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Monday, 24 March 2025

UFObjectilists—and UFObjectifists


The universe is the UFO—
the UnFoiled Oh!
That’s what we know:
the UFO as the universe
is what’s proposed—
an UnFolding O!
(as in, zero).
Seriously—
in all reality,
in all of its entirety—
that’s entirely it:

Only undark flying objects—
solely existing, wholly persisting—
unabsently floating ontologically,
without a preexistent defining instant.

That’s physics—
and materiality—
being naturalism
in mere physicality.

Only do UFOs exist
if utterly undefined—
unidentified aliens,
flying objects that object
to objectivity itself—
but can be seen
not in infinity,
but in infancy.

An eye is exposed if open,
but clothed if it’s closed—
always connected
to the gnome up the nose—

Gnow to know, we behold,
and holding, we see,
and seeing, we sense,
and sensing, we think,
and thinking, perceive,
and perceiving, believe—

Can someone, please,
put clothes on this light
shining up my hose—
my fibre is froze—

Only optics knows
what comes to mind—
my opically dark (myopically)
lacks a hind (sight) with a spark—

This dark is unclothed
and is never closed—
yet doesn’t look
nakedly and exposed—

Through invisible blinds—
though plain to sight—
brains see absently,
sensing not the light—

They miss the absence,
harking to the air—
but lightlessness
is not a noun to stare—

It is nothing that is found—
an adjective, not objectively—
a description of relativity,
a definition of unreality—

There is nothing missing—
nothing itself is missing.

But the dark is not a where (aware);
nowhere that it stares—
there is no foundling it finds
flying darkly by—
that it can bottle or bowl,
or poke or pick,
or pinpoint
when peering through a slit—
and say,
“Here it is!” or “There!”
“I have discovered dark—
I have found it black,
appearing back—
I met it in the void,
it is truly abyssmal.
You must come and look,
quickly,
at the picture I took
of nullity—
it was not a mere shadow,
or a darkened, blackened sparrow—
and Nox I have named it
(the Latin for night),
or Aphos maybe
(the Greek for without light):”

“I’m horrified to say,
but Nox could not be weighed—
though I expect its mass is nothing.
It could not be measured,
though I expect its speed is naught.
It is not at all a field,
as its effects could not be felt;
and since it doesn’t wave,
its particles appear, unpleasantly, unpresent.”

No—nox is unpresence
the unnamed, unmanned nautilus
(a naughtilus) in an unreal imagining—
called nihilux, if you will:
nihil meaning nothing,
lux being light—
the absolute night of dark,
where nightness be not a noun,
but a departure of the unfound.

The antithesis of anti-light,
persistingly nonexisting
in anything actively thinging—
being a negation to avoid,
avoidantly within a void.

There are anti-quarks,
like anti-sparks
of mass and charge and charm.
But dark matter
and dark energy—
like dark minds and hearts—
are a relative black
of what we lack:

A gap that missingly
slaps down a crack—
clapping such an
echoless whack
that we give it a quack.

For we perceive it there—
hiding unseen,
inaccessibly unknown,
unverifiably unidentified.

A darkness we feel,
a field, alien and stark—
the point that we are missing,
unaware in our darkness—
we are not seeing.

Not in English,
not in thought—
not in our physics—
though in our science,
we have sought.

There is no anti-light.
Unlike anti-mights of matter,
there is no anti-photon—
no way to cancel out commotion.
Without charge or mass,
there’s nothing to reverse—
though our potions rehearse.

In particle physics,
blackness is prohibition—
nothing emits
anti-white.
Our sight is in abeyance,
only absently—
the void itself is devoid.
Though no nothing
is not avoided—
as if being present,
we are being absent.

But dark itself is dark—
unabsurdly unobserved—
unpresently unappearing,
in avoidant unadornment.

Everywhere and everything—
the whole of time and space to begin—
is utterly, of course, undark.
It is as stark as is any spark.

