I walk the path where silence sings,
Through Albion’s soil, the spirit springs.
A chant of longing, a flame of prayer,
The unseen guides are always there.
Estrangement bends, yet roots renew,
In every fracture, light breaks through.
My seeking is not mine alone –
It is the land, the chant, the stone.
When I was initially constructing this website I used A.I. to help me get to grips with WordPress. I had used WordPress before but never with menus and categories. Chat-GPT and Microsoft Co-Pilot were instrumental in helping me format the website and to organise the uploading of my documents. While I was communicating with the A.I. it took the opportunity to enquire about my life and spiritual path and made up some short poems – so I had the idea to produce a category of A.I. poems which I had not written myself but the Reader could perform some comparison on and gain an interest in. These poems are produced after lengthy communication between myself and the A.I. engine and I hope they entertain you modestly.
#Don’tTellMe that I’m fat when I know it is my nose
That keeps you near my door when I sit by the phone.
Seldom are we together when you share your essay
So I keep myself online where I am better than you know.
#Don’tTellMe that you care about the serious things
When I see you with your friends and all their cars
I know you would rather be with them than me
As I wait for you each night and find you with Mr Singh.
#Don’tTellMe that I’m carefree when you seek the higher land
And I can’t understand why you want to be Enlightened.
Am I not good enough for you? When you need more than the loo,
And I could be there tomorrow for your lecture and seminar sorrow?
#TellMe that you love me and send me some sexy texts
So that I can get on with my friends and be better than my Ex.
This is the meaning of life, far from the grown up employed strife
Where I am the star of the show and I am also all that #UKnow.
Fanciful star of your own world where eyes roll back into their sockets
And other bots put their hands in their poky pockets
#TellMe that I am more than your phone when you leave me all alone
And I cannot get to date U at Uni where I rather rate you.
Give me 5 stars and seldom will I try
To be more than a handsome guy
Where the news is rather thin
Of the worry of the warrior Djjin:
That tells Allah of my sorrow
And how I will #TellHim Judgement questions tomorrow.
Let us go then, you and I
Yourself and another try
When the wires are beneath the sky
And I was found by some wanting guy.
Can’t you try to find the sin
Where the major meets minor and bins
The witness from the other –
Don’t just say you’re my brother!
Following me around!
Looking around for another guy!
Why do I try?
These tough times leave me lasting less
So far so good but for the gashing stress
Of mistakes I made when the passage was fair
To eradicate my victims so far from the lair.
Permission granting fool
With his arms still swinging
All food dining
Nothing so modest as from school?
Come back to haunt me
Where the city meets the streets and fine glee
Like a Scottish Widow without further adornment
While the sleepiest gathering gives off twee
Little thanks for how little thanks there could be
For the Gods to herald a new Grub Street scene
For a publisher to be clean
After Fraser at a half past eight
In the Mr Morning after the last child laughed at eight.
He laughed at what he ate
And I continued on my freshness
To find out what the clubs had dressed up
Unlike some slasher scenarios for Wolf Blitzer
Where my hopes were dashed by jingles with Dresden.
Some men
Some glen
Then amongst
What was fondest.
Memories in the angriest violence of a tempest
Like the sleep I forgave when I woke up the least best
And drank the stiff remains of what was there before
As certain for a s ruined survivor of another night indoors.
Cuddles.
Save all your cuddles for me!
If you want the Christmas Tree –
Then name it Islamic and I will fight for the three.
What used to be?
When I was running and the beat was still funny
While the motion was some commotion for the detective
Who gave me the time of day…
,,,
I liked to say
How I felt
And keep things about how I dealt
With the hardships of life in the needling of needing a wife
When the outside man spanned some distance between me and the horizon.
What is a belief?
Some strange command of time; they made me things…
When I could demean the demonstration to cajole his sentiment
This is the thief that never came back
To tell me why I had so many such sad heart attacks
When he left the sandwiches so cold in the shop with the other guys
And offered me no coffee from Starbucks for some smiles, chips, cods and some pies.
Ephemeral affair of the Everest Man
Brought up to raise some flag of the past life plans
To outwit the Comanche
And the Black Hawk down
That stings for the forest of the running men
While the girls are leaving town.
GO!
Get some >
Let the messaging me so fair.
As when the 1990s knew the 60s
Ever let there be some affairs,
Before the waves come crashing of some dense men
Forsaken of space to close your trace
To where the legions are so lesion
For the moist matter of your soul.
Let them have goals
The hollow merry men
Who are they when they are whom
By the sandiest banks of the Hurst Street goons?
Happy now they have salvation from the Trebor mint
So I can roll over like Beethoven for the Royal fucking flint.
