Patrick Wey: Blog en-us patrickwey (Patrick Wey) Mon, 16 Mar 2020 07:11:00 GMT Mon, 16 Mar 2020 07:11:00 GMT Patrick Wey: Blog 120 80 love is that way 2010-10-28 love is that way


it is after midnight

the air is quiet

and outside the light is dark

i ponder by the road side

where our love began

and watch the gentle rain upon our hearts

the seeds erupting from the earth

i can feel the wind blow

i can see the silent truth

i can touch you there by the evening of our hands

dancing the dance of love by the magic of the moon

i can feel the empty land of civilization in the distance

the wasted life's of millions by the road side ditch

the sadness is beneath my wounds

the torment twisted upon the shores of hope

and all faith smothered by the weight of it all


i remember the gentle emergence of our spirit

as one with the cosmos and love sprinkled

around our souls like angels in the sky

i remember your heart pressed against mine like a magnet

and nothing in our minds but this wind


the day breaks upon this night like a dream

i have no hope left, i know nothing

i am but a wave upon an eternal shore

i had rolled in tangled myself within your coast

and moved about like a purpose in your heart

and now the draw of the ocean owns us

the sea and all its mystery will take us now

we have nothing to say

love is that way

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:02:05 GMT
On the Banks On the banks


Inside this stillness of a dark night

where chains of moments long ago

spread out across my dreams

with a spark of death, and

a touch of transition



Through my discontent

and reckless ruins

without warning

my love

trapped in its’  possession

stranded on the corner of your eye


On the misty shores of childlike tears

sun tangled in your fallen hair windswept

across your perfect face my love bent

over your dampened limbs

like a wet cloth


In the sea a part of me

became a part of you

the moon danced thru the waves

true in its light

from a distance

you could feel the storm

in the calm of your heart

at the shore the past


your window sill, your gaze

upon the garden

your answers

in a vase


by the door


From the hillside you could see the ocean


the turmoil of a sailor at sea,lost

you could feel the wind blow fierce

across the horizon

to some uncertain shore

you could touch the pain

a mirror to the soul

a love left upon the waters

a dream where weeds now grow




From this ledge of faceless form

thin silver night

this torn town of cracked homes

heart beating through broken bones

wind howling across my forehead

silent dreams emerging still

the essence, the kiss

the last dance upon the coast

words dying in a dusty diary

some unknown shore

where tears to water flow.

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:59 GMT
to everybody but you i just want to go and hide for awhile
be alone with you
talk to you about nothing
and believe you are there
i know where it’s at
and who to trust
what to do and who can help
but i don’t care
i don’t care right now
i just want to not know about this world
and all its conditions and all its beliefs
i don’t give a damn what you think
or how wise you think you are
or the colour of your karma
or the stretch across your neck
leave me alone and shut the fuck up
about all your clever conclusions to your higher self
get out of my mind and leave me here alone
i just want to let you know what i can’t

to make you feel my love
touch your heart with my complete attention
i just want your simple love hanging around a while longer
just until i can walk again
feel your love in every gaze
hold your truth in the night
smile with you along the trail
then move along alone without you
sad but real till the morning comes

Sierra Kachina

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:53 GMT
i know i shouldn't tell you but things happen quick i know i shouldn't tell you but i will
well at least with a few of the worn out syllables screwed in deep
the day ended like we presumed it would
loss of everything but a few matches and dead pens
i liked the way you curled up inside
like you were wasted on something
like you knew it was happening
like it would never end
like eternity was really eternal

well that was then and this is then also
the microbes are eating fast
the last, the remaining, the end


(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:46 GMT
they all lied and made us blind everyday i am more aware of death surrounding me. how did i become what ever it is i am? words become as mysterious as the wind. they cannot know anything absolute, they are as limited as my life, any perceived truth lasts awhile wrapped in the winds of illusion, then fades and dies. They all end, transform, move along this forever changing universe.

