Here Flying

living, loving, noteworthy, photography, rhymes and rhythm, travel



Tis a photo of joy that reminds one to see

Past the murmurs to nudge toward something alive

Being that which connects and collides in a frame

Saturating a feeling of brightness inside

There atoning in wonder; illusioning fear

But you prospect for metals that steel your third eye

Fall upon this small magnet, deem one to be three

For the fourth is enforcing the fort caught engrossed

In my moment of sharing a careful word worn

Wearing waste jarring charred tarry stars from their place

Is a wayside where whey splits from curd and the corn

Found its oily way into good cooking and space

Here you wonder aloud where the crack has been formed

One can plunder light, draining some quiet repose

Lying low, waiting words sweeten rupturing line

To demand mindless maker defeat its caked praise

Ode defining the miners who seek what they find

Bolsters boyishness dearly adhering to rows

Taking weather near hither or thither to be

Coming back to the colour that brightened your sighs

In a thronging sensation; a resounding vibration

Persisting through filters that aid percolation

And a clear conversation, intent on elation

Bringing lingering things to the boiling point nation

Rolling out of the grey where you stay in all day

Reeling back from the black that attacked your old fray

Polling hacks that enraptured the brackish to clay

One can see now how clouds can delight in array



And like a bird, held mighty word

And like a bird, held mighty word



peace xxx







Ok, I swear, I’m Doing It

photography, rhymes and rhythm


In the last 12 hours


Cooked up oats,

Googled boats

Wrote a blog,

Dropped a bog

Surfed the web,

(brainwave ebb)

Shaved my legs,

Cooked some eggs

Counted cash,

Toilet dash

Carved in board,

(word is sword)

Messaged friend,

Awake no end

Here I sit,

Losing it


What a state

Essay? No,

I’m no Poe

Fear of time,

Need to rhyme


Voice is shrill

End of post,

I want toast

Coffee caper;

After that, the paper.




loopy peace from too-much-awake Helen








Confessions of an anthropomorphist

living, loving, noteworthy, photography



Anthropomorphism: to ascribe human characteristics to animals and the non-human.


I don’t see dead people. But I do see people. Everywhere. In everything. Most things appear to me as a representation of something human. A materialisation of being that underpins the smallest of actions, the slightest of pictures.


I take a walk, and there’s a wedged boulder leaning on his neighbour. I think the offensive rock should back off a little bit, and stand on his own foundation. By the same token, I’m awed at the support given that holds both behemoths upright. I go to the beach, and the wind whips sand into my face. I tell it not to be so aggressive, to calm down. I see my aged cat, and apologise for the indignity of having to wear a pink crystal-studded colour at her age (cat dressed as kitten).


You see, we are animals, you and I. Beasts, as it were. With this I justify my assertion to happily go on thinking and seeing in terms of the human spectrum. So that when utterly non-human phenomena is upon me, the effect is that much more mind-blowing and surreal, due to the foreign nature of its existence. I inexorably appreciate the insurmountable beauty of a radiant sunset, or the chasm of a darkened cave.


You are not so different from I. It’s likely we both engage in conversation with our pets, and ascribe them special care and affection given their privileged human-companion status. I believe it makes the bond closer between human and animal (and perhaps even environment) to anthropomorphise with the affections and love that we treat other humans with, and that we in turn experience. I have no problem with people ascribing human qualities to the “other” if it feels more organic. Relating to the ‘natural’ environment in this way keeps me cool, calm and collected.


Animals are not so different from us, either. To give two specific examples off the top of my head, it appears some species of bird are capable of mourning, and that young elephants can be traumatised for life after experiencing distress.


In the spirit of keeping things light-hearted though, here are some snaps I prepared earlier:



The leering lynch mob surrounded the hanging twig




Sheep: "Screw you, stupid human. May you never return."











10 funny photos in Vietnam

living, loving, photography, travel

Don't worry, I'll take it.





.....guess I'll have 5 for breakfast.





That's one happy Buddha





No rush, guys.





Not interested, man





Die fat. Base humour, I know.





It's cool, I got it.





There's plenty of room on my bike.





Having a snooze










I love Vietnam.