we do
what we do

it is all just
action and reaction

right
and wrong

a conception
only

of the moment

to disappear
with all vanities

in the flow
of time

and you think
you have

reason

to create
or take

another life?

The Gatwick Private Hotel

corridors

dark paths
of passion

burnt out

the white haired
ghosts

in the lobby

laughing

worlds off
to each side

spaces for minds
to roam

unattached

the keeper is

an old lady
who drinks

in the crucifix
room

Hitler drunk
crawling up
the steps

bottle in hand

and God
a sprightly septuagenarian

black Homburg

bright eyes

portmanteau

rings the bell



(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

beneath
the apparent

the force
of sinew

and muscle

in skeleton
vital

the spirit

a disparteness

endless
seeking

definition

is the colour

the taste

the scent

of anguish


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

best

to grow flowers

in the old
garden

and to let it
go wild

you must
keep moving

or the weight
of possible

worlds

is too much

to bear


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

to be ruthless
for

the present

is

to love
what you

are

and to be
true

to the world

as is

what you were
what I was

yesterday

or

in another
life

and time

is only

the reason
for now

it is not

a place
we can meet

nor should it
be

the indulgence

of the failure

to face

the unknown

in each other's
eyes


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the light is hard
out here

the ground
a thousand kisses

the horses
are gods

in the fields

the fields
wait for dancers

the sky
is belief

in colour


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

nobody
knows

why it is
or what

the space
of mind

tries
to explain

itself

and then the world

(it begins
every moment)

God

is thinking
top

down

and hey
why not?

start there
or go

south

inside
vision

beyond
flesh and blood

or ground
and stone

to

physics town

bright lights
big city

a different
way to hide

or

you can find
in this

here

or that attempt
to make

create

(be your own)
until

the taste
of too much

alcohol
or saltpetre

or the sun

in your eyes
and heart

slide
into another
life

time has passed
in your bones

what can you recall?

and how
would you test

if anything
happened at all?

well a memory
is what?

I don't know

I just believe

like grasping
the sea

getting your story
straight

is never
right

where is the place
of rest?

as if

I don't think

therefore

I am

still


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

Hicks and me

it's become
a question

of my art

and so
of me

that I cannot
approach

in words

the detention
of David Hicks

how to
begin?

what to say?

every image
unworthy

any statement
hollow

too real
for tricks

of the trade

perhaps
there are

subjects

too close

for the vanity
of verse

and is this one?

it should not be

rather
I think

reason for

the great poem
that makes

a difference

everything
Plato feared

should come now

in blood
and sweat

and I have

(but for this
apology)

gone dumb

perhaps
I am

closer to

the gaoler

than the man
detained?

you see
I cannot

imagine

for
David Hicks

and of
the sickness

that led
to this

the great silence
across the nation

why?

how?

I think

they slipped it in
on the assumption

'he must have done
something'

and

as a reason
for

the great atrocity
that was

to come

and

somewhere
between

the cricket

and

the footy

just when

everyone
needed

a focus

for their
miserable

pain


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

people

are quite
entrenched

engaged
en route

to the imaginary
of goal

reason is
just everything

drawn
into

the centre
of being

alive

(however
this is

dark or
without

the knowledge
of parameters)

every history

a serious
narrative

of the heart

you can
choose to pray

or go

few
attempt
escape

so
strange

to be
an animal

that thinks
about

thought

(we fashioned
God

from this

and separated
him

out

of the picture

as if
the burden

too much
to bear)

so

we return
to the minutiae

of seeing
what is seen

within

and speaking out
as if

another knows

the great illusion
of language

(we cannot
decipher)

and yet

just this
endeavour

our briefness
is

the measure
of

(it runs on
like
a gold
chain
down
into
nothing)

you discover
yourself

on the street
of delight

(as if you never
left)

between

the fit up
of history

and the openness
beyond

still

the miracle
ever present

yet always
gone


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the argument for grace

consciousness
invents

the substratum
is knowledge

the only
foundation

to the absence
of

pure
experience

is nothing

it is
the centre

out of which

mind
makes

the world

is thus

once created
the source
of creation

(the hypothesis
that was never
put

once embraced)

so

on Tuesday

I will make
pancakes

and invite
Sarah and Nola

to tea

in the dark room
of joy and sorrow

at the old house
in the trees

where it is
always

autumn and dusk

(beauty

is any

equation)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

here's the thing

I could
give you
an account

a statement
of myself

and it
would be
something

to run with

even so

doubtful
at best

(as if
the speaker
has sole
possession
of the words

spoken)

you would need
the propositions

the stories
of others

to approach
something like

a complete
picture

and these
perspectives

(let us say)
true

enough

at time
and place

but what
is this

to say?

