Slowly I stepped out along the way.

The night hurled around me, the winds and waves bit through my
face. Aghast I turned to see myself as I really was; a hollow man, an empty man devoid of all except the kindling
of an imaginative mind. I struggled on,...Voir plus
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok The pain abaited. The road appeared once more. Chords resounded. The music of the stars sung?
A pastoral symphony had begun.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Slowly I stumbled forth. Words foamed, frothed off course I wandered lost. For how long I can not
say, know not the terrain which I travelled along the way until at last the geometric patterns broke the shadows of
the fast. Fathomed. Depths plunged I s...Voir plus
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Paths, plotted, stars marked, the wailing of the syrenes harked I gathered that the state was one in
which I couldn't wait.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok I legged it, running as one does, hounded by the hounds of blood whose scent I smelt upon the
days, filled with sorrow, filled with waves of salt spun air. I knew the sea was not far but where did the hidden
source of fresh water spring? How to find it how to sing?
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok For song constructed, madness pathed, charterd in the landscape crashed through gates hung off
their hinges, was this the fire that burns and singes minds in flight, minds in shadow, minds at night when vision
fails, excepting the sight of the stars which hails?
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Upward I glanced, upwards I saw, onwards walking into the yore.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok The netherlands were soon explored, the hinterlands were where I bored hole upon hole, dug, with
potatoe drilling pen, stud lonely on the windswept hill, where my silent shadow stands, still.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok I hear the movement, the symphony, I see the way beyond the tree and yet to reach it now is no
mean feat. Strength of fifty, fitness of flees, as the sunshine in the shadow weaves an answer questions speak, in
the silence the music speaks.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok The action.

3 h Jaime


Chris Borok Movement precedes. Thought governs the words which weave.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Control.

3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Discipline.

3 h Jaime

Chris Borok The strength in mind is the thing. The play, the play, I hear it now- playing out the story, how.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok How?

3 h Jaime

Chris Borok How to plot, how to chart in the silence of the dark ?
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Plot a path, feel a way, in the darkness of the day.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Light hour, spreading forth, not losing sight of true north I stumbled, fell, harked the tolling of the
knell.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok A gonner now for sure. No hope left but that of usure. Boorow clothing from the winds, steal ideas
from those who sing.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Copyright infringed, ideas filched, thefted from the rich who in their turn stole from the stock to make
the whole.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Continuing song sing, to the tune of silence upon the wing.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Ideas formed fleshed into words bereft of sense except that in the madness of the song harks the
angels' song.
3 h Jaime


Chris Borok Silence. Understood. The silence of the pathway blackened in dried blood.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Hounded then from post to pillar with nothing more than a stocking filler to give.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok The gift.

3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Return.

3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Give away what others spurn.

3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Give, without hope of receipt, give in candour, without deceit.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Give.

3 h Jaime

Chris Borok The runes again speak. The answer in the voiced silent way they speak.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Guided now, calm returns. The abstract on the paper burns.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Constructing skills learning anew, articulating with a few.

3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Ideas. Building blocks of power, as tall as a sunlit tower looking out to sea for in the construction
grows the tree.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Branches, roots, leaves, buds. Growth of cultures, death of duds.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Scuds. Missiles. Language words. Controlling powers spurned.

3 h Jaime


Chris Borok Anarchy in the strength of mind. A pyramid built by the blind.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok A muddled metaphor attached to nothing but that which went in terms of yore.
3 h Jaime

Chris Borok Yoked.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Meanings doubled. Pathways marked. Ideas bubbled.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Popped. In the madness heads chopped. Flighted, sighted wings of love, towards the music from
above.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Earth calling. Rooted. Plant. Future harvests in the rant.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Creation.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Create. A fuss.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Destroy, construct anew. Spin words of wisdom to fathom by few.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Hark. Needs must. Ashes to dust and bones to rust.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Trust.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok the words which lead, the words which guide, are those you speak, yet others hide.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok From view. Creation begins, anew.

