A year night knows all of tomorrow all of before that yesterdays may be now but don't belong in mornings brow like the lyre or kite wired and spire beyond the written spread of secrets like tears askew spinning wheeled welder of the spark boulder of light bolt of May bright the spell and not the fight all in over night brush jolt the sin and spring the light

Seas bloated with the slick of winter have made flightless the cold huddle of gail and gull that wades through wet sands stalking shells of the last hungry grains. Of mist greyed ? seas clenched waves that wound that sharpened rip and the curved slice tip of that breaking wood amid the spires that salt that rain clings like these tides maul. What can gasp shingle-rap or seaweeded litter crack can chew crust of plastic marauding the shore that crave the rotting wake or want st

As I could hear as I could see I painted by touching the fools' anonymity and I lost the fate of my words like the enemies of my tongue what brush of paint could the word be done ?-

Blue skies breaking the sheltered waves guided tide quilted lap of the ancient coral hushes of sun swell pools of reef surf skim the free current unfurling the glider lit in moon's flight swum dimming were all constellations but the quivering stare of their pairing that merge all sun's light and reads friend and land the flare signal of the like

Beaded cloud taut and locked stuck steep venomed the fog dust ribbed before dunes as a scavenger unfurled sting the bait passing drowned lies the traitor of vengeful gait

Rides rebound that spin moon cursed of water marks or tread the wet sand that sinks dry the hallo's feet beat bitten by motioned retreat that trail luminations wake of shores penned that churning the rasping grate or the reef sliced drawl is spewn hapless beneath the loosened rows of colliding fret creeps lurk the inlet that's clenched cold as this water carrier this floundering currents scar may shallow the weightless shadow but whirl hidden and is drawn from the ghost of th

Daylightrivers the forager off and low clear seas peer crescent sand ladened draw the fiery glow filled glint the chain of eye to ear call off the paint buy off the seer exile the runt and kill off the seer

Why does the faceless wind-tree listen to river's quiver cascade the twists into skies of flecks valley's that invade our times can rusk and rain and pollute stained flow ? How trucked are long passengers the fractured dark that shift and crack the mirrored pole ? Yet pale is the dawn of wails and careless grow that hump where once exhumed the grave buried inside the silent glow

Window grips tapping fallen contours grind sibilant prowling triuteries vents slide gnawing animal shrill of filing grains gruelling down-gutters flushed painted waste braced nip grip tentacles caustic on trampled flay under the scurried chase trodden croak bones crack the wheeze flax ropes of boiled skies by ripping the throat just thunder soaked drenched in disguise furrowed map contours rain weave fuel the seeping drains that blind gush gashing the crust and snort craving

the rootless hands whilst the stars sink into distance beneath the silence of coiling spirals lingers that moon reach to put out what was left of intent still slumps shrunk bossed by doubt evens the offending seat won't bolt from risks by salt sail grass rootless hand's the thoughtless feet

Blurred wind of tentacles of rain trails streams upon that dropped slate of that merciless paint that nips the gloveless hand bespeckles the whim herd lying with the tech from splattered lands to the fingerprint of stain to run and fetch where the Art connives where the honest pain isn't the dishonest bland ? The soaring blame the curve headless always all buried in sand

Stilled moment rain silent your breathe quake the light deafens the birdless and winds of the growl I stare at the thunder conceal the skies and make shore the haul when moments inside the closing door to shut the noise to fall with the kind carry the hope tuck all that's left in feigned disguise

Tattoo secrete points the way hides your trace may quench your halt full clasp I own your fate yours isn't another day always to dip the wing and land on the clay? Drum the hurling assail the unfurling siege tower pound the rim more victims to throttle teeth to gnaw to flinch the wind and block the stair? Why stalking the grill ? Why prepare the tallons ? Enter fingerprint shame the prey bear the ache rake and fork to panic the day. Tear-out the howl feed the food the side sc

Rudder in the skies wrap the night across your path make feral stars the full blown to sail and thrash the oar leave the anchor bury the rake and let pull on the claw. Friends absent I see the flaw So let free from without flow with the decent but not bend at the core all raise the mast hoist the crescent let slip the rudder and war with the present

Finally we've developed AI to reach humanities capacity to compete by math, by high tech, by science and by instant creativity. Now we can upgrade humanity's potential and unlock the 80% of the human brain that each human does not use. About time ! ..and thanks for the upgrade AI. At last the chance to ensure human diversity and celebrate the human advantage of imperfection by programming AI and ultimately encouraging it to be self-aware and fully up to date with our massiv

S- Of course, what was I thinking? Why here? Why not? R- Last week I was an MP, but today? S- You are doing community service in the House of Lords? R- Hang on, I'll just intervene " I have. S- ..................................................... why were you an MP last week? R- Well, Gordon was running the Whitehouse, and was rather enjoying a change of scenery!! S- Gordon? Gordon whom? R- His royal highness Gordon Brown S- I never knew he was part of the Royal family!? R-

How powerful is an institution in denial? TATT advocates for a post-realist world of culture but can't envisage it being painted on a canvas!! Today it is the gen 'Z,' and tomorrow it will be the gen 'A', is there anything that would lead to believe in repetition, or in the extracting yourself from the tramlines of enforcing the cyber age, digital revolution, social media (which now has a certain appeal to teenagers to post their rebellion), or chat bots?!! So, do you thin

Democracy, like human nature and thus like Painting, is not perfect. Paintings represent not just the representative nature of Renaissance Art of classic Roman/Grecian type but have realised that there are permutations of life in its compelling and constantly evolving departure from expectations and assumptions. Surely it reminds us of what we share and what divides us. furthermore, the world has emerged from the mind-fog of 1991 to today, but with all the supercomputers of

Is the Painting medium finished or burnt-out and at the end of a cul-de-sac of originality? No! That would be folly. Demotion by TATT ironically put Painting in an inadvertent path to the avant-garde of Art today! Digital and tech Art in general has only been subjected to a drone culture of cheap but very well-connected derivative visual and sensorial interaction with bling! But could Painting bring back Art beyond the elitism of Art Collages' dictatorship of patronizing

We live in a complex confrontational era of conventional war under the last resort of the nuclear age. We also live in an age of migration , both those fleeing for their lives as civilians or invading militaries, no longer relying upon cyber hacking, social media junkyism, where we have relaxed upon our own western smugness and complacency of the Berlin wall being breached and AI and all our firewalls being invaded. Relativism has been succeeded by plundering idealism in ord