The Higher of Two Evils

The wanderlust grows like a moss
On
the bark of this forming soul,
But alone is where I'm at,
And alone is
but the whole
Of this unforgiving sin,
This wretched undertaking,
Which always lets me in,
But steels the bars I'm breaking
To find.

Moments (kisses, bonds of empathy), last for their namesake,
Temporarily relieving the desolation of my landscape,
But not to these
will I cling,
Nor to anything
Manmade, infected with hypocrisy,
Mortality and infidelity.

Bracing on
Is the manner of my
journey;
'cause every time I die,
seems like I can't be touched.
A
fireside story.

(c) 06

Summer Squatter Go Home

Check out www.anti-flag.com to hear "1 Trillion Dollars", an acoustic aural delight from their new LP For Blood and Empire.

Peace

www.downingstreetmemo.com (information on an illegal war)

Nigella Damascena

Yesterday night I was able to tick off one of the many check-boxes on my "Things to do Before Murdered" list. That is, I was honoured to participate in a mouse catch along with the father of my sweetheart (meus amatrix). He was a cheeky beggar (the mouse, not Han's dad), and fleet of foot, and hence it took around 52 minutes to chase him out from under the piano and into John's hands, at which point he decided to sample the meaty flesh of the aforesaid, much to my amusement and John's surprise (and slight pain). At one point earlier than this, I managed to catch his tail with the edge of a Compact Disc case as it carelessly roped out from underneath the upright instrument. Upon firmly grasping its tail with fingers and removing the case, however, the blighter inconsiderately left an inch of it in our fingertips, and, chuckling merrily to himself at his own cleverness, darted back with the remainders of his body, ready for the next round.

In the end, he got the freedom which we so committedly were trying to give him, as he leapt out through the french windows... straight into the paws of Darcy, the household cat.

Lol, only kidding.

KTF

Don't Click Here

THE ROSE. (William Cowper)

The rose had been wash’d, just wash’d in a shower,
Which Mary to Anna convey’d,
The plentiful moisture encumber’d the flower,
And weigh’d down its beautiful head.

The cup was all fill’d, and the leaves were all wet,
And it seem’d, to a fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left, with regret,
On the flourishing bush where it grew.

I hastily seized it, unfit as it was
For a nosegay, so dripping and drown’d,
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!
I snapp’d it, it fell to the ground.

And such, I exclaim’d, is the pitiless part
Some act by the delicate mind,
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart
Already to sorrow resign’d.

This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,
Might have bloom’d with its owner a while;
And the tear, that is wiped with a little address,
May be follow’d perhaps by a smile.

Nightlights

I have started a dream journal, which may be viewed at www.cicada-song.blogspot.com, if anyone so desires. Link also on the east of the page.

Jehovah Nisi ::: the Lord is our Banner

Yura Viruchai!

A few appraisals...

Cidade de Deus / City of God (Film) - This 2hr piece of fine Brazilian art and social comment would be one of the most barbarically shocking and visceral portrayals of life in the Rio de Janeiro slum known as the 'city of God', if it was not for the oversaturation of fantasy violence which has desensitised our generation. Subtitled, somatic and cathartic. It tells the story of a boy known as 'Rocket' as he grows up amongst the drug-dealing, rape, poverty and wanton murder of the barrio. His ambition is to become a photographer, which will be his only window of opportunity out of this hellish, claustrophobic and strangely beautiful place. 8/10.

Margave of the Marshes (John Peel & Sheila Ravenscroft) (Book) - The semi-autobiography of the late legendary disc jockey John Peel, written by himself and his wife. (If you're wondering about the names, Ravenscroft was his real name). Fascinating, even for anyone not interested in the music he patronised, I would imagine, as large sections of the book deal with situations/thoughts unrelated to this. Writing styles are witty in a drily amusing fashion. Easily readable. 7/10.

The Thing on the Doorstep (H.P. Lovecraft) (Book) - You can read this in an hour, and download it from here. A short story of supernatural fiction. Deals with the subject of immortality and deeper orders to the universe. 7/10

That's all for now (folks),

KIR

Voi-La Intruder

A delicious realisation has just dawned on me. Blogging is one of the most egocentric pastimes that one can indulge in. To think - it is all your thoughts, your life, your fugue*. How perfectly narcissistic. This particular blog, along with the superior literary journals linked at the east of your screen, is also rather esoteric, for much of the content means little to those external to a certain circle. But this is only mentioned because the two words (egocentric & esoteric) sound vaguely homogenous.

To carry on in the vein of vainglory...

I have recently lit upon a decision to make a decision concerning the future path of my brief and inconsequential life (that's not reflections of depression, it's simply a fact, disregarding the hope that the Lord will deem His light to shine through this poor vessel to the benefit of unsaved souls). This decision comes in the form of a travel itinerary. The plan (for one must always have a plan with such things) is to save up millions of dollars (about a grand) and flee far away from the land of my serfdom (make a step of independence and probably end up malarial and divested).

So, for the ease of your comprehension, here is a map of the planned route, which I have intricately woven so that you may glimpse into the start of one monumental backpacking journey...

Well now. I realise that this isn't really the right size to enable good sight. However, assuming that most people reading this blog have geography skills that surpass my limitations, you can hopefully picture most of this in your mind's eye.

1. Flight from UK to Cairo, Egypt

2. Stay here for undecided amount of time, seeing pyramids in starlight, getting mugged in Valley of the Kings, graverobbing, etc..