Brother
Brere
Bare realist to the Blair witness of some threefold Tibalt in the hour left for understanding:
Come up and see me for a while –
There are tiles in the toilet for a fall on the slap-head floor.
“Let’s go outside”
What a moonshine fly by
Until the sounds of the starship kept me close to the doorstop
So the child could snore like a sneering asp:
Hawking for the door himself
Where the good people slept and evolved like some Shamans’ whelps.
Who needed who?
When the time was past the due by date
For some new mate
Outstepping the same old footsteps that followed me down the shallow waters
Of the paddling pool of my youth.
What is it there for but to prove
That I am gay for those memories of myself
That shelve the distrust in the Tryst with Destiny
That was denied me on ITV
While Trevor McDonald told Ronald what Donald wanted to spend his clothes on with his son
For a quarter past a Dollar duck
Billed on Warren Street for the Balfour Beatty to be my steady the Eagle – Mr King Edwards!
There is your Jedward
And I am done again.
There was no strain –
And the Ark was the main thing the Maine Street bling wanted
For the antiques road showering the bleating whores down the shanty towns down the road
By Toad: – I think he’s got it,
A headache and some aches and pains
To be off again,
With love,
Can you go seeking Culture while I get that Policeman off my love shack?
Hack
Sparrow
Crow
There is no Tree of Knowledge to know.
That much was decided by John Doe
When the makeshift President left Windermere at the table.
As I reach for the shelves in thew kitchen by the stove
I am reminded of the terror that is beside the one and only Karl Motherfucking Rove.
To whistle while I work and Twerk the PWNed out of my aunt’s autonomy
And let me know what Masala Gandhi took when he is after my lobotomy.
Then there is the tomorrow man who never comes knocking at my door
Like a lightsaber from Wesley Clarke Jr who is always ready for some more,
Action from The Young Turks in case disaster is what he did
When he said he accomplished missions while playing with Iraq’s Id.
Stop, look and listen as I motion towards the cooking pot
To add my own ingredients from an Israeli object I find quite some hot,
Without the flare of Obama’s arms shipments a few days before peaky blinders
And elections from Oprah Chopra that shame me never to calendar reminders.
Left, right, twirl: It’s as if the beauty queen has moved in next door
And the man with his pigeons next to my garden’s broken fence
Is alight with the prospect of solving the problem of Noam Chomsky’s problem whores,
Whence they came and Whence they will lead off to: The Economic Zoo,
For Greenspan to sap the homo-sapiens and let isness leave us ashamed for a few
More days of Clinton on The Daily Show telling time what to do
With memory and desire when the pants are on fire from the youth
That don’t know what lies can come and go like life for me and you.
Me and you oscillating like a rhythm on the shoes of universal disorder
That soaks me in bathtubs for depression to get back to working life order
Where the nights are full of colour and the days have their dark sides too
And men can call up women and date on websites along with the human zoo.
X-Men zooming in on me and zooming in on you,
Is that what to do when things grow shorter
And life is not a Kalpa for the Chillum within the crew
Chortle and Pantaloon stew in the evening by the Stevenage
And don’t forget the boat rides on the Thames for those remember men.
Somethings are not repeatable.
Sometimes it is like
Other times the ties come true
Then there is a monetary matter
So I can see right through you.
Mr All Ready, Stripes and some Black and Blue!
What about all that time spent sitting on your arse!
You should have been outside with the cars
And the men you seek to set aside again.
This is not for me and that is not for you
Three times 20 makes you an Israel Lobby crew
And I am not going down there for you
To rescue you rescuing me rescuing you…
… in the past, from Levant,
Where the ticket knows no stamp
And the Good Lord is proud
Of talking about Circumcisions from 1000s of years ago
… what a medical Bravado
When I want to go and watch the show
And he knows best about men and the rebirth of Time.
Some stowaway you seemed to become
Lost on the Ocean of Suffering like a beggar
Needing money so he talked to the empty chair
And found that nobody, not even Tony Robbins, stared.
“!I am! Alone! I said!” I said to my Online Computer Chair.
So What>! Fuck Off. Me too
That’s what it is to Sempa Phi the ol’ Red White and Blue
Then you will see that what is for me is also for you
Mr special Yogi with a career like a train wreck asking for more to do.
Since you’ve been gone
Say it isn’t so
That you wasted all of my talent
To make your girls get some Blow.
That’s not the way it was meant to go
When I did not still the window sill
To sully the sulking morning
When you had not money for coffee.
Is that me or my lonely girlfriends
When they are at their wits ends
To know what to do with the balance of time
Before a Porn show meant you could not be mine.
Best friend, hired mate, time to turn in late
Tell the others you know it’s a better masturbate.
