Cafe Culture…

Cafe Culture around the world: that all important dark espresso is never more important than when traveling; a dark back-street cafe in different locations is all the pleasure i need…

There is always time to chill,  people watch and enjoy the company when outside as much as much as the coffee. Back home in Cambridge the coffee tastes every bit as divine in one’s chosen back-street haunt. People watching and espresso; what more can a heart desire?

 

The Keeper of Scrolls

December 2017

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CITY NIGHT LIFE: NIGHT WANDERINGS WITH MY LENS.

Street Photography: wandering the streets of London and Cologne.

 

<Click on an images to view and enlarge>

September 2017: Adueni KT

 

 

Time to stop….?

Opening doors and running through rooms
Running, running, running through dark rooms
Running through darkness, feeling the mud holding and clinging
Seeing faces from a past that never was
Hearing voices from a future never to be
Opening doors and running through rooms
Quick, quick, run, run
Don’t stay still, don’t let the door slam
Keep ahead of the crowd, ahead of your thoughts
Stay ahead of the truth, run through the room
Shut the door, shut it all in
Dare to breathe, dare to cry
Dare to live, yet dare to die?
Shut the door, stay in the room, crouch on the floor
Time for tears, time to cry
Lock the door, keep it all out
Tired, tired of running
Time to stop, time to slow, time to live, time to grow
Time to embrace the truth as it is
Step up to life to bury the lies
Swing the hatchet, hold it down
Come alive in the blood
As you roar, as you roar
Open the door and see all your fears
Open the door, see what it reveals
See life in a room that’s not gone wrong
Stay in one place, slow
Slow to a beat, take one breath
Chill to the beat. sing to the rhythm
Vibrate with life, flow with the pain
Be whole once again
It’s life, it’s hard, this is it, this is now
Hold on, hold on
Catch the light, catch the time
Catch the breath, catch the now!

cropped-wales-4.jpg

August 2017

 

The moon in his eyes……

Inspired by an ancient waymarker in a silent churchyard way up on Exmoor; a land that has so many tales to tell, if only it could…..

A solitary waymarker stands tall, marking the boundary of the graveyard; a tick upon the land. No blood, no sign of any struggle, not now. A girl long ago cruelly hunted down and burned, leaving no trace; just ashes, dust scattered to the winds on that wild and desolate moor, where these days only the wind howls to the moon.

Not for the likes of her sweet and loving soul, the serenity of a consecrated graveyard. Not for the likes of her the dignity of remembrance. Not for the likes of her an epitaph carved lovingly in stone; only the winds and rain to wash away all traces.

All she did was to fall in love, to surrender her heart and soul to the one who loved her back.  All she did was fall in love wildly with a passion of her being way beyond her years. All she did was fall in love with a dark and wild immortal with the wind in his hair and the moon in his eyes. All she did was to allow him to love her back.

All she did was to kiss him on that wet and stormy night in that dark, desolate graveyard way up there upon the moors. It was all she did, one kiss, one passionate and rain-soaked kiss.  It was all she did, she fell in love with the immortal with the wind in his hair.

Some nights when wandering up there on the wild moors, one can almost catch the movement of shadows out of the corner of one’s eyes. One can almost hear the rustling of wet leaves and the sound of damp footsteps running frantically through the graveyard.

One can almost imagine in the darkness, the waymarker with the sturdy gorse bush still growing at its foot after all these years, on an otherwise dry patch of lifeless earth where nothing else will ever grow. And if one was to imagine sinking down upon one’s hands and knees under the waymarker, one can almost see the rivulets of blood running forth onto wet saturated garments in the rain; up there on the moors.

And some nights when the moon is round and the air is dry it is not hard to imaging a lonely cloaked figure under the waymarker scraping away at the parched black earth where nothing lives. One could almost imagine a figure with the wind in his hair, uncovering an old and crumbling piece of wood tossed away in haste by those who feared a vengeful god and who had time and guilt on their hands; a simple weapon that had long ago pierced his lover’s trusting heart.

