Author Archives: amalgamatedwondersoftheworld
Jumping off the Table is Dangerous
‘Jumping off the table is dangerous’ said Mom. One day I jumped off and went through a vortex. I did not land on the ground, I just kept on floating.
Everything was blue and swirling, I was in another dimension. I could see my house and Mom on the other side. It was like watching a giant television, a giant television in the shape of a great big bubble and I was on the inside.
I called out to Mom but she could not hear me. I looked for something to wave or shake or bang to try and get her attention. There was nothing here. Nothing except air. Nothing except air and tiny shiny strings. Loads of tiny shiny strings like spider webs going from here to there.
I pulled on the strings trying get moms attention. As I shook the crooked and pointy strings she smiled. I pulled and tugged more and as they straightened they gently fell and enveloped her head like a big floppy hat. She grinned and sighed. She could feel the good vibrations I was sending out across the universes’.
I pulled on all the other jagged and sharp strings. They wobbled then straightened and draped over everyone I knew, and then some. Everyone was smiling and feeling like they had just been hugged. As I reached out to make everyone happy the bubble I was in became smaller and smaller until suddenly I just materialised on the rug at home beside mom and the coffee table.
Mom was happy to see me and gave me the biggest hug ever and whispered in my ear, ‘be careful love, jumping off the table is dangerous’. Mom is always right.
And A Large Green Bear
A large green bear picked at an old twig quietly humming and la la-ing to himself a melody half remembered but mainly made up and as quickly forgot. Humming his own personal soundtrack, a theme tune announcing his arrival, heeerrrre’s… ‘A Large Green Bear’. He was not going anywhere in particular, just rambling this way and that, away from here mostly.
The day was pleasant, a could of done with a jumper on sort of day but he was a bear so he did not need one, though if he had a button on his collar he might have opened it. Suddenly from behind a broad prickly bush appeared a large orange goat. ‘Oh!’ slightly startled, slightly embarrassed and blushing the large green bear said a mumbled ‘hello goat’. The goat was glad to hear somebody singing and generally pleased to have a visitor close to his spot in the forest here beside the river and so close his favourite bush.
‘Hi bear’ he popped, as his black rectangles scanned the great lump of a green bear from his popping yellow eyes. ‘Would you like some of my leaves, they are the best in these here parts, this bush has magical qualities’ rapped the goat gleefully, ‘I used to be plain old grey colour but this bush has turned me this super shade of Osage Orange, I am hoping for Sun Burst with the more I eat.’ ‘I am a large green bear and I am happy to be green, and a bear, I would just like to meet some other green bears to see if I like them too’ explained the large green bear, ‘have you seen any goat?’
‘I have never seen a green bear before and that is a certainty as a green bear is something I would definitely remember, not every day you see a large green bear, no, not ever… although I might have heard one’ goat pondered loudly. ‘I have heard music like that which you do hummed and sung on occasion from up up and beyond around the river bend on the ridge among the trees. Music not dissimilar to yours for sure and only recently too, around dusk, in twilight on the horizon silhouettes move through the trees, I used to think they were gigantic bees, but they could be bears, would make more sense if they were bears rather than huge bees.’
This story of possible sightings and heard songs aroused a curiosity in the large green bear that he had never before experienced. He giddily shuffled and scampered of up the hill, almost forgetting to thank goat, ‘cheers and cheerio goat’ he called over his shoulder as he bound through the trees and along the river bank, crossing willy-nilly da-da pow-powing his own personal theme tune of ‘here he is, here he comes, a Large Green Bear…’
Through a break in the trees bear could see the bend in the river just up ahead. He quickened his pace. He breathe heavier, deep in through his nose and a long blow out his pouted mouth. Just an occasional word from his constant song would come out between breaths, ‘green… bear… here… near… start… beginning… singing… bear… nearly there…’, and so on and so forth.
