Friday Fictioneers 29.8.14 “Thought.”



protoplasmic and ineffable,

remains when all else is earthbound

wormfood for a Godless world that

rates Self over Other.

It remains limp, lost, lonely,

intractable in concept, yet resolute in defiance

of the inept, the oaf, the Worldly,

and finds solace in the spaces between consciousness,

the space where Understanding lives,

feeding the soul and Higher Self, and it waits.

Effulgent in concepts, Thought and Understanding

stand together, tall and intractable,

in a world where Truth become commodity

and Commodity becomes life

without style;

without substance;

without Hope.

Life will find a way,

It is not After-thought,

It is us.

A little bit of a Growl from me here, as part of the 100 word challenge. I think, I am becoming more intolerant of the seemingly inherent stupidity of the people on this planet. I have been researching Edmund Burke (1729-1797) for this Fictioneer, as this quote, “The true danger is when liberty is nibbled away, for expedients, and by parts … the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” has always been a part of my life since (ahem!) years old, and was a springboard for my poem. Hope you like!


Visdare 63 – Immured

A new one for me – and hopefully one I can find the time to contribute to regularly! I was searching for some kind of weekly ‘photo’ challenge – not that I consider myself a photographer, more a dabbler! – and I found this contortion picture pop up in my reader. Intriguing, isn’t it?

Her heartbeat slows, circadian versus cardio, tranquillity versus skittering synaptic chaos: life dancing with death. The fear in her eyes vanishes as the curtains are pulled and she becomes objectified yet again, such as Woman has since Eve’s blame.

She forces herself to be calm, claiming the claustrophobia that encases and the cramp that dances irony across her soles in hot waves, as hers and hers alone, owned by her and none other.

The word ‘Passion’ obscures her view as the lights encroach on her nakedness, turning her humanity into vulgarity. She refuses to cry and, instead, challenges those who mock to look deep inside themselves, to refute what they know to be false and embrace who they truly are, who they could be, were they not scared.

Her thoughts become smog thick and dull, as the oxygen depletes and her defiance rises once more. ‘I love, you my Gwendoline!’

Getting a bit annoyed at the human race’s hypocrisy here – soz!

Literature in Society – a snippet.


I’m a reader, big time.

I’m an outed book hoarder, and total biblionut. Have been for years.

Let’s face it, there are not enough shelves, virtual or real, to house all the books that anyone who loves reading would want. To live is to read, and to read, live. Someone might have said that, or it might have been me; doesn’t matter, the point is, Literature rocks! All of it! (Well, except for the crappy stuff: that should get buried![inner snob creeping out!])

So, I probably should also mention that I am a Junior School Teacher, working all the hours that get sent out by email, to try and make a whole bunch of children I will never have the privilege of seeing grow up, become better people who understand the world and want to make it a better place.

That’s why facile comments such as Mr. Gove’s are so irritating – (never met him, probably a really nice bloke, just got some seriously skewed views) – and damaging. I seem to remember being told by my Gran that we learn from the past so that we do not repeat the mistakes of it, and that an open mind is worth the world.

Hate closed minds; personal thing. Grr…

So, why would he want to remove such powerful texts that argue issues harder than Hunter S Thompson at a traffic light? What are they going to be replaced by? Sorry: suggested to be replaced by? The uniquely oblique British press is having a field day with hyperbole at the moment, quoting vitriol left right and centre, but I cannot find anything concrete being touted as fact by anyone out there who is commenting. There are suggestions galore, but nothing definite.

Great way to annoy academia though, if you think about it. Say something, get it quoted out of context, get the Virtualities, (a bit like principalities, but not actually real and a bit less Welsh), and sit back to watch the publicity machine go into overdrive.

It seems to me that the UK is rapidly becoming a country of revisionist tendencies. That’s not doubleplusgood in my opinion.

