Tag Archives: journal

Indigo, or I dingo? Anagram Leads to Mirror Poem

There’s been a lot of news relevant to this world recently. After putting Meghan Markle in her place on this site’s sister site, travel25years.wordpress.com, recently I read she’s in New York now, staying with lots of friends in the swankiest hotel, and eating at the best restaurants – after complaining about UK universities being pale, male and stale; very ageist and racist! We are the natives of this country and continent, as Africans are in Africa – not Europe, Caribbean or Americas! Maybe Meghan should campaign for native people and cultures instead of invasive ones!!

Karl Lagerfeld Died Aged 85

I don’t think Karl Lagerfeld was definitely a better person than Meghan Markle overall, but I think he was more honest and les hypocritical. He used image and soundbites openly and honestly, and I think that made him fair game for parody; as all celebrities are.

For one last bit of parody, my epitaph for him is that while he was a legend in fashion, and created a uniquely memorable persona, he will surely be best remembered for providing a quarter of one of the greenYgrey world’s most memorable names: fashionista suprema, Stella Lagerwolf-Bruno.

Funnily enough, in a weird rather than comical way, I’d been writing about fashion on travel25years and mentioned Stella Lager… just before seeing the news about Karl Lagerfeld’s passing.

Indigo Dreams

Today, I saw a story on Russian wonder kid, Boriska Kipriyanovich, who is said to have known about space without being taught anything. Was he born in space as he thinks, or was the knowledge passed down to him in his DNA? Somebody called him an indigo.

It’s a term I remembered from long ago, so I looked it up again, and wrote this new Folding Mirror poem from the 7 Traits of Indigo Adults article. I think I’ve had all seven traits, but some are waning now, due to the state of humanity and the world. I don’t know if they are something most people identify with, as mediums in seances are said to ask general questions familiar to most people, according to sceptics like Derren Brown.

Here’s an image of an indigo person doing a spectacular Y-POP (PinkyOrangePurple):

It’s Hard To Be Indigo, When Losing All You Know

Am I an indigo
or just its anagram
I dingo
I could be both
as indigos empathise
with animals

middle of seven traits, first is asking why

life purpose
the ending sign
making me wonder if
I reached
the end of ambition
mind eye my mission

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I Thank Humanity, For Hot Air

I thank humanity for the hot air that provided the thermals for my Nietzschean Superman flight. I looked to the sun for reflection, but it is not a mirror. It just kept roaring and bellowing, with too much work to do controlling its system. I turned to leave, at least warmed by its workings; not that it seemed to increase its heat for me, it’s just the way it is. I thought I heard it whisper with a whoosh of solar wind, ‘Thank you for keeping your distance. Icarus did not die in vain. I am glad of that, for I liked him, but could not save him. For that is not my job.’

Mind On Sun, Warmth Without Reflection

flying high, as far as I can get
in my mind I imagine
it’s enlightenment or superman
farther than my sight
above the clouds and atmosphere
to space and solitude
rising on thermals
hot air of humanity

but I still know,  deep down I’m grounded

using knowledge of others
what governments allow
media chooses to show
limits of time and space
in future little trace
attempts at philosophical writing
lost between classic and future
but I have searched my time, and returned

Victoria’s Secret Show Naughty Poem

The annual Victoria’s Secret’s show was like eating a beautiful cake, knowing there’s a lot of bad ingredients, but some things are worth the cost. That probably doesn’t count for the planet, but there’s so much else that is destroying it, that it is just one little beautiful human island in an ocean of overpopulation and consumption that nobody’s really doing much about on a scale that will prevent anything as far as most scientists have been predicting for decades.

Risking My Reputation for Beautiful Blondes 

Congratulations to the blondes who’ve survived the Multicultural Fascist with-hunt! If in line with Darwin’s theory of evolution of the strongest surviving, then only the most beautiful blondes would have made it to the catwalk.

As probably the leading doctor of philosophy expert in beautiful blondes, working diligently for five years to attain the award; openly out of the Victoria’s Secret lingerie closet anyway! (a joke I made about coming out of the closet years ago!!); I don’t think Darwin’s theory was disproved.

I am now also the first lesbiman (creating that word out of what was before lesbian man). That doesn’t mean I want to wear Victoria’s Secret lingerie, but does mean I’d like to be invited to one of their pyjama parties! Not expecting though!!!

This is a fitting remembrance Sunday poem according to the democratic tradition, as they say the wars were fought for these freedoms, as I saw somebody say on the news this morning that the attack on the Charlie Hebdo office in Paris had inspired more appreciation in France since then.

Human Beauty Secret Guilty, Distraction from Njörðr Horror

slim female blondes
are my gods
in human form
sun of storm
shining light
worth the fight

to live on, our dying planet

watch it corrode
destruction code
waves carry waste
fishy bad taste
we kill life
plastic pollution knife

Njörðr is/was a Norse sea god.

Njörd's_desire_of_the_Sea

I wrote this during the Remembrance Sunday commemorations. It’s what my muse directed me to write, without planning. I still remembered the brave war dead, but don’t think I can ever better my previous poem posted on this site: The Whistle Cried Heavy.