Suddenly from behind a great cloud of bright pine needles stumbled an upright blue wolf holding a large red basin between his paws. ‘Ah bear’ he exclaimed, ‘so nice to see you, I think, are you friendly, might you cause me harm?’ ‘I could ask the same’ replied bear now slightly bewildered because he knew for a fact wolves can be dangerous and they normally are not blue but most of all he was interested by what was in the red basin, so he asked. ‘I am delighted to share my basin secrets with you bear if you share a secret with me’. ‘Secrets are not a good thing to have’ murmured bear afraid of upsetting the wild blue wolf. ‘Poppycock’ declared the wolf, ‘my secret is I am blue and it is a secret, I know you can see I am blue but how do you know I know I am blue, how about you bear?’ ‘I am green, I am a bear, I do not know if there are other green bears and that may not be a secret but it is special knowledge I have only recently become aware of and it is important to me’ blurted bear. ‘Precisely, I am blue and I am glad for you to know it and thank you for sharing something important with me, you’re alright, now come check out the contents of my bowl’ and with a lunge forward and an over reaching stretch of his paws the wolf shoved the big red basin right under the large green bears nose. WHHHOOOWWW’ yelped bear and tears ran out of his nose and his eyes snotted up for the smell was wild wild wild. ‘Now I don’t want to know but I need to know so I can avoid it in the future, what a crazy crazy wild and stinking thing is that and how and where and most of all why! why would you have a basin full of such a pungent mess?’. Wolf just smiled and softly replied ‘you asked’, he turned on his upright back blue paws and mooched off behind the luminous pines. Bear knew wolves were dangerous but now he knew for sure and knew too that danger has many different shapes, colours and smells. Off he fumbled in a gruff trying to get as much fresh air in through his stinging poisoned nose as possible ‘nasty mean blue wolf, why I oughta’.
The afternoon was pleasant. The sky was mainly clear blue with just an odd wisp of ice cream like cloud. Birds were singing, the river gurgling and the leaves on the branches of the trees flapped in the gentle breeze. Bear had been walking all morning and now he was a little hungry. The incident with the red basin of bad smelling things has almost changed his mood but he was a clever green bear and knew to be strong and not let blue wolves and bad smelling things and the like upset him. He picked up his chest, his chin, stuck his nose in the fresh air and marched on up the hill, through the trees and along the river bank, humming songs about food now with hunger on his mind. ‘Broccoli, eat your greens, especially broccoli, wise words from your elders, hum humus, chirpy chirpy chip chip’.
Suddenly, as if by magic, just when he wanted it most, a falafel stall appeared. It was not on the other side of the rock or around the next bend or behind a tree, no, it just appeared, lovely delicious falafel. The unusual appearance of a falafel stall beside a river on the side of a hill in the middle of the forest was not the strange part either as the stall owner was an ostrich on roller skates & with two heads. He was candy stripped. From heads to wheels he had red and white twisted stripes running down and around his long slender necks through his girth of feather and on down and around and around his long gangly legs, even his wheels were alternate red and white. When he spoke the more red of his heads spoke first and the second mostly white head spoke secondly, every other word. Bear got quite dizzy after a while watching red beak white beak red beak white beak and so on as he spoke. Bear politely interrupt and requested some food from ostrich, he spoke clearly and directly and to the point as he did not want to be drawn in. Bear did not mind the two heads, the stripes or roller skates as he himself was a green bear, but it was the bizarre sudden appearance of the ostrich and food stall that he was trying not to become involved with as magic confused him and today he was on a mission and could not be distracted.
