So the new year has been pretty busy so far. I have been travelling loads with work & have been able to enjoy places such as Victoria & the breathtaking Banff (yes where The Shining was filmed!) Its been a whirlwind of short home visits, plane delays & hidden gems.
Life is what you fill it with. Stuff, so that, our existence isn't pointless & we don't get bored with what we've created. I think often about what the world would be like if we didn't create this. Or shall I say they didn't. Our ancestors.
Perception is fluid.
Here is a piece that flowed from me while I was in Seattle visiting a friend. I was inspired. He said poetry was dead or rather "who writes anymore anyways?" when I read it to him. But I tend to disagree with that statement. It is not what is popular that interests me.
It dawns on the amber abyss
Where does this resist
To take her robotic hand
Out of the grasp, the wheel,
The gear
That has flooded its hold
A mechanical tendril
Curling
Fracturing
Its victim
Prey upon her
feast
Of screens & broken dreams
Past the point of reflection
A disease.
Shot across the sky.
A rainbow of destruction.
The Abyss.
I don't have much time for writing. Speaking of which if you were a body of writing, what would u be? A poem, an essay, a book, a journal??
I will try to post more pics soon, but if you wanna see more I usually post lots of my Instagram: @glitchbot





Life is what you fill it with. Stuff, so that, our existence isn't pointless & we don't get bored with what we've created. I think often about what the world would be like if we didn't create this. Or shall I say they didn't. Our ancestors.
Perception is fluid.
Here is a piece that flowed from me while I was in Seattle visiting a friend. I was inspired. He said poetry was dead or rather "who writes anymore anyways?" when I read it to him. But I tend to disagree with that statement. It is not what is popular that interests me.
It dawns on the amber abyss
Where does this resist
To take her robotic hand
Out of the grasp, the wheel,
The gear
That has flooded its hold
A mechanical tendril
Curling
Fracturing
Its victim
Prey upon her
feast
Of screens & broken dreams
Past the point of reflection
A disease.
Shot across the sky.
A rainbow of destruction.
The Abyss.
I don't have much time for writing. Speaking of which if you were a body of writing, what would u be? A poem, an essay, a book, a journal??
I will try to post more pics soon, but if you wanna see more I usually post lots of my Instagram: @glitchbot


















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