are there any facts? all knowledge is based on comparison, measurement and judgement. all knowledge is theory, though there is no doubt that some so called facts appear to be more of a reality then others. the ‘fact’ is is that everything changes. some optimists believe that thought in the form of ‘ideals’ can be absolute. they are mistaken. thought itself is based on experience, the past and can never be within the moment, the now, the ultimate reality. if there is truth it must be found within the present moment without thought.

thought is a tool, a very complex manipulative continuity that is always vague, uncertain and most often very destructive.

it has created all the gods, the demons, worlds to escape our dilemma. thought has created the you, your identity, your character, your belief system, your god, your no-god, your science, your cleverness, your nationalism, your differences. it does not own the body, the body belongs to evolution, only the thought based image of ‘you’ is unreal.

Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quietWe sit here strandedthough we're all doin' our best to deny it….b.dylan

the fact is is that as far as we can see we are beings we call humans which have evolved over millenniums upon millenniums, thru genetics, cultural behaviours and belief systems. we are clearly beings with accumulated thought designs unlike any other specie upon this planet.

thought itself has separated us, allowed us to seemingly control what it is that created us, which we have called ‘nature’, mother nature. thought seems to act as if it knows what it cannot know and convinces ourselves and in turn forces it upon others and the crowd.

it interweaves itself into faith based religions, dogmas which cause differences which in turn cause more illusions upon illusions, terrible wars, entertainments, sports, toys, games, fantasies all leading us away from the terrifying questions that cannot be answered with this tool called thought, so we create more illusions mistaken as reality to cope with this dilemma…

we live in fear hidden by our illusions, our manufactured happiness, our hypnotic saintly visions, our possessions, our accumulated ideals. we fear to face the few facts left in the wake of our investigations, we smother them with gratitude, hope, faith, after lives, and what ever else the imagination can scrape up from the meaningless experiences stuck into our cells.

Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quietWe sit here strandedthough we're all doin' our best to deny it….b.dylan

i refuse to buy into this world of man, 

all the clever conclusions to trap the mind

the saints and gurus and jesuses and buddas

they all lied and made us blind

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:38 GMT
snake luck....excerpts from journals Snake Luck: the Yarn Painting

It was my third year to Wirikuta, the sacred lands of the Huichol Indians who live along the western Pacific coast of Mexico. Huichol shamans, or shamans-to-be, travel the long way to Wirikuta for six consecutive years  in order to unite with the spirit of Peyote and fulfil their commitment to becoming a shaman. Wirikuta is an inland desert south of Texas stretching a few hundred miles into Mexico. As synchronicity would have it, I found this place three years earlier. This year it came to me to go to the sacred lands alone and take the sacred peyote for further instructions.
This was done. I traveled down by air to San Antonio, Texas, and then by bus to Real De Cortorce, an ancient city in the mountain range along the eastern side of the desert, Wirikuta.

This was my third year to Wirikuta. I was on a mission to complete the six-year pilgrimage. It seemed at the time, that the calling came from a deep place within my soul. During this particular time in the mythological world of peyote, I was given the opportunity to throw myself into the abyss with the possibility of no return. This was the way of the warrior. I took the plunge.
There was no “Patrick Wey” left within this realm. The “I” was gone. Spirit was in charge, wielding strength only the soul can know. I had to go. This was my mission.
Twice in the night snakes saved me from an endless fall into nothingness. The first time, I was soaring downwards into complete darkness, void of anything, when suddenly there was a rope dangling in front of me. I grabbed it and as I began to climb upwards to who knows where; I realized this rope was made of hundreds of snakes woven around each other. By the time I reached a plateau, I held a dead snake in my hand’s grip. At that moment a wolf came along. I tore pieces of the snake apart and fed it to him by hand without question or motive. This all happened as real as dream with no questions asked.

I returned to “Patrick” feeling honoured, amazed by the more than life-like reality of it all. These experiences still ring with a reality that caresses a destiny embedded in my heart.

