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    Ever Again

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    Ever Again

      Jason Micheal Dunn

      Sculptures by Raynor Dunn

      Copyright 2014 Jason Micheal Dunn

      Poetry:

      Poems by Metazoan

      Jason and the Golden Thesis

      Philosophy for Depressives Against Empirical Vampires

      Dirty Pure

      Something I Wrote the Other Day

      Novels:

      Sure Fire

      Infinite Day

      The Lightning Tree (Coming soon)

      This e-book is licenced for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be

      resold. If you are reading this book and it was not purchased by you or for you,

      respecting the hard work of this author. Your support is much appreciated.

      Table of Contents

      The Anachronist

      Sure Fire

      The Lover

      Easy Listening Music

      Conversions

      What Can I Say

      Give Us Death

      The Cry

      Heading Home

      Bad Poetry

      Sway

      Ika

      Nga Whetu

      Forget Everything

      Ever Again

      The Anachronist

      Out there in the street

      Light expires by subtle degrees

      Its golden heat depletes

      Against that flapping invisible sheet

      In spite of metal carts agleam

      Their ingenious engine’s bark-like song

      The energies held hands and sung

      And nothing was wrong

      Sure Fire

      The boring weave of street concretes the sad extreme

      Inside me dully beats a soulful lost entreaty

      Behind the big grey bank of cloud a growl of light surrounds

      Looking up, so to speak, my heart shook hard to music like a fist

      The fist of peace

      The Lover

      Everything slowed during the crash

      Metal feathers spread over laborious seconds their heartless majesty

      Blotting out the golden font of the sun

      Only a few timeless rays like blinding spokes about the eagles head shone bright

      And in the ancient shower of glass you walked through as if through gentle beads

      Athena’s sunlight delicately entering a room

      Smiling

      In all your easy glory

      Easy Listening Music

      Driven from ground zero in the mental arena

      Expecting the landmark on a timescale

      A philosophy safe as houses

      A white ware of emotions

      A sex life for religion

      And a dance garden wild with metaphors between friends

      Conversions

      The red metal universe superabundantly overproduces vehicles of meaning

      The eternal factory smelts every structure the human pattern recognizes

      But style car-jacks the everyday

      And substance hot-wires the norm to supercede the limits

      The human pattern eludes arrest

      And when civilisation finally wonderfully falls

      The wind and the water will again be our culture

      And the tree of life will again be our pattern

      What can I say?

      What can I say?

      Here I am

      Again

      At least there’s pain

      Enough to dash

      against the glass

      Can’t stand my chances

      Fuck. Romance is

      luck all smashed

      My car of destiny

      Rear view’s fine

      but the road goes nowhere

      Think I’ll walk from here

      Think I’ll run into my

      killing shadow

      What do you know?

      God I hate you

      but I’ll eat you out though

      It’s a deep ravine

      Hell is getting closer

      Throw me at them

      Fuck it. I’m not clean

      I’m dirty. Burning. Heart-stop

      Smiling with you

      Uh-oh. What can I say?

      Uh-oh. Here I am again

      Uh-oh. I’m in love with you

      Oh-no

      Colour you outside the lines

      Pull your hair and take my time

      I’m in love with you

      You

      You

      You

      Give us death

      These hopeless days of fun chasing not at all we rushed

      Can’t believe us washed in laughter clean

      Man, how we blushed our fearless drowned in sunlight smiling blood

      They just didn’t understand how glad we were to cut each other down

      Rising strong on updrafts label garnered

      Marvel hunted desert crossing eyes through spider conscious webs their seeking cried

      “To live to die”

      The Cry

      Your waves are a welcome return

      Riding high on the incalculably described paraboli

      Proud of the depths only insofar as you are far above them

      Not better than them, nor because of them better

      But somehow part of the deep

      And free from its sleep

      Soaring above the underground in a cloak of feather water

      That uneasy crown of warbling sunlight smiling through you

      From a sunk marae my sea ravens cry

      With switchblades for tails

      And pearls for their eyes

      Then into the sand they dive

      Karangamai they cried

      Karangamai

      Like chalks screeching against the blackboard inside us all

      Charged with lightning in their bellies my thoughts thrashed at each other

      Disturbing the grains of the nightmare itself to hope

      And wave with underwater firelight goodbye

      Heading home

      Don’t know how to tell you

      Without sounding weird

      For the most part I guess

      You’ll get it

      It’s the moment of expression I want to share

      That’s the thing I know is gold

      That’s the thing that tells us more

      That explains what can’t easily be said

      Says little and means the world

      Just around the corner

      Just the kind of warmer thoughts

      That get-by without promises or guarantees

      I just want to say I’m going home

      With empty accounts of empty accounts

      I’m going home to my own

      With all forgiven and only love remembered

      I’m going home to eat the food I know

      And talk smack like only we can

      I guess I’m trying to say

      Though none too well

      Is that I’ll miss you so much

      I’ll miss us

      But...