even heartfelt
there is no

necessity

every thing
everyone

only
a possibility
of time

so

for practical
purposes

we create
and enforce

paradigms

of thought
knowledge

vision

OK

but the mind is
fluid

and it cannot
be still

you see

we always
escape

and definition

just the need
for reference

it is knowledge

that is at
question

motion is motion
regardless

of frame

rest is rest

even

without
an absolute

I was going
to say

keep an open mind

on yourself


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the spirit
needs

the sound

the unheard
music

of

word

the rhythm

of

syntax

beneath

all language

is

the erotic
dance

of

poetry

in

the flowing
robes

of river

and

sky


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

a thought:

the outside world
of physics

the surface

is give n consciousness
as determined

the inner life

is without fixed points
of reference

so

we are never sure

how close to get

to the other

or indeed
what this means

for some the insecurity
of intimacy

with all its doubt
and impossibility

is resolved

by denial

and the simple
focus

on what appears

(at times we must all
retreat to the world)

for the passionate

the only strategy is art

what you create
with another

out of the madness
of love

even so

if you step back
in your thought

(and this move
is always made)

you see

the first truth:

there is no way of it

we never know

how to proceed

and so

I would say

in the end

(for me)

beauty

is the only ever
reason

to go on



(c) greg. t. charlton. 2007.

epistemology and war

each act
demands explanation

where we run
the risk

is explaining the explanation

and the further out

explanation of explanation
of

the point is
Ockham's

originally

you see

each net
does not just
enclose

it creates
realities

and the question
becomes

what
is being accounted for

and all this
before

action

though never
is it

this neat:

thought then action

my point is

explanation
can lead to

blindness

I favour

limiting

the domain
of account

and simply
operating

as close to

the bare facts
as possible

what's in your face

you might say

(avoid the trap
of ideology)

calling a spade
a spade

no guarantee
of success

or truth

just less
of a mess

to gather in

win or lose


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

Ian Rilen

he faced
and felt

the terror

of this
existence

he embraced
and loved

anyone

who came
to his eyes

his spirit
was free

and when
he rattled

his chains

the world
was rocked

who could forget
that smile?


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

space

the endless breath

before knowledge

time

the rich quality

of melody

.

the closing in

is the death
of beauty free

as a season goes

(never to return)

in its place

dry intelligence

and sharp vision

knowing how
it works

the liberation
from dreaming

and the loss

contraction

to the details
of being


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

and always

the dialectic
of appearance

and what is
beneath -

we have
no clear

fix

on the inside

of the shape
of consciousness

and so

the reach
for definition

to a presentation
that fits

expectation

in the eyes
of others

(who have
no idea

where

to place
themselves

if the truth
be known)

any action

or

way of being

is equal to

any other

on any day

it's just

a question
of numbers

and who can

or does

create

the illusion
of

authority



(c) greg. t. charlton. 2007.

for Jude

it's really

the panorama of colour
the wavelengths
of light

moving in and out

the sensual dance
in every act

(a sea of beauty)

the exotic sound
of each movement

the true singing
of no form

(creation's endless
cacophony)

in each and every
spoken word

thought

its shape speed direction

the sculputure
of nothing

with terrifying
precision

angels weep

the beauty of crystal
dreaming

never to be again

(the world disappears)

time is still
space falls apart

only the heart


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

art

forget what is created it is dead in its realization
(the fix of form)it is the breath before the death
the escape of spirit

in the cage of necessity


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the free heart

reason is
the flow of blood

reason for reason

the making of crystal
spheres

a game of need
and fancy

at the centre
of each thought

each act

the space eternal

(you can dispense
with explanation)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

no true south

this house is in a place the place is real how it is described
depends on where you are perspective what can be said is what
is seen beyond its showing the world is based on nothing so you
are what you appear to be the possibilities are endless there
is no definite description

