Pictures at an Exhibition: Three

Having pinned up my plans for October, it is time to go into a little more detail.

Symphony

The idea is simple: tell a story using haiku, pictures and with a musical background. It is a love story, because of the running joke that this is all I’m really good at. The #Soundtracking2018 Playlist will be the music that daily accompanies each haiku and picture selection. I’m still debating how to pull the #Narrating2018 selection into this, but there’s an idea… and so next week will be when all the disparate threads are stitched together. It helps that there’s almost 2000 pictures in my Flickr account to use as a basis, but that’s only half the plan.

October is when there will be new pictures too.

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I’ve missed setting a challenge for myself that involves more outdoor work. That’s what this is about, pushing comfort boundaries and putting my various skills to better use. Once I have the final details sorted, it will be time to pick suitable ‘locations’ for my pictures, and the format they’ll take. To mix things up a bit there’ll be composites like the graphic above, separate photos and haiku, and… well, I learnt a lot of good lessons from last year. Plenty of audio and visual media can be utilised for storytelling.

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I’m genuinely excited for October. There’s also other stuff to do, plus a couple of deadlines which need consideration, but there’s enough everything can all be fitted in.

Time to crack on with organisation

Blue Sky Thinking :: Dread

[INT; Alt’s Brain. Good and Bad are standing on opposite sides of a very large sinkhole, which has unexpectedly appeared in a vital part of the organisation structure. They stare at each other with uncertainty.]

BAD: Nope, this definitely wasn’t here yesterday.

GOOD: Wonder how much stuff we’ve lost down there…

[From the darkness of the hole there is movement, then a small, hesitant voice calls up.]

DREAD: Er… is there any chance of a rope…?


It’s not been a great week. I’m behind, but am determined to get everything back to a semblance of normality as quickly as possible. It would help if I didn’t have this constant, nagging fear at the back of my mind that there’s really no point, because if there was only one reader total on my blog last week, why exactly am I bothering?

One day, that could all change, but if I don’t try, how will I know?

Imposter Syndrome is a bitch.


DREAD

Between breaths, dread slides,
hand to shoulder, slightest pressure
restrict movement, arrest progress
perfect assassin, silent killer.

I will prevent, hold back, disarm
progression, confidence, belief
this life, not yours, penance made
each joy, removed, destroyed.

Hole opens beneath, hope swallowed, receding faith, destruction
sucked downwards, spat outwards, crushed beneath, opened up:
depression formed, weathered front, low pressure, happiness drowned…

You win.

I’m lost.

Sanity

smallest cost.


 

Poetry Archive :: Favour

This was a disaster. There’s good in it, however, and it will be re-appraised in time. Once I do, there’ll have been lessons learnt about overreaching, metaphor and the way poetry ought to sound, because this is guilty of a lot of bad things.

–  So, why is it here? Shouldn’t you only publish good things?

No. I need to show I’m aware of mistakes being made, and where there has to be improvement. pretending all I ever do is good might look like a good idea but, on reflection the bad matters almost as much. If a prospective publisher came and found this, on reflection, I’d want to show that this journey isn’t simply about shoving anything up for public view. Choosing work that needs work is a willingness to accept that this is still an evolution.

There is a lot of work still to do.


Favour

Easier option; smarter child
low maintenance relationship
this rump steak isn’t medium rare
consumed with resignation.
Without contempt; bandwagon jumped
that other person’s better choice
perennial balancing act
favour the little guy.

Favourite all, follow no-one
retweeting memes, .GIF memories
Facebook Group friends will never meet
virtual tryst not meant to be.
Juggling lives, ignoring fools
ideal position for abuse
the quiet ones always trouble
a fool with most to lose.

Weight every option, online plan
Compare my Everything dot com
patronage for niche ideas
bright stitched, constructed web of buys.
Coffee pot turned on from work
dimming lights whilst traffic jams
does mobile tech improve a life
perhaps just sham, not future proof.

Take a moment; values shift
advanced consumerism sucks
sheer weight of noise, heavy deafness
ears bleed, brains slowly waste away.
Other’s plans can’t dictate choice
firmly remaining present tense
eroding thoughts of future past
removal of free thought and deed.

Perhaps the answer’s in belief
ancient mistakes our lessons learnt
rebuilding ideals, firm intent
target those lives which need the most.
Success not measured by these things
material wealth to put aside
eternal hope springs forth desire
favour constructive change of mind.


Pictures At An Exhibition: Two

There’s going to be back-to-back posts here today (mostly allowing schedule to get back up to date) and also a commitment to a project that was started last year, and which proved to be of significant personal enjoyment to try again this year.

Yup, THINK-TOBER is back.

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I don’t get on with Instagram. It took a lot of heartache (and the Cambridge Analytica debacle) to make me grasp that I don’t want to be a part of a generation of users that only see a perfect image, whilst failing to grasp what spontaneity means. To add both depth and breadth to my experiences, it isn’t just about visual composition. There need to be words.

