THE WRITE HEMISPHERE
mental wealth/ creative writing images of stroke
Sunday, 14 July 2024
SOMATRAVERSE
Sunday, 7 January 2024
MUCKER
I can't remember a moment
by the
half-door, it is etched into my
broken mind.
A verbal memory, A Fox
skulked out of a red glow dawn,
Kavanagh's ditch.
This was the
first morn of the rest of my
Life. The
fox from the ditch was like
a gasp, never seen felt before.
All I knew was Raw War, Street Kid,
and Gutterance. It stopped in motion,
glared at me, and left its mark.
A stamp of approval, Kavanagh's bright
shillings of March, forged into my mind
that morning. Like an animal symbol out of
circulation, a lost wax process (cire perdu).
I never knew true natural beauty.
The fox gave me that nature nurtured
into words. It took my inner-city
sight slang and tossed it
and spit hatred to the gutter.
War-torn Belfast was no more,
I saw peace, not war, in Hackballscross
with my Mucker Muttley with only one eye
and three
legs Beaten by Brit rifle butts.
He chased the
camouflage cows like uni-
Formed hatred to chase away shellshock
cool green around our ankles.
The same fields Patrick Kavanagh
walked through.
Mucker left its mark; freedom winds
hacked my mindset and true natural wonder,
I will never forget.
The Cottage had two rooms, no water, to shit, you had to call a spade, a spade. The well-
water sparkling spring. I have never tasted
anything like it.
A skater on healthy water, bending.
Reality. I blogged to see how often I wrote
this moment on the right hemisphere, the half-
door. I am lost. Really, I am lost in my dis-
abled bubble.
Substance, my
absolute rhythm, carved by
The uncarved
block Kavanagh, Carver,
the fox footfall like an uncarved circadrian
rhythm, the thought fox to be
A Fox
thought.
Friday, 8 December 2023
These images are seared into my mind
Tuesday, 22 August 2023
Sunday, 20 August 2023
COPY PASTE
AND HOPE
The internet was down
for a day. I realized my broken mind had no Cling on to memory, lost without Photo- graphs and Internet.
PROPER PIC
There Was nothing on my mind, blank.
I always knew memory was mor-photo-
genetic, the net gave me stimulation. I tried
to conjure up something in my mind but no
remembrance.
I cant even think up a con-no-clue-sion,
wordplay is my depth. I want to say more
and roll poetic of my tongue but it’s like
when I woke from stroke.
I seen the word in my mind but nothing
came out. I am like internet my network
is down. I can only write of the moment
I am in no past and future intense.
I tried to
save this Word document
But just
like me, there is nothing on
Its mind,
copy-paste and hope.
Am I just a
blog on the write
Hemisphere,
waiting to be put
In the virtual-reality wastepaper bin..
Wednesday, 16 August 2023
PESSIMYSTIC
SHAMANIC-
BEING
These are the words of a broken human being.
Being broken how?
Is so hard to put my finger
On that pulse: Stroke-long-term memory loss-
Aphasia-aphantasia, a veil of black behind eyes.
Marguerite Dumas said of her studies on mel-
oncholy when you find yourself in a blackhole
at the bottom of a hole, you realize only writing
can save you, the write hemisphere blog.
I haven’t dreamed in twenty years but last night
The snapshot of a fox in a grey multistorey-Car-
park. The fox slept on the soft-top roof of a car
it was daylight colour road signs and bunker grey.
Just days ago I watched a shamanic journey he
spoke of your animal symbol, ticking my boxes
Of shamanistic, Pagen, animal skin drum beat
I went on my url and found a poem, pagen poet.
I don’t do that new-age mystic shit if I don’t
See touch or feel I don’t believe the stroke
Put me in a confusing default mode. The snap-
shot pierced black fabric of life just a shutter
speed flicker of fox.
As close I could almost touch, said hey there
mister aphantastic fox. Nonchalantly he raised
his head to fall as if I wasn't even there was this
the animal symbol of myself caring not to care?
or a sham-manistic being of my broken self.
I flicked my computer of poe-artry memory as
My human hard drive was wiped clean, I was
amazed how often the fox appeared. There is
Hope after all in my hopeless hope, flicker foxy-
Foxy like the back of my hand, a morphoto
genetic flashed up Johnny the Fox alias Jim
(father's name) before my eyes. A Fox looking
at a fox by a fox mantra-shaman. I lived with
Dad when I saw the fox
I don't remember.
Sunday, 6 August 2023
HYPHEN-ATE ME REPETITIVE REPEAT
Black-
Hole,
this is a melancholy study
Its
black and bleak down here.
No
emotional engineering, just
A .dot-wired up al-chem muck
T-OO- GOLD
I
look inside my black face mask
To
see what is in me, no dream-
Scape
psych a trip, tripped up M-
Ore-mining,
how far down can-u
I’m
in a black underearth a black-
Hole,
this is a melancholy study
Its
black and bleak down here.
No
emotional engineering, just
A .dot-wired up al-chem muck
To gold-Neitzschian. He knew
How to suffer- Will and will to
Power-no x-mas or birth day
Cell-leb its just pure Dubh-bla
Bla-black. I know the world is
Out there I hear them drive-
By-shooting. On my per-if-
Eerie is a dis-able room dis-
Abled bed and the curtains
Blacked out allergic to sun-
Light red around the head.
A native Irish/English man
with nowhere to go Shop-
pen-Will is my time my-
hour pess-I-mytic hope.
No green/orange- red/blue shot by
Both sides we were wired up, some
Of will get creedmore-electro- shock
You can kill your sons,music was like
A Kill city-round and round abot city
But we took the mushtoom hit.
Cows were alien force we tripped
Nothing the lawonly works dried
out. We were dole hoppers hop-
ping on the mi-cell-ian socal net-
work Fun-guy 2.
HYPH
To gold-Neitzschian. He knew
Power-no x-mas or birth day
Cell-leb its just pure Dubh-bla
Bla-black. I know the world is
Out there I hear them drive-
By-shooting. On my per-if-
Eerie is a dis-able room dis-
Abled bed and the curtains
Blacked out allergic to sun-
Light red around the head.
A native Irish/English man
with nowhere to go Shop-
pen-Will is my time my-
hour pess-I-mytic hope.
No-go black path,
I knew like the back
of my back of my
hand ta-too-foxy was ere.
Fuck queen and the pope this was my-
Well- fare state,me and Rab-king we
Walked on the wild side-Lou-Read.
No green/orange- red/blue shot by
Both sides we were wired up, some
Of will get creedmore-electro- shock
You can kill your sons, music was like
A Kill city-round and round abot city
But we took the mushrooms hit.
Cows were alien force we tripped
Nothing the lawonly works dried
out. We were dole hoppers hop-
ping on the mi-cell-ian socal net-
work Fun-guy 2.
SOMATRAVERSE
ILL BE YOUR REFLECT PEN-SEE This is the first day in 20 years in stroke recovery ...
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JANICE I WAS GONNA SAY YOU JOGGED MY MEMORY BUT I HAVE NONE. JIMMY ONCE TOLD ME POEMS ARE AUTOBIOGRAPHIES, YOU CREATED A RIPPLE OF WORDS FL...