364 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/22

364 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/22 of-by patrick wey
http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
spent my whole life travelling into the mind
with drugs meditations sweats float-tanks and reason
and i can honestly say that there is no absolute answer
there is no one moment that is always present
understanding comes and goes like the seasons
i have nothing to offer anyone
and no one holds the truth
it weaves in and out of mind like love
the mystery that can be nothing other
than change moving endlessly everywhere all the time

thank you my friends that had faith in me
the ones that care when i’m a mess
the ones that keep in touch thru hard rains
the few that never slam love against the walls
and thanks for the ones that think i am something that i am not
that can’t see my sincerity and judge my every move
the ones that attempt to make their problems mine
thanks for this life to be here with you
it is what it is no matter what
we cannot change what has been
cover up our simple jealousy our envy and deceit
none of us our perfect, all of us are defected, affected and blessed

it will be time enough for me to move on
to disintegrate into the waters
i won’t try to hang on to this world
here or after in body or spirit
we’ve made up so much
with our crying desire for immortality
our desperate imaginary territories
we are so afraid to see that nothing is but mystery
without one definite absolute conclusion about anything
a knowing that is unaware, dead, nonexistent
we know not that or this
or whether we are here or whether we exist
truly nothing really matters
just do what ever you must do

i loved you all like brothers and sisters
somehow, within those moments of truth
with an eternal blessing
nothing needed to be rearranged
reality was real and the air alive
everything was exactly the way it was
acceptance serenity knowing as love
all, the same below as above
Image beyond time beyond mind – self portrait, writing yesterday
#patrickwey #literature ##photoart #surealism #poetry

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Patrick Wey

362 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/20

362 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/20 of-by patrick weyhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
My life has been a coast line of water reflections of uncertainty, dreams waving in and out of realities, roads with too many bends. My love has been mistaken, my integrity misunderstood, my visions misrepresented. My journey has been long, barren and born of random continuity, possibilities beyond the norm, realms hardly exposed. Disturbances of air on water and hues slender like night the traveller never stops, the path never ends, beauty never dies.
I attempted to document everything i saw, felt and imagined. There was nothing that escaped my sight when i was young, free of form and ready. Things have changed, time has slipped into my veins, the present is so close now, the distance so short. Stars shine in me, the universe is not so far as it once was, death is so full of life.
Image circa a few years ago – writing, last night as i rode my horses along the shore.
#patrickwey #puddleart #surealism #literature #proseverse

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361 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/19

361 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/19 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Dog and Shadow runnin free in the centre square of Wroclaw Poland.
Spent a few weeks there back awhile with a dear freind that i met in London England. Few weeks could compare in my heart within this short life of mine. I know it may appear with all these images i display, that all i have left is memories, but that is not so. I just happen to have documented most of my life before the iphone belittled the challenge. The negative truth of the past has a way of caressing the future with more of the same, if you demand to run free like that dog no matter what terrain presents itself. Well, that’s the theory.
I committed myself to this challenge of an ‘image a day’ to a blog almost a year ago. This is coming to an end in a few days. Everything ends, nothing is complete. Just as with the scenes not documented in the eyes of humanity, many of my images will lie dying unseen unappreciated cept for the love and time and toil of my doing. That can be sad, that can be a revelation, that is up to me / you.
Image circa 90’s Wroclaw, Poland
#poland #wroclaw #dog #patrickwey

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Patrick Wey

360 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/18

360 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/18 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Unfinished sketch of an Irish man whom lost his hat on a movie set……
He crossed the scene from some other time zone but it didn’t make any sense neither here nor there. The same issues were laid out across the streets, now and then. The world and all its dreams were going to go along in its own way no matter what. The stage was set the take was shot, reality edited, exposed, a medium where innocence dies. You could attempt to fly high with transcendental airlines and meditate yourself numb or just soar low with the rest and get your fare share of the mess. It didn’t matter in the long run to the gossip from the avenues, it had not altered for centuries and wasn’t about to shift drastically now. A better time, a better place awaited, the romance envisioned would recover from the turmoil behind closed doors, or so thought thought. They want it all clear as day but it ain’t that way in reality. There are no words that will set them free, it’s a trap, it’s a condition in the mind, everything will talk itself out across concrete tables and end clearly unclear as it always does when prime temptations are evoked. That is just the way it is, so get used to it, spend your time wisely or not; not everybody can win. He walked across the set again and again tryin to get it right but he never did; there was no right, just the remnants of a hat lying half dead on the walk-side in a scene for more lost lovers to dream upon.
That was a day grey that ended short on a vacant timeless road in some forsaken town in Ireland mid century with his name concealed and the story split like time shatters in the middle of things unclear and ends with no end, no script left to the story line, no dream to dream upon. Cut, end.
Image circa early 90’s Ireland, writing last night.
#Ireland#patrickwey#streetphotography#losthat#oldcars,

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349 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/07

349 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/07 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Along some wavy street of Old Montreal one night at dusk. Stumbled upon a door way to another side. Saw things i never suspected i could. Left slowly along some back alleyway. Took this shot just so i could remember the dream; the one that keeps me alive.
Image circa the 90’s Old Montreal through a puddle…
#oldmontreal#sureal#patrickwey#photoart

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Patrick Wey

328 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/17

328 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/17 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
David Finlay and Dusan Nedelko……Two funny curly haired guys at a party by the looks of it. We had a lot of good times thru bad times and some of the memories have been slightly dampened by the substance abuse. Over all we were moderately doing our youth justice by being ourselves and walking our own paths. Dave was a video guy with tons of ideas forprojects and Dusan ended up teaching kids in remote camps in northern Ontario. Me myself, well i’m writing this am i not. I think this is the kitchen of a house i owned with George Demelo. We ran an Information Brokerage Co at the time called Parallel Source which had the promise of doing really great things but it didn’t. Dusan had a fatal accident on the way home one miserable northern highway night. David is around, George is too, KW area. Of course there is so much more that could be written and maybe someday if i ever find the time i will. All these images bring up so many thoughts and i really do wish i had the time to twist some words into something; create an image-book novel, a picture book with text of all sorts, serious, poetic, loose words, detailed, maybe an image play or two.
Image circa late 80’s i believe.

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326 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/15

326 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/15 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Coral Andrews….me thinks; the Back Door, down under where all the Little Berlin bohemians hung about when things were simpler, younger and you never really imagined you’d get this far ahead in time but here we are the ones left the ones gathered about here on the front end of the social press for a few more years most there some here a few spread about the earth like fallen apples that landed in the back of a passing truck on some remote highway and got taken for a ride…….me, here i sit in some local cafe in a paved west coast forest throwing pictures to the winds of memories connecting the space between us. The suns shinin the grass is green. I miss that white stuff sometimes, both kinds but the road moves on, modern cowboys and indians walkin in the streets and lumberjacks and new age hippies building malls along the highways. The world’s a magnificent dream. I see a large crow walkin the pavement sqawkin about something and a young woman with dreads a foot above her scull eating a salad at a table on the outside of the cafe. Half the people or more are fixated on a little screen in the palm of their hand. Hello bohemians and friends from the east or wherever you be……
Image circa late 70’s i presume…writing today

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324 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/13

324 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/13 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Sometimes i think i tend to stick my neck out a little too far and though it is a long way down to my feet on the earth i am still inclined to shove my foot into my throat much too often. With that being said and over with, it’s a lovely day from here, somewhat higher than most, a touch surreal and by far extremely glorious to have so much free sky in my eye. Nothing much to report to the lower level that can’t be noticed from down there if you really pay attention, tho there is this one thing that i question occasionally and that is, ‘how come so many want to be so high’?….
Image circa 80’s – Infra Red 35mm B/W neg…an African confined on Canadian soil.

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323 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/12

323 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/01/12 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
There will always be another pipe line to separate the people until who knows when. First of all, we are all one people, the police, natives, the whites, blacks, yellows, multi-coloured. This is a human problem not a race problem. The ownership of land is an illusion we kill for on a basis of separation for control and wealth. The problem is not oil, gas, fossil fuel, it is explosive energy systems and the misunderstanding of natural living-energy and the relationship of water in all organic life systems. Viktor Schauberger laid out the principals for a free energy system based on the true ways in which a life-giving energy works within nature. I refuse to attempt to converse his knowledge here. I have tried unsuccessfully in the past. At that i was a failure. http://waternature.org/
We have the internet now and there are numerous pages of his conclusions, theories, inventions and procedures that shows how we can eliminate this dilemma that we are facing. I see all the new social media reporters in their social press with their lame attempts to educate the world with their quilt induced articles and comments that do nothing more than give them a number of ‘likes’ and a following with fuel for more inflation of the ego.
If one really wants an answer to these problems there are numerous web sites with implosive bio-technology in mind. But it takes personal time, integrity and money. There is no excuse any longer, the knowledge is accessible. The problem is the will of people to really want a future world for future generations, not just talk for sympathetic likes. The problem is problems on top of problems but there are some basics that most cannot comprehend the foundational aspects clearly. Most are fighting for causes with solutions that will change very little. It is a scientific misinterpretation, manoeuvring, a greed selfish human issue, a misunderstanding of the validity of thought itself and consequently the misuse of the sacred.
The white guilt praise for the red anger over broken treaties not worth the paper they were written on. The black man, the yellow and all the mixed colours fighting for their own identities and the land they can scrape up between the shadows of a past and the dream of a future in turmoil. Prophesies gone wrong shifted into sentimental dreams of romantic worlds living alone surreal in the imagination.
We know the world of man is a mess no matter how many gentle thoughts we comfort ourselves with, how many safe conclusions caress our weary souls. We dream on, it is the nature of the mind.
My dream has concluded that the technological answer is implosive biotechnology introduced and understood by Viktor Schauberger and secondly to constantly investigate the validity of the main tool that has conjured the world we live in, ‘thought’ itself. Both are related to the foundation of living energy. The mind is a myth, useful immensely but none the less a myth, therefore always on trial and always to be questioned from religion to politics to science to the brains mind itself and all its beliefs. This alone would enhance the understanding that we know very little and possibly nothing ‘absolute’ which would leave us much more vulnerable to love one another and all things.
It is an individual comprehension of the total that can lead us to understand our insanity and without that we are doomed. Thought can only describe the door but it is the heart that must walk through and these words are but mere symbols for an understanding that lives within a mystery.
The energy-fuel for our world is a monopoly of power and control, perhaps it is the time to cripple the pipe line and its system. We would hope for a peaceful conclusion but we know there is no peace in violence and violence has been the way of change in this world of man since man began. Do what you must do and let it be done but do it as one fight for one love. This is my conclusion for the time being; things change. Everyone has to figure it out for themselves, quit the group the system the institution the race the people, it’s culture and let the mystery be your guide, there is where it is at, understand, comprehend and copy nature.
An Introduction to…… Viktor Schauberger…. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhwhmqM2oFE
On Thought….check out U. G. Krishnamurti: Mind as a Myth … https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9olyqhwf2y4
Ultimately nothing really matters….tho we walk on…. and simply, so we do.
Image circa 1980’s Infrared B/W….Douglas Point Nuclear Generating Station

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Patrick Wey

320 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/09

320 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/09 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
a pigeon dancing through times experiences
while colours retreat and grey surfaces
then disintegrates across the floor of distances
things disappear this way into darknesses
and the cycle repeats for new appearances
Image circa 1980’s from a dead factory floor

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317 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/06

317 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/06 of-by patrick weyhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I went down by the waters edge. I sat there quietly for sometime before the air became alive and entered me to places i’ve never touched. The sound of the way whispered to my heart things i had never known. The beauty caressed me, entangled me in its web, light and uneven i followed the view to beyond and it was there i was told things i could not and would never tell.
The day was gray and no one noticed when the wind had stopped; right in the middle of a melody trampling across the wavering sky the vision appeared and left me stranded there alone like an island.
The way it was was not the way it is. The war inside ended in the light of darkness and the beginning of the end ended in very uncertain terms. ‘Dreams move about free of form with reality tainted by imagination. Observe, there is no answer, there are many questions.’
The water lies mellow over the rocks, the tree line silhouettes the near horizon and the gray sky takes it in to the limits and that swings you back to the grass weaving itself into the wind like a snake across a deserts sand.
Everything is complete. In times like these a silent gaze into the scene is the perfect answer.
Image circa late in the century / writing this morning