2 h Jaime


Chris Borok Word. A new page. A new formulation a new craze.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Mapped. In the doing the action capped. Controlled, the mind, held in check, by the constraints of
the art upon the deck.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok The boat capsizes, rolls, in the distance tolls take the message twist the fate which words create.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Words create, inspire, light the fire of the pyre.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Creation, flowing still. Still. Flowing. Still. A trickle. A flood. Resuurection, rivers of blood.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok In the silence none stood the test of time. Words failed. Rhyme reasoned, wit withered wintered fled.
Could it be that Hope were dead?
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Sping. A daffodil wandering lonely as a cloud.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok The wanderer.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Lost in cloud.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Shrouded

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Mist

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok water vapour due

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok mindful thought constructs creating a clue.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok mysteries miss

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok the luv of hers and his.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok creation

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok a nation

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok subjugation

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok enslaved

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok the walk be random, unpaved.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Stones stand silent. Now. Did once they sing?
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Though 't as bin sed afore. the foreplays the fing.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok For the story, its plots an' its weaves creates itself on the trail it leaves.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok others to decypher, decode, the word is the message, silence its abode.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Echo its chamber wherin silence sleeps, words linger in wonder, speak.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Sing. Aye, 'tis surefire, the play's the thing, play on, play on my good fellow, for players are we all in
parts unrehearsed with lines in ours heads we may be well versed.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Yet tis the acting, the play, the doing which precedes the verb, for action must be composed before it
may be heard.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Create. Sing. Let creation create what the morrow may bring.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok to pass, to fall, to ruin, to flash

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok for creation is the state of being which we pass

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok treading in the steps already marked

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok inspired by the creation which others sparked

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok illuminate, shed, light to lighten the load which fled as it sped
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok spewing forth brimstone in its wake

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok for the rumbling of the wheel is its own twist to shake to awake
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok rumbling thro the dawn

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok daylight ours stretch an yawn

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok agape, agog, aghast, the shadow of silence has past.
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok To arms, to toil to fill the pot to bubble an boil.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok a pot boiler to tell, a best seller witnessed a spell spun on a thread
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok far flung far fetched over time stretched

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok the story unfolds,

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok creating creation though much goes untold

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok though the smythy struck words be graven in bold.

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok type

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok calligraphically shaped

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok for the materials themselves leave a trace in their wake
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok Runes chisseled in wood

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok or quil stroked skin

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok do not lend themselves to the same flint within

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok which the traced creation is caught

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok in the thread of silence forged in thought

2 h Jaime


Chris Borok flamed
2 h Jaime

Chris Borok for the unknowable has yet to be named

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok unfathomed

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok the sea

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok unchartered the oceans

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok of time

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok in the instant

2 h Jaime

Chris Borok to flee

2 h Jaime

crire un commentaire...

Chris BorokJem Thames

10 mars, 08:10

winnie? yeh - was right next to old aqualung sitting on the old park bench as thick as a...and
then...!!!!gone vamoosh...vanished into thin air.
Thin?
Thin air???A phrase to conjure with.
Perhaps old winnie had gone insearch of his mates - smithie n' churchie to work out another way
of writing long to reign/rule over us ...happy in shorthand kind of brail to be decoded by Homeric

strophe and gun?

Shakesy pondered. Maybe.
yonysos might be of some help in this matter, he mused...
Right then
Jaime

o
Chris Borok yea
10 mars, 08:11 Jaime
o

Chris Borok ile o right festival

10 mars, 08:11 Jaime

Chris Borok remember

10 mars, 08:11 Jaime

Chris Borok elecy guitar playi feedback n forth like yon starspangled spanner n booom drugs flowin' thr' veins n
all n
10 mars, 08:12 Jaime