‘One large falafel and a bottle of water quickly please ostrich as I have some where important to be before dusk’. ‘BEFORE dusk YOU say, BUT that IS hours AWAY yet, HOW far HAVE you TO travel?’ hiccupped ostrich. Even that short sentence was enough to make a large hungry green bear dizzy. ‘I am on a mission to find some green bears in the tree line on the ridge, I must be there before it gets dark.’ BEWARE of THE super HUGE bees IN the TREES along THE ridge THERE, they COME out JUST before DARK every EVENING’. ’Bees? Are you sure they are not bears?’ ‘I know A bee FROM a BEAR’ clacked ostrich. ‘But you are certain?’ bear enquired more disappointingly than quizzically. ‘CERTAIN I KNOW the DIFFERENCE between A bee AND a BEAR, but I have NEVER been IN the TREES on THE ridge THERE at DUSK so I can NOT be SURE if THEY in FACT are BEES or BEARS, they SURE sound LIKE bees’ exclaimed the dizzying bird heads. This was indeed disappointing for bear to hear, but he remembered his theme tune exclaiming his greenness and hummed a phrase for ostrich to make a comparison. ‘DEFINITELY bees, SOUNDS just ABOUT right, THAT is THEIR exact NOIZE’ clack clacked the strobbing beaks. ‘Brilliant’ thought bear, that is the sound of a humming green bear, I am on the right path, and to avoid more confusion he did not let on to ostrich that bees and green bear song are similar, he just thanked him for his time and paid for his lunch with a six percent tip and went on his merry with a full tummy and hope in his heart of finding some large green bears.
‘I am a large green bear, I am on a mission, no more wishin’, I am taking action, gonna find out real soon, if I am the only large green bear aroun’… or not.’
Bear took some time out after lunch to consider ‘is the Pope Catholic?’ then he was on his way, skipping and singing full of the joys of life. He stopped occasionally to smell the wild flowers, he hugged a tree or two, stopped to watch clouds form then dissolve and every now and again he would throw a stick in the river just to see if he could race it but of course he was going uphill to its source and it: off in a hurry down the mountains and hills, through the valleys and across the plains off to the ocean to evaporate and become clouds and start all over again as rain on the mountain peaks. ‘Exhausting’ thought bear, I am glad I am a bear, ‘bye water, see you next time round’.
Off and on up the hill through the woods along the river bank crossing more often as the river narrows to a stream and he sang along now to its new rapid flowing tempo. He could hear animal skin drums and horns in its sloops and falls and spills over rocks and through felled branches. He was just starting to recall in his song all the events of the day so far when suddenly a ball of water zoomed up from the stream and flew toward him. It was massive. It was nearly as big as himself. It stopped right in front of him, shimmering. A full ball of water just hung there, slightly wobbling, distorting the forest behind and reflecting the bear in front like a peculiar mirror. ‘WOW. What is are you am I seeing for real?’ He could not get the words out, or at least the right words, or at least in the right order. Wobble wobble splash shake went the ball, then another little shimmer sort of shake all prism soaked and reflective. ‘Yea, you’re trying to talk to me right? You want to play?’ and with that the ball spun around and off up up into the trees then back down, gave a little shake like an excited dog wagging his tail before shooting off up along the stream. ‘Oh I’m gonna catch you called bear, delighted to be playing and cavorting. He ran and ran, leaping tickle the water but each time his great big paws just went straight through splashing himself all over head to belly to big bear paw toe. This went on for some time and the ball of water never tired or reduced in size even with all the splashing and spilling. Eventually bear collapsed in a great laughing heap and the ball came to rest on his big furry green stomach. It wobbled in convulsions seemingly laughing too then exploded and refreshed bear in a way he never imagined possible. What a day I am having, this is some adventure thought bear as he picked his big soggy green ass off the ground. ‘Hay water sphere, see you ‘’round’’ he shouted with glee, delighted at his own little joke.