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314 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/03

314 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/03 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
i don’t know how many years i have left but i do know i’m lucky to have made it this far down the line. It is getting to the point where i have more friends in the underground than struggling on the surface. It gets to that point if you live long. I can’t say it is just genes, i’ve been watching my health since the sixties when i first stumbled upon Jetro Kloss, author of the book ‘Back to Eden’. A bible on herbs, their use and the sacredness of nature and everything natural. Of course a little lsd didn’t hurt. I found a place along a stream that i would go to and take a psychedelic alone and stay up all night with a small fire and watch the horror and beauty of it all. That was my first and last real teacher, so i thought, then. Since then i’ve not learned much more, just variations on the theme.
I hear the gentle rain, still, in the background of my mind, making rhythm out of rhyme, space out of time. I have long gone from looking for anything in anybody’s eyes, searching for truth in vacant lots, busy street corners; the search itself was the biggest mistake. Some think there are no mistakes, just accidents. I used to think that, i used to think a lot of things, but that was yesterday. Some think they’ve got it figured out, know what it is all about; i just turn away and listen to the gentle polyrhythmic drumming of the rain, it soothes the weary soul, makes me feel just perfect. I can say i don’t fear death any longer, but we will see. I have seen too much, questioned everything, surrendered my self to the mystery. I am truly nothing, made up of pencils and words. I have no need to be and yet somehow i am and that is perfectly fine with me. I am the illusion maya talks about, as you are. I hear the soft rain take my soul or whatever it is it takes and i leave as sleep becomes my home, down some endless stretch of high way, i’m gone.
Image circa 90’s down Arizona way i believe….out off the high way, the stretch between here and nowhere…….writing – yesterday.

313 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/02

313 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/02 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Occasionally yesterday visits today…..New Realities
Shot taken depicting the struggle of women, the struggle of life. So many stories weave themselves in between the vendors, the brick, the alleyways, the tainted food, the farm land lost. Stories of hard times, of survival, laughter, celebrations, loss. Many new years turn old quick in the cold, turn sour over forged sweet truth. Happy is often not much more than a word travelling down the corridors of conditioning, the repetition of denial but there is always hope so one can cope with the new frontiers, the news in the network, the blues in the streets. Nothing anyone can say, wish for, pray for can alleviate the struggle in the mind but it may soothe the broken heart, sweeten the sour veins. Balance, anybody can claim to be happy, whatever that means. I don’t think it means a damn to wish everybody a happy anything but i do it anyways just incase and so i don’t feel so all alone………i wish what i say could really make a difference….would be nice if somehow we could all awaken with wordless love in our hearts forever; well we try i suppose – may it be loving years for all, along this lonesome road.
Image circa 80″s – writing today

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312 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/01

312 Image-Content of the Day 2019/01/01 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
i get the feeling that things aren’t quite right here and nobody gives much of a damn. at least that’s what i’m thinkin sometimes. the people on the streets got their worlds and their dreams that they’re trying to untangle. they don’t have time for stepping out, attempting anything less secure. so the city rolls down the avenue, the life lives as it does, with its face hidden and its walls painted, dreams floating about like blurred leaves on a pond. i happened to hear your voice echo in the background and your future advertised in the signs hidden across the streets. the sense of direction moves about like a kite from one breeze to the next, wind rushing thru your skull and freedom riding high in the clouds. yea that was me watching you sit on the side lines with your green shirt and all, your broken-machine working overtime and your buddy learning the tricks. yea that’s the city life, it may not be the best life, but it’s your life and as i said, nobody really cares.
the image caught the beauty just right don’t ya think, your square heads floatin down the worlds way like you belong. life in the stream of things, coming from nowhere heading nowhere but with lots of plans, thats the way to do it, just like you know what’s happening and you do……kool

Image circa Thailand 2016 – writing last night

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309 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/29

309 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/29 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Sierra Kachina left at 24, would have been 28 today…born into a world almost to the minutes of 100 years after the last massacre of the NA Indian at Wounded Knee ……here is wiki-info of that event…….https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wounded_Knee_Massacre

Words about Sierra since she had gone: no one can feel the pain of loss of another, it can tear one to the depths of the soul and lift one higher than life, death.

Writing words you will never see
editing pictures you never saw
killing dreams we never met
living around lies tangled up around us yet
crying alone into fading memories
a busy numbness surrounding often
and you and me ending again
this time forever ending within
i see this thru vague scenes
that crumble into one another
drenched in pain and love
as they move along the trail
with a crippled weakness into the day
and words to you i will never say
i write to no one but the stream
of endless dreams across the purple sky
the universe that comes in clear
the universe that closes when the dream ends

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Without You Sierra
sometimes it tears tenderly to my heart
sadness where it has never gone, goes.
years passing without you
your little heart and mine
twisted into each other like time
i gaze across the highway to the grassy fields beyond
the silent wind bends around invisible canyons
straight into my mind
your essence emanates soft and deep into me
with dry tears i caress the moments slipping by
there will never be anyone so true to me as you
our bond was woven by the mystery of love
no one can alter what was so clear
that alone gives a graceful comfort
this pure sadness against my path
your delicate sense breathes life into death
i need no promises, commitments, no proof
we knew we were special
a love so rare so true so threatening
we lived thru this with the most fragile of hearts
now thru this fading silence
with nothing but the humble caring of the wind
i love you with your tears upon me
nothing can harm you now
you are safe from this world
and all its misery
i am seeing this with my hidden pain
as i walk on without you….

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There are few words left to say
i know in my heart there are no ears of yours to hear
what can never be said to you ever
you’re gone and love feels so empty without you
i have learned that this world is even more cruel than imagined
fake everything lures everybody into so much of little worth
they have little room for real tears
no time for true sadness
only shallow laughter and smiles against the rain
ultimately they are afraid to face their own mortality
they need to blanked it with tender wit, swift gestures
hidden desires leading secure beliefs to selfish love
They are the lost children of the american dream
stretching across every continent
desperately hanging onto every note from the popular song
caressing comfort with their broken bodies
falling alone down into cancerous heavens
to worlds they could never be
They are my brothers, my sisters, my friends and my foe
they are the celebrities cared for more than neighbours
more than the blood across the land
more than the mother in the land
the father of the other hand
the truth scattered into words
blasted against the walls of your brains
and in this context everyone is to blame
the dilemma of the human insane

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In this beauty one must weep. The overwhelming understanding of pain from loss is so sad it is beyond comprehension. It goes so deep one can only cry tears from memories dying and the letting go of its truth, its reality. Admitting that it is hard to live life one must let go of the dearest feelings; all the tangled ones and all the gentle and soft ones. It is hard to see this in the air, all the clusters of memories contained in one soul and spread out across the minds of the people. The close ones the distant ones the collective ones, all of different quantities and depth, moving in and around as a dream does.
When one dies and the entanglement of thought-energy floats thru the atmosphere as a spirit would, the visions of these holographic scenes may be more real than a normal reality appears. This is pure vision with no interpretation from a past, a future, just the endless flow from one scene to the next. The magnitude of this impression is life altering.
You can feel the waves of peoples thoughts and dreams, with their spirits creating intricate delicate holographs of varied scenes floating thru the forests along creeks veins like an epiphany from ‘nature’, the creator of all known. I cried, knowing i had to let go to live. It will come in small doses, not as to destroy me, little by little till i carry on alone. This may never happen. This is the dream, the dream will change, the observer will be altered, vast death is the nature of all this. It will come regardless of what one does. It is this movement in life that sees this death and the illusions of dreams as necessary branches to this tree, as life is a dilemma.
————————————————————————————————————————————————————
the days go by and you fade beyond my will
every step another distance without you
memories slip in and out of the air surrounding here
some are peaceful and serene and others are dark and deep
when the pains you felt, lived through and died with
punctures my heart like a knife with tears
the road curves up ahead and your presence is near
there in the pale afternoon where your love lies
and the sunset full of your colour
there are the photographs and your remnants scattered about
there are memories hanging on the walls without you
you meant everything to a few left behind
and they struggle down the path alone
and there is no answer fit
to why you left the way you did
no conclusions can soothe this heart
it is what it is and love and you are one
there is nothing along the cove
to replace this shore on eternity
memories will continue their journey across the universe
and fade into the void beyond
but for now there is nothing left
just you caressing this heart
and a spirit feeling this

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

my heart aches for you
your simple smile your delicate wit
your ways and your life living
i miss you terribly so
i am so sorry i did not do enough to save you
to help you in any way i could
to share everything i have with you
i never expected it would end so quick
what a fool i was in moments i could have done more
could have poured my heart unto you
given my every touch of love
i am so sorry, forgive me
nothing i can do now for you
i am lost at moments crushed with pain
devastated to my very being
like a boat without water
and a soul with out life
i am alone lost and numb

i see the road the way and the things to be done
i walk with one foot in the desert and the other on unknown land
i am a man stranded with no home no future no dream
i remember your breath searching for air and your heart for warmth
i walk i walk i keep walking
there are moments joy slips by and noise ceases
there are those that say too much and those that can’t listen
the ones with ideals overloaded and the ones crawling down the avenue
i miss your presence, the weight in your eyes
the truth your lips concealed
i miss you, your simple love
i miss you

i can never be free from you
you are a part of me
some of you is inside of me
and i shall die like that
you and me are a memory
that will be as long as forever is

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

little angel up-against the tomb
on a road red as heart
spirit fallen from the sky
with no clear answer why
and with tombstone tears
a wounded kachina cries
“for simple love i live and die”.

“i’ was much, much too young to die”
————————————————————————————————————

I wish i could say what can’t be said
and do what can’t be done
i wish i could do magic
and bring back what’s gone

i am loosing the words to say much or anything at all
now is not the time to

we all want to know what can’t be known
it is the nature of thought
we all want things we can’t get
we all want teachings that can’t be taught

there is no easy way
to heal a wounded heart

you can fly high and dig low
you can tell yourself sweet little lies
you can tear yourself apart
with things you wish you’d done
but there is only one thing that can really help
hidden deep within the heart

—————————————————————————————————

A wave of pain struck on edges of dreams formed long ago

I know i have to write this experience out sometime soon. It is too bizarre and hideous in areas that must be written in detail to fully understand the depth and shallowness of the situation. I venture to say that Sierra died at the hands of relatives and friends and doctors that made decisions to act or not act with self imposed desires emanating from their conditioned minds without much depth to see the outcome of this simple and sincere life of Sierra Kachina. No one is to blame and yet we all are. I don’t know where to start. The beginning they say but there is no beginning.