I sat there by the fire and let the spirit of Peyote continue within me. Later another trance-like experience took shape. I again had the opportunity to jump into the abyss of a new life or no-life or death or whatever may come about; a brave leap, what some may consider a “leap of faith”.
This time, after falling endlessly which seemed a long time, possibly years, timeless in a world-less state of dark space and silence, a feeling of nothingness within my mind, there then, a huge snake sailed along beside me and allowed me to take refuge upon its back. It was as if it was send to help me from my endless fall. I was on top of  the head of the gigantic dark snake and could see nothing but darkness. I could feel the moist texture of its skin and the frayed shape of its head. The dark space smelt of deep moist cave, fresh clay earth and energy like the perfume of spirit.
After roaming about for sometime, left and right and then a sudden soaring upwards it reached a ledge where it smoothly stopped. The entrance to a cave and without hesitation i knew this was my exit. It allowed me to run across the top of its head onto the rocks of the ledge. I looked back as I was running, in reverence and thanks for saving me, when the huge snake, with a quick hiss from its tongue, spurted an electric sensation from its tongue to my behind and through a telepathic message implanted within my spirit it said, “now get going”.
I ran into the future with the strength and confidence to live a strong life no matter what arises. This meaning, this feeling of confidence and strength has kept itself alive all these years inside my heart. When I find myself in troubled times or without the will to go on, it reappears.
This is Snake Luck.

In the morning, I travelled to the summit of the most sacred space of the Huichol. A mountain just outside of Real De Catorce. I sat in my spot within the sacred circle—the same spot that I found the previous year. I felt the presence of the earth within my soul and i pondered there without much thought and after an hour or so I decided to descend. I was no further than a few hundred yards down the trail when a strong message emanated from within to go back to that very spot within the circle and lay down and sleep. I walked back up the mountain and no sooner had I sat down than I immediately fell over and into a deep sleep.
My mind went over many situations and images from my very early youth to the present day, showing me all the moments that were interwoven to eventually get me here to this spot in time, this place, this mission, this fate. It all made sense and resonated with a true continuity—the one that holds this universe together—like a web of sacred moments interspersed along my path with almost irrelevant or wasted time between. It seemed as if I could do whatever I pleased between these moments, but with regards to the sacred moments I had no choice; these sacred moments would occur, is my destiny, no matter what I did, i had no choice.
So here I was sitting on a mountain in Mexico where thousands of Huichol had sat before me. All with their missions and fates rustling in the wind off the plains of Wirikuta. I felt great, alive, like a nobody with a somebody emanating within, like a super being emerging from my soul, the winds across the horizon.
I was told in this space that it was not my path to return here for six years, as i had wished, but that soon, something else would come to lead me along my trail. I could return for reverence, but this was not my path, not my way.
All too soon, upon my return to Canada, things changed drastically.

After my time in Wirikuta I decided to travel to Tepic, near Puerto Vallarta in the Sierra Madre Mountains near Itxlan to visit Prem Das the Shaman with whom I travelled to the desert in my second year to Wirikuta. Prem Das has an amazing story himself, married to the niece of Don Hose Matsuwa, the 110 year-old Huichol Medicine Man and whom Prem Das spent 12 years in the Sierra Madre Mountains with, after returning from India. I spent a few very interesting nights with Don Hose the year previous, accompanied by a few friends I met in the desert with Prem Das.

Prem Das told me that my friends Leo and Raven (from that previous year in the desert) were in town gathering Huichol Yarn Paintings from Cristobal Gonzalez, Don Hose’s nephew and a Huichol Shaman Yarn Painter.  I connected with them and went with Leo to Cristobal’s house to visit and gather Yarn Paintings for the very first showing of Yarn Paintings in New York City.

