Norman Allan
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Norman Allan : the story for Ezra
book three: towards joy
another chapter two:
... a sphere of light ...  
Chapter 1:   "from spiralling ecstatically this...            Chapter 6: thoughts
Chapter 2:   .... a sphere of light .....                             Chapter 7:
Chapter 3:    Dr. Allan's Medicine Show                      Chapter 8
Chapter:4:   Ted Allan in Spain:the graphic novel      Chapter 9:
Chapter 5: :                                                                     Chapter 10:


  chapter two: ... a sphere of light ....  

I was sitting beside my "teacher", holding her hand, and after a long (and interesting) introspection, I came to be massaging my pectoral muscle (with my other hand): and Mel (my "teacher's" teacher) asked, "What's that all about?"
     "It's a long story," I said. "I'll write you the story."
I wrote a poem...



we are like a sphere of light
and our wounds tune us

four stories for Linda




do we have to  she whispered
and that sent me away off
to Gaza    and another life

I tend the mules
I am alone
and these are not my people
   another life
   with no joy and no reprise

yes  we have to  I answered
and it sent me away
with the infinite dragon      Ouroboros,
tapping my shoulder as
I spun through mirrors
into what many lifelines

the last lap behind the mirror
I was an Edwardian gentleman
walking my fields
shotgun in hand      and
I was a mother Partridge
wondering whether to break cover

was there a boom
and I was back in the room
awake gazing at the "gas fire"
(a British room's,
mid-twentieth century
gas fire    they glowed    red    and blue)

the child! something's wrong with
the child's imperiled

It was three months later
the motor vehicle accident
the child through the windscreen
minor injuries
but her mother mauled
(no wonder she hadn't wanted to stay
for the long haul)

and what is the relevance
    somehow it relates
    to the "doom"



I was sitting meditating
a lifetime later
and boom
like a shotgun's blast
in the guts
under the diaphragm
like a kick from proverbial mule
I've never felt a greater pain
a full thirty seconds     more
oh my God

Irritable Bowel Disease
is a diagnosis of exclusion
so there we go
it was     "paroxysmal"
and it returns on occasion
though only when I'm "flying" high
and less and less
   three years on its devolved
   to a nausea
yet still
this doom    looms
down in the belly



I was flying
with you
and Moon

you pointed to your crystal pendant
a tangerine quartz
a small pendant
wrapped in copper wire
smaller     much smaller     than your little finger

Moon gave me this you said
and it was aglow
a glowing star
spiculated      symmetries
unlike     not like a snowflake
more like something out of Star Wars
small     gentle     yet bright     light

I gasped
mother it shines!



so sitting beside you
after the ceremony
the "puja" chanting
the other day
flying again
(we'll use that euphemism [with this apology]
for a pot-stoned psychedelic what'sit)
holding your hand with
a walnut-sized ball of light
between our palms
a cool light like the tangerine starship's
that light present too
here now then there
and a while on   a while gone
my mind tracked to that doom
and a little epiphany bloomed
in my belly

we are like a sphere of light
and the wounds tune us
pain brings     pain rings a tone
that colours our being

and that's the tale
the little I've tumbled
of the tune
of the doom

and there   too   then
I was massaging my "pecs" a pain connected
and Mel injected
what's going on there?

I'll write you the story   I said

so this is the tale
so far
my gleanings
of the wounds
that are shaping
my world




  That`s my deep "introspection" about this affliction, the "doom". However, it seems, it seems there are a host of possible toxic reactions associated with marijuana: so it's an adverse drug reaction, an ADR. Who`d a thunk?
     There is a Cannabis Hyperemesis Syndrome with nausea (and vomiting "emesis"),| and my abdominal cramps seem to be a varient of CHS. And there are other ADRs. For example, there is the extremety twitching and cramping of my young friend Bro Seth... So here's another poem.
  notes to my brother seth
I got stoned and wrote a poem

notes to my brother seth

I got stoned and wrote a poem

now some stuff might
seem crazy is what I think
have seen wonder about

you, bro seth seemed sane enough to me
in your two hour fit

(though i wonder about the sadness in the hippie music
and i worry about your ankle

me i'm falling into this solipsistic
(paranoia... delusional Alan Wattsian thing
that it must all be a "dream"
a "seems"
this must be a movie
and i'm dreaming my wildest (and worst) whims -
     how could anyone be as brilliant as me
     'snot likely -
{but the sadness round the hippie music where could that come from
from childhood or another life or ...

there is this spasmic thing that stoners now suffer
OhMyHolyGod woe

and bro seth you googled twitch weed
and we saw that it's common
(and there's a visceral version
I cramp in the gut (and there's nausea
and the diaphragm?)
and i think of it as a wound
this doom

so bro seth
why do we do it

(to visit a holy vision
of the divine

in kind your friend
Pasha (his hippie name)))})

  So how do we take this `"towards joy"? I don`t know. I`ll get back to you.  

so getting "high", is it to escape an unpleasant "default" mood, mode or feeling; or is it a pursuit of ecstasy, epiphany? or a mix of both, approach and avoidance...

and that reminds me of another poem (stark)






this stark knowing
even in fear
even here
this stark knowing
the spark of all things
a blessing and a curse


Marko was sitting in the sun in the restaurant window saying that the sun was the origin of all life but I amended of all the energy I said but not of the information thinking that the patterning comes from history and happenstance (quantum and darwin) I was saying that the sun's energy is crude Marko thought it was quite fine that it spoke at least of origins and atoms and...

now why did that take me back to that stark knowing even in fear and Tee saying the stark knowing is without love and love softens and I finally had an inkling of why the wise have said that there is love and there is fear and then my analyticals went approach/avoidance pleasure/pain and I was on my own again


here at the end of days
wee hoo hum
or we pray




harm: first (try to) do no...

I killed a fly this morning
"squeegeeing" the shower
I look out for the little guys
(I call them delta flies
they are very tiny bathroom folk)

my squeegee was in motion
as I saw my wee "friend?"
(all my relations we say)
I saw him, it, move -
and I was moving too fast

he's balled up in some tissue now
on my altar
I've said a prayer

and meanwhile you're caught in such a noose
and so much fur is flying

  oh, and do visit : the website