Raw reality stripped from all its glory
naked truth condemned to hide beneath the rugs
the way it was the way it is
the way it is going to be
silence against the noise of mind
love hidden in the shadows
nothing is as nothing was
everything comes everything goes
imaginary waves upon the shores
where something ends something begins

Sierra Kachina
i think of you often in so many ways
i wish i wish i wish but to no avail
if only this and if only that
you would be alive and i know it’s true

you questioned so many times
of what you would be like if only
we had not been separated at your little girls age of seven
if only we could have continued to be as father and daughter
what confused decisions tore us apart
what guilt hidden in minds separated us
why did that have to be so
what did we do to deserve such fate
is the truth worth anything now

will the prosecutors suffer as i
can anyone hurt so much
so deep for so long, my little mind
never really mature, stuck in your arms
safe and warm from the dangers of life forever
i missed you so much my father and friend
and no one could understand
and now i am gone forever
cept the memories in the minds of who’s left
twisted and torn and true and soft
some will feel the pain of abandonment as i
some will continue to ignore the facts
and continue to lie with their crafted smiles
and embrace the illusions they’ve made
for me i have gone and now you my friend write my legacy
i forgave everyone, it was in my nature
but i felt the pains of their decisions that tore my brain apart
from street and legal abuse i walked thru hell alone
tormented people are made of this
this guilt and anger hidden beneath
in minds not willing to see
i loved you all regardless; my mother, my husband, my aunts
my dear sister, my fathers and uncles
all my friends that couldn’t really understand
what i myself could only feel but not comprehend
why, why, why were you taken from me
it doesn’t make sense…..
how simple is love
this love severed but never dead
i am grateful it had found it’s way home
after so many years and for such a short time
and now i leave once again to let you walk on alone again
to face every breath without me
cept for what little is left in memory
but i am gone
gone forever with dreams
never shone

Driving home along the highway
yellow moon hanging in the sky
sounds so romantic but it’s true
everywhere i look i find you

I walk along the beach and see you in the sand
i pick up a purple stone and find you in my hand
high in the sky you fly within the clouds
trees are made of your likeness all across the land
such a sacred child in the body of a woman
you were just like me, a melancholy man

For hidden guilt and shame of things they couldn’t face
And unaware to me i’d been accused and convicted of things i never did
It was simple and easy to hide the evidence, me, and live a lie into eternity
but to their surprise and your demise, little sierra died
and now they have this tragic reality hanging from their neck
they can’t escape the truth of what’s been done
and only an apology might shine some healing light
but until then they will feel that deep darkness in their skull
how long will it take, time can’t even tell
i am not counting the days, i hardly care anymore
my little girl is gone and i don’t give a damn what people say
nothing is going to change anything anyway
people can hide but they still have to pay
that’s the nature of this way
you can fill your brain with whatever you want
fool yourself and fool the world
but in the end karma will knock you down
where ever you hide
where ever you lay
get your self a good alibi
a judgement day is on its way

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
we would have had such a lovely birthday time today…..always thinking about you.
Image circa 1996……writing, last 3 1/2 years

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM
Patrick Wey

307 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/27

307 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/27 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

time death light and night
don’t mean a damn when nothings right
the storm the calm the ways the path
torn and twisted in my eyes grasp

as well as i be and useless at heart
the dream is dead the road is at an end
any thing once worth while here
and i thought you were my friend

sure there’ll be another day
and i might even be around
but things said today i’m afraid
won’t easily be buried under ground

i’m goin out again to places i’ve never been
i feel so lost and weak i don’t wanna win
but get up i will and be what’s natural within
to never let this arrogance dig deep under my skin again

Image circa Ireland 1990’s – writing Dec 6, 2016 3:40am

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Patrick Wey

306 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/26

306 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/26 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

No other has taken me to the depths of my being, no other has forced me to see what i had failed to see. As it should be, if one is growing, i am forced to see the impermanence of it all. It is quite uncomfortable at times, this world without eternity, these thoughts doomed to disintegrate. The whole world full of dream, this life set to die, an endless stream of illusions to observe. This thought dying unto itself.
Money, it all revolves around paying rent, taxes, poverty has its claws inside my heart. Where could i be without this hindrance chaining me to mediocrity. This afternoon of springs last winters-wet-snow and gloomy skies and desperate thoughts hanging on to the last remains of your love. Can we grow? I don’t know. Is there hope beyond this air?
Image circa Poland late 90’s – writing April 2, 2005 4am

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304 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/24

304 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/24 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

twas th nite befor christmas
all the people were asleep
you couldn’t hear a sound
not even a peep
and then came in santa
to the stark dark manger
and he pulled from his bag
and nothing was stranger
a gift of canadian weed
to share with the wise
joseph, mary the animals
and the rest of the guys
they sang thru the evening
and when all was sung
little jesus awoke and spoke
in multiple tongue
‘don’t criticize, institutionalize
hypnotize or romanticize
and also, i’d not feel so damn alone
everybody must get stoned’

twas th nite befor christmas
i dreamed i was a saint
in some far off universe
then i awoke, realized i ain’t.

Image circa 80’s, two slides sandwiched – writing today

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Patrick Wey

303 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/23

303 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/23 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

Today change has come, the weather has shifted, the roads have opened, the way is clear. It always seems so obvious when the light comes shining thru, when clarity settles in the brain, when the universe makes sense again. It is these moments of understanding that lay the foundations of uncertainty in pillars of time that move thru the mystery so perfectly inrhythm and endless rhyme. An acceptance of the wavering truth that enters the mind one way and exits into a completely new universe. Today change has come.
Waves of a conscious mystery are rolling along the open shores. Tangerine skies are skimming melodies on the waters and dreams are scattering themselves about like autumn leaves blowing across a forests floor. Change is changing today into yesterday like bent light surrounding the wind in an open mind of dreaming dreams.

Image 1980’s puddle shot slide sandwiched with hand painted colour gelatin acetate – writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

302 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/22

302 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/22 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

hurricanes blowing across the sands
turmoil on every corner, every street, deceit
you got your love secure and camouflaged 
waiting for a little breeze
for some relief from the heat

Words trampled and crushed into little packets of self contained messages colonialized like small islands off the coast. How did it ever get to this, warped boats over treacherous waters carrying the cargo of ‘boxed-up-meanings’ leaking into the vast unknown seas. It is here we attempt to understand each other with a soul full of emptiness and a heart forsaken across discontented distant waters and a sincerity to reach into each others arms, sabotaged.
The drifter walks ahead already looking back at the silent coast and the ones so dearly loved. With the scrap heap of the west on our heals and the parade of saints playing in pools of nymphs and pirates and such, who could have ever guessed we were end-bound. What used to survive desolate in the alley ways of the metropolis we now find in remote villages across the globe. Like an unstoppable disease of the heart spreading like thought waves doomed by its own desires, humanity crawls along alone. There is no way out for it, only more illusions to soothe its fateful appetite, and as the drifter always says from his cool twisted damp lips, “choose careful, beware, everything fades towards the end of time”. And with that said the ships unload, the docks disperse, the constant pounding of the drums continue along the avenues and into the endless winds of dream, things come and go.
Image circa 80’s two slides sandwiched into one…writing yesterday

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299 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/19

299 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/19 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
somedays are just like that
a man behind your back in a hat
people looking in you, through
refined filtered lenses
Image circa 70’s….with a few words today.

297 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/17

297 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/17 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The open road: where in the hell is that? Nowadays you can travel half way around the world, carry a cell phone and send selfies live back home, but where in gods mind is that open road? Where is that place where real freedom is hanging in the air, where there is no direction home, no place left to be, no one to aspire to; where is that road? There was always some place to get away from, some place to feel your way thru. A few thousand miles down Route 66 seemed an eternity, no one could track your step, you were on your own, maybe a phone booth a couple hundred miles down some dirt road could get you a scratchy voice to some past you left behind; if you needed to be lucky.
Leaves of Grass found falling in the air long ago, now nothing but splashes of dull colour from eight miles high. The open road is a myth like Robert Johnson and answers blowin in some wind fallin in some time zone that can’t be reached no more; so far outa touch from this space only ancient text can attempt to reveal.
The open road closed for some museums reconstruction, fake images bracing imaginary brains, modern students with science degrees in hard-luck while the true old road is left dying alone in some ditch. The road warriors are not what they used to be, whatever that was. That’s the way it is, nothin stays the same but if you’re really careful and time is on your side there is still a way to get a glimpse of that road that is barely open yet for but a few that just might make the right moves. But beware, it holds nothing but raw freedom and that has left most lonely, weary and desperately miserable in the end. But, for but a very few of the few, the drifter does escape.
Image Infra-red B/W 35mm circa 80’s – some 60’s look-a-like of Highway Route #66, 61 or whatever, down some lonely New Mexico highway…Writing; years in the making, squashed into yesterday for no tomorrow.

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296 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/16

296 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/16 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The morning has arrived just like it said it would. Mist moving almost still and hanging off the mountain like a veil. The valley flooded with white geese dotted about, the air is tender, i’m not sure i should be here. My heart can breathe high and it can sore low but it just stares and wonders if there are other valleys though. The green lush blanket winding in the distance to unknown land and the mountain tops sharp and hazy edge against the grey grey sky. I could have been so many things, i could have learned the dance; i questioned i till there was nothing left and still it demands to belong where there is no valley towards a mountain top left to go. I sit here in the morning light and watch the wood stove blue smoke fall down into the valley and disappear where no dreams flow. Like stopping by a woods on a snowy evening i have my horses too, some are tired in the sun, some just wanna run, how can i possibly get it done, said the valley to the road.
Woke up fell outa bed, rubbed some horses across my head, and right in the middle of a dream this is what i heard i said, ‘wow’……..and that was that, moved right into another day, nothing more to say; the rain kept gleaming down and here i am, where the forest is my home.
Image circa – rain forest of 2001 – writing in this morning light

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Patrick Wey

295 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/15

295 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/15 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

it’s not cold yet but i feel the chill
the world is goin to sleep
the night light is flashing red
and even shallow is too deep

the heart that loved you
the one you thru away
the last kiss on the wet tracks
when there was nothing left to say

like a love that was pure as fire
and a caress as simple as the wind
i fell for you and you wouldn’t let go
i wonder sometimes, what could have been

now time has found its way once more
down this weary road of life
but if i could do it all over again
would i take you for my wife

it doesn’t really matter all that much
what would or could have been
we were just two lovers as such
along a breath of restless wind

the tree sways in the night light
looking for a place that will
shelter the bitter damp air a little
it’s not cold yet but i feel the chill

Image circa Slave County Alabama 1992 – writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

294 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/14

294 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/14 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Flying high with blended hues against an eternal sky of a sun dipping below the line between existence and imagination. On the long trip north with restless children on board and a longing in my heart for things that never quite were, i followed the intense skyline until i was too tired to keep my eyes awake and faded into the dawn of another time. There i was on the beginning without a hope on earth and i saw you there like i was attached to your soul somehow but i wasn’t. You began to hesitate right from the start and i began to lie to myself to make things happen that weren’t there. We settled on an imaginary life and caressed each others wounds until death do us part. Somehow love did enter the realm that was as real as any other love, it was love what could you expect, love doesn’t choose what’s real or not it just is or isn’t. That was good, life continued in a way that was expected tho surprising at the same time. The sun fell and that was that the night the night hit like a tomb.
You might think that you understand the game and conclude to yourself to fulfill your own imaginary life but i assure you that you’r fooling yourself just like everyone else to get by in a world too dangerous to be aware of its truths. But that’s alright no need to get upset push me under your rugs i’m just your night light to get you thru when times get too weary, too absurd to realize, a wake up call just so you don’t take it all that serious. There ain’t no guru gonna get you or some devil waiting for your sleepy soul or nitemares you can’t get thru…….you’ll be fine, just follow the line till the end of time and you’ll get exactly where you outa be. Take a flower and put it into your hair, smell the essence of life, kiss the wind, be true and you’ll get thru right to the end of the bend and you’ll see.
Image circa 80’s – writing last night

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291 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/11

291 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/11 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Those fuckers are gonna get a beating today. They’ve been pushing us to the limit for years and today is the day we give it to’um good. Maze, bullets, skull crashin, those left winged fuckers are gonna get exactly what they deserve.
‘Ah this coke tastes good, wonder how the kids are doin’, “little Juan has got his first soccer tournament today”, ‘hope i can still get there to see him beat the shit out of that out-of-town team’. “Hey Antonio lets grab a beer after we crack a few skulls and tell the wifes we have to work late….maybe fuck a few too”.
“Here they come, let’s move slow and let the foot soldiers give the first beating to wear them down some”.
Time passes and the attack backs down. After a while the new shift comes in and Ricardo and Antonio go for a beer and more.
That was on the shelf of yesterday, today and tomorrow.
Image circa 70’s Mexico City – writing today

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Patrick Wey

290 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/10

290 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/10 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Numero uno church in the main zacolo de ciudad de mexico. Poor Folk begging for a few pesos. The wealth of catholicism stands strong behind the gates. The way it is, hypocrisy crawls between the cracks, empty stomachs ache for jesus.
image circa 70’s, comment today, as yesterday and all bets on tomorrow.