(the illusion is real)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

architecture or madness as the key to delight

it's always a question of style

conflict is the failure

to discover a unifying idea

that sits well in the dirt

it's not a question of truth

rather invention

the satisfying illusion

that holds up the sky

or

just simply the decision

to work on the one piece

forever


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

a meditation on the occasion of Dick Power's death

the spirit gone
the door shut

(the world loses
a dimension)

only the outside
the body

remains

at the mercy
of the world

to become
indefinable

or as Dick would have said

'fuckin' beautiful!'


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

today

I return
to the listlessness

of everything

it's the day
this Summer day
in Spring

when a child
in the school yard

sitting invisible
in long grass

only the grass
and the heat

and the play

I was apart

and listless

the summer breeze
through the grass

Australian heat
and dirt

as a young man
on campus

the endless days

the space
of youth

you can step
out

of the world

and still be

centre

dreaming flows
out

and is life

you are

the dreaming

I have only
the memory

of this truth

it is not

in these bones
now

I am someone
who would not
be

recognized

by those

eyes

that person

was killed
repeatedly

until

the sky fell
away

today

I am old

and somewhat
more

attached
to the rails

just this summer
breeze

swept through

and found

lost worlds

before I knew


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the way of it

it's
a space
this place
called
mind
or
nature
(human)

and within it
possibility

fixed

a fluidity
within bounds

depth
unfathomable

the reason
for journeys

into

an infinity
of roads

out from
(the centre)

for all this
magnificence

(the story
the reason
the being

of art)

the ever constants

of the animal

never
permanent

always

a roll of the dice
hollow

and finally

predictable
as death

(the ancients

saw with world-weary
eyes

recurrence)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

USA today

Bush

I suspect

has come
to believe

out of fear

what

he is told

to say

.

the ideologues
behind the scene

peddlers

buy and sell
image

contracts

countries

lives

(all in a days work)

.

Condi

knows

she can succeed

and it is

the reason

why

anything
she wears

fits

(white shoes)

.

the people
are traumatized

by the failure
of the myth

God

and

country


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

syllogism

p.1

the dictator takes power
rules with the illusion
of control

(its measure is the misery
of its subjects)

p.2

the democrat buys elected
office

(only effective if
image and knowledge
are controlled)

he is a beggar
at the kingmaker's table

citizens are buffeted
by the instability

____

outside of government
man is free

bitterness the way of power


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

last man standing

so

countries are invaded
people killed

governments
come and go

crimes fade
from the screen

to be lost

in the argument
of history

only in the blood

of a madman

will there be

the knowledge

held


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

what I wanted to say

the senses
are not reliable

what do they touch?

the days
will show you

you must question

and then

whatever it is

is forever lost

your journey starts

at nothing

who can stand
this freedom?

you begin
to make this world

with each step

it collapses
into place

(just like it used
to be)

and bodies

are as real
as they can be

you think you
can reach

from the inside
out

perhaps

it's not that clear

the question of
touch

or more seriously
grasp

what


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

I walk in old mysteries

what to say of this

histories / regions of
space / time

selves

(barely known)

right now

I would like to hold
this moment

it would be enough

the one that didn't
fade or

disappear

has already gone

(this impossibility)

and a sadness
of things lost

loves

dead and buried
echoes

from the tomb
of echoes

(I don't understand)

and have been
near

the door of madness

a ray of light
as it opened

just slightly from
shut

(the mornings can be
dangerous)

it's just hard dreaming
all the way

the brutality of
daylight

the soft of darkness

my small aspirations

in this infinity

it comes down to
a few rocks rolling

beginning
and end


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006

the world is

it's

an empty
hotel
room

in
a broken

down

boarding house

where

the residents
are all

drunks
and

crazy women

(the night is endless)

the sound of
smashing

bottles

doors being

kicked
in

the agonies
of
sex

or
violence

against

white
washed

stone walls

you never
see

anyone

in the hallway


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

deep blue

the world is not wide
and it is not bright

its colours are pale

torn strips of cloth
flapping in the wind

people
do not look out
rather in

to see
what they are

(not what they could be)

and in this
great ordinariness

laughter and tears

and the going about
of business

leaves
in the autumn
wind

there is nothing
of substance

only joy and sorrow

birds of flight

to the end of days


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the successful politician

is not

what he says
he is

truth is death

who would leave
themselves

that exposed?

