Ocean Song

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Churning, turning, ever burning
Twisting, rolling, always moaning
Groaning, gurgling, even twerking
Dancing, sloshing and gyrating

Spilling shinily on the rocks
Flecking the air, bathing the docks
Breathing gassily amidst the pores
of unknown, unwanted shores

Spawning fish and hiding mermaids,
deep within, where no child ever wades
Tinkling melodies far below abide
where the sand is not reached by the tide

Screeching mollusks, roaring sharks
fluttering ferns and eel-like sparks
some fish puff, others mutter
within its smothering, searching stutter

As it embraces all and none,
below the air, beneath the sun
the song goes forever on and on
in its relentless joyful drone

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Epic-Fantasy Nerd Moment

Ever since I picked up ‘The Sword of Shannara’ around 8/9 years ago, I’ve had this naggy feeling about it. The novel (I admit I hardly managed to finish the first one) was a complete copy (minus the good writing that is) of Tolkien’s ‘LOTR’ and nothing more. Enter the usual metaphorical nerd-grumbling in my head. I researched online and asked about it and everyone seemed to have enjoyed reading it, not to mention staring blankly at me when I criticized it as being a Tolkien-wannabe.

Flash-forwards to a week ago, where suddenly someone I know commented negatively on Terry Brooks and his plagiarism. Miraculously, I could hear a chorus of angels singing ‘Halleluljah’ in soprano and treble. Someone else with a brain!

Then this morning, I stumbled on this – http://www.newstatesman.com/2015/05/neil-gaiman-kazuo-ishiguro-interview-literature-genre-machines-can-toil-they-can-t-imagine  !!

An interview with the MASTER Neil Gaiman who while describing said books said ‘And then you had people like Terry Brooks, who wrote a book called The Sword of Shannara, which was essentially a Lord of the Rings clone by somebody not nearly as good, but it sold very well.’…. YES YES EXACTLY!! THANK YOU!!images (1)

Sorry Mr Brooks, I know I’m not a great book-selling writer, but REALLY… I’m a reader and in this case, that’s what matters, since it is people like me who are the most qualified to actually say whether they enjoyed your work or not.

Anyone who wants to read the whole interview – it is really brilliant, though quite long 😀

What to do for Midsummer?

Midsummer will be with us soon. Litha, the Summer Solstice, when all the world celebrates the passion of living. The fertility of Mother Earth reflected in the purity of the bonfires. Sweaty bodies gyrating in the indomitable spirit of life. The incessant heartbeat of the planet, drumming on in every plant, every particle, every follicle, every being.

And I have no idea how to celebrate it.

21 June will be a Sunday. Right now I’m living with my boyfriend who is not a Pagan/Wiccan and does not celebrate the spokes of the Wheel. In any case, I would feel better celebrating outdoors of course. There are two problems however.

Problem 1 – The people. Malta is a very small island and on Sundays, Saturdays and any day really, people swarm everywhere. There isn’t any nook or cranny where one can meditate or just sit in silence for a while. Especially now, when even beaches are full to bursting everywhere (in winter at least these are semi-deserted in certain hours of the day/night). This issue is always present, however usually I try to do something inside or on the roof, but right now that’s not possible. It will not be a problem once we move to the new house, where I will have a special space/study/library, but for now… hmm..

Problem 2 – All my celebratory altar-related things and tools, candles, incense, etc are packed in boxes in another locality. Except for my BOS ofc. And to be honest at the moment I don’t have money to spare to buy new stuff, so I truly have to use only normal everyday things to celebrate. As such this is not really a problem though… some wine and essential oils will have to be enough.

And still, I do not know exactly how I can celebrate it this year. I wish we were already in the new house – would be a marvellous time for a cleansing by fire of the new area (which is not as pyromaniac as it sounds lol).

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Writer’s Block

It has not gone unnoticed that lately, I have begun to be guilty of a certain deadening of the spirit. A kind of fallibile vicissitude if you will. An unwillingness of the frontal lobe to procreate any kind of interesting thoughts or even contemplate any sort of personal advancement.

Un-started articles lie adrift on my desk, notes and bones of ideas strewn about and abandoned as though by a non-caring hurricane. Too old and weary to even attempt anything. Even more pieces of paper lie scattered in my personal drawer. Remnants of an introduction to something, always pending, never completed.

An air of impotent absurdism permeates my mind. Semi-glazed eyes pitter pattering, trying to stay awake, hour after hour. Day after day.

Not even Trevor, or as we used to call him ‘Kermit’, the warty bent frog, with his shiny polished trolley full of small tidily parcelled goodies, can evoke the remnants of a smile now. Smoke twirls, glints and tinkles as it follows him around. A trail of cheroot-induced puffs coloring the blankly torpid symphony of the wall.

I try to lift the pen and I can’t.

I try to switch on my brain and I can’t.

I try to articulate something. Anything. And I can’t.

I have been on death-row for three years, two months and eight days, but this is the day when I have truly died.

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