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289 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/09

289 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/09 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Just before i took this shot we stood there not knowing what to say. The end was dripping from our lips, the last kiss was done and in your mind, you were already walking. That’s the way it goes sometimes, quick, just like the way some things fly into your life. I recall the beauty of the day when i saw you by the bench, the one that faces the long and narrow park, the one we sat at for the next two weeks before this night. It appeared we were falling in love until our differences emerged and spread out on the avenue like a night can do. You had your dreams laid out like a text, mine just surfaced out of impulse and they saw each other in the light of the day and freaked out. Our love was never meant to build a family around, it was not tough enough to stand alone, not true enough to create. So there we were feeling miserable for a short sweet past that was ending and a future with no spirit to be.
You shuffled in there sandwiched against the masses and wham the door squeezed shut and that was it, the last train left the station and left me stranded in the twilight just as you had found me there in a Mexico City night at some forgotten stop long ago and that was that, done, gone forever cept this last image from my crazy shutter sped finger tips.
Image circa 77 Mexico City – writing yesterday

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288 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/08

288 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/08 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
In the early part of the century i made my living as a photographer on a tour boat in Xochimilco just on the south side of Mexico City. People called me Jose but my name was really Fernandez and i lived the life of a photo-specialist. Having the eye of an artist was just the beginning. In those days you had to know the science of lenses, the chemistry of film and developers and the physics of light. You had to be a mechanic of sorts to deal with all the apparatus and a carpenter and painter for sets, let alone a marketing genius and promotion manager just to stay in the business. I loved my work and photographed some of the many celebrities that visited the City from all over the globe. Up and down the canals of one of the most scenic places near the city. Flowers and vegetation showered the days with beauty and my life was in love with me. Things changed when 35mm cameras came into vogue and more and more people took their own images and the competition made the game much more challenging. I managed, i had a talent for staying in the game, i survived, lived a long life and have images in a few of the museums spread across the city. I died decades of years ago now and with the advent of digital modernism in all forms of media in the hands of the many, i survive only in the minds of a few surrealists and history buffs. This wandering 35mm gringo caught me doing my thing way before his time and he’s probably close to the final curtain himself if not already gone.
We shared a smile before our boats parted up and down the canal and that was that.
Image circa early 70’s – writing yesterday

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287 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/07

287 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/07 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Strange the way waking-dreams weave in an out of mind. Troubled in the doorway of change, the delicate undertaker slips in to mind.
I swung in from the other side, just in time to see him leave for the top. They saw you trapped within your love but making it big on the social stage and that was good enough for you and you had already lost your honour towards the hard path, anyways. Meantime big business was buying up every green field of passion from here to the edge of the do-gooder horizon and you got sucked right in. When you thought you saw me there struggling in the forefront of humanity, you were mistaken, i wasn’t
struggling, i was breathing deep just before the night hit. I didn’t expect to turn in your heart or your expression on your delicate face when you saw me bend down to wash the feet of an unknown soul. What else could i do, the waves were pouring in, the crash was close and the immense pressure to surrender was overwhelming, i had no choice really and i’m glad the road turned and twisted into the dead end it is. How else could it have turned into this soft shadow slipping down the tears of your face? You, it seems were meant to be a star, it’s all over the media now, without much of a message, and without so much as a credit or a byline for the mysterious undertaker.
I stood there just on the verge when things changed and headed back from whence it came, the other side, leaving but with a few thoughts to get you through too.
Image circa late 70’s – writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

286 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/06

286 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/06 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Today everything is a little off. The mural on the wall is slightly tilted. The people don’t seem right. Their voices are gargled their smiles slanted. Everything is a little crooked. Colours are overly bright and in your face. The parrot is squawking more than normal and wavering back and forth shaking his gage in response to something that i can’t quite put my finger on. The music seems to be missing a few notes here and there, the sun can’t decide on showing up or staying away. The waitress is hesitating unsure of what to suggest.
Me, i feel fine, perfect of sorts, just wish my head didn’t exist for awhile, too much pressure in doing nothing, to get things right, to make it straight
Image circa 77…writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

285 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/05

285 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/05 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The sun is setting. Pelicans are diving deep. Sticky clouds are falling off the edge of the horizon. Waves are turning themselves in, folding up into the shore. The sky on the sea is blooming mauve, burgundy, shades of tangerine. Silhouettes of clifftop islands march into the open fields of the long ocean. Dreams sail across the waters as a warm breeze and history kisses the palms full of mellow truth and endless time.
The day is turning in, families are calming down and cuddling into the evenings
night and talking soft like the rolling waves along the endless shore line.
The smart phone has spread its wings of information into every mind along the beach. The glow of communications illuminates dark faces in the dusk of the towns spread along the beaches of civilization. We are connected. Music emanates from every space of humanity. Silence is rare and feared. The sound of nature considered boring and naive.
In a typical day and average mind hears more songs than most would have heard in a full life time from the mid eighteen hundreds and before. People have become addicted to entertainment. They can not function without some visual and/or sound piercing their brains all day long. In the car, in the home, in the street, in the shops, department stores, in the work place, in everything everywhere from sun up to sundown, thru the night, thru their meals, while they think from birth to death.
My attempt to find a quiet sunset failed. Only the silence i preserve inside can keep me calm. You either become numb and fall into the noice or one must learn the difficult possibly impossible techniques to eliminate the frequencies agitating the cells of ones being. Eventually the civil law will force head set use in areas just like the forced smoking space. Common sense has rarely been common and getting more rare as the minutes roll in from the avenues. Light pollution, sound pollution, toxic pollution, mind pollution. Mankind is a very rude specie.
The sun is down, i missed most of it dealing with the new humanity infiltrating my brain. Fake pounding drum beats driving itself to the core of the mind constantly everywhere. From LA to Zimbabwe, Shanghai to Siberia people and their light, sound, fumes follow you like a trail of prophesies down the long turbulent road of humanity.
I left the beach and headed along streets of scratchy noice bouncing off cement and metal from the dreamt up structures forcing gas-lit bulbed-light across smelly air and despite things, i felt alive. Here i am small town mexico accepting life as it is, watching young girls, some of them with more folds on their stomach than i and others dripping with tight tenderness remembered from so long ago. Old men, young men, broken bicycles, loud exhaust, sharp light and noice from every direction. Ah, the romance of the cobble stone road down soft lit dreamy streets just far enough away from the mad action of the centre of town. I made it, peace caressing my mind.
Wherever you go today most of society is active and noisy. Technology is a gift but certainly a curse for all of the other secondary species inhabiting, coexisting with us here on this majestic planet.
I am here and i love it, most of the time. You just have to learn how to weave in and out of the mess outside and to warm up to those cosy corners that one must protect so well, inside. A few deep breaths and then the focus, attention.
Image circa 1977 – writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

283 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/03

283 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/03 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The church, the cathedral, the lords house with its high ceilings and its sacred echo of angelic song and the voice of the lord emanating from high above the gold glazed alters. One can not mistaken the presence of pain and suffering jesus bestowed for the hearts of humanity to elevate themselves from venom of the earth to a higher order in the presence of god himself.
While the poor praise with their last material wealth to be in the presence of the lord, in their church of worship for the salvation of all, while at the same time the clergy, the bishops and priests live within wealthy walls and eat from the sweat, blood and toil of the congregation. The vatican being one of the wealthiest institutions on the planet let alone all the protestant jesus follower institutions of one kind or another. It is overwhelming that this continues while the planet dies.
I cannot continue writing about this hypocrisy and realize how many millions upon millions have bought into this absolute rubbish. It is just way too much for this brain to comprehend. There is more than enough evidence for one to discover this deceptive structure if one really wants to know the way it is. We got the internet, google, you tube, tons of info, there is no excuse other than a lack of courage and will.
I remember when i first entered a sweat lodge. It was a windy winter night in December, cold and snowing. The ground was frozen as we crawled into the sweat lodge church to sit on mother earth and talk with our creator, the grandfathers, the wind, the water. With shorts and a towel and not until everyone was inside and the hot glowing grandfathered rocks were brought in did the space begin to heat up. I remember realizing that no matter how powerful one medicine man became he could only instruct no more than the number that could physically sit in this church, his/her sweat lodge. It could never be institutionalized, it would never have gold statues and high echoed angelic ceilings. You had to be brave humble and sincere to crawl into this church and anyone was welcome, the priest, the medicine man was merely a conductor for procedures to run smooth and safe, but the teachings came from elsewhere. Many visions occur in this physically symbolic womb of mother earth.
The church in this image is one of millions on this planet with a wealth undescribable to most members. It is totally disgusting, unjust, useless and serves mankind as a cover-up for real so called spiritual work. It is time for humanity to wake up and shut down these institutions that are sucking their wealth and their souls dry.
This is my opinion and apparently jesus had a similar concept; possibly he implanted this in my brain.. I was brought up catholic and it took years to scrape the quilt off my soul for feeling condemned for what would be called blasphemous for realizing the total insane structure of the church and all its fabricated higher order.
I understand that people feel they need to have something to believe in. Most do not have the will or integrity to truly investigate for themselves and the few that do often take the easy intellectual route with a few schizophrenic like visions as proof that it must all be real. A few visions are just the tip of the iceberg on the real road of the pathless trail.
Of course nothing of the sort is going to happen in my life time. But i don’t need jesus, moses, mohammad, budha, and all the other gurus and entities to be right and honest and true and i don’t believe anyone else does neither. If anything, we need to be saved from this conventional institutionalized religious dogma before all mankind and the earth is completely destroyed. That includes the strict beliefs in anything including cast-iron science; the law is changing moving evolving, the mathematics of tomorrow will be a religion of the past. It is simple, as thought is stationary and still, reality is moving and on the go. One must dive deep into the abyss to see how shallow the idealistic nature of the ego really is and how to un-stick its nature.
It feels right and true to walk within the changing tide, scary at times but as it should be and never the less, as it is.
This church as so many others is a beautifully architecturally designed structure and though i do appreciate the ingenuity and beauty of mans creations, overall, my heart prefers the architecture of nature and for prayer and revelations, the simple humble structure and immense powers of the sweat lodge.
The war of the gods is all in the heads of man.
Image 1977 Mexico – writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