the art is

acceptable
illusion

and for this to be

the electorate

need to be
brought into the tent

to conspire with

to be conspired with

so that

the lie

expressed is

the lie shared

everybody knows

the man
on the podium

just

represents


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the old town

pure drink
pure thought

there were days

before light

on the street
of creatures

before

the coming

of the world


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the leader

the death of the first soldier
was what he dreaded most

after the fact
a new knowledge

like the criminal's
(I am of this elite)

with the difference
of power

and the philosophy
of Pythagoras

(a metaphysical relief)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

be silent

be silent

the syntax
of beauty

is without
sound

the form
in motion

fixed
on a page

a secret
eternity

not to be
said


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

Song of the Decameron

the issue is
self

and its range

its domain

a matter of
definition

you could
regard yourself

as responsible
for the world

or only as far

as your eyes
can see

ethics

is this decision

the question

where am I?

.


possibility
begins

where reality
ends

we think beyond
the moment

what to bring about?

what to leave
unmade?

therefore

what I should do

a future act

always

an hypothesis

that can never be

put to test


.


a good outcome

that desired

brought to be

and this only
within

the framework
in which

I see


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

government

(for Roxie and Rendall)


the
language

of
power

is assertion

always

question

always

doubt

the assertion


(c) greg. t. charlton.

democracy

the idea of
rights

without
property

the illusion
of

equity

for the exploited

a cover

for
the wealthy

few


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

economics

slavery

is the basis
of economic

prosperity

measured
in terms of

g.n.p.

(is not
commonwealth)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

ways of being

begin with
how it appears

everything from here
is loss

it's the oneness
you don't

understand

until it leaves
silently

in pain

and then

the anguish
for

explanation

of the absence

of everything

reaching for
the gods

trying to believe

in a hidden
world

revealed in

dust
and bones

as if

there is
a direct link

to what is
not

here

some try
to go back

to their eyes

the blindness
is total

and then

in desperation
to

accounts of

what presents

as if

an elegant hypothesis
will repair

the damage

of disappearance

so

we go mad
and wear bowties

(at lavish
parties

under chandelier
light)

and learn

the high art
of pretence

the illusion show

of knowing

and knowledge

everyone
is welcome

in the tent

say the elite
panderers

of truths
and trickery

beyond this

a space / time

where someone
quiet

sculptures in
line

or word
or

bark

on the earth

the sky

in the heart

and lives
in terms

of the depiction

(from the inside
out)

here

at least

the world

is given

form and motion

and the strange
colours

of beauty

and you can

loose yourself
here

in this place
of recollection

(before there was
reason to forget)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

addicted to indulgence

she's
addicted
to

indulgence

he said

of his
alcoholic

girl

indulgence

I think is

coloured
gold

and
magnificent

bountiful
and

abundant

it is a gift

always

sometimes
from

God

it must be

to love

everything

too much

can there be

a lacking

or

reason

to

deny?


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

where we begin

(to the memory of Najib Malfouz)


the first point is

the world is
without definition

(there is nothing
to fight for

or against)

this is the hardest lesson

and it is simply
to see

without speaking

(there was a beginning
before the word)

and so /
to your lover

do not hold

your children

are free to go

and each village
of the heart

or mind

and each continent
of knowledge

or faith

(and its absence)

pictures

of the unknowable

(we begin with everything

and nothing to be said)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

Orpheus reflects

the problem
of time

defeats any clear
statement

of who I am

so

words

cannot stand
apart

and this logic

to the heart

I can only think
in terms

of paint

broad strokes

parentheses

sweeping down

pure black

for beauty
style

truth

rainbows
for the world

brackets

are all I have

and inside

disappearing worlds

I created

as a young god


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

metaphysics

(no state of affairs)

ruthless

the disregard of time

has no meaning

everything in the mix
everything is the mix

prediction

the child of anguish
a vanity of thought

(baseless)