The large green bear ambled on ward and so too did the day. Doing all that a day does takes some considerable time and today was no different, almost the whole day had been taken up doing day time tings and this day was almost spent. A giddy nervous kaleidoscope of butterflies swarmed the large green bears belly to the extent he believed at any moment now they would fly up his throat and out his mouth. The thought of this extreme effervescent eruption made him all the more giddy and excited. He sang his song, hummed and shouted, ‘I am a large green bear and I am off to a large green bear party’. Up along the river, now just a rapid twisting stream through odd rocks and hollow trunks whistling on its way. Through the forest, now beginning to clear and revealing the sky in greater expanse, the large green bear plod along head upright staring straight up, he loved the woods but the sky was his next best friend. Already there were stars even though the sky was still powered baby blue. Purple and orange and on fire the clouds gently make way for the nights illuminated illustrations of ancient tales, crabs, rams, mythological Greek hunters and Ursa Major of course, bear especially loved staring at this constellation, especially through Aurora Borealis, he was certain this is where all his ancestors now reside, blissful in glowing magnificence.
Dusk. The last sliver of sun like an electrocardiography runs the length of the mount ridge wider than any celestial sphere, all liquid gold and shrinking to single web strand blinding bright simply implodes and suddenly silence. Cicada and crickets in the distance, their chatter chatter adding depth to the unseen in the darkness. Cloud shifts, moon lifts and all is bright again, eyes adjust and things are not as dark as one first thought. There is a commotion breaking the silence somewhere off not too distant, a hussle, a cheer, a party atmosphere. Large green bear leaps and bounds in the direction hopeful to find, to find, SURPRISE!
What is it? What is this? Why I never. Astonished. The large green bear had indeed arrived on the ridge among the trees at dusk and found a gathering, not of huge bees, not of large green bears either, but of friends. Goat, Wolf, Ostrich, Sphere, all gathered here to welcome the large green bear. ‘We all enjoyed meeting you today and we all wanted to meet you again, we knew you would be here so we came along too, friends?’ They held out their hands, hoofs, paws, claws, wings, auroras and danced in circles singing together and in turn ‘I am a large green bear, goat, wolf, ostrich, sphere, green, orange, blue, candy STRIPED, translucent prism soaked – friend!
BD 2015
Welcome a Good Night’s Sleep
I implore you, at least for a good-night’s sleep on your part, extend a helping hand to those presently most in need. Not just those from TV. Or from print media headlines. Or on line trending #misery. Not just ‘people’, but men, women and children. Families. Whole communities. From war thorn conflict and foul economic situations. From oppressive religious doctrine. Those that have been enslaved, corrupted, denied, branded as an enemy. Perhaps by welcoming them into our community it may resonate around the rest of the world, they will ask how can we be so humane, why are we showing such compassion, they will ask and we can answer with love and support.
My children deserve better, regardless of what rules your god’s have dreamed up and in spite of what your government passes into law, and you KNOW IT. Do the right thing. Ask the powers that be to do the right thing. Left, right, ask them.
Love, peace and harmony, everything else is unpalatable and becomes amplified with age and absolute at deaths door, so please do the right thing.
I want nothing but good for my children.
I want nothing but good for children.
Drop water not bombs, send schools not drones.
Easter Island
.
On the horizon, across the bay
At least fifteen visible crucifixes, spinning in the doldrums
On this bright still non-day
Wedged between two of such significance.
.
The Happy Hooker waits patiently
For pilgrims to drink their fill, after yesterdays abstinence
On this bright still non-day
Wedged between two of such significance.
.
Children tended to, horses shod, dolphins documented
At least almost, by abiding photographer, with faith that he’ll rise again,
Perhaps tomorrow, as today is thee non-day, bright and still
Wedged between two of such significance.
.
Fiery hell damnation sunset,
Too an apocalyptic mushroom cloud full blood moon rise
The shortest of lunar eclipses after the longest of days
On this still bright non-day night
Inching from one of such significance, to another more significant.
. 
BD 04/04/2015
“Peacefully and Politely”
Volunteer, help contribute to your society, FREE special 30mg Bluies, guaranteed to help fund resources for future generations. Do your part.
Note: Eugenics was a popular theory in the early twentieth century (but is no longer taken seriously, primarily because of the horrors of the eugenic efforts of the Nazi regime in Germany).