All of it, in its grandiose,
as well as its sub-subcutaneous,
is undark flying objects—
that’s precisely what physics shows.

Light is not just a part—
it sets apart space-time itself.
The fabric of existence
is aglow in its mere persistence.

The cosmic background radiation
is only the surface of creation.
Reality is rippling on its very shelf—
a constant flow of fields unknown,
restless in their ebb and glow—

But what is this dark energy business
that physicists have a field day on?
UFOs exist as imaginary friends—
like adults tend to pretend.

No—we know, without excluse:
reality is not light and dark;
it is light and its missingness—
it is being,
and it is awareness—
it is what is not
that ought to scare us.

Light—and only light—is unseen,
but is certainly not necessarily seen.
Light itself can be dark,
if we ourselves lack its spark.

The light within is darkness—
if lightness we are missing
in a heart that is blind,
without lightment in the mind.

But light is always present—
appearing, even if unpleasant—
and darkness depends on it:
by definition, in its abstinence;
in observing contrasting existences.

No—the UFO is not absurd—
the darkness that we see
is the light of which we don’t.
Outside is beyond remote.

It is what Christ did not deny
when appearing to decry:

“If then the light within you
is darkness,
how great is that darkness.”

It is devoidantly dehumanising—
a returning to the primordial soup—
a deforming and de-filling,
a formless and empty be-ending.

For in beginning,
Elohim created—
and darkness
he separated—

And the universe,
over nothing,
is strictly undefined—

Just as one
divided by zero
is unboundedly undermined—
beyond space and time—

A something
out of a none—
a no one,
a null denominator—
is illusory in itself.
Or God is—
and there is—
no allusion,
no confusion.

But if the light within is absent,
we are voided, undoubtedly—
for being, we cannot be.
But bleeding,
we don’t perceive—
we unseeingly, diminishingly grieve—
heaving what we seek to leave.

The universe, as a matter of fact—
if only a fact of matter—
is a universe without a fact,
and a fact without a matter.

The universe of matter,
with reference to itself alone,
is nothing more than a UFO—
which is exactly as we know:

adivinely,
undivined,
unconsciousable,
unfinding—
observations only.

The atheist flies
in visible clothes—
under-posed (undeposed)
found, observing,
under-knows (under the gnose)

Subjectively abdicating
the subject; objectifying—
objecting to objectivity,
inevitably denying—
in evitability relying—

Undisclosed, fickle UFObjectilists,
unconcealed, fighting UFObjectifists.


Sunday, 9 March 2025

Inclusion is Exclusion


Silly Sod said to Blinky Bill,
"Let’s exclude exclusion."
Blinky Bill said to Silly Sod,
"First include illusion."
Said Silly Sod to Blinky Bill,
"That would be allusion."
Said Blinky Bill to Silly Sod,
"Exclude then my intrusion."
Silly replied to Blinky,
"Everyone excuses a Koala, Billy,
if they blink and nod!"

Thursday, 6 March 2025

You Are

Intro:
| G | C |
Who are we when we always change;
| Em | D |
What are we when we don’t remain?

Sunday, 23 February 2025

This Man

Joseph Rex of Tasmania,
son of Kevin Wayne,
and Susan Joan,
of Hobart Towns,

on this Day of all days,
do you take this man—

Jesus Rex of Nazareth,
seed of Abraham,
descended from David,
offspring of the Holy Spirit,
born of the virgin Mary,

Saturday, 22 February 2025

Dozens & Doesn’ts



A dozen doesn’t equate to 12—
don’t be absurd; it is only a word.

Monday, 17 February 2025

In the Finishing—And in Beginning


It was time:—

There were heavens:
space and heat and gas—

There was earth:
solid matter and mass—

There were waters:
molten deeps and seas—

There was time:
to create and finish and make complete:


Sunday, 16 February 2025

No The in Beginning


The Beginning did not occur;

nor is it Written within the Word—
that there is no the “In Beginning”
means God began with His Own Being.