the truth is horror

the only defence

illusion

a question of detachment


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the blind dog

man

operates
within

justice

is the idea
of

facility

how to be

and do

in relation
to

its basis

is practice

its foundation

(loose)

agreement

there are
no

guarantees

beware


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

we flow

beneath (the surface)
like fishes

above (the earth)
like birds

through (each other)
like spirits

we flow

the world is a hard

bodies /

(legs / arms)

objects

fashioned
everywhere

the furniture
of nature

watching

mountains
fields
streams

animals

passing by

we flow

in another place

that is here

before thought

behind

feeling

is the flowing

that cannot be

held


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

and so

plain as

(what happens happens)

in the stars

in your

thoughts

there is no

hierarchy

in events

the illusion of knowledge

is the unsure god

the idol

grasped at

becomes

the fact

of separation

distinction

ontology

a theory of difference

we are led astray

in awareness

and its

assertion of

self


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

sketch

within
the framework

we never get
a fix on

delight / anguish

beneath
the surface

we are bound to
as

Prometheus

there is no substance

form
or
content

only the action
of light

point / wave

the best we can say


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006

jack rabbit

the rabbit
in the suit coat
(too large)
has been forbidden
to visit the evil one
in the cave
(between 12.00 and
5.00 am)
he must get
written permission
to ring

the sick man
watches the rabbit
and thinks
he is a threat
to fantasy land
the sick man
would like to
lock the rabbit up
the rabbit
just wants to
hop about


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006

veda

and thought
just another

animal function

the moon is mind

it reflects

ancient wisdom

straight up

in the beginning
was death

and death becomes

this is the only mantra

we have refused

the earth

its smell and texture

its appearance

to assert

dominance

when did illusion
appear?

and why
this fault line

in reality

how can a tree
not be a tree?

or dirt

seek

foundation?

the stars do not know

no above
no below

the ground is true

and this
to say nothing

the horse

standing in the field

by the road

eternity


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

tractatus

I.

true action
is

negation of
possibility

I will do this

fixes

the world

sharp

II.

knowledge
is

the shadow

that asserts
itself

as light

III.

(there is no justification)

only what is held

the embrace of thought

the same river twice


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

political economy II

wealth
is

increased production
increased consumption

necessitates

market expansion
requires

aggression


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

political economy

the trick is

to create the need for
surplus consumption

entice to debt

(the trap is set)


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

text

she is
on the corner

every night

inviting

discourse

negotiating
business

translation

possession

use

the takers come
and go

time does not exist

in delight

and need

no one cares
in the end

where
she came from

or where
she goes to

history
is just her walk

on the pavement

of desire

knowledge
pleasure

relief

the reach

the quest

the hunger

and to

the final truth

of no illusion

no fulfillment

despite

every embrace

every act
of love

or violence

there is nothing

but anguish

and its laugh

on the empty street

in the darkness

you have seen her

desperate

hands waving
at cars

calling out
to death

to take her

and in the morning
wasted

by the milk bar

unknown

to herself

you come upon her
dying

before your eyes

(and always
the question

where is her heart?)

when you see her
again

she is

the most beautiful
girl

in town

dancing naked

in the bar

you hear

stories of her

and know

they are stories

of stories
of stories

from everywhere
and nowhere

echoes

of a truth

yes

but not possible
to find

in her eyes

ageless

there are

no words


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

Alcina

mind is

the frame

without a picture
on the wall

paper


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the news

it is not

an embarrassment
to the government

when the court
says

it has acted
illegally

if

no one knows

or

few know
but don't

care

is an issue
for

the ministry
of distraction

information

referred
to

the department
of imagery

truth

an issue
for

the task force
of

comedians


(c) greg. t.charlton. 2006.

reflection

forgive me

for only ever seeing
my desire

my blindness

has ravaged created
destroyed

you were there

at each moment of
madness

recognized
decried

celebrated
denied

(it is the colour of ordinary

the language
of walking past

unseen)

what losses
cannot be calibrated

gains?

the resurrection of the day

and so

to nothing

of course

we live only in delight

the display
and testament

the infinite complexity

of a beauty

once touched


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

anxiety

the god
who comes through
the small door

without form or content
only a crackle

the sound of light

(nothing is changed)

everything white


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the abandoned

I was told
to come here

I said to the little
bald-headed man

in the threadbare
blue serge

three piece suit

behind the old jeweller's
table

in the secret room
of tired wood

and files

his eyes looked up
in owl spectacles

cold black sharp

he said

a clear precise
voice

the music
of a blackbird

there is insanity
in these walls

the stone is infected

here

you can feel it

the further
you go out

into the city

you lose touch

it's the noise

that covers it

that is the reason
for noise

beyond

in the vault

there is only

the movement
of silence

in the absence
of light

you see the stars?