282 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/02

282 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/02 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Crashing waves along the shore curve of quantum waters sucking to its core. This is the energy path, the movement that all matter, a low-vibration-substance must abide by. All physical things follow a path laid out before itself. The big bang didn’t explode it just appears that way. A silent energy movement sucks matter to itself endlessly in an opposite direction. Gravity is a weak matter movement overpowered by levity. All matter moves towards this unseen energy as water from a mountain creek flows downwards attracted towards an upwards stream of unseen levity energy pulling the water with a downwards gravity to itself.
I collected these concepts from observations that ended up here inside my imagination. Imagination as gravity and direct non-thought observation as levity. All laws are theory that even on their best days only work most of the time. It always ends up in the same playing field, the math of thought is limited and reality is always infinite and beyond, a knowing that slips in and out of consciousness, leaving non-absolute thought in its wake. The mind is a myth.
Imagine an unknown energy movement in the shape of a tornado parabolic cone that is sucking matter from outside the vortex cone lid but is travelling inwards towards the centre of the spiral vortex. To the observer it looks like an explosion of matter outwards like our big whopper of a bang theory. The closer you get to the inside movement of the unseen inward energy the more matter is spewed outwards looking like a force exploding creating matter from the opposite levity movement that is in control….eg: gravity as 1 (outwards) mass of matter and levity energy as 1.618infinity (inwards); the golden mean found everywhere in the universe, a constant made from an infinite number which is not constant at all……..but close enough.
You don’t have to leave the planet to observe this phenomenon, you can observe it in nature everywhere from all the golden mean fibinochi movements of buds and plants sprouting, pine cones and the relationship of the fibonacci sequence of eight rows of seeds twirling downwards and five whirling upwards, flowers and their parabolic outwards growth movement, leaves in spring time unfolding and even water whirling down your toilet……….its everywhere and well documented these days via the Tube.
It is hard at first to wrap your head around that all matter is moving because of an opposite energy movement more powerful sucking to itself. So the sucking inwards imploding unseen movement is dominant. It took me many years before i could see and feel this understanding as a fact and as a more natural reasonable movement of matter, especially in reference to water and air. Levity was a much more common possibility before Newton came along and shifted science to a more destructive explosive way of thinking about matter and the dominance of gravity. Quantum physics is changing that again. We will never get it completely right but working within natures natural ways can help us live in a much more harmonized condition from technology to psychology. Often our science believes it can force and reshape reality without concern of disturbing the sacred unequal balance of the golden mean and that means much more than we may think. It appears we can manipulate the balance for awhile before real destructive forces take hold. If we are smart and humble enough and realize the folly and stupidity of our arrogance it may be possible to rebalance this delicate balance.
This is a simplified reason why explosive energy is destroying the balance of nature. It must be fuelled constantly whereas implosive energy movement forms will constantly move matter of air and water in an implosive, increased velocity direction…..Viktor Schauberger investigated this understanding thoroughly and devised numerous devises to give us all and more of what we need in energy, transportation, heat and cold without any pollution whatsoever. Our society is not ready it appears and the monstrous monetary system based on the explosive technological fuelling system will not crumble easily, probably until it is too late, it may already be too late. Most environmental ‘save-the-planet’ movements are bandages that will eventually also collapse but at least it has people realizing we need a major transformation.. If one was truly interested there is more than enough info online these days concerning Viktor Schauberger and Implosive Biotechnology. It appears that most of us have been too tainted or numbed down to understand the simplicity of our misunderstanding of natures ways.
Schauberger also predicted this predicament. It is no ones fault, it is everyones.
I am walking along the coast with my freind. I see the beauty of the crashing waves to the gentle minds along the cove. I also see the unseen disaster in every imbalanced cell tainted by mankind’s greed based technology creating a dangerous momentum towards our doom in every cell-call we make, every folk of food we eat, every plane ride we take, every thought we use to cover up natures message with a wink.
I am enjoying a cool drink and letting the beauty of the setting sun swim slowly over my one opened eye. I love this life and all its contradictions……….wink!
Image circa west coast 2018 – writing yesterday

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281 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/01

281 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/01 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Remember when we were young how nothing much mattered. It was all so immediate, the closest things at hand were all that we paid attention to. One minute we were laughing and the next questioning and learning something new. Simple things kept us amused for hours, dislikes tormented us every time they arrived in our mind. Food we hated to taste but were forced to digest turned us into panic, tears, disgust.. We would cry as if the world was about to end.
When we were tired we just wanted someone we loved to be close. I suppose we have learned to control these reactions as age developed but it makes you wonder occasionally with the way we are still so often like grown up kids.
There are billions of pictures of children these days and more and more being created every second. Black and white and gray. The texture of the background wall against the casual stance of a young man watching over his younger sister protecting her from any possibility of harm. This was in a time when it is quite likely that they had never been photographed before; an honour possibly, a suspect likely.
Love weaves itself in and out of reality like an intricate cloth woven by special angels and occasionally the past arrives early to a future for one more short glance at a dream that never was.
Hello my name is Rodriquez and this is my sister Catalina. I am almost fifty years old, my sister died young from complications with her heart. It broke after my dad left. My mother struggled alone for years. She made sure i got the best education i could. I am a doctor in a costal town of west Mexico. I am married with three kids, two daughters and a son all healthy and beautiful. I remember this man with light skin pointing this glass object at us while we were playing around in our corridor. I later learned that those glass medal objects were cameras. I began to wonder about the image suddenly stolen from my childhood and how we looked, my dear sister and i.
With unlikely possibility one evening doing online research about heart surgery in Mexico i stumbled across some Mexican images taken by a photographer from Canada. I couldn’t believe my eyes when i saw this black and white and gray image of two children against a textured cement gray wall…..that was me and my dear sister Catalina.
i haven’t contacted the photographer patrick wey yet but someday i will. This is the only image that exists of my sister. i remember when we were young and nothing much mattered.
Unlikely stories from lost dreams.
Image circa 1977 writing yesterday

280 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/30

280 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/30 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
One must walk out on your own, carry your own load. Days’ll be tough, roads long but no ones gonna do it for ya. There’s always another day to work your magic till there’s not. There is always someone carrying a heavier load than yours so help them on their way. There will always be the ones that will criticize any attempt you make in being real, in being simple and honest. Jealousy is inherent in us all to different degrees but yet we continue to ‘point’ with every finger we have to our hearts content and then some. Social media is encouraging the destruction of humanity but there is more to it than that. You’re destroying this earth, this world, you and all your fucking constant manipulations and deceit to ramming your belief systems no matter what they are down the throats of others. You just can’t conceive of a world where everyone accepts that we don’t really know anything for certain and that for centuries you have been played the fool, it has all been fabricated, manufactured, formulated to control this and that, you and them for money and power. That is the simple explanation and of course your mind now is screaming with every breath with just the possibility in knowing that your mind may be totally fucking wrong. And who in the hell am i to suggest this. Well i’m just a guy who has gone to the edge so many times and been up and down so many trails and talked to gods and devils to the trees the waters and all has lead me to a love that thought can not know. The truth is unknowable in this way. You can not bring truth back from the heavens with your mind but you can tell fantastic stories and some of these tales may help others with their burdens, their carts of conclusions and definite abstracts but they must eventually crumble to live free, real and as the super humans we are being drawn towards to be, possibly.
It is all too scary for most so we cling onto the secure cluster of thoughts we call our sacred greed with our god, our creator, our ideals, our science, institutions and authority. Possibly that used to work in a society geographically separated but in this unified world where numerous earth species and human extinction is very real and on our front door step, it is just not acceptable any longer. We all have to question the validity of our very minds and what we with its’ tool of thought ‘reason’ can really be known and what, if anything, can we all believe together as one race, one people. Our beliefs are killing each other, the world and the scared love we all so desperately want to believe exists.
We continue to pull our wagons of truth carry our loads of beliefs thru the streets and avenues hoping to arrive somewhere for good, forever but where do we end up but back here, right back here on the back porch of discontent with an eager uncertain smile beaming out through our front door……….
Possibly the only answer is for…………another day; (brave ventures into the unknown crevices of the mind; psychedelics, isolation tanks, sweats, vision quests, whatever dissolves the ego whereas real truth and love may hold you for a moment or two)
What can i say, my self is on the line, bending, changing with every image.
Image circa 1977, writing yesterday

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Mexico | DSC_0118.tif
Patrick Wey

279 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/29

279 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/29 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I came to tell you a few things. About the way things were when most of you were asleep amongst the sheep. There were hard rain hurricanes and soft elusive lights on every window sill from London to LA. Hardly a soul saw what was coming but there were a few blue eyed sons walking the alleyways. There could have been a new world, a much better way to live out our time here in the sacred womb of the earth. There was a force like never before to make things right but we were driven down like we were the enemy. All we really wanted was to care for everything to the limit but you wouldn’t let us. You stomped us into the ground, squashed us into the dirt beneath your greedy feet. You manipulated the masses into believing you were on their side and now after all these years many more have awakened and yet still so many half asleep, numb, sedated.
I left the streets for the coast, too much confusion here, too much conflict between the dreams.
In the cool light of the night i look back and wonder, could it really have shone, this love we saw, this love we felt for everything together like one.
Wasn’t there more than enough to go around and now it’s obviously much too late, the gates closed, the collaboration has gone solo. You’re on your own, the world is not one, it’s every man for himself. The beatles are listening to dylan again and just like a bunch of well worn rolling stones, memory has been tainted, distorted, twisted like a length of dangling rope, waiting.
And so it goes, stranded like the night, walking.

Image circa 2010 – writing yesterday

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278 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/28

278 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/28 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
There is so much more that could be said. You think you can get away with a few trips into your head as if time was constant and to be resolved. You are attached to everything, the furthest star is your neighbour the smallest spec a long wave. Every theory you attempted to own, owned you in the end. There was no end, there is no end. A few years ago you were sitting as you are but in a desert night with a cactus as your guide and visions of patterned chaos in control of everything. The jesus you knew transformed into a few creatures before your eyes, and did tricks for you, the dream in a dream of a dream took you beyond yourself. You found no self. You belong to no one. What you thought was real melted into the desert sands. A medicine man appeared from the fire, sang you into a scene, took you places you’ll never remember, taught you to realize nothing really matters but everything has a consequence. Laws evolve, everything is a reflection. Freedom drives consciousness into itself but reason will always be a weak truth.
As i sat there inside of you, i could feel your discomfort with the way things are. You were hoping for things to follow but they didn’t, just when you thought you had it together things changed. These are simply words crashing into one another attempting a dialogue with themselves. They can not go any further than the edge of mind. The vast space is thoughtless and demands you leave yourself at the gate but there is no barrier.
It was a hot day on the Zocalo, i had a few moments alone before my life was to return. I sat there letting the mind go as it did. It is strange how a simple glimpse can take you so far. Who would have ever suspected how vast the mind can travel in a few flashes of our time. Who could have known what had been implanted as i had pondered here in meditation. You, me, future, past,, interwoven for a flash.
circa the Main Zocalo Mexico City 1977 – literature yesterday.

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Patrick Wey

276 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/26

276 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/26 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Your elusive walls and delicate lies. The beauty beneath your skin and the avenues so in tune to you. How could anyone misplace you? The door keeper with his facade entered like he owned you but you didn’t let on, you kept your dignity and caressed his heart with your magnitude and sunset eyes. The times they had changed, by the day end the war was over and noone cared about your degrees and folded up knowledge, the world was focused on intricate entertainment, the type that slowly bends you inside. The way you handled the saints and all there prodigies as if you cared with your sensitive love and the dreamy touch you gave just when they thought they could own you. How did you escape with so few scars, what did you have to sell to get here, what did you tell the commissioner, how did you convince the judge.
There are so few that understand the things that must be understood to touch the other side. There is no sense in trying to explain the visions to the blind. In this world of sound there isn’t a single chord out of place and when you’re playing hard with your soft heart it can ease the most weary from that sharp death. You were seen by a few as you disappeared inside the photographs on the wall. That was me there behind the camera long before this night. This is a setup, a scene from some burned out city street and i was sent by who knows who to document you. This is it, there were jokers and thieves down by the docks just waiting for the ship to come in. They waited hundreds of years for this night without hardly a sense of what was about to happen.
But things changed again, you never showed up and the ship died at sea. It just goes to show you flat out that you can’t depend on prophecies any more than the night. This portrait of you by your windows reflection with your truth so well concealed.The tainted glass-wall of the window is behind you now.
I always wanted to tell you just how much this moment meant but time twisted me out of your life and all that i have left now is this grey image of you looking out your open window.
Image circa 80’s – writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

275 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/25

275 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/25 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I am a pig and i love this rugged landscape. They call me Jose when they want my attention. I have the freedom to wander wherever i want. Somedays i just sit and look over into the mountains. I watch the lizards roam around in the desert sand, well, i imagine them. Sometimes i feel like another entity, like i shape shifted or something like that, became a coyote for awhile and meandered around the hot sands from one shady nook to the next.
This area used to be more populated a couple hundred years ago, you can still see the old walls melted into the mountain slopes. They named this place Real De Catorce. To this day Huichol medicine people come here to the lowlands at different times of the year to harvest the sacred Peyote cactus. They do ceremonies in the desert evening air and connect with the spirits of their ancestors from here and off into distant lands, even other planets stars and stars away. Occasionally i’ve felt their presence slipping thru my mind but they mostly swim-shift thru to the more wild ones, crows, snakes, eagles, coyotes and such.
I’m totally at home here. It’s less stress, i get fed often enough. Yes my life is cut short but my little ones carry on. It’s all the same to me, i don’t remember much and it’s just the way it is.
Image 1977, writing yesterday

