Archive for The Hanged Man

Redux

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , on 09/06/2022 by GeoSolus

With numerous places to go but with no reasonable ways to get to them, the old mercenary brought the old ways from the old worlds to him and studied. Within the pages written by those who came before him he realised that he needed a bright star to illuminate his way. So he searched for faces among the millions until he reached the number 12. The beautiful, the talented, the intellectuals, the gifted and those who embraced life in all of its glory. Beacons of light for his nights in solitude and reasons to not let darkness invade every part of his psyche.

For the outside world they would be the masks to shield the few soft parts left in him and a definition of the feminine. Memory fragments of what he would have longed to have touched before the battles and the scars.

Into The Flesh – Day 13

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 27/11/2021 by GeoSolus

“Some will long for what past them by but the battle hardened know better than to clutch on to what could have been. They do however suffer from a strange kind of melancholy. Having seen the worst, they care too much for brighter outcomes to want to be a part of them. Feeling more at ease in the shadows.’

‘Were you ever in the forces?’

‘Nope.’

‘Yet, there is a hint of the military about you.’

‘I grew up around men who went to war and women who had to deal with the consequences of these wars.’

‘So, in a way, conflict was part of you growing up.’

‘Very much so.’

‘Would you say that this affected the way you interact or feel about people?’

‘It’s been an influence but not what drives me.’

‘Okay, what drives you then?’

‘Rhythm and rhyme. From the music created by humankind to the poetry of the wild.’

‘What do you mean by: the poetry of the wild?’

‘Take the cycle of life as rhymes. Each newborn a blend of the generations that came before them and all set to the rhythm of the planet. It is all there to read, you just have to sit quietly and pay attention.’

‘Mmm, you don’t have the next generation on the way. Why is that?’

‘I wasn’t given the luxury of choice.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean’

‘Okay, I won’t pry any further. Maybe the future will put that choice on the table.’

‘No it won’t. My art is my child and that is the way it shall stay.’

‘Never say never!’

‘You’re pushing it.’

‘I know, I just think that…’

‘Let me tell you a story. A singer gets drunk one night, really drunk and during this session he hears a thud on the French window. He gets up and staggers outside to find a dying crow. The crow is in pain and is not going to make it so he puts it out of its misery. He then goes back inside, drinks some more and then with pen and paper he writes a song about the dead bird.’

‘Okay and how does this relate to what we are talking about?’

‘Well, I didn’t kill the crow.’

Death Of An Inventor

Posted in Diary, Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , , on 16/05/2021 by GeoSolus

There was a suicide in the family. Somewhere in my bloodline a man left behind his wife and five children during a time of deep depression. The youngest of the five children did not believe it to be suicide and until her dying day considered it to be an accident. She told me this in my younger years after I had explained to her that I was the only one left who was interested in her story.

She told me about her father and how he had invented a cinema screen that was perforated in such a manner that sound could travel through it without effecting the image being projected upon it. After investing in research and developing the screen he had put a patent on his invention. However a company took his invention, changed the shape of the holes slightly, put a patent of their own on it and put it on the market before he got his invention out in to the big wide world. This led him in to bankruptcy and shortly after he was found dead in the living room of the family home. Poisoned by an unlit gas fire.

XII

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 07/05/2021 by GeoSolus

Treasures found in unspoken places

A pulse lingering deep in to the night

He took another sip from the vessel

And felt the warmth of the water of life

Farewell old friend he whispered

In time we’re sure to meet again…

Beacon

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , , on 10/02/2019 by GeoSolus

Nothing happened
Nothing will
This balance
Must be struck
A status quo
This I know
Is not a game
Of luck

A mind full
Of fantasies
If only
They were true
I’d build a world
Where I could feel
Then let that light
Shine through

The Anecdote

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , on 26/09/2018 by GeoSolus

“A man walked in to a police station holding the severed head of his wife by the hair. He slammed it down on the main desk, looked one of the shocked officers straight in the eye and said: ‘Out of one prison and in to another! Guess I’m a creature of habit.’
He spent the rest of his life in a cell and never pronounced another word.”