One could almost imagine
Almost
Whilst up there on the moors….

marker.png 3

Adueni ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

May 2016

Lives in Mono

I watched the people through the glass
Their lives a mirrored reflection of each others
Pale
I stood apart
I cast no reflection
And was glad

Cambridge: March 2017
 

 

Zodiac: an interpretation of Haiku

Also from February’s Allographic Workshop
Seasonal Hauki with the chosen word of ‘Zodiac’

The dark winter skies
Clothe the Earth in icy cold
Zodiac sleeping

Then springtime flies in
Sweet scents and verdant new growth
Zodiac waking

Summer heat, too hot
Desert dry upon the skin
Zodiac listless

At last Autumn comes
All is calm within the skies
Zodiac rebirths

zodiac

February 2017
“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Ego Derived…..

From the Allographic workshop in Cambridge these words resonated in my mind from the word ‘Ego’:
Power… Fear… Uptight… Chains… Boundaries… Delusion… Lies… Humanity… Crushed… Fruitless… Commanding… Deadly… Visionless…

And from those words a poem birthed:

Hidden within humanity
Are the boundaries of delusion
Held strong by misplaced power
Fed by fruitless fear and lies
In a visionless future world
Hides the deadly chains
The lock and key lost in time
Yet time itself already crushed
Within its own delusion of lies
A fruitless circle of becoming
As the Serpent is fed

ouraborous

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’ at the Allographic Workshop 2017

Who Will Dance With Me?

Who will dance with me?
Who will pluck a rose and place it in my hair?
Who will beat the drum?
Write the words and sing the song?
Who will dance my dance?
Swirl me round the dance floor when the last tune has gone?
Or is it me and only me who knows the tune; can sing along?
Rhythm pounds inside my head
I dance alone;
I dance alone;
I dance alone.

dance

September 2010
“The Keeper of Scolls”

SLUMBERING KNIGHTS

Slumbering Knights from days of old
Mythical Beasts; stories untold
Fact and fiction are bound as one
Truth is hidden by the earthly sun
Dare to see what’s before your eyes
Look to the heavens and beyond the skies
Rhyme and reason is no more
Illusion is bound on these earthly shores
Hear the story; read the rhymes
Take a leap right out of time
The truth is where it’s always been
Yet hidden deep within your dream
With the slumbering Knight
On the shores of time
With the mythical beast
No more seen…

 

January 2017

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

Truth is a darkness; suspended in a time that does not exsist…..

Endlessly i fall caught in a chasm of wonder. Spralling onwards

treasure

The bones of my being find shelter & solace ‘neath the comforting shadow of my soul

Digital Camera

Sounds of tinkling pipes woven by the winds own charm weave around my soul

Digital Camera

Silently i tread the years of earthly time; my one companion, my warrior soul…

Digital Camera

With breastplate and sword I stand steadfast and mighty. In silence i rule

Digital Camera

Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time cease to be & all there is is the truth….

wales-4

My name is silence only whispered by the wind when the sky is dark

Digital Camera

Suspended timelessly in a space of my own creation; i weave reality with the electrons of my mind…..

airfield-5-2

All secrets revealed, all knowledge known. At the end of days i shall become into being and She will rise within

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And so it goes on bood spilled, innocents ravaged man’s death on the cards….

for-poem

The time is now here for man to be accounted. Too late for good deeds…

primeval-waters-2014-1

Save your soul, lest you weep and pray for no more tears. Tis over, all done…

graves-1

Beach huts hibernate dreaming of hot days and sand. Returning cycles

wales-2-for-fb

Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time ceases to be & all there is is the truth. The land will endure over centuries of upheavel, always renewing itself at perfect points giving humanity life once more

wales-15-for-fb

Words from the ‘Keeper of Scrolls’  ‘Truth is is darkness suspended ina time that does not exsist’

January 2017 (All photos and words are original and belong to the author)