Where Did The Bodies Go?

The desert is coming to England

The desert is coming to England. The daisies are pushing up dust. The henges are looming through ashes. Our sunsets are ochre and rust. And plaster Elizabeth peers from the sand, And plaster Victoria’s one outstretched hand Is silently crumbling back into the land Where the desert is coming to England.

We don’t know how long it was coming, The route that it wove through the wars. Our safety for years has been sealing Our ears and our minds and our doors. We thought we’d stay safe from the sorrows of what The wider world whispered by keeping them shut But the borders are closed and the cables are cut And the desert’s still coming to England

So sing of Britannia’s twilight, A lullaby to it’s last gleaming: Under the shadows, the satellite-fires To usher the end of her dreaming. We thought it would come with the beat of a drum, With the fire of our bows burning bright like the sun, But silently, slowly and softly it’s come: The desert is coming to England.

Saints are sinners that learned to live with themselves.

Writing tips I know but never use    #1

When you have an idea, write it down and stick to it. Doesn’t matter if it’s a tremendously stupid idea, like a microwave that sends food through time. Write the first chapter, where Napoleon receives a microwave home dinner which determines the outcome of the battle of Waterloo. The point is that you write it, and finish it. Even if you will never let it see the light of day, it is something that you can look at later to find the story you want to write. 

Commit to an idea, however weird, and see it through. It will be very valuable in the long run.

“We can look back at those people and see how evil that was, but we can’t see it in ourselves. So therefore beware of Virtue.”

-Alan Watts

If all roads lead to Rome, how do you actually get out of Rome ?

​Write. Write every day until your head is empty and your demons are quiet.

Today’s advice comes from none other than Maximilien Robespierre.

Strangely enough, the unloved heart knows Love better than the loved heart.

I dreamed I spoke in another’s language, I dreamed I lived in another’s skin, I dreamed I was my own beloved, I dreamed I was a tiger’s kin. I dreamed that Eden lived inside me, And when I breathed a garden came, I dreamed I knew all of Creation, I dreamed I knew the Creator’s name. I dreamed–and this dream was the finest– That all I dreamed was real and true, And we would live in joy forever, You in me, and me in you.

Clive Barker, Days of Magic, Nights of War   (via mysharona1987)

Beautiful!