For Kundalini One to Three, click there. For the previous Four to Six, that’s your click bit.

And for the previous Pomes & Words, click there. That’s some microfiction/fragments.

Also, I’ve got a brand new TiF Medallion! Here it is!

I think I like these new-design medallions better than the old ones. I’ve got a few of them for some of the previous Kundalini poems, so clearly my poetry is going down very well. And I have to say how chuffed we are about that. In which case, more poetry must cometh.

So, thank you very much,

On with the intro.

A part of me has reminded me that I haven’t posted any poetry for a while, and that this is extremely remiss of me. I agree.

I am also beginning to get the impression that it may not have been entirely me who wrote all these poems. In reading them again I am getting a very uncanny sense of dissociation, if you know what I mean. And it wasn’t just the Prozac. The first one in My Psych Profile might illuminate a few issues in that regard.

It’s also because of my approach to poetry-writing. See I don’t craft poems, like I think a lot of people do. I just write them. If I get a ‘feeling’ or ‘sense’ that if I start writing then something good is going to come out then I will just sit down and start typing whatever gets inserted into my head. It’s a kind of channelling I suppose you could also call it.

And I don’t do post-edits. Well, aside from typos and a very few minor corrections perhaps. But what you see is essentially the original, raw thing.

What I just wrote above definitely comes across in this first one that you are about to read, Privacy.

Anyway - I do apologise for seeming to have discontinued posting my Kundalini collection. It’s that Little Miss Eclectic thing again. It simply wouldn’t be fair to bombard my subscribers with one of my thoughtforms every single day, even if I do have a dozen writing intentions in my head all at once. This year on Substack I have made a kind of resolution to be more systematic and organised. Whether this works out remains to be seen. In lieu of this, then, I am minded to continue the weekend posts flitting between the Saturday Pomes & Words feature, which for the foreseeable will be either this poetry collection or it will be microfiction/fragment digests. Those of you who are also subscribed to Miguel’s Fiction Dealer will know I’ve been doing this ongoing silly thing about golfing ghosts at a club in the Afterlife, and I reckon I must have a good 3-4,000 words of that by now (I keep overdosing, as is my wont). This is provisionally entitled Golf Shtick, and features a mashie-niblick, which has become one of my top ten words of all time.

The other weekend thing will be My Psych Profile. This is not unrelated in the slightest, as it happens. Today, for example, I had an extended thoughtform running through my head (especially when I was cycling into town and back - I do a lot of trance-like meditating when I’m on my bike) which was triggered by that Philip Larkin snippet about your parents fucking you up, but ‘they may not mean to’. Bollocks. Was the gist of my thoughtform. If you are fucking up your child how can you ‘not mean to’?! So I went a bit Raskolnikov on that one, and that may be the next psych profile entry. It would follow on nicely from the previous one, which was about my parents. I don’t know if I should post that tomorrow though, because that would be bombarding you. Fortunately I haven’t written it down yet however, so you may escape unscathed for now, as it were.

Plus of course, writing poetry is an excellent way to explore one’s psyche. It certainly is with me anyhow.

Oh no, not another long intro!

Sorry. Final thing. This is Kundalini Seven to Ten, of course. Just for the record, Kundalini Eleven & Twelve you already have. It was the post entitled ‘This is what real poetry looks like’, which resulted from me having a bit of a hissy fit because of some trigger I encountered (no, I don’t remember what the trigger was). So for ease of navigation I will repeat that link at the end. That way you can navigate easily through the entire collection in the right order. To that end I will also do a bit of post-editing to make it clearer, and do the previous and next navigation links.

You also already have Kundalini Eighteen & Nineteen as it happens, which you can find at that link, which was one of the really early Pomes & Words from last year. So after this post today, there will be a Thirteen to Fifteen, and then a Sixteen & Seventeen, which fills in those gaps. Following that, there are six more poems in the collection (so I’ll probably split those into two posts), making for twenty-five poems in total. Then there’s the ‘extras’ (which includes Fibonacci Five, which you can already read there). So I make that another four posts to go after this one.