Leo gathered all of the 25 or so paintings and I helped him load the pieces into his vehicle. As we were saying goodbye to Cristobal, I noticed this one painting left against the wall. It was in plain view, yet unnoticed until now. It was a picture of two snakes emanating from a fire curled into a circle and it was spitting energy into a Marakami (Shaman).
After my recent snake experiences, it definitely caught my attention. I asked Cristobal about this painting and he told me that when a person goes for the first time alone into the dessert and into peyote’s abyss they often encounter the reptilian world.
Neuroscience calls this pre-animal evolutionary state, the “reptilian brain”.
In the yarn painting the two snakes are hissing into the ears of a Shaman to wake him up and get him moving. Cristobal said that when snakes save someone, he or she could expect some great luck to appear.
I later asked Leo why he didn’t take this particular painting. He had taken every other painting that Cristobal had there. Leo said he didn’t see it; he said, “it must have been meant for you.”
I took it home with me and to this day it hangs in my bedroom. As I wake in the morning, I often fall into this mythological world that is so much a part of my life. It seems to always reconnect me to a world deep inside myself.


The quantity of peyote I took was four large buttons about two and a half inches wide and a few inches long. The first time that I ingested this amount I became aware that this was maybe ten times more potent than any LSD or Mescaline I had taken in the sixties or seventies.
This amount puts you in a state of no return; the spirit takes over and the familiar-you is not there, here any longer. I became aware that this is the best way to deal with the relationship between you and it, the spirit of Peyote. The mind is not ours; it belongs to the evolutionary process of the earth, the universe. I am not brave, I fear the release of the ego as much as any ego does, but I am not afraid of facing the fear and letting the ego melt into the night, as it will, when death comes upon me, as it will to all of us.

In later years events accumulated and added more mystery to this story, my story.

Below is an excerpt from my journal dated 2005-03-17…St Patrick’s Day.

Ever since I was a young lad, I considered myself some sort of anti-St. Patrick and years later…

In the dessert with peyote around my skull and the underworld within my head, I headed straight into the abyss. My deep self took the chance, the chance of no return; I don't know why, it seemed like it was meant to be. I headed into nothingness, into darkness. I was falling fast; there was nothingness everywhere inside out, upside down, falling. Twice in that desert night snakes saved me from the darkness of where everything begins.

My visions are personal, of no use to anyone but possibly myself.

Years have past into years, dreams and visions took site of the serpent, in the reality of the earth, in the magic of my mind; she lured me into the silence, the serpent, the earth dragon presented herself often throughout the sliding, winding years.

Much later, through synchronicity, I ended up in Ireland. I ran a sweat lodge there for eight months. I traveled to all the Celtic Sacred Places where St. Patrick desecrated the space with his Christian dogma. He drove the snakes off the island, and with them, the symbol of the power of woman. Throughout the centuries his masculine god-fearing religion spread itself across the land like a disease. I, Patrick Thomas—named after the nurse's dead fiancé from county Cork, the nurse-woman that helped bring me into this world, and in the spirit of that name—I, Patrick Thomas, was born in Canada, brought back the spirit of “snake.” I carried the snake back into the land. This was part of my mission; it revealed itself along the way as a river does, curving in and around the land.

Green beer and a few billion scars are mostly all that remain of St. Patrick’s Day!…but that will change!

Cristobal Gonzalez

Snake Luck: the Photograph

For the Snake Luck piece, I used a piece of styrofoam, two feet by two feet, and an inch thick; first I painted the sides flat black and floated the original Yarn Painting on it. The scenic power line vista is one I see on my drive into town.
I knew that the right moment would arise for another of my puddle-reflection photographs. After a heavy rain, I packed up the Yarn Painting and just before sunset, I headed out to this spot. I floated the yarn painting onto the water and moved it into composition position with a stick. I knew what I wanted with this shot. It represents the magic and truth of the underworld of indigenous peoples of North America (predominately the Huichol since it features this particular Yarn Painting by Cristobal Gonzalez and the spirit of Peyote which spread into the north in the late 1800's).
This image is symbolic, not only of my personal mythical unfolding, but also a truth to which we can all relate; a universal unfolding of truth. The hydro robots represent all the comfort and false securities being hauled into town in the form of an archaic electrical energy possibly to be surpassed by a more earth-friendly form of science. This is the good luck of the snake, the earth dragon, that will turn the focus back toward feminine energy. Thus, the picture represents the dichotomy between the currently grossly misused dominant masculine energy that is an explosive, fire, technological system versus the cool inwards vortexing water, implosive, levitational system evolving in the shadows of the earth.

