A singular halo grip
in a detailed and new space dust world
as I attempt to catch every note
lost pieces of a mosaic tapestry pool
til the breeze ascends and makes me proud
every lamp counts
then nothing
a defined pitch to frame the day
a solemn frown to scale and despoil
the total work of the collective master builders of our thoughts
our enlivened wires coated strong
new visions sheltered from the howl
Nicholas Peart
Written 2020-21
(c)All Rights Reserved
Image: kasabubu
The owner was knocked out square and flat: gone
his trousers never made the grade
his mouth a liability
his eyes low cut cut marble balls
all the varnish in the world
couldn’t make them shine
Maybe in a new world this person could become a meta source
a forest of fruit trees that always give
no path to blue or gold
only the basic act;
binding
restoring
regenerating
The angels bask in delight
the birds that know their place sing
all seasons light in their totality
the will to live and love
forever strong
The next chapter
route taken down
High level entry to a no:blank dominion
as kings dissolve to diluted matter
insignificant to the naked eye
The low castle in the sea remains
tall deep ocean roads continue to party
the great gig in the trenches
Reeled hard and stupid
the boy broke his wheels
on a well tuned piano
like some 1950s David
his days long numbered
yet his spirit would outlast
all the fragments around his used car body
I remember vividly his eyes
over his motorcycle jacket
his fenced inner pain and trauma
trampled by the fashion dujour
everybody only wanted a piece
of what was skin deep
like deep sea gamblers
unable to tame their core
Well cooked vultures never saw the stars
what kind of players did god put on this limited stage?
with base personalities in unlimited supply
Nicholas Peart
2020-21
(c)All Rights Reserved
Flute notes on a pine glaze
overlooking gentle hearts onto an unspoilt mirage
The glance that buries
overturns and all end turns
a mystery to a rumble dawn
all hate fuelled, filled and rock-shaken
Too many people all perched
sideways on a black swan precipice
stale magma from a pre big bang age
lost lava dots
brittle contention in his visor geared sunglasses
puff face
The dream in full bloom
til we exit the bridge and prepare the final assault
on hive minds: air waved
distracted lovers craving for short term flat steppe ground
zero grindstand in tulip formation and new broccoli heads
on a glorious raven silk mother Capri glow
overturning the tired thin-haired whirlwind sound
an over extension of blocked chops
set loose in broken parade
Soften hearts after the final solution
in the land of prosaic necessity
over the Dionysian saturation plain
I meditate on a white horizon
In the aftermath of an insatiable firebird life
I am happy in my invisible quarter
and space cadet peace
In another world I must’ve been a savage
with bricks for brains and all the artillery at my disposal
Fear was a distant star;
unknown and little understood
I packed my bags too early;
my heart was a desert
My mind was a fertile jungle of subterfuge
The act of war was my only art
Until a godstar vision re-aligned
and re-positioned me to a new plateau
Nicholas Peart
Written 2020-21
(c)All Rights Reserved
Image: Jason Blackeye
As cold steel fingers cease the reaping of the pitiful sows
a new class of heads are banged together like balls on detonation row
new questions grew from a town view that few wanted to see
yet it often pleased and comforted me
see a new suspended vision exuding a rare power
after years of numbed technical ecstasy
I want to see, feel and move
like the exponential growth of a rare full blooming flower
In this frame living is the fullest
and all the honey and the grime I can roll in
keep pumping my heart, mind, soul and body
on all fours: the sacred four burning
a blinding wipe out
By Nicholas Peart
3rd May 2020
(c)All Rights Reserved
Image: Anselm Kiefer The Orders of the Night (Die Orden der Nacht) (1996)
The universal tide: jacked on the cross
tainted down to the tow: forgotten seat dread
Everything I said was captured and fed
at the dust down
at the dusk: hold and go
As the airport got tight
and the blue/gray mutilated stratus sky was out of sight
I should’ve sown what I saw in a less than plain view
forming a white view board from which this can grow
from where the crows lowly glide;
are they looking for a home?
or are they out-reaped and looking low?