On the Fibonacci issue, by the way, I have decided to leave in the Fibonacci numbers in these renditions (I’ll probably re-edit the previous posts to add them in), partly because I’ve copied and pasted these from a different file-version which had the numbers in. That way you can get the idea of what I was somewhat pretentiously getting at there. Just take each of those specific numbered lines and turn that into a new poem. You can do that for each poem individually, or you can take poems 1, 2, 3, 5 etc. and lines 1, 2, 3, 5 etc., then put the whole thing together. Then, you take lines 1, 2, 3, 5 etc. of that one, and keep reducing it accordingly.

Well, it was amusing at that time anyhow, put it that way. And a nice little bit of magic, if I say so myself.

Ok, that’s it. Here’s the Great Image Generator.

[Privacy]

Privacy

There is no such thing as age,							1
It freezes, it is lost									2
To us											        3
We who know no time
No demons,										        5
We are gone.

When we die we are gone,								8
As to explain
To others,
A man who standing	
On the edge of lifetime is finished,
Some other wizard,									13
Some other extreme.

And yes I make mistakes,
And I have a barrier,
An iron grille untimely calumny
Into some distant sea I change and am friends
With my self again
And you don’t follow as if								21
To accelerate and behave differently
And leave this thriving to climb.

Where I have gone you don’t want to go
For you are same, you camarilla
My strange lover, a partner in the Louvre
Painting some virtual vision of me
In your constant and tentacled imaginings
Over and unsung sounding and framed
As if you know, do you?

Are you the same as me?
Calumny? Piracy…									34

[Torment]

Pre-Caution

I am not asking for anything,								1
You who are still my seeping slaughter,						2
As if when I dream I dreamed of you,						3
Like some other life come hitherto
Mend me, mad love and bad								5
Strangers I chose to care for
In my deranged lack of screening,
As if I would										                8
Pay attention to your own light,
Be it red or be it august,
Darker nights I suspend
Before you,
And you take no debate, honey,							       13
Love and gone in moments
And craft, bleeding from an original heart,
Yet still thinking
Of you.

Take me away from these splendid nights, abreast of you…

[Sicily]

c-framed

These daydreams are good for me,							                        1
Behaviour therapy,									                                2
Feeds the feverish voices								                                3
And keeps me abreast of you, my meaning
Down hanging hair, face streaming images beneath your gorgeous noises,	5
The sounds of solitary whales
Dark blue ghosts in a deeper sea;
You and me our selves are nothing c nothing						                8
Yet but Trojan fantasies, pushing up gladioli
And humming, engine being in frenzy
Like friends who know no boundaries
And no other sounds save their own.
											                                              13
You keep me awake in mornings like these,
In the dark
Feel my starving heart to find me, infamous
Foundry for foreign curves,
And stealing a sample of blue waves, insidious picture
Of you in my art, away these dark and dreaming days
When you keep me awake, yet may be good for me
In the end of nights like these.								                      21

[Island]

Lilybaeum

Passion for you stretches								                1
My imagination									                        2
My seaswept friend,									                3
Dark vandal ships
Harbouring clues in my heart for you							5
The ruin of a civilisation
And you are a landscape, flowing
Island of rolling thrills and gentle valleys,						8
Crashing waves and glass hours,
Your purring shape, music penetrating flowered in your perfect coves and bays,
Curves across the starting note
I send this day to you,
Framed tapestry of passion and all							        13
For the sake of being with you.

By the way, just for a bit of surreptitious meta-narrative stuff, those last two are meant to be a pair which also encode a girl’s name (a friend I once had, many years ago). See if you can work it out.

End of Seven to Ten. Eleven & Twelve are there.

And the next Pomes & Words just happens to be Thirteen to Fifteen.