Good Morning Beautiful

Part 1

11.20 hrs GMT+1, 21.09.2009 e.v.
Location: The Summer Palace, Clapton.

The scene is set. Strong black sweet coffee, which is a rarity these days as I no longer drink coffee habitually rather utilising its especial properties for the work; my inhalers, necessary, lay beside my laptop, their contents to be consumed by my lungs as the work proceeds; a single co-codamol; glass of homemade ginger beer; my wooden fife; numerous books, from Benjamin WOOLLEY’S “THE QUEEN’S CONJURER” – damn hit the ‘caps lock key’ instead of the ‘cap key’. Always doing that consequent no doubt from having long finger nails which by way of aside have over the years scratched the “a”, “s” and “e” from my Mac’s keyboard. Thankfully I know where they live. However, the “n” is on its way out as is the “c”. Won’t be long now before I am typing on a blank keyboard – through Corbin’s “Cyclical Time and Ismaili Gnosis” to Freya Aswynn’s “Leaves of Yggdrasil” amongst others while “Spinner” by Eno and Jah Wobble provide the sound track.

My walking stick resting against the table to my right winks at me as I relish a large mouthful of the sweet black coffee and the live Clapton re-mix of “Spinner” dubs a high revving scooter onto the funky Unusual Balance track.

The walking stick snarls reminding me that I am not here to witter on about coffee and the disappearing letters on my keyboard. I crack the butt end of liquorice stick I am gnawing between my teeth and return the snarl… walking stick smiles, teeth bared, diabolical glint in it’s left eye.

And breathe!

The poet paced the flat…. The sorcerer stalked his prey.

Preparing a second cup of coffee I hunt the image. Information streaming. I search the code… scanning….

The scooter revs up mixing low growls that are Left Where it Fell.

“Mind Bomb” by The The jumps of the shelf while the scooter boy drives by… and by… and bye, bye scooter boy!

The poet felt himself slipping backwards through memories by time confused… the co-codamol called him.

“So now ask yourself. What is human? & what is Truth? ……

The only path to heaven… is via Hell!”

Good Morning Beautiful, The The

The co-codamol an eternal now consumed the data flow.

Growling the sorcerer stretched and clawed the air thick like molasses. He glanced over to his right where the cup of coffee lags dimensionally; the books pulsing with data breathing in and out, in and out ... … his gaze fell upon his walking stick whom shied like a wild stallion before a lightning stricken oak.

The sorcerer held on to the sides of the round dining table as the rush consumed the poet… desire rampant ran around the table, dodging in and out of the legs wooden and bone, weaving a spell that wrapped itself around the sorcerer’s flesh.

“I just wanted somebody to caress, this damsel in distress.
…
I just wanted somebody to possess… this young girl…

Our bed is empty, The fire is out.
And all the love we’ve got to give has spurted out.
There’s no more blood. And no more pain.
In our kingdom of rain…”

Kingdom of Rain, The The

The data stream synchronous running backwards… naked young girl by her grave furtive, crying… waiting for the crow.

Waiting for the crow.

~