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006

stock report

a warning to

the designers
manufacturers
suppliers
and retailers

of fear

the market can only hold
so much

stock / expectation

before
a crash

today's tip:

invest in

anger management

close down
unprofitable
outlets

Afghanistan
Iraq

hold back on
expansion

i.e. Lebanon

renegotiate
franchises

Israel
UK
Colonel Sanders
Uzbekistan
Fox

avoid speculation:

Iran
space travel
Syria

democracy

forget futures

in short: divest

withdraw

you are bankrupt
anyhow


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

politic for a new day

power

is

assent

(only

this)

say

nay


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the tower of glass

in the tower
of glass

manipulators

preachers

skeletons

in Prada

the only question

on the table

before

the assembly

how to avoid

the truth

and maintain

the illusion

of power


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the gift always given

to your eyes
I bring

a definition
undefined

always
a yearning

for what

I do not know


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the ground is live

it's the way of men
to kill off

each other /

in a look
a harsh word
a flattery

(and restraint
only a question
of power

tanks rolling in
on scorched earth)

we are not
slaves

of morality
Friedrich

morality is
the stillborn child
of nature

lightning wind and passion


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the state of affairs

the state of affairs
is worse than you think

it always is

behind the imagery
is nothing

and the images?

you cannot make foundation

and any structure

the devil's delight

and if not for illusion

man could not bear

the horror of man


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006

the myth of history

the president walks into the reception
and even he cannot believe
the applause

there is no doubt in this room

decisions made
to continue mass murder

theft of nations

and the champagne flows freer

and all the eyes are diamonds

at first he did not understand

went with the flow

and quietly grieved

not the deaths or destruction
rather the loss of feeling

only now has he mastered this absence

how can you be responsible
for history?

and who is to say

the will of God

any god

will tell you

anything goes

and then

you are gone


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

a place in the dirt

as if
possession

of space
is possible

(and against
the thwarting

of time)

we kill
for the illusion

in the name of

desire

necessity?

God


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

deep in the west

I choose the pure blue sky

as my point of reference
for now

and wish it
forever

that strangeness in every
man

to want

the end of time

as if
there is a stillness

(we have never seen)

perhaps

the reason
of every act

to fix space

and thought to hold

the world

there is no illusion


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006

the colour the noise the space

laughter echoes in the lobby
of the abandoned hotel
time

joy

with no bearings
apart

lost in a darkness

there is nothing behind the image

the street the desert space

energy
the demiurge

without knowing

the moment from nowhere
entails nothing

no cause
desire

the anguish of need
to the desperate of reason

existence

no name


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006

she steps into me

she steps
into me

she bows
her head

on my chest

my eyes

to the tangle
of beauty

my lips
to the truth

of touch


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

Edvard Munch Pt. 2

a picture
of existence?

in colours
bright or dark

forms
bound or free

to hold
the flow of being

a vanity
of gods

or the truth
of stone?

art is denial

beauty

is the scream


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.

the gift of eyes

seeing and seen

from the days

of bright stone

ruby true

no loss

in the unfolding

of time and space

to the beautiful illusion

now

an eternal

presence

at the heart


(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006

there is no loss

only the walking back

to the mountain

(behind the fields)

or to dig

into the depths

translucent

the levels of crystal

from light to light

.

all our affairs

the fracture

of emotion

(the clash

of colours

true)

the image

in the lake

(the possibility

of stillness)

a knowing

beyond movement

.

the ground

of sense

pristine

always

the endeavour

the place

untouched

.

in every heart

refuge



(c) greg. t. charlton. 2006.