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:30 GMT
that's the way to see it takes great discipline to observe, to listen from within
there's a billion ways to escape
yet none of them can find love
peace of mind isn't there
and yet it's everywhere

watch your thought where ever it may go
if it owns you, you're lost
see it, feel it, observe its every move
this is the only way to freedom
nothing owns you
when you see thru youScreen Shot 2014-12-30 at 12.23.48 PM

i can hear the crickets
the frogs and the silence between
everything is moving on
from scene to scene
watch it and let it be
that's the way to freedom
that's the way to see

Screen Shot 2014-12-30 at 12.20.56 PM

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:23 GMT
Ideals can make you happy... Ideals can make you happy,
but history is violent
prayers can make you believe
but the truth will leave you silent....

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:17 GMT
Where ever you are, you are! Where ever you are, you are, no matter whether you like it or not. What’s the point in filling your brain up with so called positive concepts. Mankind has been trying to do this for thousands of years with little results. You don’t have to try and find love, truth, god, if they exist they exist, mankind didn’t make them up and mankind cannot find them. They are beyond the reach of thought. To eliminate shit in body, mind and spirit is to come upon the other, not the other way around. So all you Facebook fanatics trying to convince yourself and the world to be positive are wasting your precious time when you could be eliminating what is not love, truth, god. Your love is not love, your race is not the answer, your belief in jesus, mohammed, budha and who have you, is not going to get you anywhere. Elimination is the job, but not with more concepts and fancy conclusions that just add to the problem. The problem is your lack of understanding in the limitations of thought. Thought put it all together, but thought can not take it apart. Observe, trust in the other. This takes much more discipline than you could ever imagine, and good luck, sometimes, life is hard.

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:11 GMT
It was with doubt.... It was with doubt that i imagined this afternoon without imagination and all the destructive elements of a mind conditioned with the abrasive techniques to belong. I was somewhat clear in the haze of the air, the people doing their lives as if they knew it all, but wanted more. The wind was strong, the snow slid across the air lightly and the sun glared against the salt-wet pavement with a feverish intensity. I had no hope as i looked into the eyes of reality, a calm gaze silently observing the noise surrounding me. Those few moments when beauty encompasses everything and love seems to bind all into itself.

I questioned if there was a way to be in this field of grace always, to carry this awareness into every moment of my life. Why does this come and go without any apparent way to create a method to hold onto this way of being. All one can do is to eleviate what is not real, what has been created by the mind replacing what is before you. The constant pursuing of being aware, seeing what is, not changing a thing, watching thought as it weaves in and out of the crevasses on the mind.

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:01:02 GMT
the Math of Nature We call rational numbers whole numbers, numbers that can contain no more because they are whole, numbers that are complete, unto themselves, full. One of these numbers added to another one of these whole numbers equals two of these perfectly whole numbers. That is rationalism. Now we have another set of numbers which we call irrational numbers. These numbers seem to live by another set of rules. Irrational numbers like Pi (the radius times Pi equals the circumference of a circle) or the golden ratio or the Fibonacci sequence seem to go on infinitely. Our modern computers have equated these irrational numbers without an end or a pattern that repeats itself into the billions of digits. For some strange reason some people spend there life trying to find an end to eternity. Each to their own i suppose (but should they really get payed for it, while others are thirsty). Possibly, many of us are quite afraid of living in a world that has a leak in everything, so we will pay anything to get an answer, an ending.

Rational numbers have no real truth in nature. One and one does not equal two, but one of a similar and different thing/concept/space equals two of a similar and different thing/concept/space.

So what! Well it may not seem to matter much to the typical consumer civilian but that may be just one very important realization that could enhance our investigations of why we are here, what our existence might mean and what we are doing with this earth.