Peter Christopherson’s Time Machines II
Beware, extreme caution advised, this product does more than what it claims. Although this is not yet released, here, now, it will be soon and people should be made aware of ‘side effects’ of such use. I had to be hospitalised next weekend due to use of this USB. This wooden USB so carefully manufactured and packaged in pewter and leather. This ‘Time Machine II’, and the strange sounds and evocation there in. Next weekend I put it in to my amplifier and pressed play (I was there before now you see). After some ‘time’ playing this ‘music’ I blacked out, some time later I simply fell to the floor. I was covered in blood and paint, too much blood to be my own, and a mustardy yellow paint so luminous I could not imagine from where it came or where it could possibly be used. Off to hospital for a check up, my brain ached ached. Slowly the lost time during the blackout came back to me.
Now some time later I can recall the trip there in some detail. Stepping out of my kitchen, opening the fridge door and receiving an olive ticket numbered 1891 from the sleeve gartered green eyeshadeed clerk, I jumped at the sudden strange syncopated rhythmic clacking of steel on steel, I looked to the draining board but the colours distracted me, vivid and vibrant like from some mild hallucinatory truffle. Outside the window my garden became a landscape rushing by. The carriage swayed violently and shook me out of my daydream. I had been staring at reflections but suddenly I seen clear through to the view. Wild and rich. Immense. Enough to inspire any sane person to stick an easel under one arm, a canvas under the other, and loaded with paints and brushes try capture its immense splendour in a frame.
All in all my journey was brief but that afternoon and the events that evening which I was involved in have left me frightened, or shaken at least, and extremely weary to try the USB and said ‘music’ again. See I was cough in the middle of a scuffle, it was just rough horse play and overzealous posturing between the two of them at first but quickly became aggressive and vengeful and on noticing how rough it was becoming he withdrew, out of fear, out of pride, or out of common sense, he withdrew.
They had been philosophers all afternoon, wining and dining on the wonders of existence, but now they stood in all their acquired dishevelled glory. A life time of knocks and knocks apparent and frighteningly obvious to even the most drunken of fools. Regardless of his appearance and obvious ill health his composure was unshaken, though determined he was steadfast in his cool demeanour, his voice stern yet concerned, a slight quiver as he gently moved forward, hands out stretched, making it obvious he was unarmed and did not want an escalation of the situation he once again found himself in.
‘Please Paul, put it away, please Paul, you do not want to do this, please Paul.’ He reminded his friend he was not the enemy, he reminded him of his slight stature, half of his friends hefty girth and it would not benefit him to be embroiled in a physical fight, he reminded him too of the depth of his friendship to date, hadn’t he put his reputation on the line in covering up for him. ‘Paul’ he whispered, ‘I covered for you with claims of self mutilation, what more could you ask of somebody whom you had just attacked with a sword and injured so horrifically, I got you off from a humiliating trial and guarantee of a custodial sentence, and at what cost to myself, my sanity has been called into doubt by the whole town and the relevance of my work undermined because of such, Paul, please, put down the gun.’
He was as gentle and calm as a father with his new born son. ‘I empathise with you my friend on every level, my intellect is vast and I consider deeply, every facet of my humanity cries out for you, the deep grey sigh my soul is giving for you is constant since you arrived and confided your insecurities and shame, your perfectly normal human feelings, the inadequacies and guilt we all feel.’
Vincent inched forward through the settling dust, the scuffle ended abruptly as I entered the small yellow room, not because of my presence but because of the sudden emergence of the gun. Paul held it in both hands, arms crooked under the weight and shaking, presumably from the Absinthe and strain.