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274 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/24

274 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/24 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Some say I’m negative, my words depressing. So what. Those are usually the ones that want it all sweet and certain. I use to care but that was yesterday. I don’t attempt to find the negative in this world it just presents itself, there’s plenty of it to go around but that doesn’t depress me and if it does you, well what can i say, put another pretty picture on your wall, i’ve got thousands of um for the right price. You see, i need um too.
I didn’t travel down these roads to get anything in particular, and if i found some good fortune along the trail it was because i stuck to the path, stayed focused on the mission at hand, but most of the time i didn’t evaluate life in those terms. I just wiped any past off as best i could and kept walking. No, it never disappeared completely, death’ll do that but it did allow for a new breeze to blow against this mind while i rambled on.
I don’t have much use for the superficial shit that floats around but i accept it the best i can and no doubt, i have contributed my own fare share. I ain’t no saint and i never said i was and if you think i implied a ‘holier than thou’ attitude, well you’ve been mistaken, i’m just a guy that was looking for something that it appears no one has ever found and i see now, no one ever will. Most lie and want you to believe what they believe, but it’s all made up, a fantasy, a dream. So when i see most people wandering down a similar terrain expecting it all for nothing, no hardship, no desert nights alone with nothing but you and you and you. Well sometimes it makes me laugh and others times it just makes me sick. A lack of compassion some do say, a lack of this or a little of that, whatever, hit the road jack and that does it for me, i’m gone. As i said, i don’t care, shove your face-look social praise where the sun don’t shine. There ain’t anyone i have to please but if a few find my words resemble some thoughts roaming around in their own questioning brains, well then that’s great, reassuring of sorts, but it doesn’t change a thing, just feels a little less lonely in here, i suppose.
The curtain falls and i can feel the next scene supposing itself just beyond some dream on another slippery edge of time. So i better move on, so as to catch the next glimpse of light, when it shows up.
Image circa 1977 but it could have been tomorrow.

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273 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/23

273 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/23 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Is there anybody listening asked the traveler? Is there any room left on the walls for a little piece of me? You see i’m just like you, i need a name to capture my thoughts upon too. Something to die for, something to hang on to, something to let go of. The hills in the distance are too far, the beach is too hot, the streets too slow for dreaming. A simple breeze skims thru the palms, some birds fly by inside a blue sky. There is so much more somewhere, so many things i could have done, could have been. Here i am mellow and belonging to no-one. A few dreams float by and i catch a glimpse. I let them go, there are others they can catch, still in need of purpose. I am content to hold nothing. I am a simple vessel, one that lives for nothing, cares when i care and one whom holds no ideal to dear.
They appear out of nowhere just in the nick of time, the little ones, the bright ones. When you least expect it, love covers you. Love so free and yet it costs so much. All your dreams, all your conclusions crash away when the waters of mystery sails upon your soul.
Image circa 1976 – writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

272 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/22

272 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/22 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
In the early morning mist stuffing newspapers for a few bucks on the way to the top. You got your dreams and i got mine we’re just different fantasies caught in time. This day is long gone and the news faded into the streets like dying dreams do, into peoples lives, into their souls, into the cracks of their bedroom walls.
It’s hard to imagine just what happened here. Where were they goin when the ads got sandwiched into the rag, when their job was done, where did they end up from the heat and the heart of the metropolis?
The city was barely awake, the all night people were crawling home, traffic polite and sparse, the silent folk were scraping their thoughts together and the avenues rolled into the dawn with a grateful smile while the steady hum of machine slowly wound its routine louder and further along the tar. Alive again, another day with the news headed for the masses, little written words jammed into packets of meaning to get them through the day.
The daily news so yesterday and so over done. The love of life for a few cents and a glass of time. This is life in the city; clean, straight, forward, entertaining on a good day.
Image circa 1977 Mexico City

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Patrick Wey

271 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/21

271 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/21 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Nice to be back in a land where people greet you in the streets. Where there isn’t the typical western paranoia. They are hesitant sometimes unsure of what type of a gringo you might be. Many gringos don’t even look at you so it is obvious why many Mexicans are hesitant to give you their tradition. They feel the vibes, the arrogance, the useless conclusions swimming around northern brains. The age old ‘better than thou’ attitude lingers on like a fool in a sinking trade.
In this town you can still go to the zacalo (town square) on most evenings especially Saturdays and see families, neighbours, young and old intermingle. The whole cross section of the town connects in this square. This is their life, their way, a slow pace long forgotten in the north of the americas.
It is all not so romantic. There is the noice, a different attitude here concerning music everywhere. At least most of it is Mexican style country rather than the pounding drums of rap, bad rock, hip hop and what have you. Accordion, stand up base, acoustic guitar and that’s it, simple and softer.
For the most part you can usually escape the traditional chatter once you find a few hideaways along well worn cobble stone roads with small tiendas and local restaurants of real foods and mothers and daughters holding hands as they stroll thru the evening air. Old men sitting in old broken structures that resemble chairs and kids playing with amigos and genuine waves of love floating around their poverty.
It’s a soft life here….most of the time.
These quaint places are diminishing as more and more western traits capture the youth with the frills of a more modern life. It is a western trend to travel the world these days or you’re a nobody which is another aspect destroying the simple life.
In the end it is mostly your own choice if you want the glamour, the gold, a simple love or the complexities of the modern man.
I can’t do justice to the beauty and the destruction here so i best leave this gentle night to the roosters in the distance and dogs singing their bark.
Image circa 1977

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Patrick Wey

268 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/18

268 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/18 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Man loaded down with bags of hope, buckets of paint for colouring his walls and worn out shoes from long walks through-out the lowlands. Man carries his struggle with a bent back and weary eyes. He knows there’s light at the end of the tunnel, he’s been told so for so many years, it’s written in the scriptures, prophesies have inscribed truth in visions upon his brain. Man has a purpose upon the stairway to heaven, songs have been written in gold, guitar licks have been immortalized.
The sun is sailing west, the crimson flames are wavering in the breeze across the horizons of the seas. I’m a man here from the archives stretching along the avenues, bent around the bends towards a promised paradise. I’m here free chained to the genetics of the future, strolling along the beach in a holiday.
Mexico, the ancient land of remote civilizations sprouting out of the sands along this prehistoric shore. I love this place, it’s magic for the stranded man inside.
Image circa 1977

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Patrick Wey

256 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/06

256 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/06 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The woman and i were travelling, moving west thru the northern states in the fall of 2016 listening to the Autobiography ‘Chronicles One’ by Bob Dylan when a man came on the radio telling me directly that My Dylan had won the Noble Prize for Literature….
i wrote this that night in a downtown hotel room off some highway in some Montana cowboy town, disguised as one of the gypsies.

Bob Dylan – Noble Prize for Literature…How does the Gypsy feel about that?
‘the Locusts sang and they were sangin for me’

The last few days i, the Gypsy, scrambled around my nature to find some denial for being lost. I am not lost because i don’t know where it’s at. I am lost because that is what we are and that is where it’s at. I don’t have one spec of truth tangled up inside or some myth hidden up my sleeve to soothe you from you or me. We are all lost whether we want to admit it or not. Anyone can believe they got the answer, got the right perspective on reality, anyone can do that, but we all know all serious endeavours into any discipline whatsoever is a small dot of the true nature of that subject whatever it is and we can feel that, feel it deep in our heart. The truth is, is that thought itself is limited like time and space, as if ‘every distance is not near’ and it is the creator of all the worlds it imagines, all the conclusions, all the beliefs in absolutes, the broken reasons, all the jokes are on us, ‘the Joker said to the Thief’, ‘there must be someway outa here’….and there is a way out, but it’s not here but then again, ’two riders were approaching and the wind began to howl’….well who from hell are those two riders, dualism itself? ‘And they’re breaking down the distance; Between right and wrong’ and ‘sometimes i think there are no words but these to say which are true, but there are no truths outside the gates of eden’.

People say that you can’t live without a belief system, something to believe in, even though you know in your heart it is just a facade to keep you from scaring yourself to suicide, physically or mentally; you feel compelled to feel secure with thoughts wrapped around your skull in complicated systems that prove themselves into truth, but they’re not. So what does one do when you come to the realization that one cannot know anything at all for certain? The tool is flawed, self serving, an illusion full of itself where as all reason stumbles across the heavens on its knees begging for awareness, a law that can never bend, one beyond time, a false ’Time out of Mind’.

Maybe this is freedom, and that the road to freedom is no road at all. I am not playing with words to confuse or avoid the seriousness of the absolute question of all questions. No question can be answered fully, complete, it is as simple as that. Thought itself is not capable of completeness, it is always fragmented, out of the present of the past, memory and we can see that, feel that and we are always that, an entity out of time, all about time, surreal time. Thought itself will always believe in itself, it is perpetual-believing in motion. It is indefinite, shallow, a ‘judge that is badly built and walks on stilts, watch out he don’t fall on you’.

‘But it’s alright Ma, it’s life and life only’. I could go on and on quoting Dylan and write a book on Dylans observations of the world, but ‘I’d forever talk to you and soon my words they would turn into a meaningless ring, for deep in my heart, love, i know there is no help i can bring……’and

‘In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I’d become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My existence led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now’.

What is disturbing is that the world is awaking to the fact that this world is doomed. The validity of thought with all of our absolute beliefs are doomed, coming to an end, ‘God is Dead’. ‘It’s easy to see without looking too far that not much is really sacred’. Dylan addresses many issues, and at the end of every line it is still this, ‘we sit here stranded tho we all do our best to deny it’.

“So somehow it has been a sad understanding that the world is catching up to the facts that can only lead us to despair”, so the gypsy says. It is so obvious that we all are wanting desperately to know we got it right, but we constantly get rude awakenings to obscure that safe belief and we’re all alone again facing a death that ends the whole world that thought has put together. “Humpty Dumpty is Down and He ain’t gettin Back Up”, the joker says. The universe will continue without us, without thought, without god, without anything of us, “we are the illusion” so the Joker mumbled.

Bob has encouraged us to attempt to be ‘forever young’, and ‘I was so much older then, i’m younger than that now’, but ‘Life is Hard’ and ‘i used to care but times have changed’ and ‘this place don’t make sense to me no more’ so ‘disconnect the cables over turn the tables’ and ‘ the only thing i know how to do is to keep on keeping on’.

No matter how long you go on believing in where-ever thought has taken you, to, changing it, revising it, time comes to an end, ‘Time out of Mind’, you can hang on to it all right up to the last breath but eventually you’ll just have to let the great-mystery take you out and float into the space unknown, unthought about. Life can take you there in peace, to just melt into the silence without anything. “Freedom from the known”, some other gypsy said from the side, presumed this, and thought of that and who was right there ‘caught in the middle with you’, ‘jokers to the right of me, clowns to the left’.

I am glad i suppose that the world is catching up but it is also sad. Not much has changed, “the world is filled with beauty and grieve”, the Caretaker pursued.….”that is as certain as it gets”, but i don’t let these, ‘abstracts threat to noble to neglect’, i just let the ‘River Flow’ and keep walking.