o
Jem Thames If we speak and our voices go unheard for long enough, then what is left but to wrap our thoughts in
cardboard and sleep rough somewhere beneath the overarching regards of those that pass with hurried pace?
11 mars, 16:51 Jaime
o
Chris Borok Ah - echos of a voice - my fried Yonysos shared similar thoughts - trailing his raged form from
Babylon and back to sleep, if that be the word, upon the New York streets. Rough. He was, aye. The folly of the
world had worn him thin, Woes weighed heavi...Voir plus
11 mars, 20:24 Jaime
o
Chris Borok Thick as a brick, as thieves go, muttered the masses in the flow back and forth of the human tide
passing the cardboard with hurried stride and pace to pass without second glance nor care for the huddled bodies
hidden there.
11 mars, 20:29 Jaime
o
Chris Borok Aqualung looked up, stared. Sitting on a park bench shared a smile with a passing flower before
hunking down beneath the hour.
11 mars, 20:30 Jaime 1
o
Chris Borok shadowed by the thoughts of death strangely looking out of breath, haggard, worn, of his spirit
shorn, yonysos spat at the passing racing rat which spared not a glance, entered within its own trance enframed
by naught which shamed whilst seeking light ...Voir plus
11 mars, 21:13 Jaime

o
Jem Thames We are down and out in the eyes of the cold and dark. No distance is as great, nor as small as that
between the way we are seen and the way we see ourselves, unless it be that which lies between thought and its
act. Are we to use their words?
12 mars, 08:47 Je naime plus 1
o
Chris Borok The thought inspires the act, inhalation precedes the word which though whispered has yet to be
heard.
12 mars, 13:13 Jaime
o
Chris Borok decyphered decrypted in vain though the word remains changing yet always the same
12 mars, 16:04 Jaime
o
Chris Borok old story of old archetypes depply rooted, anchored in psyches
12 mars, 16:04 Jaime
o
Chris Borok transmitted in image imagined in word so they say whispered so they say heard
12 mars, 16:05 Jaime
o
Chris Borok by the herd
12 mars, 16:05 Jaime
o
Chris Borok ever following the current blowing in winds in the doldrums music ever springs
12 mars, 16:06 Jaime
o
Chris Borok round bend of bay to mind at once the silence in the stone of sconce
12 mars, 16:07 Jaime
o
Chris Borok cut, fallen, reborn, for the wind in the shadow ever is shorn
12 mars, 16:08 Jaime
o
Chris Borok from the sheep, from the ram, the metaphor of the moment in time's span
12 mars, 16:08 Jaime
o
Chris Borok slips, falls into place
12 mars, 16:08 Jaime
o
Chris Borok a stone on the journey
12 mars, 16:09 Jaime
o

Chris Borok of the human race

12 mars, 16:09 Jaime
o

Chris Borok against the archetypal clockface book

12 mars, 16:09 Jaime

Chris Borok which one day open falls

12 mars, 16:10 Jaime

Chris Borok in the spinning and washing of smalls

12 mars, 16:11 Jaime

Chris Borok and other sundries

12 mars, 16:11 Jaime

Chris Borok

Hier, 08:31 Jaime 2

o

crire un commentaire...

Jem Thames shared a video on YouTube.

6 mars, 17:41

andreas kmmert - ballad of no one

sad story about a homeless guy ... song from my upcoming record cd erhltlich unter (cd available @ )
http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view...
YOUTUBE

Je naime plus Partager

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Afficher 4 autres commentaires

o
o

Chris Borok big crowd

6 mars, 19:29 Jaime

Chris Borok loud

6 mars, 19:29 Jaime

Chris Borok amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing

6 mars, 19:30 Jaime

Chris Borok takes me back !!!!!

6 mars, 19:32 Jaime

crire un commentaire...

Chris BorokJem Thames

6 mars, 09:42

LONDON: A council in southern England says it instructed its workers to remove a mural before
realising it was the work of internationally famous graffiti artist Banksy.
The mural, which featured a group of pigeons carrying anti-immigration banners, appeared at
Clacton-on-Sea, the site of a special election next week featuring the anti-immigration UK
Independence Party.
Tendring Council spokesman Nigel Brown says the mural was chemically removed after
complaints it was racist...
Afficher la suite
Jaime

o
Chris Borok free movement of capital=free movement of pigeons=capital flight
6 mars, 09:50 Jaime
o
crire un commentaire...

Fil dactualit

Jem Thames
27 fvrier, 22:14

I am.
I am ready.
I am ready to give.
I am ready to give and receive.
I am ready to give and receive love..