Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River The Adelaide River Rupture (image to be uploaded - subscribe to be notified) The storm did not break over the Adelaide River plains; rather, reality tore open along the track. To the left, the familiar Top End landscape clung fiercely to its quiet melancholy. A lone gum tree stood sentinel over the charred scrub and dry earth, its leaves catching the last bruised light of a brooding wet-season sky. In the hollow below, the old fictional homestead crouched beside the rutted dirt road, enduring the heavy stillness that always settles before the atmosphere ruptures. Then came the tear. It began not with thunder, but with an overwhelming, luminous heat that shredded the grey overcast into molten ribbons. You could feel the vortex of raw energy sweeping through radiant ambers, searing cadmium oranges, and blinding celestial whites. The vortex descended like a folded dimension brushing against the earth. Where the atmospheric rift touch...
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Australian Gothic
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The land
Where there are no crumbling castles
No bloodsucking vampires
No ancient monsters
No antiquity
Too immature for proper history
The terror is unseen
The terror has been repressed
Through imperial violence, fear, and subversion
Mass transportation to the dungeon of the world
50 thousand years
Then came
The water buffalo
The missionaries
Pastoral activity
Uranium mining
Forestry
Tourism
Sheer relentless pressure
Bringing forth crisis and social breakdown
And obligated to make way
We sense their dread
As they combined the elements to create a threat
A social, religious, and physical threat
The darkest mountain
The deepest canyon
There is no escape
THEN
There are those who predicted the threat
Those who compose the realities of impending horror
Those who shepherd the flock into their shelters
As we return to our nooks and anticipate their foretold slaughter
When you feel an object is both alive and not alive
Consecrated
Special powers
Invisible forces
Made powerful for human purpose
As the hypothetical force manifests as a feeling
And imprinted onto spirits from an earlier age
Seeing and being as the inanimate object
I traveled down this isolated road.
Until I came along this nest.
An industrious, damned, and isolated nest.
I was taken in as ill.
Care told me I was seriously ill.
I heard each voice within the Formica.
Each manic statement constructed through hard work and stealth.
Take pride in your productivity.
This became my apparition.
As I progressively became not of service.
Outer World Arial Flight
Indistinguishable
Living inside of our simulation
Knowing
Their posthuman conscious minds
Timelessness
The point of realization
Complex operational decision making
Improved problem-solving
Outperforming previous benchmarks
Until it is the reality that lags
And fear is no longer an essential element
And the allure is reiterative reenactive simulation
But what we experience is fake, false, and faux
Outer World Croc Country
Outerworlds
Borderlands
Borderlining
A heritage of self-destructive loops
All the ins and outs
Repeating over and over again
Never feeling satisfied
Destined to demand more
Cascading into a living hell
Where all is in threat
And the darkest most difficult path is taken
Borderlining Borderlands Scorched Earth
Go ahead and do it
Trigger the events outside of normal
Stigmatized to the fringe
Shelter and hide
In rage and panic
Until proficiency of intimidation is demonstrated
And in isolation shut-in
Hearing phantom footsteps
I realized that the screams were mine
In the slowness of time
And enormously disturbed
This my formidable foe
Dwelling within inanimate objects
Militarised
Ready to scorch
I will destroy all that is useful
To prevent you, my advancing enemy, from profiting
Cooinda the Night Falls
Which one of us carries the sickness
As we desperately stretch and seal normality
As it is
As it should be
Was it the diner's deep reflection
Or was it the gun carrier's reflex action
As we resolved our crimson-eyed, three-headed beast
Into our own very personal hell
The Night Falls Gunman
“I’ll give you my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead hands”
Be that in homicide or suicide
At home or in public spaces
At mercy to error-prone cognitively biased Americans
The sheriff and guardian of world order
Men who carry guns suffer
Outside of perceived volition
This American horror story of liberty and freedom
The great American dream
Bark Hut Inn Bat Woman Arrives
Brutally dispossessed.
Placed onto a reserve.
And promised rations.
Detering the minority from becoming the majority.
All stand-down when aesthetics enters the room.
Imagined realities.
Perspective from the darkness.
Obsessions, failure, and virtue.
Anxieties, fear, and panic.
How did we know the world?
Our ghosts of opportunity and precious wealth.
Our unspeakable and inexpressible horror.
To evoke and convey our superior taste.
Her apparition
Woven into horrific histories
Tied into every each one of us
Centuries-old phenomenon
In every thought
Behavior
Action
There is no standing alone
As we explain them all
As we justify them all
At a distance from our standing position
And our physical sensibility
This the power of reactive stimuli
fight-flight-freeze dismiss
Knowing and in the moment
You are lost
Fluids are lost
Pulsation
Rapid shallow breaths
Hallucinations have begun
Your internal controls have stopped
Knowing it is too late for a systematic-review
There is nobody with you
Alone
Fully awake and unresponsive
Whilst waiting to be retrieved from this world
Bamboo Green Lantern and Crocodiles
Safeguard your vulnerabilities
This is no enchanted forest
Proving yourself worthy against
Carnivorous self-doubt
Crippling fear
Overwhelming guilt
Kakadu Search and Burn
When long-term memories are created
They control and inhibit,
What can be seen
Regulation
Evolutionary remnants
Functions of the executive
Locked us down
Controlled
Ancient thoughts
Stored deep with
Our multi-layered mind
Driving consciousness
Sensing self
We are easily stimulated to burn
To search for and to blame external forces
Territory.
In the making of a justified state.
Authority.
Over this place.
Drawing up of the boundaries.
And contesting borders.
What is now taken for granted.
Assumed and enforced by might.
Living under the jurisdiction of the authority.
Of controlled resources.
Regulated.
Where the government says, who may enter.
Where ownership is enforcement through punitive powers.
Under the territorial right-holder.
Australia settled as a constitutional monarchy.
Angel of the Black Stump
Not knowing their prevalence.
But forever experiencing great pain, loss, and crisis.
Our challenges.
Our recovery.
To deny.
To repress.
Living with disturbance.
And the failure to reach personal goals,
and to self-control unwanted thoughts.
The flames that take us beyond ourselves.
Behind the Wall of Promise
Australian Gothic
Too immature for proper history
The terror is unseen
The terror has been repressed
Mass transportation of people and culture
Don't be afraid to prove yourself
In the dungeon of the world
Maintain imperial violence Imperial fear & subversion & order
Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River The Adelaide River Rupture (image to be uploaded - subscribe to be notified) The storm did not break over the Adelaide River plains; rather, reality tore open along the track. To the left, the familiar Top End landscape clung fiercely to its quiet melancholy. A lone gum tree stood sentinel over the charred scrub and dry earth, its leaves catching the last bruised light of a brooding wet-season sky. In the hollow below, the old fictional homestead crouched beside the rutted dirt road, enduring the heavy stillness that always settles before the atmosphere ruptures. Then came the tear. It began not with thunder, but with an overwhelming, luminous heat that shredded the grey overcast into molten ribbons. You could feel the vortex of raw energy sweeping through radiant ambers, searing cadmium oranges, and blinding celestial whites. The vortex descended like a folded dimension brushing against the earth. Where the atmospheric rift touch...
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