Anyways, i know in your heart Bob that you don’t give a damn about any degree, prize or fortune, and once again for the Gypsy, for the Joker, for the Thief, the Hooligan, the Caretaker and all the identities, ‘the Locusts sang and they were sangin for me’.

and nobody could ever sing ‘Strike another match, go start anew’ with the menace of Dylan himself. ‘for it’s all over now baby blue’.
Image circa the 80’s, enhanced later, literature written autumn 2017

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254 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/04

254 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/04 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘Wavering in the Wind’
She stood there wavering in the wind, pale rain washing away fading dreams and kissing the grey and lonely skies. A highway passes by the sea and all humanity. Faint waves of gentle light caressing her. All life’s purpose floating by unseen yet clear in the dampness of her eyes. The misty evening air surrounding lightly and giving simply like truth does. She looked directly into the soft sea and saw dreams weaving their nature. She held this vision tenderly then noticed the road again with all its turns and slippery ways towards the dark forest. The evening brushing up against the night, the day accepting its fate, the tale, its reflection, its intimacy left wavering in the wind.
Image circa 2017 west coast, writing Nov.2/2018

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251 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/01

251 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/01 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Somedays makes you wanna just sail away into the breeze of the sea, leave it all behind, find a new life, fall off the earth, fly off the cliff, hit the road on the open sea and live all those dreams hiding, swimming around the water in your head. That shimmering insight born of the depth you dove, the breath you’ve held tight, the strength of your will to be something new, something totally different, an adventure that never sees behind.
Somedays you can just sit on the dock and watch the ripples of water warp reality into dreams, all yours, all magic for a few moments of eternity washing up upon the shore line like silence whispering tones of pure purity right to the core of your being.
Yes, sail boats wavering off the water and me in some strange form of reality.
Image west coast 2017, writing last night…

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Patrick Wey

246 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/27

246 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/27 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Lying on the beach on a pale afternoon attempting to crawl into existence. She came from a long line of mud people from the near underground. Her dreams were simple and true to live free to see clear to love and to be loved. She died kicked apart by hoodlums from the streets of hell. Her epitaph reads, ‘earth people one love’ engraved into the mystic sands along the silent shores and if you stick your head out far enough from the politics of the day and the velvet curtains of religious ruins you just might catch a glimpse of the eternal source reflected against the shadows of the mind.
Image circa the 90’s along Lake Huron…writing today

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235 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/16

235 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/16 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
In the chill of a damp dismal day i set out to conquer fear. I headed straight into the cold frozen swamp of the forest and fell to my knees in prayer. With my forehead on the ice and truth in the wind i felt answers swarming unclear and delicate until i cried forgiveness for the people i’ve been, the things i’ve done with my arrogance and slippery deceit. i surrendered to the maker until my tears froze to the earth. A cold chill crawled up my spine and landed deep within my brain. With my mind belonging to no one to nothing but the cold dark truth within, I cried till all tears warmed up inside of me with a peace that can only come from humility. I left the forest with the strength of ice as the softness of water.
Image circa 2010 writing Oct 2018

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Patrick Wey

227 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/08

227 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/08 of-by patrick weyhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

….a ruffled-up-crow dreams out a prayer for our thanksgiving….

Thanks for the food and the door way to the other side
thanks for the rock and roll and the cafes and social media
thanks for the summer evenings and the crucifictions
thanks for spelling errors and correction apps and toilet paper
thanks for the troubled minds and the addicted
thanks for my freedom to say what i want
for the turkeys real and symbolic and the privileged airplane rides
thanks for the love hidden and over done
thanks for your sweet thoughts right in the nitch of time
and for all the tattoos and sacred symbols
thanks for all the people that try so hard
and the flowers in bloom and the animals
Thanks for everything for this moment for this high
thanks for you, them and the earth and sky
thanks for the time wasted on facebook
and friends that have reappeared and disappeared
thanks for thanks and life and death
and thanks for everything i regret
for all the things i’ve missed for all the things i’ve had
thanks again and again for this day this night
for everything wrong and everything right
for all the smiles and all the tears
for the bravery and all the fears
thanks for today and tomorrow and our concept of time
thanks thanks thanks and thanks over and over again thanks

thanks for second thoughts and peculiar conclusions
thanks for trumped-up-like people, the jesus saved ones and the entertainment
for those whom see what’s right and for those lost in a dream
for the future for the critics for the politicians and the saints
thanks for this life, this time to be, this circus and christmas celebrations
thanks for all the holidays and the hard days at work
for the children the women the men the beliefs and illusions
thanks for the brave the stupid and the discreet
for karma the mystery the universe the unknown
thanks for the chance to feel at a glance
the real the unreal the surreal and beyond
and thanks for thanksgiving happy or not, and to be thankful
for our consciousness and for all we’ve got……..
and oh yea, thank god for crows
image circa late 70’s writing oct 2018

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225 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/06

225 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/06 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
A pretty face on a porcelain brain, autumn rain slippin down the street, the whole race on the track of city air surrounding. He walked by never noticed a thing, she looked down. The world was rough, damp, cold and the mood was swinging low. The city takes you places you knew you’d never go but there you were right in the midst of it. The turbulence was everywhere the purpose was lost, meaning fell like a tomb. I walked into the scene, fell in love, then left for the coast.
photo circa 80’s writing oct. 2018

Irena Berlinska in the background i noticed….

 

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224 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/05

224 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/05 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
There is no beauty like beauty. Water painting its way down stream. The heavens falling all around. A man in his old armour rushing about and a woman with a butterfly net walks by. A heavenly drizzle slants itself across the view and sun shimmers thru each and every drop in its wake. Water is everywhere, it’s in your brain, it’s in the rain, it’s in the dreams that flow down your drain. Beauty is in everything – if it’s in your eye, it’s reflected from trees across the streams, it’s the web of love and consciousness it seems.
photo circa 2018 writing October 2018

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Patrick Wey

221 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/02

221 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/02 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
walking around town with my head in the clouds, lookin to see what i can see, lookin to be what ever i be. no worries, in a dream, livin free. i got no place to go, nobody to be, i got nothin but my feelin free…..this is the way i remember some of my youth but sometimes things change and sharp realities slide in. you can see them if you look quick to the left, catch a glimpse as they float by but if you’re really swift and in tune to the day you can brush it all aside and get right back to that good old young to be, forever free……..it’s a dream, lasts awhile then fades then reappears then again….
image circa 80’s, writing yesterday

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220 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/01

220 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/01 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Looking out this window here in BC across a valley to a mist hidden mountain of beauty and pondering over times in Mexico 40 years ago. I remember taking this photo in some city along the way, Oxoaco in the south, i believe. I was fascinated with poverty and the poor so obvious and many, unhidden from view, in contrast to in the prosperous streets of the north.
Farmers and peasants forced into cities for a better life that became impossible to find for most. Many ended up in the streets begging for an existence difficult and absurd. There was little choice for most but to keep walking. They were once young with dreams that slowly eroded into a ditch of hard times. They remain; more and more generations have worn out shoes stumbling along these same streets. All across the globe poor souls exist in conditions most people refuse to see. A billion excuses come to mind to alleviate any quilt that may arise. We have more than enough pretty pictures to cover our walls and conclusions and veils to keep us safe, secure and motivated to enlighten our surroundings with a sprinkle of love straight from our wounded hearts.
What is one to do? So much wealth in the hands of a few and so much struggle for the many and a complete hell for far far too many….this is our world of incredible beauty, difficult decisions, denial, false assumptions, insanity, deep sadness, wonder, laughter and what we call love.
A great man once said (Wes Jackson), “if you can’t find any humour in all this you are just not taking it serious enough”.
circa 70’s image, writing yesterday….

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Patrick Wey

219 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/30

219 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/30 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The walls we left behind, the barren scape of time
the roads the home the very scope of love, once mine….

into the sky, way down me head swaying like a willow across fields of memory and straight into a long and narrow day. i love it the way she tells me things that only she can tell, the way she sees into things like they were alive and well. This cloudy stream of sky sun-lit and soft held us for awhile, a long dear while. We were in love like beauty is when two is one. The scene was set the noon came in soft and our time melted around the gentle air like a warm sweater like lips across her cheek.
We walked on for years, time held us like luck does before a change that breaks things apart. And just like an old man i can remember things that never were, things that really never moved so smooth, days of love like rain of light drizzling soft upon our hearts. Time, it has its way of twisting in and out of life…..like love does.

….So sail on thru the storm
Let time see of itself
Be the heart that beats true
Hold nothing old
into the new…..

circa – Image created 90’s, writing yesterday/today

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Patrick Wey

217 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/28

217 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/28 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
She said she didn’t want me anymore, walked away, headed for the deck, threw specs of bread into the air. Seagulls surrounded her, swept their wings so close she dreamed
of flying.
The sun set, the day gave up shuffled about the deck, squandered a few memories begging for one more sweet caress against the world; her love with warm hands in hand, just awhile longer, just one more moment, sea breeze swimming around our minds but then, wind came swift shifted things.
We met against the dark side, held on for life, gave our hearts complete….times moved about and clouded the sun for days, landing us in a drought of our souls. The desert landscape couldn’t have been more beautiful but the deep thirst killed us.
Time blew in again and forgiveness settled in our breath. Love, no more than a word, scrambled about looking for something to hang onto and that was the day with bread crumbs, she left for good.
Here lies the remains of the memory of our love and like a worn out painting this photograph holds the key to my heart, the sea, the wind.
image circa 25 years ago or so, writing yesterday

No automatic alt text available.

216 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/27

216 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/27 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
There’s probably a story or two hidden in the backyards of a few minds from the night light hit the negatives of my nikon way back when, but not from me. I don’t recall who she is or where i was. There’s a good chance it’s toronto and a semi famous band and that Coral Andrews would know. At any rate, she’s pretty and she plays base and i was there and i wish i was again.
Why do i do this, what’s the point, makes me question my sanity….old photographs lost in the archives of a one-time photographer with some strange commitment to a few more posts or so. The time is coming to an end, i feel it in my blood, i’m gettin to the ledge, the end of the line, an era dead. These photos will find there way here and there i suppose but for someone who cares little about the past they mean less and less. The age of image gluttony, sound bit specs in every dash of wind is here while the past is drowning in a future dangerously uncertain.
My thoughts move about the page for nothing better to do. I sit in a small cafe in a small town with small dreams waiting for the winds to shift.

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211 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/22

211 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/22 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The old ones have turned gray. I want to be able to say what i can’t comprehend, so what is there left but determinism, the endeavour to create. What else is there when there is no room left on the walls, images competing for space. No room for a future, the past has cluttered the hallways with debris, rubbish demanding attention endlessly, noice with silence on death row. What kind of a life has developed here, where has the love gone, what dreams are smothering the road? I want you because of habit, circumstance, security; out of the frame and into the blue.
Image created 2016, content today and yesterday…

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210 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/21

210 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/21 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I see you walk down your city streets glance out across the plains dream of things into form for nothing better to do. You cage us up like we’re your little toys, things to amuse you with. We watch you drink from streams and eat from the earth and force us to act out our nature confined. I love it the way you squeeze our brains into the likeness of your worlds of religious domination beliefs and others. We get on the best we can living our nature unnaturally. We don’t have the hells you’ve created the karma you’ve devised or the walls your thoughts praise. We live by the second free no matter what you think. I suppose if we thought about it we’d feel immense pity for you but we don’t. We have a different sort of love, a love that kills and lives and dies free within a code of mystery. I speak for all but you. I am a crow, my big brother the raven is the being whom brought light into this world. That’s what we know, believe it or not it means nothing to us, our mission is unknown to us, that’s the way it outa be, that’s the way it is.
signed..rosetta
image circa 90’s content yesterday

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205 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/16

205 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/16 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
dreaming from the shore of a sea
love falling off leaves of trees
all the worlds worries floating by
under this clear blue sky….
when troubles reform to projects of interest to investigate and friends in view become tender and family exposes warm concerns and the world turns into something one can touch, it’s then you will know you have been walking hard along the trail.
Some say there is magic in the air
when things go light and breath is easy and true
that god is beside you always and the devil is just a concept in you
but it seems no doubt that when the process of thought stops in the mind
only magic and mystery remain without a trace of a word in time….
This is possible and goes to prove that he/she without a home is free in a universe that mystery and magic are merely words as a costume for a clown.
My costume is my images and my words, a gift for the few as i drag them across the floor.
Circa Thailand Chiang Mai canal around the old city…2017