George

Posted in Diary, Writing with tags on 12/03/2018 by GeoSolus

I was around 11 years old when my grandmother took me to see my grandfather for the first time. He was in Edinburgh castle and I had been nagging her to take me for some time before she accepted. At the entrance we were stopped by soldiers who informed us that their was a fee for admittance but the old bird wasn’t having any of it. “Young man, I lost a husband and I am taking my grandson to see him, now let us through or go and find someone with the authority to do so.” The young soldier jogged off, came back and the fee was wavered.
We entered a room that had a long line of books against one of the walls. I followed her to one of them where she started going through the pages. She stopped at one page and I could see tears swelling up in her eyes. I got up on my tip toes to see what was written and to my surprise it was a long list of names. Pages and pages of names filling up book after book but it was the one name that made her pause. The name of my grandfather. I took her hand and said: “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you cry, let’s go home.”

Nazirite (First Draft)

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , on 16/11/2017 by GeoSolus

A teacher of ways
Standing, stoic
A constant gaze
Watching the flame
Consume the bridge
Between them

A change in regime
After all
That’s been seen
Hammers a wedge
Between them

Their sins are their own
Their temples but clones
Of commerce
The conmen
All hail

These souls are controlled
Branded and owned
Like cattle
They wait
For the nail

Loyalty

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , on 18/01/2017 by GeoSolus

loyalty

An old soldier on stand by awaited his fate with resolute conviction. He had had a vision years past that had haunted his thoughts since its first appearance. It was a vision of a woman dressed in white who would reappear each time the memory of her slipped his mind. A debt to be paid after an old promise made. A promise he was yet to recall…

The White Devil’s Dozen (First draft)

Posted in Video, Writing with tags , , , on 28/09/2016 by GeoSolus

1 –

Am I master or am I slave? Could I be the crown of an Empire or will I be reduced to a simple girl of joy controlled by the shadows? Can I carve my own destiny or am I bound by fate?
I have dreams and so many questions yet all I want are answers.

Who is Dax Kando?

2 –

My first question relates to this entity who first appeared in my mind during my most young and tender years. He came from the shadows with a charming smile and a warm embrace. Like a father he held me until I felt something penetrate the very essence of my being.

Who is Dax Kando?

3 –

My first question is looking for reason. Why did he lodge himself in the back of my mind? Why is he with me everywhere I go and why does it feel like he knows my every thought. It feels like he has complete control of me.

Who is Dax Kando?

4 –

My first question wonders what he thinks of me. Do my thoughts disgust him? Is he pleased with who I am? Did he come to me to make me a better person or is he trapped inside my twisted mind?

Who is Dax Kando?

5 –

My first question forces me to look at every aspect of my being. The errors of my ways taunt me because he knows me. Maybe he is me? Maybe he is a part of me that makes me face what I would rather ignore. Maybe I’m just crazy.

Who is Dax Kando?

6 –

My first question makes me ready for change. I have accepted his existence inside of me. I am ready for his guidance. I am at one with him and ready for him to be the answer to my questions.

Who is Dax Kando?

7 –

My first question has hope and desire. I give my will away and hope he will guide me for I desire to be a better person.

Who is Dax Kando?

8 –

My first question reminds me of all those whom I have harmed. Was he one of them back for revenge or was he the one who made me as I am?

Who is Dax Kando?

9 –

My first question nearly puts me on one knee asking for forgiveness but I refrain because I feel the urge to right all the wrongs that I may of caused. I hope that their effects have not put me beyond redemption.

Who is Dax Kando?

10-

My first question makes me question my very being. Is this being inside me a part of me or is he an extension of self? Is this entity a force that needs to change? Or is he the bringer of change?

Who is Dax Kando?

11 –

My first question shatters the foundations of my ego. Am I who I always thought I was? Can I overcome my misgivings? Can I face all of my past actions?

Am I Dax Kando?

12 –

My first question is also my last question. I must stop doubting and be. I must be the one who leads. I must be the one with the answer and help others who have fallen along the path of life. I must be the one who can answer the question:

Who is Dax Kando?