‘what we observe is not nature itself, but nature
exposed to our method of questioning.’
– Werner Heisenberg, Physics and Philosophy
All bets are off. Attempting to manipulate
mystical energy is simply a waste of time;
intuition and wishful thinking are concepts
that lend themselves well to pseudoscience.
Here are poetry and beauty, surreal images
juxtaposed against experience, and desire
rising like a devil above the miasma of time,
the sense of desolation left in the wake of punk.
The impossible is everything, except evidence for
the existence of inner heat and conscious living
or mysterious force fields surrounding Earth.
If we could detect potential and kinetic energy
is that universal spiritual power at work? If so,
isn’t it extremely hazardous to living beings?
We all prefer to stay alive, knowing anyone
can be abused, ignored or sent to the asylum.
It is not only gravity gets us down but our actions;
the world is a closed system, ready to erupt when
rhythm flows through and around us, connecting
to everything and everyone. Music is the glue that
holds the universe together, the sound of post-punk
digs deep into the depths of self. Cultural dissolution
doesn’t mean nothing new appearing, nor sterilizing
the cosmos. Where the heck is everyone? Absence
is in the air, in hearts that cry out. The sun exploded
in the middle of the Seventies, fragmented rock & roll
with angry guitars and torn remnants of possibility.
Hopeful scientists still insist that we are not alone.
.
© Rupert M Loydell
.