Great literature reflects, distils and smashes the crap out of society, holds it up to the light for scrutiny and then shakes it down to get answers. Like Confucious said, via my Gran : Study the past if you would define the future. 

I wonder if she had him over for tea one day?

I think Ray Bradbury had a very clear pair of glasses on during the months he wrote  Farenheight 451.




He slams the door, retaliation echoing his displeasure around the room and her ears.

Whimpering is not enough for him; his meal was meant to be ready twelve minutes ago, on the table, hot, served and deserved, not left in the oven while she wet-nursed the baby. Where were her priorities? Not on him, that was for sure. Didn’t she have the brains to know who put the food she regularly wasted on the table? Didn’t she know who paid for the electricity she wasted, digit by digit, squandered on heating and tea?

Who was it that earned every penny, only to see it wasted again and again on disposable nappies? Was it her? Did she earn the money? Earn her way?


She sponged off him, wasted his money and denied him rights that his own parents would have thought obscene.

Her thoughts were innumerable, her charms less so and her guilt boundless. She was lucky he even gave her an allowance, not that she spent it on herself – which was good. Any spoiling of herself was to be crushed immediately, whether it be fashion or friends – her place was with him and him alone as his wife, to honour and obey. Nothing more of less.

Her face appears, worried, lines frowning in concern as she realises the time and knows that there is nothing she can say, nothing she can do to calm him down.

There is no need for alcohol to fuel his anger; hate does it perfectly for him.

I really cannot STAND this type of person…

Is there an inherent pointlessness in being good / bad?

I’ve seen the lists, naughty AND nice… Humanity’s not on it. Darn…

Why should we be either?

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction – fundamental law of da One-iverse – and for every good deed done there must be – quantum mechanics working over time – an equal and opposite bad deed to balance it out.

We live in a quantum world.

We are affected by a Quantum Universe.

We affect a Quantum universe, as it permeates our every being.

At best then, being good can only maintain a balance in the cosmos / on the Earth, it cannot tip the scales into a more positive way of being, any more than being ‘naughty’ can tip the scales the other way, into negative.

All things being equal – and they’re not, but that’s a concept for another time – is the best way to survive this plane of existence just to maintain the middle ground and have an absence of good and evil in our lives? Tread the waters of life with no thought for others save self. I wonder what kind of vacuum would that create in a soul? The Overwhelming Apathy of Life. Does this vacuum already exist and we just don’t know about it, so inured are we to the everyday tirade of pain we witness through the news and feeds. (And why is it a feed? What kind of hunger do we have that requires us to be fed information so regularly? What are we afraid to miss out upon?!) 

Why don’t we get bothered by things any more? Is there a ‘meh’ mentality that is overwhelming the world?

If so, then that would explain the mire we seem to be bogged down in as a species. Why have we so many who are lost and retreat into their own selves? Is it a generational thing?!?

Time to rediscover good and evil in life and make a stand for whichever one your heart follows. Perhaps I’m talking about A Life Defined. Hmm, mayhap that shall be a future entry!


Sandy Hook Elementary School. Say no more. Thoughts are with all at this time.

Vacant Vortex

I have just sat here, in front of the glowing screen that is making my tired eyes water as if tomorrow had run out of favour, dredging through the silt of my mind to find something vaguely interesting to blog about.

It hasn’t gone well!

I have been sucked into the Vacant Vortex that exists between the decent websites with pages that contain items and information that I actually would consider worthwhile reading and, (oxford comma notwithstanding), those that have no real need to exist, save for the ego’s of their creators. I admit I have been frittering away the remnants of decent vision upon mind-numbingly dull sites of minimal interest to anyone, save those who want to know about 70’s polyester slacks, cheese riddled 80’s horror movies and plop-ups, and my life has dribbled away into the gap between my keyboard and mouse in such a way as to make me feel a complete WordPress failure.

Just a thought, doesn’t every website exist because of someone’s ego,including mine as well?

Darned logic…