      Bad poetry

      Bad poetry

      In this time of weakness

      Nothing sucks more

      If it had been a time of hardship and strife

      It might have mattered a lot more

      But for all this depression and fury

      Times are real easy

      And bad poetry sucks all the same

      Sorry about this

      Well, not really

      I write so little and prefer to draw these days

      Poetry sucks that much

      Don’t get me wrong

      There is great poetry

      No doubt

      Poetry that cracks with equal measure suffering and triumphant song

      As with eternal emotion imbued its human lattice shining gold

      Barely contained
    />
      Invisible

      Sway

      The elements hold Sway here. In fists of sand the winds, ostensibly mean-spirited, squall.

      Of course, this is no more than the mischievous game nga taniwha play with puckish charm, “Laugh or Cry, Sway or Die!”

      Held within the transcendental fastness shaped of irrecusable dunes, the hardy tussock dances its susurrus laughter.

      Bertrand Russell, philosopher, defined freedom as a bound variable. Here the music of the coast is bound to be variable. Its humours lift the spirits.

      Metal, as fifth element of nature, mined, melted, tempered and oxidised, is the human element of nature, mind, melded, temporal, and oxymoronic. Bending like reeds to the coastal forces, Sway is freed to grow still.

      Sway

      The elements hold Sway here. In fists of sand the winds, ostensibly mean-spirited, squall.

      1. Earth: The forces of nature are in control on the Kaipara coast and Sway is a metaphor for plant life. The tenacity of tussock grass mats the sand with its roots and the unpredictable violence of the wind belies its vital necessity.

      Of course, this is no more than the mischievous game nga taniwha play with puckish charm, “Laugh or Cry, Sway or Die!”

      2. Fire: Animism imputes the salubrious, or life affirming, aspects of inanimate nature with animate qualities. Benign guardians of nature live in the sand and in the wind. The metaphorical image here makes light of taniwha in order to make such sensibility familiar, one taniwha (the sand) holds the tussock (personified plant life) while the other taniwha (the wind) beats on the tussock. Parallels are drawn between pucks and other pan-like spirits from western animistic beliefs uniting western and Maori ideologies. The mock brutality appeals to our cinematic romance with bravado which implicitly masks fidelity and now unites modernity and tradition. The taunt is the divine’s categorical challenge to any mortal form then, now, or ever.

      Held within the transcendental fastness shaped of irrecusable dunes, the hardy tussock dances its susurrus laughter.

      3. Water: The philosophical or mathematical truths are a fastness, or fortress, of undeniable reality like bell curves or waves. The dunes protect the beach and shelter flora and fauna inland. The sand, tussock grass, and wind are instrumental in the formation of these dunes. The vitality of the tussock grass is a testament to the ingenuity of nature, so to speak. It is tough and its near silent whispering in the wind is a sure sign that it hardly notices the squally gusts.

      Bertrand Russell, philosopher, defined freedom as a bound variable. Here the music of the coast is bound to be variable. Its humours lift the spirits.

      4. Air: Parallels are now drawn between philosophy, math, graphs, musical notation, equalizers, and the landscape. The forces of nature are inevitably vivifying, energising,permeating.

      Metal, as fifth element of nature, mined, melted, tempered and oxidised, is the human element of nature, mind, melded, temporal, and oxymoronic. Bending like reeds to the coastal forces, Sway is freed to grow still.

      5. Metal: Steel comes from the Earth, is heated in an awesome Fire, plunged into frigid Water, and rusted in fresh Air. Metal is the fifth Chinese element in oriental style alchemy. It is man-made. As an artefact of the mind, it represents an amalgam of environment and culture over time which invites the contemplative at heart to ponder the immanent paradox, the ever present mystery of life from non-life and the counterintuitive solutions to the problems posed between them.

      Ika

      "ika", like any fish, was spawned.

      It is the remainder of an evolutionary equation.

      Its minimalism adapted from the lean joys of scarcity.

      After the changes to fish size limits

      for recreational or rather pre-civilized fishermen,

      "ika" as icon,

      sprung from the depths as the fossil of industry.

      ika (noun) fish, marine animal - any creature that swims in fresh or salt water including marine mammals such as whales. maoridictionary.co.nz

      Nga Whetu

      "Nga Whetu" or "The Stars" is one of a shower of works.