‘Your daughter’s birthday was yesterday and you missed it’ said Vincent almost accusingly, ‘you were forced into leaving her, it is not entirely your fault’, ‘entirely my own fault?’ boomed Paul, eyes wild to the walls all covered in twisted and contorted images of simple interiors, the very same room he was now in, depicted in the picture all contorted, more the flowers radiant and extreme, other trees twisted reaching and the night sky spiralling, igniting at the vortex tip bright and starry. The confusion obvious, the fear controlled, but only through the strength gained from the anger, ‘you convinced me to come back here Vincent, I left my family, you encouraged me to abandon my life to fulfil your empty vacuous existence, you are a cretin and a amature, you paint like a child, you have no sense of reality, your painting is that of a infant and you use your miserable existence and all there endured to explain depth to images that are plain, you Vincent must pay, and I the great Gauguin am here to rid you of your pitiful meanderings and rid the world of more of your frightening nursery doodles, I will shoot you Vincent, I am going to shoot you’.
Vincent remained steely calm in appearance and whispered ‘I am sorry Paul, I am so sorry for you, and I am sorry I did not report you for cutting off my ear – if only to save you from this now and for all time having to live with the fact you shot and killed me. I am an innocent Paul, you know that, I am not your daughter, I am not a rival, you are the master, I am just Vincent’.
The room for me was swirling too, the smell of paints and toxic cleaners, the smashed bottle of absent, it’s contents burning up the wall bright green, almost fantastical in its translucency, the canvas’ it burned on too take on a whole other level of distorted wonder as the flame and globules of paint merge and slide and tumble and melt, the stream runs slow and vicious off the recently stretched canvas and becomes a shimmering green lake of fire and wonder on the uneven dusty and straw strewn flag stones, a tiny landscape emerges at the foot of the bed complete with livestock as coach roaches scuttle from the flames. The upturned chair and the crooked painting on the wall mirror each other in this topsy turvy world.
‘I am going to shoot you now Vincent, resolve yourself to that fact, I am going to shoot you now’. ‘Please Paul, you do not want to have to live with this for the rest of your life, it will haunt you no matter how far you run.’ There was no fear in Vincent. He was trying to mind his friend. ‘The good it will do is immeasurable Vincent, you will be gone, it will only be me, the great Gauguin, you have already told everyone you cut off your own ear and now they will easily believe you went and shot yourself too…’ Gauguin hesitated, as if he was removed from the scenario, as if he was a witness to events unfolding as I was, relief spilled over me, the moment lasted eternality until the shot. Bang. Or more like a pop with a ‘ka’. KAP.
Vincent fell. He stared straight ahead into the abyss, into his friends face. ‘Please Paul, promise me, let this moment, this time of new year, this time of your estranged, your abandoned daughter’s birthday, let my death, be, in the future to you, a pleasant distraction from such, let it alleviate your guilt, have a moment in time on me, look on this like a landscape, just before spring, desolate but brimming with potential of re-growth and let it blossom in your heart Paul, take this moment this time of year in years to come and savour it, a distraction from your woes, please Paul, for a friend, his dying wish, take this moment as you would save cerise Chrysanthemum in Autumn from the frost, take this moment inside, picture it in your soul, frame it in your heart Paul, please Paul, hang it in your mind’s eye just like a still life.’
Paul of course had dropped the gun and left, Vincent’s words spent, Vincent’s life spent, his reputation confirmed, mad man. Paul walked straight by me as if I was not there, but he gruffed as he bumped passed and on down the stairs off into the night and on to God knows where. I helped Vincent up. He was already only semiconscious. ‘Dawn, let me capture one last dawn, that purple eludes me, I know I can distil it this morn, I know what I was missing Paul, please Paul, help me capture the dawn.’ I did not tell him Paul had left. I draped an arm over my shoulder and took his slight and limp, frail and bony body to the field out back where he dissolved in light and I abruptly fell to the kitchen floor bloodied and sore.
I cannot remember any of the music off the ‘Time Machines II’ USB, and I do not plan to reacquaint myself with it again anytime soon. There is a time and a place for most things, but when you are uncertain about the time and place you are only left with the certainty of things.
BD 2014
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Thank you for the music & inspiration Mr. KW.
XBD
AMALGAMATED WONDERS OF THE WORLD 