It sits there


at the zenith

of an atom


this imperceivably



floating above

the top

of this

smallest unit





waiting for you

to recognise it

waiting for you

to accept it

What is this thing?

You tell me

I only see

what I can see



Within each of us

is a god


a goddess

and I mean that

when I say

each of us

if you believe

in the gender binary

that’s a great place

to start from

Give the female

all the most





Give the male

all the most





Then realise

these are both

within your grasp

that you have both

These two things

are just casings


for something more

more abstract

more unitary

neither god

nor goddess

it’s more than that

by being less than that

and that new thing

is just a casing


for everything

and everything is

is just a casing


for every

every thing

every nothing

The nothingness

that there appears to be

is just the blank slate

upon which

the shadowplay of life

is played

the projection is shown

the pixels are sent

we are

so symbiotic

with our shadowplays

our films

our tv programmes

our video games

our poems

our stories

because they are archetypal

because they are primal emotions

because they are shown to us

that’s a powerful tool

to create shadowplays

of all kinds

not just media

You can do this in life

tell yourself a story

make it

come true

It may seem reductive

to bring everything

to the level

of just being a story

but stories

are how we have always

made sense

of random events

it’s how we created logic



how we have learned so much


we need to remember

there is always


to learn

and sometimes

the things we learn

we’ve already learned

and they’re the basis

of the things we know

but we didn’t realise

we knew them

all science

works on the basis

that nothing made sense


we had to make sense of it

the scientific method

is a story


with beginnings


and ends

written down

and read to people

we all know how to make stories

we all know how to tell stories

we all constantly tell stories

we all constantly communicate stories to each other

a joke

is a story

an anecdote

is a story

a life

is a story

what you got from the shop

is a story


be the writer

of your story


that’s an option

now get writing

The day the self help dies

You’ve spent the past 6 months

telling everyone how to be okay

and you tried to apply that shit

to your own life every single day

you said you could be okay

it was mind over matter

you could converse with the bad parts

and have a polite natter

with the depression, the anxiety,

the cloying dependency

but today

you knew this wasn’t the case

you couldn’t force a smile

to sit on your face

anything remotely zen

would be a ball of lies

cos you feel awful today

on the day the self help dies


We all fall apart
We all return to sender
Our composition ends
Our skin no longer tender

As we fade away
Our eyes liquify
Our bodies bloating

Around the carcasses we were
Flies and carrion birds
Start floating

The sweet stench of death
Attracts bugs and worms
Who feast upon our nutrients
At the end of our terms

The motifs of our lives
Our vitalised imposition
Are muted when we go away
And become decomposition


I’m questing and searching

for a way to heal the tribe

In a way that’s something more

than a witty diatribe

reproduce the trippy shit

that’s inside of my head

wear my brain on the outside

and give other people the good shit instead

cos I’ve got ways of coping with this

I know how not to make every track a diss

I know how to keep afloat, not take the piss

Show the folks at home what it is

floating in a wave from another dimension

lying on your back ignoring apprehension

letting your inner child out of detention

and infecting minds with intuitive conception

Keep it on the fly, keep in on the wing

like stevie said dontcha worry bout a thing

cos fear is the mind killer like Frank Herbert said

and there’s nothing worse than a mind that’s dead

I’m looking

and tryna find

another piece

o’ mind

you got to go out of your head

to ever live before your dead

take a little hit, take a little trip

pull yourself away from the reality drip

take a sip of soma soma this

take a dip in allah allah this

feel the universe collide with you

feel the nothingness inside of you

acid trip hop in a cranial space

take you all along to the other place

have a little taste, throw it on your face

give out all your gifts to the human race


Get out your mind

place it in front of you

Place it in your grasp

Place it in your view

Relate to your brain

as an object

in space a

and work on it

Thoughts are sounds

that only we can hear

Sounds of joy,

sounds of hope and fear

We can block it out

Ignore in totality

Or embrace the noise

listen to the whole symphony

If we regard this sound as a doing

And also a thing that happens

We can spot and circumvent

Some cyclical patterns

Like you can correct you breath

You can treat your brain death

We breathe, as a verb,

yet it happens anyway

We breathe without thinking

for most of the day

We can change things

Our thoughts at least

for the better

Don’t spend your days

In guilt and shame

a solipsistic regretter

I believe in you

if you can believe me

I believe we can be true

I believe we can be free.

At least in this moment.

At least for right now.

Which is good.

that’s all there is anyhow.

I make it sound simple

Like some kind of zen jerk

It does takes some effort

but it’s worth the work

I’m not perfect at this

I struggle day and night

But if we’re going to attempt to stand

We may as well attempt to fight