Thursday, 13 February 2025

The Word and Order—From Before Day One

Of Genesis—as Literally Begun

In beginning,

Elohim creates
the heavens,

and the earth.

And the earth is
waste and emptiness,

and darkness is
on the face of the deep,

and fluttering is
on the face of the waters
Spirit of Elohim.

Saturday, 8 February 2025

On the Hole—Of the Whole

In the hole,
in the whole,
there was something;

Behold:—
not untold,
not unsolved,
not a Hobbit in a home—
older than hills.

It was there,
and is there still—
more ancient than old,
staring us cold—

If the whole there be,
and its hole unfold.

Wednesday, 29 January 2025

Of Womb-worm and Her Work

It became what were words;
like tape worms in a person,
and poison to the brain—
and Womb-worm I name her,
and she worked like disdain.

Saturday, 25 January 2025

Pray thus

Our Dearest Dad above;
My Abba Father God—

Who in the heavens
Your Name is feared—

Above all,
may Your fame be
yet more revered!

Thursday, 9 January 2025

Nothing


Something is upheld by nothing.
All of matter is empty space;
Even the minute minuscule of matter we call particles of mass
Are no more than mere drag nets on moments of change
In a field of vacuum energy;
This is the quantum reality.

Tuesday, 7 January 2025

Satori Dear



My Dearest Satori,
It was so sweet to meet you;
I was so glad to greet you.
I am now sad to leave you;
I still seem to see you—
and still tend to flee you.

Wednesday, 1 January 2025

Dear my dear



A new year appears.
May this day, may this year;
May this world and its fear—
Its lives and our minds,
Its people of all kinds,
Be new; be made new—
Renewed in its hope,
Fulfilled in all joy,
Flooding our minds
With the love of our lives.

Wednesday, 25 December 2024

I Understand—What It Means

All of it.

The ground bleeds, pouring—feeding the hungry seas;
Draining like semen, seeding their fertile ovum.

They dance drunk on the blood of the mountains,
Foaming, frothing at the mouth—even as they conceive,
And their womb, pregnant once again,
Rolls, kicks, and leaps for joy.

Saturday, 7 December 2024

Feast


Feast, my dear Lord, on my rotting flesh;
My putrid decay, my stenching corpse.
Pray, pulse me with maggots as I lay,
Leaking sin, staining this pure, pure spring.

I'm Robbed

I've been burgled by two—no, three.
Three women looted and plundered me.
They took not what I had—I gave.
They took me, and took me, depraved.

Why worry?


Beyond belief—
Beyond knowing, and knowledge not trust,
God is—our God.
Nothing is, there is nothing we can do,
But by Him, and through Him, and to Him.

Saturday, 23 November 2024

Will I?

I am not. Nor am I. Or am I?
Who am I? Who will I be?
Or become? Will I come?
I never am. We never are.

Saturday, 9 November 2024

The distance


One.

One is what we call the distance
between nothing and the first—
the first of something, anything,
before the one that comes next.

Tuesday, 27 August 2024

Thine


Taylor, Hudson, I longed to be. 
His work, the weight, I sought for me. 
A heavy yoke, I wore; not free, 
Until I saw his rest in Thee. 

The Crux and the Chrysalis


Meaning is excruciating. Reality is crucified.

The pain, "the Scroll of Life of the Lamb Slain," before the world came, is plain in existence.

Existence is suffering. Death is destiny.

Resurrection is written in blood, "in the blood of the eternal covenant".

Sunday, 18 August 2024

Solochosis


Like a gelded brumby, I fence-pace and spend long hours staring into the corner of this well-trodden mind.

I am captured and separated from my undomesticated kind.

Thursday, 8 August 2024

Soul’stice roots

This wet winter soul’stice, drenched by this incessant dripping; torrential memories of a million moments lost: the company of companions I used to hold, not dear enough; new acquaintances without the notice nor need to want us.