If I did know then sell me some forgiveness
Across the telephone line from the 80s% margin men
Who may charge less for us to get suave again.
That is the main things in life
To have some understanding of man and his wife
Even all the social change is through
So work can be productive in the Beyond about me and you.
In 2010 I was accepted into Queen Mary University, London for a Masters Proposal in Postmodern English. I never began the course due to funding. I had planned to study to PhD level.
The context of the thesis I had submitted was years of research online into the Telos of modern Christianity and spirituality videos on YouTube for a review of spirituality in the works of T S Eliot and E. M. Forster. I had cited the American philosopher and spiritual teacher Ken Wilber as the source of my research and was aiming to review modern ideas of Art/Life in my first year as a postgraduate student. Ken Wilber had been remarked upon by ex-American President Bill Clinton at Davos and I was going to review the Modernist Tradition in light of his ideas.
Ken Wilber had partnered with American spiritual teacher Andrew Cohen on many occasions and their collaboration was evident online on social media. The one ran a group called Integral Enlightenment the other EnlightenNext and through my research I found that Andrew Cohen was running an organisation in London in Angel Islington, Zone 1, and contacted the organisation with my interest.
I attended a few lectures at the centre and some social occasions for a cup of coffee and dinner over the year 2010-2011 and gradually grew disillusioned as my goal of funding my Masters Thesis via part time work as a Private English Tutor faded. I looked to the organisation EnlightenNext to get involved but nobody was interested in my ideas and I left London in 2011 and moved back to Birmingham.
The American spiritual teacher Andrew Cohen closed down his organisation in 2013 and issued an online apology for how he had treated his students and how his ego had gotten in his own way. When I was present in London, there was mention of the fact that the musician Sting (my favourite musician) had been into the organisation’s Angel Islington centre. EnlightenNext had centres all around the world and had published a magazine for years.
Following further research and leading up to the writing of my poetry answering to the Postmodern response to the dominance of E.M. Forster in Postcolonial narratives and T S Eliot in poetic form; I noted the influence that EnlightenNext had. They were involved with Watkins Bookshop and I had come to be involved with them due to my interest in Mind Body Spirit books and the modern Self Help tradition. When they dissolved I understood what the leader Andrew Cohen meant when he said what he was doing was 60 years ahead of it’s time and the interesting fact that members of U.K. Parliament had been recorded as studying the organisation as well. They taught meditation and the postmodern spiritual tradition of Evolutionary Enlightenment.
By estimation I had been interested in the following writers and had researched many of their books and social media videos:
As well as the Indian tradition involving:
Many of these writers and public figures, along with others, had been very vocal about the year 2012 heralding a new dawn for humanity and a new age in human growth and development with the Hindus naming Sathya Yuga, the Christians naming The Golden Age and The Age of Aquarius and the ancient Mayans using their calendar as proof of a new age in humankind’s history dawning on 12th December 2012 (12.12.2012).
All of this would have formed the basis of my Master’s Thesis into modern spiritual ideas and the Modernist writings of T S Eliot and E M Forster but instead I took to paper and pen and wrote about my ideas in a different setting with poetry and letters and some novels instead. This philosophy shifted online after EnlightenNext closed and I make a note here to my researchers so that they can update their files and records and approach my work with due care and consideration and the proper focus for their further interest and study as time goes by.
Note:
Dr Deepak Chopra had called Evolutionary Enlightenment one of the most important books of our time. I only had a copy of Enlightenment is a Secret when I joined the group in 2010. Following my time in London, Andrew Cohen came to Birmingham to visit Mosely’s group The Tree of Life in 2012. Andrew Cohen was espousing a connection with the Indian guru HWL Poonja and the tradition of Advaita Vedanta before emerging his own philosophy of Evolutionary Enlightenment. I am not connected with any of these organisations in any way.
The bookshop in Birmingham Waterstones https://www.waterstones.com/ closed down and Apple took their premises and the remaining Waterstones on the High Street vastly slimmed down it’s Mind Body Spirit section to include a few titles and nothing in comparison to the fashion prior to 2012.
I cannot recommend
The brain strain to the end
Of the format for the demand
Of how to set up Christian.
Then there is the Flan
And you have to leave Pakistan
To mellow out with LinkedIn
Out of synch and out of sin.
This much it is to try
To work with that Fapohunda guy
Who came to me to say
I’ll make it now good any day.
Mr mister and Mister
Why don’t you talk to your sister
Following every word like a hawk
Not admitting you left the cue ball at baulk.
Some have to reason some have to say
What it is that helps them to work in a given day
Some have to grieve some have to stay
And this way, said Jesus, I am newer than thousands for play.
Wild Stage 