How is that? Well if we could truly realize that everything has a slip into infinity we would have to admit that nothing we can know is truly absolute; absolutely nothing. Water is not simply H2O anymore as noted in our laboratories, nothing is the SAME anymore, only approximate, no more absolutes in anything, everything is now ultimately a mystery. No one is perfectly right, no one is an ultimate authority, everything is suspect, on trial so to speak. Is that a big deal, maybe there are multi dimensions, many gods, maybe the history books really did lie, the scriptures, the laws. Anyways, I am not here to dispute any of this, my point is that nature is not confined to absolutes that we as human beings can comprehend; not with THINKING.

Nature evolves through a process of geometry that is always based on irrational numbers. The spiral vortex curve, the egg shape, the pentagon, the golden mean, the golden rectangle and triangle, Pi, which proves in itself that there is no circle,  all circles are spirals going inwards or outwards.

This observation of nature puts us in a realization that motion itself moves in spirals, our galaxies, water, smoke, air, fire, our planets through space, electrons, sub atomic particles,  plant growth, rivers, blood, sap. Life everywhere conforms to this irrational/infinite sequence and geometry.

This brings us to the same conclusion and the grave importance of Implosive and Explosive energy motion, and here at we are attempting to educate society before it is too late for our specie and the earth. Victor Schauberger literally put natures two and two together and brought the irrational math of nature to light and invented technologies that work as nature does. The spiral of all things is either going inwards or outwards and the significance of this simple concept our science has failed to observe and understand. There are sub atomic physicists aware of this dichotomy and there are astronomers working on an energy that they presume (as Einstein also did) is heading back to the beginning of our galaxy/universe. is working on inventions that Schauberger laid out the ground work for. We believe we have prove that can now show this 'reverse energy' as clear as the wind exists through the wounded trees in our yard.

What does this all mean to you, to us, to the planet? We are in an energy crisis to say the least. We are aware that many are now aware of this, but there is an understanding of nature that needs to be understood or we will continue to create technologies that move and transform energy in a motion/direction that is devastating to Nature. This again is what Viktor Schauberger discovered. All energy moves in spiral curves naturally, this is the motion of the universe, but what is of utmost importance is that LIFE utilizes predominately the process of inward motion to evolve in a healthy manner. This is a cool process for the most part and enhances the surrounding environment with unseen life giving energies that subatomic physicists are now just beginning to believe exists.

Where do we go from here? Well to be blunt, not many are listening. Waternature are entrepreneurs with little financial support. People are in the first stage of understanding the planets problem, which is that of denial. What do people do in denial? They hide their heads in the sand. The sand of entertainment; TV, Facebook,  music, Art on their prison walls, manicured lawns and faces, humour, SUV's that need attention. They say this is all too depressing, give me some dance, sex, give me some more religion,  i'll meditate everyday, science will take care of it all and if not I've got a saviour who has promised he'd show up when it gets apocalyptic...... and quite honestly, most just don't give a damn, they just want money, personal comfort, security and god.

Well, of course, all is well in moderation and some are doing more or less than others, but believe it or not, this is one those problems that is just not going to fade away. It is not like the loss of a job, another war, a few kids; this warming our 'fire technology' has created through the wrong energy movement is possibly at a point of no return.

So many claim that they really do love there brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. That makes me wonder, "Is love just a smile on your face". Is it really all that hollow?

Here are a few lines to express the leak in nature, the road to dark matter, the zero point, the irrationality of THOUGHT.