So, this time we will do this differently. Twitter will be the medium used as delivery, and content will have themes, rather than the insistence a certain word is used in each haiku… and because that format is now much loved by myself as poetry in a distilled, eloquence microcosm of feeling? Makes perfect sense.

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October is also quite nicely formed this year too: the 1st is a Monday, which gives us four weeks’ worth of beginnings and ends, with a three day conclusion at the end. In that respect, the overall theme of the month’s decided: Symphony. Under this, there will be four blocks of seven haiku, which will all tie together around the weekly sub-headings.

I’ll share titles, artwork and a look into my thought processes in the next post: there’ll be use of archive pictures, new work and stuff especially planned for the month. The overall plan is to create a self-produced and curated sequence of images and words, which (hopefully) will stimulate something positive in my readers. The only way I’ll know if it works is to try.

I’m already very excited at the possibilities.

Poetry Archive :: Leaves

Considering how horrendous this week has been (and continues to bite, even at the weekend) I’m really proud of our pair of poems at restart. What it proves is that if you work hard enough, and for long enough, poetry can happen. It is the same theory as training muscles or learning a new language. Now I come to think of it, that’s exactly the combination of skills required for poetic development…

Enjoy.


Leaves

Moisture drawn within: pale skies smoothed, gold leaf
ends harshest heat, broken Summer. Bring forth
calmer breeze, breathe quieter evening moments,
burnt chaff spirals, organic drifts away.

Anticipating solstice, build rich mounds
blackberry, apple pilfered: bag and bowl
smuggled prize escapes hedgerows. Loaded tree
groans pleasure; flesh-wrapped seed, succulent treat.

Year moves quietly, leaves soft indentations
twisted twirl, country dance with smoke-soaked reels
Dragged mulch, rake scrapes, dry earth still parched, arid
desert planet struggling, fractured self.

Remember past, moments scored; ask Autumn,
redefine personal progress. Leaving
past detritus, baked sacrifice offered;
plated dessert course satisfies far more.

Legacy of pie, fruit stuffed rewarding
past year’s hard work, redefinition marks
quiet criticism pyre, soft ashes smeared.
Face’s dark warpaint: let battle begin.


Blue Sky Thinking :: Guilt

[INT; Alt’s Brain. This place resembles a badly-organised office, with filing cabinets open, paperwork strewn across soft, padded desks, chairs and work-surfaces. In the middle stand GOOD and EVIL, both dressed in matching white and red suits respectively, staring at the mess, before turning to look at each other…]

GOOD: Okay, so we’re in agreement: cessation of hostilities until this place is returned to some form of functional order, yes?

BAD: Agreed, and it might be an idea to locate the staff. After all, it’s only been a month away and her brain resembles an explosion in the Amazon ‘Back to School’ section…

[A pile of papers next to a filing cabinet shifts and falls, revealing a woman fast asleep. She’s dressed all in black, with a cloth mask wrapped around the lower half of her face.]

GOOD: Well, there’s someone, what is she supposed to be doing?

[BAD pulls out a small tablet PC from his pocket and hands it to GOOD, who scrolls through a document. Her face crinkles, then enlightenment is located.]

GOOD: That’s Guilt.

BAD: Bet they’re not the only one sleeping on the job. I’ll handle the rude awakening, you see if you can locate Organisation in this mess and we might have a fighting chance of getting somewhere…


It is said that guilt is a strong motivator. I prefer my life not to be ruled by such toxic emotions, but eventually there is always a reckoning. When yours arrives, make sure you’re ready to deal with the fallout. No emotion, just facts and truths are enough.

Always know your exits.


Guilt

If there were memory
these accusations thrown,
hate, recriminations
annoyances unknown:
something more than disquiet
undoubted disbelief
at least complicity
not seeking your relief.

Your histories held close
forgotten in my time
both grief and anger burn
your torture not sublime.
Removal of our past
choice, history rewrites
compassion isn’t lacked
our countless nasty fights.

Happy to play villain
easier coat to wear
feel free, feign ignorance
that part of you not there.
These toxic memories
have always been the case
renounce harsh hate for love:
put feelings in their place.

If this means loneliness
an ostracism made
decision instant, right,
my cards already played.
Your guilt will not redress
through other’s words and deeds
leave now, and close that door
only your heart that bleeds.


Simple // Eight

Finally, tired body approaches, done.
Everything said reduced to simple point:
learning only half my battle, started
late but no matter, catching up quite fast.
Expression, form of slow revolution;
decompress daily drama, unravel
psyche mysteries, previously lost.
Flotsam washed up on rediscovered soul.

Life can be reinvented, all needed
determination, commitment, belief.
Change not only possible but vital,
focus within those elements required.
Creation’s summit climbed, countless methods
delicately fashioned, considered care:
process transformation as redemption
stop looking for salvation that’s not there.