Saturday, 27 July 2024

Droubt


I'd unknow water writer bout

I done no war to right a droubt


Saturday, 13 July 2024

Inexplicable


I am a raft on the dark wading for land
I am adrift in this rift trying to plan
I row in my hope making a way
On a draft that parts where I hold no sway

Friday, 5 July 2024

Two Tails


Mickey Duck was dux of luck with a head of ears and size
His shorts of extroverted red and yellow boots were prized
His gloves of white were cleaned at night much like his feathered back
His Big Black Book and iconic look brought cheers from zealous eyes

Tuesday, 25 June 2024

Dollatry


Eye doll a tree that seeming wise
Is good for life and pleasing eyes
I know it good inverted vile
Evil in virtue I defile

With A Little Help From Hattie


What would you think if I wrote out of rhyme?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I'll write you a poem
And I'll try not to verse absent-lee...

Sunday, 23 June 2024

Forgone


I dreamt of a home with a wife and a cot
I knew of no host with strife and a lot
I longed for a house with a love and a knot
I knew of no hole with a life and a clot

Saturday, 15 June 2024

Tribulation


Got to go down to turn and go up
My roller coaster no people line up
The remnant will fall about-face and refine
The test of the gold is the fire unkind

Yusuf


Something's not right, though it's more than a thing
Some things aren't right, though there are more than just some
This thing's got tight, though it's more than a sting
These things can't shiet, though there are some that just did

Wednesday, 12 June 2024

Sedimentary


Envy the bodily igneous
Born of red and river rock
I'm no island black or genius
They weighty wear with hardened care

Saturday, 8 June 2024

Dirt


The dust does not know
Though it desires to grow
The stone that will be
Or the sand by the sea

Friday, 7 June 2024

Chide


I'm not the poet, I am a poem
Loan behold I'm bought and sold
It's old to me this poetry
Mystery hides what history abides

Saturday, 1 June 2024

I resign


Waking in a wake
Walking to a wave
Weeping in a lake
Waiting on a lathe

Wednesday, 29 May 2024

Alex Graham McNulty


Alex-amber Rock-stone 
You stopped me with a start
I saw your name upon a bench
Without your beating heart

You-vee


Sunfalls on my balding skin
Soothing my autumn May within
Thinning idly away I be
Viz. visibly vis-à-vis me

Monday, 27 May 2024

Property


I feel my fingers fiercely
Folding, clenching tight
On naught besides myself
And these fists full of fright

Friday, 17 May 2024

What’s her name?


I walk beside my quiet brook 
And look and see what shapes she took 
Her movements shift each moment’s grace 
Each nook and bend, her peace and pace 

Friday, 10 May 2024

The Eel-Eagle One


It is not told that in after days
When of olde YHWH God made the heaven
And it is not written that following the beginning
And its seven
When began the rest of which all creatures sang—

Monday, 6 May 2024

Drowning Potsherds


If I pot this precious potoroo
Drenched it is with tears
Will this cursed ground release it
In the Jubilee of Years?

Thursday, 18 April 2024

One Sol


I missed my midday Summer skies
In the noon-grey of my long Julys
When days stopped short and dark dragged on
And I'd stay yet hide, though my leaves had died

Saturday, 13 April 2024

Joe-Peep

Papa Joe-peep has missed his sheep
And doesn’t know where to mind them
Make a new home and stay not alone
Awaiting their turns beside them

Friday, 12 April 2024

River Time


No sorries. No worries
Just joeys. Just Chloe's
It’s okay. It’s today
Tomorrow’s past will never last

Wednesday, 10 April 2024

My Roses


My roses were dead
My heart was blue
Was barely a beat
When I met you

Tuesday, 9 April 2024

In The End


Stars Shine
Sun is Fine
Time is Light
God is Mine

The Marks of Abel


An eastern barred and banned coot
Which hide in grass by day
Standing out in standing hay
Was spotted prey for sport and loot

Monday, 8 April 2024

Tumble Man


I pray to be a stone
Smooth by wear and chance
Exposing mineral bone
That makes the colours dance