For a chill second I can beat;
the ships like broken bread
malted dread to level all those distorted hollow sounds
I wanted to delve and I wanted to feel
Of all the reeling
as it sapped all and everything
out the back mind ground to level dust
On a devil-cut mirror stretched to rage
In my cage I can’t be the fullest entity in another dimension
I need that place where the grip is soft
I need to be there where a coin toss determines nothing
The rotations last for as long as one can forsake
crystal glints of mirages more fleeting than rainbows
As gravity classifies and resists
all underwater sub-machine gun fires: a storm in a shot glass
this transpires to nullify all lost to random heavens
Low grade leanings; creased and worn
from a battle long forgotten
For victories returned to crust micro living
broken reeds: posed feel
no halos or smoking guns
grabbed tight, fast and blown
The dice repeats; one rinse and an algorithmic key
hoping for some secret chord beyond the promised land
Don’t go. Never. No
All fires flipped to the charred thunder
all lovers dipped into pools reserved for the afterlife
awakened callings; more bangs, less whimpers
the shown degree to what they say
put aside and boxed for another day
The seeds lost count and I am losing my sleep
Too hard to take the heat
with the fear level breaking the needle on the dial
as rocks turn to magma and the magma now an engulfing cloud
with no destination only suffocation
until I wake up and a new blue day awaits
Mothballed liver found fault
on the creases in his face
as he slanted to a crooked place
the gaze mutated to a duller shade of pink
and the stagnant wine retreated in an alchemic blink
a nation torn down
an abandoned and unedifying sink to leave no trace
let us all pray
No lines crossed
All spots and sparks; around an arc
marked full and hard
like the tyrant string pullers of fragile lights
soon brushed off crumb by crumb
to bring lanes to the next beams
I see the cheers
I keep walking
not letting go of the veil
all else is of no control
splinters in another wave
By Nicholas Peart
Published on May 2nd 2020
(c)All Rights Reserved
Image: Caravaggio – The Incredulity of Saint Thomas
look around
and
inside
let us stop
let us pray
for-get thoughts ambitions desires
turn in
I A M
W A T E R
We are all water
ALIVE
—–
DEAD
By Nicholas Peart
Written: 12th September 2013
(c)All Rights Reserved
image: pxhere.com
A thought for which I fought
in marble blood-stained lands
A bridge united all these forgotten fragments
Once dead in stagnant Earth liquid;
the white light blinds our eyes
and makes kings out of the smallest ants
by Nicholas Peart
Written: 22nd January 2014
(c)All Rights Reserved
Folded complex
sweet
a bitter rot
underground
nothing smooth detected
no sugar coat
only you
and all your human core
at the fore
as days turn to clockless horizons
where unknown freedom reigns supreme
no nostalgia needed
in this eternal loving vacuum
by Nicholas Peart
Written: 29th October 2018
(c)All Rights Reserved
A faded glow pricks the plankton
most agitated from decades dishevelled
at the micro level too close to the picture
then yes it is a rut not softening the blow
where I am never protected from what I want
and where silent subtle beauty is forever elusive
and joy only permeates once the controls are discarded
then the muted band of life breaks free
Moments are the sacred secret chords
like temporary cloud formations
they ring in a key
before the new pitch saves the day
and old spheres make way for other tones
in all their elegance, discord and limitations
a splattered banquet with no way of knowing
questions and answers are mere confusion
The astral warp is also a puppet
we will never see who pulls the strings
if you search you will not be in rhythm
to the harmony beyond your self imposed prison
the leaves on the trees don’t inquire
they only be; not chasing the next best thing
and when they see those restless rainbow seekers
they laugh so hard the ground beneath them smiles
By Nicholas Peart
Written 27th October 2018
(c)All Rights Reserved
Image: Arcaion
Ash fog brown
on a marathon to quartz
a slow and steady eternity
to the heart of the sun
but then what’s next?
Turned around
now I can see
revved mind energy or splendid fudge?
the process is all I can trust
Crushing it through corridors
passed out next to brief candles
there is no golden period
just the experience of life
or is it the randomness of life?
Ask the dust
ask the wind
ask the most primordial fragments of stardust
in the deepest vacuum of space and time
Even with the most advanced AI
and the entire dimensions and secrets of life
tapped and exhausted
a new landslide of questions
a brand new fire-bird
more insatiable than the last
breaks through
a more expansive longing forms
like blind love with no breaks
the captain thrown overboard and quartered
in the heat of the one-track revolution
Back to a ringed space worse than the other
undisciplined wonder knocked down too many
now Mediocrestan is what I crave
coming from a soul who lost his mind
This life…
its all a scattered game
a futile quest to control
if that’s what you want
let go
Then death…
the greatest leveller
death gives life the parity life cannot give
with all matter in union
all matter in peace
a cause for celebration
not for grief
By Nicholas Peart
Written: 26th -27th October 2018
(c)All Rights Reserved
Image: Felix Mittermeier
META MAGMA STREAMS 