

letting the cars pass sometimes the only difference is difference

appreciating privileges in all forms dreamt of rain that never came

sea gravel standing between the hours opening new doors

spinning ideas with words what you can see more clearly

in the dark toy swords and high-minded acrobatics.

(GAVIN BOURKE)

Time Out of Time

Fell into the night’s decadence, felt its subtle embrace, drawn to the dark, sworn to the black blood heart bleeding furiously, time on my mind again, always running out of my own road

picture frames creaking in an empty house, split skeletons in half with a butcher’s cleaver to find the marrow of the species in evidence to justify the name of a lane

where the seagulls roam observing the struggle to be something or anything

other than predestination, the route down which many neighbours go from which there is

often sadly no return, we communicate with the invisible blind, out of ectopic mood

brooding for company we need each other whether we like it or not, human puzzles

making sense of uncertainty, the unpredictable nature of it, slowing down time

hours, minutes, seconds, stasis, frozen, static pendulums, when we talk to the blind

and sing to the deaf, our consciousness not ours to control but to live with

sold the horses downstream all at once, there are no messages in the water

in the flowing streams, passing by I spied an angel’s face when I closed my eyes by the riverside by the old bridge, holy catharsis brought on by stimulants

twisted night-frames, melting candle-wax lamps, what we are told and what we interpret

what we are told and what we believe, the sale of timelines, lip services, the time it takes

to reach considered opinions, connections, disconnections, binaries, can be so impenetrable

so we wait for the cracks in the plaster to form to see the truth in the light of day

reception, receptivity, semiotics, sounds and brainwaves, overloaded circadian rhythms

the emotions and their own logic, running away with organic connectivity

sense and madness, foolish decisions coloured by the emotional being, life, the dangers

of magical thinking, dreaming into dreams, urban landmarks etched into everyday thinking

sounds and memories rekindled together so as to be transportational in place and times

lost in moments less likely to commit the sins of dreams, signs of healthy minds

placement of grievances upon common targets, levels of comprehension

and distressed dispositions and positions, viewpoints filtered by emotional landscapes

uncontrollable psychologies, everyone has been here before up to now, up to this point

painting around houses, tripping on wireless leads, unpredictable drifts

how the eyes can be made to look, fixed beliefs and expressions

walls that cannot be broken through, reasoning, reason and reasons, flashbacks

passing images, false memories, imprisoned by consciousness

and the limitations of the comprehension of reality, butchered by human nature,

blood crazed baying mobs, threaded through the history of time and space high on feeling

to get lost in words, absorbed in magic, time and time again comparing reality with reality

noting differences, requited and unrequited over the lifespan

patterns and random happenings, it was all already in there from the beginning

getting access to higher planes where the best words

in the best order come naturally with little effort, gruelling challenges

everybody needing meaning in their life for some sense of it all

the selfishness that can come from being the boss of yourself

arrogance and hubris, the self-interest of always putting yourself first

in all circumstances, untempered, unchecked and unchallenged, introspective

extrospective, some don’t look in or out, living vapidly no one is really ever alone anymore, there is no silence unless we are absent

at the mercy of the unfairness of reality, the choking ropes at different heights

the nooses and snoods at the ready if we are unfortunate, bruised flesh

surrounding ourselves with circuses to appease the head and the heart or others

of our part in the great human race with a finishing line at different times

of ribbon or guillotine blades to enable or cut down, prime for the gallows

last dance, the cruelness of transience when you have had your eyes opened to it

killing hearts stone-dead with the weight of expectations that cannot be matched

perception generating perceptions against night glass

tearing a hole in the wall of reality to find time

to slow down time

to create time out of time

together we are in time.

(GAVIN BOURKE)