Saturday, July 29, 2006


Change is now.
Change is good.

Change is God.

Unlike the others

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I am the Moon

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I came from the surface
Of Jupiter
A long time ago,
When an explosion
Blasted me out
Of my gaseous womb
And I could no longer be held
In the gravitational embrace
Of my parents.

I congealed slowly
And deliciously
Into textured Jovian stone
And was captured
And held in orbit
By my new mistress
Whose scalp
You are shaving
Of rainforest beauty,
Whose breath
You are polluting
With poisonous industry,
And whose heart
You are breaking
With unnecessary war.

I am the Moon.
My spiritual task
In the multidimensional ecology
Of your local universe
Is to mirror
The consciousness of Earth
Back to you.
I reflect what you are feeling;
My primary function
Is to bounce back
Your emotions.

I am the Moon.
I am a very peaceful vibration.
I am weary with your obsession
With war and conflict
And tired of your capitulation
To religion
Which promotes war and conflict
By tolerating
The heresy of belief.

I am the Moon.
I feel energy data
Through silvery ray vibrations.
Do you remember these?
Do you remember
The silvery gossamer light
Shimmering breast bright
On the membrane of calm water
When the full Moon first rises?

Are you aroused by my rising?
I bear my breast naked
For you
Thirteen times a year.
Do I arouse your interest?
Do I stimulate your recall
Of etheric desire?

Run your eye over me.
Feel my texture.
I have canyons and craters
On my flesh
Which are the marks
Of cosmic lovemaking.
I have been penetrated
My many powerful visitors
And I have loved them all.

My vibrations are now
So cool,
So opalescent,
So translucently ethereal,
That there is
Almost no electromagnetic charge
Left in me.
I am completely balanced.
And it is this balance
Which I transmit to you
As dreams.

In the depths
Of my canyons and craters
There are small
Library temples
Where I hold the records
Of your memories
And your subconscious
Mental banks.

I transmit these energy data
To those beings
Who magnetically draw my energy,
Be they animal people,
Or faerie people
Or human people.
They all draw consciousness from me
As silver is drawn from wells
Fed by waterfalls.

Listen out when you sleep,
Listen out when you dream,
Listen out for the memories
I hold
Of your soul experience
Life after life
On planet after planet.

You are strong enough
To destroy Gaia,
Who struggles,
To hold you to my breast
For nourishment,
But are you strong enough
To be entirely passive
And receive my milk
On your tongue,
With your feelings open
To the silvery tickle
And trickle
Of my teaching?

I am the Moon.
Accept my radiant nakedness
Without judgment
And know completion.


Here are six pictures of the full Moon over land: 1 2 3 4 5 6

And here are seven pictures of the full Moon over water: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7


Full moon dates


Sussex police respond to the Moon
Extra police will be put on the streets during full moons after officers found a link between violent crime and the lunar cycle

Media Issues

Weblog spirituality

Is Harry Potter true?

My name is Television

Strange news; strange times

The Jyllands-Posten Muhammad cartoon row 2005-2006

Bravo Falun Dafa! Bravo Falun Gong!

Photographed light blessings from Jesus

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Monday, July 17, 2006

Keep poverty permanent

Become an American citizen
And use your taxes
To support
Israel and

The War on Terror.


Israeli children send expensive American presents to their friends in Lebanon
An image of unimaginable wealth

While Africa dies
An image of unimaginable poverty

Both photographs were taken on the same planet.


The American Problem

Jolly frightening, this terror business

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Saturday, July 15, 2006

Controlled anal voicing

On a recommendation
From an ex-member's husband,
The Blythburgh branch
Of The Women's Institute
Invited Mr Cyril Middleton
Of Dunwich, Suffolk,
To address them
At their Ash Wednesday lunch.

The ladies had checked
Mr Middleton's
Bona fides
Before he was invited.

According to the internet,
He had a good address
In the old medieval part
Of Dunwich,
And his hobbies were
And scuba diving.

His speciality,
According to those who
Had had
The good fortune
Of attending his celebrated
Lectures before,
Was to make funny noises
For the amusement
Of the underclass.

The ladies first noticed
That things
Were going to be a little different
At this particular lunch,
When Mr Middleton
Set up his
Amplification system.

He carefully positioned
On the stage,
Not one, but two
One in front of him
At mouth height,
And one behind him
At buttock height.

He then clapped his hands loudly,
Asked for silence,
And said that the ladies
Should not be alarmed
But he was going to do a quick
Sound test.

Everyone stopped talking
And listened intently.

There was a pause
And then a long,
High-decibel fart
Echoed around the room.

An agonising split second
Of communal
Prophylactic shock
Was followed by
A wanton explosion
Of some of the most
Ever to have permeated
A Women's Institute
Ash Wednesday lunch.

Several members,
Were seen to be
Writhing on the floor,
Injuring themselves

It was quite a few minutes
Before good order
Was re-established.

Mr Middleton
Urged the ladies
To control themselves
And asked that the windows
Be opened
Because the room was becoming
Rather stuffy.

He then let rip
With a second
Anal raspberry,
Twice as loud
And twice as long
And twice as bubbly
As the first.

The meeting once more
Degraded into
Screams and howls
Of unrestrained laughter.

Gertrude Cookley,
A new member from
Chediston Green,
Swore blind
That during this second
Mighty clarion call
She had seen a vision
Of the Archangel Gabriel
Presenting the Prophet Muhammad
With the original text
Of The Life of Brian.

Once the laughter
Had died down,
And the ladies
Had regained the power
Of coherent speech,
They began
Chatting animatedly,
With one another
Saying things like:
"Better out than in,"
And, "No need of nuclear power
With that volume
Of methane available,"
And, "That was worse than
Exchanging a sign
Of the peace."

Later in the day,
The Vicar's wife commented
To her husband
That, all in all,
It was not a good start

To Lent.


Lent in the open ocean

Worth Matravers in Dorset

A required tonic

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Wednesday, July 05, 2006

General Synod agenda

The elected,
And ex officio
Of yesterday's old-time
English churchianity
Gather in York
For a meeting of
The General Synod.

It is a good-natured gathering
Of low-brow
Ecclesiastical drones,
Spiritual has-beens
And aspiring wannabee system-geeks.

Why are they there?
To discuss sex and gender issues.

What do they want?
Sex and gender issues.

What will they get?
Sex and gender issues.

What is the Gospel of Christ about?
Sex and gender.

Any other business?
Sex and gender.

Why shouldn't Mary Magdalene
Have a toyboy if she wants?

Female bishops

Sermon abuse

Why is church so serious?

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Sunday, July 02, 2006

A mystery deeper than tears

Crying is the therapy
Of release.

We need to cry more.
We need to cry better.
Tears lubricate a bad day.

But the positive energy
Of lachrymation
Is a mystery deeper than tears.

Why do people cry
When they are happy?
Why do people cry
When they laugh?

We give ourselves when we cry.
But who
Or what
Is the beneficiary
Of our giving?

We abandon ourselves when we cry.
But who
Or what
Then occupies
The vacated inner space
We leave?

And when we cry
Why is the person next to us
Suddenly so understanding?
Suddenly so concerned?
Suddenly so sensitised?

Crying is old magic
Deployed by ancient people
Ever young.

It is a behaviour of childhood
Which expresses the desire
To stay childlike
Without qualification.

And when the time comes,
It would be nice to
Cry oneself
To death,
Rather as one
Cries oneself
To sleep.

Going to sleep
Is practice for
Going to death.

Sleeping is dying,

And tears do help.

Never alone

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