Mindblown: a blog about philosophy.

The devils monkeys on the devils monkey island, Are at industry for their master, growing fake bananas Can you not tell, ’cause, like, there’s no industry left? The country is a manufacturer of hell Sorrowful women, cross themselves Upside down, draw their last laugh, in the Humourless desert, bereft, for the black clerics Arrival, the country’s master,…

And I released her to Love And I got up And fed a wild cat Just me and the cat, outside And I don’t really have an existential purpose anymore And I breathed in the fresh air, as if my lungs were in an old forest, in one of those shots, Trying to capture a…

To experience love, a religion Is not a religious experience, that of love? All lovers know, God in the one they love To know God, one can love, the religion of love, In their lover – to share love, aye, To experience God

If I sat upon a lotus, I declared, The nature of my own being declared me, When I became uncertain of reality And certain of unreality The play of light, blue-filled Lotuses, in Buddha-reality – You seemed unaware In that moment, the present took place What else, but you, could be If I sat in…

The base of the world, of kookaburras, cockies, and magpies, The bush, calling loneliness and pride, A spacewoman echoes back – I reside, in that heartland, tinkering with love in her eyes Mindfucked – (wherefrom, the freaks and bitch-filth, never really listening) Sound-wire distortion – well then, who the fuck thinks to tell us how…

What troubles thee? Your voice of honey, weaves in and out the night, In and out, the flavour of honey, but what troubles Your dark brow, g? Were I to say I love thee, make honey, flow in and out, Your voice, g, as you flow, like honey, thru me, My kiss appease in blood

It’s maddeningly lovely, aspect of your irresistible beauty, Why do you get so unreasonably  angry with me, g – again? I’m not sure how I’m meant to understand it at all, Seems I’m wrong to even try fathom? your?! Your mystery you withold from me, nags at me, My only sigh is love’s worn cliche,…

I could start my own direction coming, thru Eliot’s Poem, insert my defiant spirit in, begin it’s torture, Madness, public shame, rape,  death-infused in bones, Travels, but become – you, sitting at a desk, across from And you could start from your guilt, over What you’ve done, for whatever guilty reason for, It matters little…

When my weapon leads me flowing into Wind, in a sudden blast of inspiration A video I sent you, sword leading thru spaces true, Leads me to: you across the road from me, in synch Both mind and body: gusts of winds, in affinity

My heart’s root, respawned, from days gone, Revives, in thoughts embodied in her beauty, Changed in edges, meanings in dreams, dead thoughts Buried in dread, sex, anxiety, phantasies defeated, In war, domme morrigan, a dark in which all shapes arise, Come into being, in vegetable shafts, climbing, Loneliness returning – a sword edge, embedded –…