If you’re wandering around here amongst these paragraphs and floating minds, please say hello, hit a link, tap a button. Flying words thru these terrains can be tiresome, wings can get damaged over these tough winds thru shifting space.
Note: ‘of this mystic night, words thru colours of ambiguous light, it is in this darkness, one must take flight’…. Thomas Michael
I am drowning in minds wavering about. Dimensionless consciousness expands, contracts before me, after me and then there is no me. The streets are filled with tumours, piercing high frequencies fill the air. There is an agenda crippled floating in a ditch, a flower breaking thru the tar, a smile frowning on a wall.
I am something today, love is spreading its wings about and people have no barriers hiding. In the hallways of progression a new science is entangled, dying in a few numbers. The sun is approaching the horizon half an earth away. I sit here typing words into a vase. The people whom presume they know my whereabouts are afraid of exposure. They are hiding as ghosts holding form with fears of all kinds and waiting for shallow images to fly within. Some are in the audience. They are the ones to decide whether i live or die here in this digital galaxy. They, they are the ones to inherit these words. These words travel with lighting speed from nowhere to blinking eyes against flashing screens then get cataloged to die in loneliness. This is the nature of the world, this is the way of the whispering winds, this is the times of programmed illusions paralyzed, hypnotized, scrutinized, invisible. These are my friends. Words. They are many. They are weak. They are strong. They are fabrications. They are real. Unreal. They are busy at the moment. I can not hear them.
There are moments of great energy, when spirits appear to be active, colours whirl about, sounds weave around, a strange feeling emanates into the mind, what appears to be the heart softens into it. This lasts not long and yet it can seem like an eternity. I have nothing left to say. Words are breathless, stars are dimming, a horizon is crawling in to view and silence is stretching across the earth. I could continue to write but nowhere is so close. Perhaps another night, daylight is questioning me.
Buy me a coffee !
WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey
Hang Me Up…. Images
Please… If you’re wandering around down here amongst these paragraphs and flying minds, say hello. I am in here somewhere presumably.
Hi Patrick, I'm reading your words in the midst of the jungle....this morning a troupe of Howler Monkeys came by and stayed a little while to munch on some leaves and nuts off the deck. I tried to strike up a conversation with them, but couldn't find the right words. Finally got the right groove and let my mind go silent. They didn't have a lot to say either, but man could they howl out a good tune. And when the birds chimed in it became a cacophony of jungle orchestral sound and silence. Wouldn't have missed it for the world. Ciao.