3. Swift move along with cash acquired from selling off 3'000 year old pharoah to shady relic collector. Destination - Israel.

4. Exploring Jerusalem and other sights for a few days.

5. Moving through Turkey, taking sketches of Istanbul and biblical cities.

6. Turkey to Greece. Visit the Acropolis in Athens, smash plates in restaurants, have long and excited conversations about the afterlife with fat Greek mustachioed man.

7. Greece to Italia. Take punting canalboat through Venice, try and push man in the water. Write lovesongs in sonnet form to the most beautiful girl in the world. Perhaps visit the Abruzzo region. Buy lots of red wine. Visit Florence. Take time to work on memoirs.

8. Italy to Paris, France. Take in the Louvre, be disappointed with the Mona Lisa, marvel at the Venus De Milo. Noctambulate in old Paris.

9. Home.

Aha. Now I know what I'm doing.

The time is 00:09, and this man is burned out. Lassitudinous.

Keep the Faith

* a disturbed state of consciousness in which the one affected seems to perform acts in full awareness but upon recovery cannot recollect them. Webtionary

Nephenthes

This past Sunday, I and the many other members of my church had the pleasure of hearing The Word preached by Mr. Mike Mellor. It was a real blessing, refreshment and invigoration to hear him, more so for some other people I know - one of my friends was converted, praise the Lord!! As much as I got from both sermons, one particular anecdote stuck with me and has been troubling my soul for the past two days, as I'm sure it will continue to do.

He told the story of one time that he preached, presumably in the open air. There was an old man sitting on a bench throughout, and upon the close of the gospel, he went to sit beside this man and ask him what he thought about the content of the aforesaid. Sadly this man, who had seen and served in both World Wars, responded "I've survived for 86 years with God, I can do the rest without him". On the brink of eternity. That brings it home.

It's made me think about all the old people in my life, and how they're headed for a stretch far longer than the three-score-years-and-ten they've managed - with Providence - to eke out. The devil - through apathy, procrastination and lack of conviction - veils our eyes from these things. Not that we don't know them, but we are tempted by Satan to walk around in a semi-slumbering state all too often.

It would though, be a mistake to care only for the elderly in their unsaved position, for any one of us can be snatched away by the Lord at any time. This makes it all the more important to radiate the gospel of forgiveness and salvation in our lives, and to use every opportunity to be verbal vessels through which our Father's message can flow.

Judgement is real and no-one will be able to side-track it.

"...it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment"

- Hebrews 9v27

"You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people's feet.

You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven."

- Matthew 5v13-16

Ultimately nothing matters but that God has us, and we have God.

KTF

Psycho Banditos

The weather has been veering between the extremes of unhindered sunshine and bitter snowstorm blizzards in the past two days (is that a fortday?). I think the times are past when foreigners could rightly claim that the British skies are no source of weatherly interest.

Being bitterly cold, now is a good time to be sitting in front of my father's laptop, listening to "Riot in Paradise" by Mad Sin, a Christian rock outfit. The last part's a joke. Psychobilly is indeed a niche genre. The band are self-described as "Johnny Cash on speed, next to the Clash on amphetamine, without losing the psycho punkabilly focus". Just what more could you want?

Simple pleasures. Add in a steaming mug of Colombian's finest (coffee, not cocaine), Nag Champa incense imported from some remote village in the south of India (or so they claim - was probably processed in some factory in Clapham) and some innate and sudden urge to be on the Superman: The Escape coaster in Texas, and life is full.

Some thoughts unfit to be transcribed to random essay form, due to lack of will:

- There have been an awful lot of articles on singleness in the Evangelicals Now recently...

- I should build a greenhouse for the sole purpose of cultivating obscene amounts of snowdrops...

- Why did Christopher Marlowe name his demon Mephistopheles?

Speaking of the devil, here's a brief synopsis of "Dr. Faustus" - it's dark, but mayhap has its uses - as a literary form of the hellfire-and-brimstone preacher. The play by Mr. Marlowe concerns a certain man, namedly Doctor Faustus. His scholarly achievements fail to sate his appetite for knowledge (reminiscent of the Ecclesiastical epigram "everything is meaningless"), and so yearns to learn dark magic, aka necromancy. This unhealthy desire leads him to attempt a conjuring, at which he is successful, and, just like that, Mephistopheles appears. After a little banter, Faustus thinks that it will be a good idea for him to sell his soul for 24 years to Lucifer (naturally..), and, delighted by the prospect of the powers that will be at his beck and call (origin - beckon call?), does so. He gains powers of summoning (spirits and a wife), which he uses to play various tricks and pranks upon members of the aristocracy. For example, he conjurs the spirit of Alexander the Great for Charles V and procures out of season grapes for a pregnant empress. Eventually, this childish and perilous game is the end of him. Whilst he is discussing with a group of students the question "Who is the most beautiful woman in the world?", they agree upon Helen of Troy, that famed bane of the male sex. The Old Man enters, and pleads with the Doctor to renounce his sinful ways, giving him a final chance for redemption. He seals his fate as he locks lips with Helen's spirit, and Mephistopheles abruptly appears and drags him off... (Incidentally, this story brings to mind the title of a short story by M.R. James, entitled 'A Warning to the Curious').

"For thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel: Do not let your prophets and your diviners who are among you deceive you, and do not listen to the dreams that they dream"

- Jeremiah 29v8