Tag Archives: The Silent Eye

Pipe Dream…

* Maggot always gets his man… Wherever they go. However far they flee. However cunningly they hide… * Maggot enters the Ol’ George: legendary menagerie of care-worn dreamers. This evening’s vibrantly clad gathering part to allow him to the bar. … Continue reading

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Anomalies…

* In the Land of the Living Heart, Angus was playing ball. The sphere of light span and soared in and around and about his aura, as he juggled, and laughed… like tiny bells, chiming. Just then, the Dagda went … Continue reading

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Template of Time…

* First thing on waking We reach for the ‘alarm’ To check the time And cannot recall The last time that did not happen. * Continue reading at France & Vincent

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God-Man…

* …“But the Angles were a British tribe, right? And the Saxons were German?” We are back in Wen’s study after the half triumph of the first of our Glastonbury talks, which aside from a few timing problems, went as … Continue reading

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Black and White…

* …Mother said, “The spiral patterns on the gate don’t mean anything, dear, they’re just decoration.” If life is a search for meaning then it would be as well to point out from the start that there is none to … Continue reading

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Sweet Terror…

* …I first noticed the spirals on the gate of number eight Teesgrove Road when I was turning the soil and tidying the litter from the strip of earth which separated its grounds from those of number ten Teesgrove Road. … Continue reading

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Tom Banjo…

* Down the dark stairwell,  a silent progress plotted. ‘Twas death in that  house were Tom but spotted. …He reached the door, a tree clad Owl hooted. Three seconds more and Tom was Seven League Booted. One stride it took … Continue reading

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Designer Protection…

* Without the crack could black shell of Night ever give flight to break of Day…? * Reblogged from France & Vincent

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Wake up, turn on, tune in…

* To find a stone laid by the Snake of Steel City, Before the Lowly-Ladies House, Beyond a Blood-Baked Bridge, Continue reading at France & Vincent

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Feeling True…

…Her hand crept to the feather at her throat. Her gift from the gods. The colour of flame. She had strayed from the path. Seeking silence. Preparing herself for what was to come. The great bird had wheeled overhead. Soaring … Continue reading

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