Books are the bricks that build my cell
Pages the chains that bind me
No partner, no love, nor friends to quell
This solitude that rages around me
A barren confession, to shameful to tell
A hollow life, unlived, left behind me
A life sentence served and a lifetime to dwell
On this loneliness that will always surround me.

When Pandora’s box was opened and all the ills of the world where let loose the gods conspired to leave one thing remaining to aid humankind. What remained in the box was Hope.

What happens when this, too, is lost?

The spirit dies, there is no point. No point in trying. No point to anything you do.

Just No Point.

What is a flower?
A flower is a thought.
It is one thing becoming another.
The unfolding of energy and matter.
It is a process.
The Process.
of one becoming another.
It is energy made manifest.
It is the bee that collects the pollen.
It is the jar of honey, it is me.
It is the cow that eats the grass
It is the milk that’s in the glass.
Movement and becoming
And transition
And ultimately it is all
The Same Thing.
Energy in movement
The flower and me
The grass and the bee.
Vibration and Frequency.
The Child and the Fool
Know it instinctively.

Seeing the leaves fall from the tree
Had never truly worried me
but now I mark their brief descent
with morbid sense of lost time spent.

For does not the now naked tree
Bare against each winter freeze
Reflect the passing of my life for me
The World the Tree, our lives like leaves.

They served their purpose in season of sun
Harboured light and life, their job done
Each spirals down on its funeral parade
Each played a part in the strong tree made.

And the tree continues a cyclic round
Sees seasons approach, sees seasons flee
But life returns and the answer’s found
Our body the leaves, our soul the tree.

Having ventured back into art and photography after a period away from it and after ruining my life again by failing to have the health and pieces in place to make a clean break and change of career, I have realised why I left art in the first place.

So, again I am going to walk away from it and not create anything anymore, hopefully, this time it will be permanent.

All true artists should stop, the only valid response any one calling themselves an artist can make in this world is to stop providing art to the world. Not that is the reason I am stopping, I would not regard myself as an artist.

This article is fascinating Click Here to go to the Daily Mail website.

Each day I feel tiredness increasing, disappointment refuse from ceasing. Choose an option, make a decision, for it to end in wrong choice made. Tired of the fight, tired of the struggle, the rip off, bargain basement, buy-one-get-one free world. Want to close my eyes and never once open them again.

They gathered round the Oyster shell
Some sighed and said “I knew him well”
They mourned the fact that he was dead
Hymns were sung and some prayers read.
Buried now and Dust to Dust
The shell degraded as all flesh must
But the soul eternal will, forever, dwell
For we are the Pearl and not the Shell.

Let’s talk about coincidence, what Jung called synchronicity. Back a long time ago,a girl formally known as Sarah and myself were close friends, still are in a way now we are back in touch, when I went to live in Nottingham I met a girl called Zoe Kariviotes who bore more than a strong resemblance to said Sarah, I lost touch with Zoe which saddens me to this day. When I went to Wales I met a girl who was the spitting image of someone I was very fond of in London, even the laugh was the same. I met two sets of Nadia’s in two different times and all left suddenly or in weird circumstances. And then…

Someone who walked in on me one time in an evening class and whom I seemed to know, had always known, whose very name had links with mine on many levels. In those fairy tales or those pointless, unrealistic love stories either on page or on film you would have to bet that with so many coincidences existing between her and me…well it just had to mean something.

Here’s the news….no, it doesn’t, you can still get your heart broken and walk a lonely road even when synchronicity is dropping all around you like over ripe fruit from the tree of Life and Death. Explain that to me?

Back in 1994 I was working as a photographer in South East London. I met a woman who wanted to model by the name of Nadia Hussein. I think she was pretty keen on me, but the story she told was that her boyfriend had seen my advert in a drama department, I used to do casting shots for actors, she then told me she had broken up with the guy, this all in the first meeting. I think she was pretty keen on me, but I had a lot of things going on in my life, including a serious health worry. In hindsight I can now see that illness as life’s first warning manifesting as physical symptom. We saw eachother quite a few times and it felt like it was on the cusp of us hitting it off. I found her story about the boyfriend a bit odd and she was quite full on in her way. Well, the end result was I told her I could not see her anymore, not to model or to socialise. Looking back it was the stupidist mistake of my life, maybe the one that sent me down the wrong path. Had we started a relationship I may never have gone to Nottingham and met the people I met there all of whom I lost touch with within a year of leaving. I would not have done my degree in Wales and met the people I met there, a few of whom remain most valued friends. Thinking back, maybe she was inexperienced in relationship related matters. I have always seemed to project a “man who’s been there, done that and designed the tee-shirt” all a million miles away from the real me, I just have the misfortune of looking life-worn! Maybe she was looking to me to, I don’t know, all I know is I sit here fourteen odd years later on the brink of life and death and wonder whether she was meant to be something significant in my life. Maybe I would not have gone to Wales and got M.E, which still ruins my life, maybe I would be happy, content and full of energy. Perhaps we get just the one moment, the turning of the tide, we either go with or stand against it and by doing so we live or die. Maybe I died the moment I left her in the rain by the old Jacobean house. No one reads my blog, be nice to think that someone who knows Nadia read this, that six degrees of seperation thing. I would just like to get in touch, just the once, to say it was nothing she did but the naive idiot I was. Later I met someone else in a way that had “significant” written all over it and after a few years it looked like it was about to become very significant, she meant the world to me but it never worked out, to put it simply, though it was far from simple. My old gridiron coach once said “You meet three women in your life, the one who loves you, the one you love and the one you marry”. I remain unmarried.