Palace of Versailles (poem) by Tony Chapman

Maze Drawings by Tony Chapman

spontaneous writing on my very own blog: hurtles, backfiring, over the crescent of the yellow hill, dazzled by sunflowers and a myriad daisies and yellow tulips and multiple suns and I’ve been brain washed to thinking what I write and draw can never be quite good enough… what do you think?

The Universal Truck Of Humanity

well, here we go: a four wheeled truck creeps up the mountain path ( my breathing deepens immediately as   I write this first non-sense, or hidden -sense  line) (the voices in this Hema cafe chatter and choppy-sea around me. pleasantly busy. different cultures) the truck flies every flag of every nationality. it is universal , it is for freedom for all. and love. the truck trundles slowly and happily up the mountain to the very top. where it stops. out steps the happy leader of humanity,  who is a skeleton. Who is the basic structure of humanity … the scaffold we have all built ourselves on. it is sexless, cultureless, religionless and free.

All of humanity, stops what they are doing, for a moment, lays down the tools of their trades and, smiling , waves to the skeleton, and the whole of humanity remembers: we all eat , drink and delicately taste, smell and feel. We all have a vast amount more crucial things in common than we have minor things seperating us.

hello 137 by Tony Chapman

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Outside birds sing … dawn chorus … faint light appears through the skylight above me … a hum and the faint tap of my Spen stylus … me trying to write about what is in this moment

… tiredness behind my eyes …

apps are the Alladins cave … I lie awake all night searching for more and more … I always come back to Snotes. Must leave this device downstairs at night – must!

Feel better for writing about it all though –  money low again – gig tomorrow night with  bass player – should sleep – will have to cancel lesson tomorrow – no time for me … hardly – only way to get time for me is to lie in bed at night writing on my device … I have no children to carry my genes on – how strange – this particular billion years old evolutionary line – ends here – with me …

and yet, as there is only this moment what does it really matter?

l lie in bed waiting for Godot … oh how far does it go? – this spirit and spiral the past is just a memory, the future is ? … I close this ragged door and the pitiful strangers pass through … they collide and ricoche across tragic ballroom floors, they dance heavily on the poished wood, their heavy, muddy boots, dragging.

Where are they/we now?…  our apples smelling over-ripe, in their orange boxes, stored on the dry, dusty floor of the woodshed at the bottom of that muddy track .

oh, take these blinkers from my eyes
… let me see again
… through this silly, rattling rain, hammering lightly on the corrugated iron of the goat’s shed at bottom of the garden. And beyond the shed: the ditch and beyond the ditch: the field, where the black and white cows sometimes ran …

…oh yesterday is gone and I’m learning,
… who knows maybe I’II have a family yet?

… and maybe there is another lifetime, endless Planet Earths, in endless, different dimensions, and us, merely transfering from one to another.

… and my own father’s life has finally reached the end … God bless him… it is so wierd.