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204 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/15

204 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/15 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
You got your troubles and i got mine
some can’t hear, most are blind
some can speak, most won’t talk
makes you want to get off the train
go for a walk

street photography…obviously
symbolism…probably
circa dundas st. toronto, china town 80’s

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202 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/13

202 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/13 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
….in that cool breeze of the night when things were different and you were on the wall wavering from one side towards another knowing this then knowing that but unable to squeeze a self out. The train flew by with a bunch of heavens in search of more, headless sculptures walked to and fro, drowning men kept screaming unclear, new mediums filled the air waves,dying frogs leap against the glass to death and you were simple, knitting scarfs for the crippled and playing chess with a screen. What ever happened to the dreams of poets kissing love, the painters throwing roads of colour against a canvas, songs waiting patiently for a throat or two.
The day breaks open like a poem falling off a page, the political mice snarl inside their holes, the whole damn mess gets scraped off sides of streets with news of saints flying thru heading for the ditch. The peanut factory increasing sales, doing well in the capital and bees busy digitizing facts as fast as they can manufacture-um. The critics are all over the social medium with heads dispersed into fragments for the benefit of a few.
Life is coming to an end the way we see it, we have out-thought ourselves, we have held out too long, we are being replaced by crystal, copper and gold. The new ‘on or off’ technology will rule the wise men and the fool. There is no necessity to fear, keep your ears glued to the visions of glamour and your gods of deceit, the end will not kill you, you will not disappear, turn the page, scribble out the text, delete the posts, call your faceless friends and love your self into the end………..
photo circa 90’s kitchener city wall, self stand-in

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200 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/11

200 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/11 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Wall Shadow’s Self Portrait, some call it a selfie
The image on the wall looks like Authur Rimbau, a poet of the Symbolist Movement, late 1800’s… https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Rimbaud
The first poet to create prose verse and more or less shit on the traditional hypocrisy of rhyme; some would like to believe Bob Dylan reincarnated from him.
Back in 1970 or so i met a bohemian poet on the main drag of Little Berlin (kitchener)….i put him up for a few nights, he was eastern european with a hand full of english. When we departed he gave a copy of the book (Les Illuminations) of Rimbau’s poems , i gave him a book of poems by Dylan Thomas.
I left almost all my books in the farm house when we left for the west coast a couple of years ago now, time doesn’t fly, it melts in an out of space like a daydream. Here i sit cafed in a rain struck afternoon in the duncan garage cafe writing words to people i hardly know, will probably never see again and if time twists right i may even receive a few head crumb compliments while i slip down upon their walls into the archives of digital humanity. I don’t mind at all, it passes the time and reminds me of the things i left behind. The rain let up, time to move.
circa poland, turn of the millenium

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181 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/23

181 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/23 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
i can’t keep up. Everything is moving too fast. I can’t understand this world. Yesterday it was so easy to believe. It was simple, things meant what they meant. Today everybody changes so fast there is nothing to hang on to. One day this is good for you and the next day it is life threatening. Makes you wonder if you yourself had it right. Maybe i am just as wrong as the rest, maybe things are meant to disappear, maybe life is nothing much at all. I think i best keep praying.
On the Streets, Circa 70’s 80’s 90’s etc.

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180 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/22

180 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/22 of-by patrick weyhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
He stood out in to the night hidden. Light skimming across his mind. Trees folding arms straight into the sky. Shades of waves blending into the walls. His hold firm bold stern cool, lit a cigarette smoked himself into the scene.
Down the streets of Chiang Mai, heat pouring down the road, soft haze full and thick. Light waves swimming dreams thru the atmosphere bending into his blurry stance. The air wading thru the mood late still into the night, he thought, ‘time can be so smooth when you’re lost in a dream’.
Photo Circa Thailand 2017

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Patrick Wey

172 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/14

172 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/14 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I need a cafe to serve me words. I need a narrow road that leads to it. I need her to sit there and talk sometimes. There is a war outside the door. I don’t fit in this world. The demand to be is too great for this mind. Leave me alone here where i can write for no reason. My mother is dead, my daughter is dead, my brother is dead, there are many that are dead. The cafe is quiet this afternoon and sun light comes dancing in across the tables. The man in the corner is slowly sipping his tea. He looks around half interested in life but no one bothers him. She is talking again about her dreams and some thoughts about a future she knows will never exist. I look up occasionally and wonder, about nothing much, have a sip of coffee then continue to write words as if i was walking. There is a world outside at war. I never really understood what it was all about. People discontented with their lives, bullies pushing others around. The sun glistens off a wine glass and it looks beautiful for a few moments then disappears. The odd customer comes in, buys something then leaves. The day is normal. There is only the sound of soft people against hard dishes and the occasional street car in the distance. I love life today. She gets up and leaves. I write a few more words.

Image Circa late 80’s, cafe in Kensington Market Toronto; actor & friend Lindsay Stewart
Portrait of an Outsider
Alexandra Zaichanka picked this shot from my archives thinking it fit the literature.
I was listening to a CBC audio doc about Albert Camus’s book, The Outsider (sometimes referred to as The Stranger) which i read years ago. I was inspired and sat down and wrote the last paragraph to a fictitious novel called ‘Inside the Outsider’. A few of my bohemian friends fit this description as well as myself it appears.

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171 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/13

171 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/13 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘Even the Eternal Source is a Reflection’. With that statement i mean that there is no absolute anything, thought made it all up because of our fear of being simply mortal naked apes that think. All the gods, all the absolute laws, all the determinations to use reason to convince the brain that we are superior beings, aliens, creations in the likeness of gods, all definitive conclusions must be on trial endlessly; logic is no more than a tool to create technologies to explore the universe. There is no higher purpose. The eternal source is merely a shade of an infinite refection endlessly moving changing shifting. There is no great mystery that can be known. This denial is the source of all misery in the mind of man.
We have been conditioned with a need to believe in some formula from christ to buddha, to scientific law, politics, to happiness, enlightenment, afterlives to endless comforts and securities to soothe the fear of being in the natural state of simple unknowing clear observations. This is too scary and meaningless for the ego. Man has not changed at all since the cave man in his discomfort with his neighbour and his self, only the weapons have evolved. Think about it, if you can accept the fear to be without any direction home, no ritual to save you, no ceremony to ultimately calm you, no ideal to hang onto forever. There is no certainty in the mind of man, nothing is and never was. We have been fooled by the fears of the saviours, the saints, the holy men, the logicians. The body is all that is immortal, the mind is the illusion that fades and dies.
I am a man walking thru all history with a duffel bag strung over my shoulder hanging off my back and in my mental strength with my one hand holding a knife i slit the bag releasing the tons of beliefs, ideals, concepts, dogma, certainties, absolutes, sciences, securities, identities, words, abstracts, gods and demons and when the mind freaks out i grab the hole in the bag and breathe deep, slowly, grab my composure, resting into the new lesser emptier identity and when i’m strong and brave again i slit the bag once more and do it all over……….keep walking towards the illusion of the eternal source. Freedom from the known is the pathless trail to be. There is no method, like a coyote in the desert one just lives naturally. This may be impossible, but no more impossible than living with the illusions of ones absurd absolute beliefs and certainly much more honourable to the process of creation…………i suppose.
I don’t care what anyone thinks, i have more faith in the eyes of a crow than i do of any man. They are to the point, direct, real and without the illusions of the self fulfilling imagination of man. I move on from there.
circa 2017 Chiang Mai Thailand

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170 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/12

170 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/12 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
She held me in her hand, swung me to and fro, tripping down this cobble stone road with liquid air bubbling off the melting brick yellow with a sky full with turmoil set against a stage of oceans painted in atmosphere and caressing a magnificent sense of wonder lying in the streets below. Me in the handbag of hopes waving thru the speckled air, transforming into some formless light bending around the air like love in a summer afternoon and her dress free falling as matter disengaging from itself and splattering texture against the wind; she walked free into the day surreal and lovely.
Circa 2001 Montreal, St Paul Street, Old Montreal

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Patrick Wey

166 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/08

166 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/08 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

Portrait of a man on the street looking straight to me thru his lizard eyes.
By now he’ll be back with his maker and isn’t it strange how we conjure feelings, emotions, liquid conclusions about things that are now dead and invisible. He was well with his gesture from my camera, a simple love in his smile. Someone with a few stories easily melted into his mind, you can tell by your imagination of his heart, by the well worn wrinkles in his leathered face.
circa 70’s somewhere, some city in america.
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Patrick Wey

118 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/21

118 Image-Content of the Day 2018/06/21 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The window sees thru the wall….Eyes meet,
Down by the edge of a down town and a second millennium, in his flannel trousers and a head full of pain he headed in the wrong direction. His name was hard to find and his looks were likewise. The wet from the sweat drenched his heart but it still wasn’t enough to keep the demons away; times took him were he was told not to enter, those crazy places that one has already left.
In another part of a town and the world, she lifted her head to a soft wind, gentle hair black against a night and her shoulders, she let go a gaze that pierced his heart.
The night brushes against the brick, footsteps lay across the valley’s like lead. In a miracle someone catches a glimpse in a red road of dust upon his heals, and he turns up in the ceremony, and someone says, ” hey cowboy, is that red around your throat”, and stretches off into the distance backwards.
She sees the brick laced in night and yellow faces crowded in sacred places, quiet hiding across terrains of mad beliefs and terrible sadness; the silence enters her web like the brick.
His voice is gentle as it reaches a window on the silver side of town, ” that’s the way to the other side”, down towns blocked with heavens from a black book on the edge of dawn.
When he awakes she’s dreamin he’s leavin, comin soon, and carries water from a secret well in flesh of silk and satin and draws him to her breast.
The day spreads itself out like time does when it’s twisted around a bend. From the corners of hallucinations to transparent-dust-forming-dreams, sacred air from the other side, the neons dangle off the brick.
On the trail his mouth is on fire, “Hey cowboy, you comin out here”, the tracks are torn of grime and greed, the shadow of the nite, she whispers in some ancient lore,”(rush of wind a half an earth apart)”.
On the street to ecstasy under construction, signs rustling in the wind, crows cawing over splattered glass, the pavement livin the life in the underground, the kid shufflin thru a long turn out.
In the backwoods by the turn of a century some magic tree is walking towards them, ” you will meet again, this earth is your saviour”, the wind clutches clouds, hurls rain, time and them far apart. Destiny plays fate to the crow, black hair in sea-wind blowing thru space where time is dead, truth laid out like the brick spread out against the alley.
The scent of her golden skin, from the glow of a million moons, whispers in the silence of the earth beneath his feet. Patience falls soft in a gentle rain, two crows sit huddled in a tree blowing across a horizon in a dream.
The day cracks open and the trail reaches out towards the other side. In the room there is new furniture from another piece of history. The window sees thru the wall. The love once so soft hard against the brick dangles medicine from its neck. In the end sage brush smiles to the wind, the sea is wild inside calm upon the earth and two strangers touch.
There is another day waiting in the streets, from Shanghai, New York is sinking and the drum is rolling across the plains. He speaks into the machine, her keypad stretches across the wire but the link is dead.
In an afternoon across the street by the edge of the park, sun glistening off the air, their eyes meet between light years and a million worlds.

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM

#85 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/19

#85 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/19 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Rain came pouring down, i was someone else, could have been a dream, not sure, so real, maybe another life time. I was traveling home down slippery streets, it was late in the afternoon, my brother behind heading from a church service in Heidelberg. I made it i recall from the memories left inside my head but my brother didn’t. I wrote these few thoughts down and scrambled onto something new, left that dream behind. Next day reading a local newspaper there hidden down in section two a short paragraph describing a mennonite man disappeared returning home from a church service with a broken photograph hanging from the text like a dream does when it makes no sense. It is all so surreal i thought this life and all its dreams…..the photograph was a peculiar shot, didn’t even look like me………could have been the late 1800’s, i was thinking to myself……….

PATRICKWEY.ZENFOLIO.COM