The only correction I made to the whole post was changing the penultimate line of the poem from ‘you kill life’ to ‘we kill life’, taking responsibility for what I do, knowing I’m far from perfect!

Big Eyes Unbroken: Genius Connecting Multi-Media and Creating New Writing Art Word: Offer to Artistic Studio

After citing the article about connection genius yesterday I’ve gone connections crazy today for International Women’s Day! I watched a couple of films this week I related to, with regard for my attempt to create my art, and retain credit for it; whether positive or negative. Tim Burton’s Big Eyes told the real story of Margaret Keane, who let her husband Walter take credit for her distinctive ‘big eyes’ paintings, as ‘female art’ didn’t sell. Angelina Jolie’s Unbroken was about Olympic athlete and World War Two airman Louis “Louie” Zamperini, who suffered sadistic treatment as a prisoner of war.

Some more of the plots are discussed below, so spoiler alert if you want to watch them without knowing the stories, but they are quite obvious storylines, and not surprising twists you’ll really regret finding out before.

My Life, My Mind, My Writing 

In Big Eyes Margaret Keane proved she was the painter of her distinctive art by creating one in the courtroom. I’d had the idea before of writing my coffilosophy live, in an art studio or gallery, and the idea still holds for philosotea. So, if anybody can make that happen, I’m still open to it. My writing art becoming one; is this a new word for the occasion: wriarting. You saw it here first, but will you be enlightened enough to credit me? I just searched it to make sure, and found no such word:

Screenshot (265)

That’s why I consider myself a self-proclaimed genius, and worthy of spending my time doing this as Lionel Messi is playing football, Noddy Holder is living off his Merry Christmas royalties (and other brilliant music! Sorry Noddy!!) or Gordon Ramsey is cooking fancy food!

I’ve been writing this for thirteen years now, and was blogging similar stuff for a few years before that while at university, so I should have proved myself by now, but some people just don’t want to accept somebody like me can be a writer/artist, as they didn’t want to accept women could be artists in Margaret Keane’s time. Some of those have been women.

The way that Big Eyes merged into Unbroken for me is that one of the ways those around me have tried to keep me down sadistically is by trying to claim they helped me when they didn’t, thus dissipating my efforts and achievements: as I wrote in my Gossip ist Schwein Folding Mirror poem, most have been more of a negative hindrance than a positive benefit.

Telling me I should share my work is like telling a non-white person they should share credit for their work with whites; or telling women they should share their work with men, like Margaret Keane.

While the main reason I hold on to my writing is for myself, I also do it for my ‘demographic’, having started my creative writing career at the height of the ‘chav’ era, and with it apparently now doing the worst in school.

While my writing started off rebelling against the traditional ‘upper classes’ and ‘elites’ I’ve since seen the ‘working-class’ and ‘ethnic minority’ local elites can be as bad or worse, which has helped me become more ‘enlightened’ to the traditional ‘upper classes’. And learning more about history, and how they got to own their land, sometimes through valiant service in the military. And thinking they conserve it well most of the time… although sometimes blood sports are a negative, for the hunted animals and others killed to create more prey!

However, I still think that while other ‘minorities’ have had more protection and promotion, my ‘demographic’ seems neglected, and so I should try to give them a voice, even though most don’t seem to want one. If I was more successful, or had chosen the academic route, I’d probably blend into the ‘pale, male and stale’ British middle-aged middle-class bracket everybody seems to be rebelling against.

So that’s why I’ve continued writing as the ‘chav philosopher’, knowing that’s the least likely demographic to buy books, and one of the most likely to reject it, but that’s what I have been the last thirteen years; and I’m still Big Eyes Unbroken!

To end on an international women’s day note it was great to see Stacey Dooley on the news this morning talking about her new book, and looking back to meeting the brave Yazidi women. Yesterday morning on the news I was impressed by the story of the late actress and inventor Hedy Lamarr, who designed faster streamlined planes by connecting the shapes of the fastest birds and fish.

Instead of my books at the end today I thought I’d put Stacey Dooley’s in for International Women’s Day, although I have nothing to do with it. I know people will think I’m doing it for my own benefit, and I know it would be good PR if believed to be for the right reason, but I’m greenYgrey enough to write how I know it can also be interpreted negatively. I do it anyway, and wouldn’t do it if I didn’t really want to, and wasn’t impressed by her career.

Poem of Life’s Changes, Writing IT and Blogging

English: iPhone 4 redefines what a mobile phon...
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Marc Latham’s latest Folding Mirror poem has as its topic all the information we process during our lives, and how that information’s interpretation can change over time. It also reflects on the change from private diary/journal to public one in the age of the blog. Here it is:
Multitasking Medley
left, centre, right
different points of view
friends, family, work
changing roles for you
young, middle, old
never noticing you grew
interpreting life, being interpreted
words lost within fog
then, now, later
written clearly in log
dreams, progress, opinion
now there’s the blog
open, read, close
Marc Latham’s central site is the Greenygrey (http://www.greenygrey.co.uk).