what does this say

life has become musac, grey and numb

prosaic, subterranean and then some

bette davis’ eyes no longer sparkle

the blue sky is no longer remarkable

but then I turn in the darkness to you

and in your sleep you pull us through

in times like these

tis the rationalisation disease

the mornings oft seem as though

to glance over, you know

then re-enter the slumber, twas sweet

is the better deal, admit defeat

then your eyes, they open, and I wonder

of the dawn light, could I become fonder

what does this say of my fate, carved stone

or flowing with the melded dreams, yet still alone

©HeyHey 2013

The Ether

Yes, there is an

ether. Can’t you taste

the fear in dreams,

where the mind meets

reality? Where the nature

upon which we stand

is revealed? Where the

caress of love is repulsion,

not the attraction of similars,

but the compatibility

of opposites?

The ether has the

answers. Passing life from

the unknowable real to the

visions in unconsciousness.

And from the visions come

revelations. Understanding that

we are not what we are, we

are not where we are, we are not

when we arise. But the whole

picture is larger and smaller

than we could ever imagine.

©HeyHey 2013

Inspired by Paul R. Heyl. Is There An Ether? Scientific American. Jun, 1930

Medication, Solution

Love, in its many forms, has

and does make the human spirit

whole. Love, in its many forms,

has and does make the

human being under control.

Hate, in its many guises,

has and does make the

human spirit shake. Hate,

in its many guises, has and

does make the human spirit

break. Time heals, in their many forms,

all ills. Time dissolves,

in their many forms, all pills.

©HeyHey 2013

creation’s labours

while another day grows around thee

air and light and motes surround me

the slow thought of waves

saves the transition

from inside you in dreams

to aside you it seems

and here i lay

where i want to stay

as rays turn spells into warm breath

the breaking future wells

into now

and how

once more the ordinary appears

in these extraordinary years

as commonplace

slaps me in the face

to be one

moreover to be here, gone

previously in stardust’s settled home

now grievously dethroned

but not to care

for now you and i are everywhere

while another day grows around thee

creation’s labours still astound me

©HeyHey 2013

too bloody thin

it’s good to scratch the skin

but not till it’s too thin

when the blood backs up in nails

then the purpose all but fails

and the pleasures life diminish

so time once more to finish

likewise as liquor feeds the feeling

much like writing from the ceiling

though without a mémoire aide

inspiration seems to fade

just like all the sober prose

where once the verve arose

so adjuncts to nature rule

resembling actor of the fool

for the very essence high

enables sight beyond the sky

ahh, but still scratching of the skin

now it’s got too bloody thin

©HeyHey 2013

all of this

there’re too many clouds

and i need the stars

i need the limitlessness

the space

the intervals

all of the yesterdays

there’s too much noise

and i need the silence

i need the vacuum

the quiet

the tranquil

all of the peace

there’re too many images

and i need the black

i need the white

the transparent

the spectrum

all of the imagination

there’s too much heat

and i need the cold

i need the frozen

the motionless

the still

all of the sculptures

there’ s too much time

and i need the now

i need the present

the fraction

the infinite

all of forever

there’re too many spells

and i need the reality

i need to know

the truth

the certainty

all of this

©HeyHey 2013