      Minimalist, it is a relic of the now,

      reifying city soul,

      an urban repository for heavenly lights,

      an artistic edification of the sparks of life which,

      as they say,

      came from the stars.

      whetu (noun) star, asterisk - sometimes used for other celestial bodies, e.g. comets. Nga whetu (plural noun) maoridictionary.co.nz

      Forget Everything

      little else matters

      besides that eternal comfort

      not gods

      nor people

      though loving them naturally follows

      what matters is logic

      not rules

      nor cultures

      you cannot thwart the tide so go sideways

      the here and there beginning and end in simultaneous connection

      not infinitesimal

      nor impossible

      your chances are certain if unexpected in manner not comfort

      you can expect comfort

      not love

      nor companionship

      unless you love the measure of all things

      by which the entire cosmos throughout all space and time is divided

      not Man

      nor Woman

      You

      without you

      there is nothing

      there is no without-you

      You always were

      You always will be

      The universe whose forgotten to be one

      Ever again

      Ragged hamstrung light descends

      The steps now ladders unhung bend

      But then amend

      Multiply and fly

      Never before such light imagined

      Excerpts from other titles by Jason Micheal Dunn

      guilt fast fires

      conflict children crowd the edges

      stranded in sunlight

      wearing their sneakers

      heroes in opalesque coats of miracle

      distil from liquid happy azure

      salubrious conditions

      we roll over stoned under globe

      and fasten to its radiant web

      to drain the dream

      with threads of iron in despair

      singing anxious song

      in sailing sunlight

     

      from Poems by Metazoan

      A & E

      the movie is pure mental labyrinthine mirror

      but Venn diagram meetings are the gardens of Eden

      like the cartoon thought bubbles between us

      they are fruit that are hove to the branches that know

      and she will not suggest that we eat them

      flick-knife of sunlight to the eyes

      a snapshot of street angel

      then she was gone

      never there

      sharply aware of stained glass retina

      and the ephemeral glory of being understood and understanding being

      quietly bleeding gold for you baby

      whoever you are

      from Jason and the Golden Thesis

      white cat on fire

      flames fall across her face

      as she gets into bed

      hydrangeas pyjama her body

      as she gets into bed

      was a white cat on fire

      curled up on the bed

      till she woke up medusaic

      to go back to sleep

      flames across her eyes

      she looked at me

      her warm body tired

      getting into a dream

      from Philosophy for Depressives Against Empirical Vampires

      I look through the scummy window out and down through the funny air to the crummy street. Looking up I see we are penned in by a paranoid electric power-lined horizon. Such thinking has arisen like apartment blocks, a crust buttered by sun yellow city breath, inexhaustibly consumed by lungs and eyes in
    both the head and mind, like breakfast, complete with coffee strong anxiety. Our sullied age is the seared morning of the bitter end.

      However, I'm afraid pride is in my heart because I can bare the sight of its shattered mechanism burring and whirring away another day beyond all expectations that it would fail completely every single denizen diffident to the eventual defeat of every theory ever adornable used to ward off evil. We truly are sunk in our own waste, defining by shining our brilliant lotus minds out of the mire, desperately kindling fires in our smiles to brighten the future for now in spite of the encroaching darkness. Science calls the accumulation of darkness entropy. Apparently chaos increases and never decreases in every closed system. I guess opening up is important then.

      The shifting of paper behind me is like the shifting of a sand dune. A candy wrapper, the stiff transparent plastic kind of wrapper, is effortlessly crushed in her hand, as if she held it to my ear. Its sound is ventriloquilly crisp, it uncrushes itself in my ear as well, ironically invincible compared to the extent of its usefulness. Folder bindings snap open, snap shut. Pages turn like leaves and fingers tap dance keys in perfect synch with every blink we think. Peace is time apart from mind.

      from Dirty Pure

      Once upon a time there lived a boy

      He was very shy

      But one day he died and he went to hell for some time

      but then his family brought him back to life

      and he returned with extraordinary powers

      to appear as something he was not

      to do what he could not do

      It was strange

      His appearances took on a life of their own

      It was weird

      His doings were extraordinarily phenomenal

      He decided to die many times

      But discovered he was dying all the time

      He only noticed dying when he tried to live

      That’s when life hurt

      trying to live

      So he died

      happily ever after

      the end

      from Something I Wrote the Other Day

      Sure Fire

      Soul is the inside story

      body is just folded soul

      incarcerated to the cubby-holes

      sandwiched with the other clothes

      in our languid languages

     
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