"Some times I think there are no words but these to tell what's true, but there are no truths outside the gates of eden".  Bob Dylan

"There is a crack in everything..............that's how the light comes in". Leonard Cohen

Abstracts threat too noble too neglect, but I was so much older then, I'm younger then that now." Dylan

"Let me take you down 'cause I'm going soon.
Where Nothing is real, and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry fields forever." John Lennon

"Ain't it just like the night to play tricks on you when you're trying to be so quiet.
We sit here stranded though we're all doin' our best to de-nigh it." Dylan

"The only thing that never changes is that we always do". Wey

And Jesus answered: "Seek not the law in your scriptures, for the law is life, whereas the scripture is dead. I tell you truly, Moses received not his laws from God in writing, but through the living word. The law is living word of living God to living prophets for living men. In everything that is life is the law written. You find it in the grass, in the tree, in the river, in the mountain, in the birds of heaven, in the fishes of the sea; but seek it chiefly in yourselves. For I tell you truly, all living things are nearer to God than the scripture which is without life.(The Essene Gospel - the Missing scriptures, 'I wonder why?')

"Truth is a Pathless Land". J. Krishnamurti

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:00:55 GMT
No Time Left Time has taken itself too serious. There is no space to let me be me, who ever that is that shows up. No moments to set aside while i breathe a little.  Where is the life that floated thru my skull years ago, where’s the one that floated thru yesterday. I am going crazy just trying to survive. I need help but i can’t find any. What ever assistance i get just evaporates over time. Time’s got it all wrapped up. Makes sense for a while then it’s all vague again. There aren’t any beliefs left that can hold it all together. The last ones left an hour ago, they’ll probably be back but they won’t hang around for long….no easy time left in my mind for them. My mind isn’t my mind any longer. The me is leaving along with the beliefs that are hanging around for the last few crumbs of deception to unfold. How do i get outa here, when i’m stuck inside a mobile and i know there is no direction home.

The train stops at the station, the people get off and on, the conductor could see it all but he doesn’t. The trip is a short one but it takes so long and you end up right close to where you started out from to begin with. A life time passes by and you watch it slow, an eternal flow of thought gets sucked into a universe and you feel it coming to an end. Thought is leaving you alone, it can survive in thin air, but not out here. There is no need for thought where we’re going soon. It may seem like a long time, but not in the last moments. In the last moments there just aren’t any thoughts strong enough to hold you down. The other side isn’t far from here, it’s just a twist of the neck, a deep sleep, a ride you can’t remember.

I don’t know why it has to be that way but it just is, here  has nothing that last forever, eternity moves, awareness is everywhere, there is no way of telling how it is, no memory comes out alive, from here there is nothing to say about it but these few words talking around bends of light and darkness.

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:00:47 GMT
It was a Gray Day 
Patrick Wey Art
It was a gray day, there was one cloud, like an old sheet clear across the sky. The thoughts were loose and easy as i pondered along the road. I remembered what you said before you passed away. I kept that safe and secret from anyones ears. It was true that that day did come my way and i felt betrayal enter from everyone i knew. I betrayed myself, i let myself down, sure i got back up, kept walking but i never forgot you lying there on that white hospital bed with enough pain to fill a universe and for that one moment when you suddenly reached over and grabbed my arm and pulled me close to your face. Then as if you were completely relaxed you said it. I have never forgotten that and why that came to me as i wandered past this scene, i don't know......something in the air i suppose, could have been anything, i don't know. All i know is i remembered you, that day, that moment, just before you let go and passed away to the other side. I think i'll call this image, 'A Secret in a Gray Day'.

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:00:38 GMT
Love Now love is what is

what is is love

no matter what you're thinking of

in the trees, in the bees and in the seas

beyond thought is love

that is what everything is of



it is about time


to all the friends i have forgotten about

all the moments dead and gone

the roads the paths and trails behind

to all the feelings embedded in the mind

to the multi-coloured man

lying in the silent sand

to the dreams and schemes

to the truth

that is as certain as it seems

to all life and all history

to all the gods and demons and devises

to everything that ever was or ever could be

to what is, to what isn't

to you and me, to the one, to the many

to the lies, the ties, the cries and the alibis

to night to day

to everything that cannot say

to water and fire, earth and sky

to the moment where we lay

within this broken bay

everything has it's say

along the way



jesus is an alibi for a mind in fear

budda won't save you either

and mahamad is just another dream

to unite the troubled masses

there is no one going to save you but your self

there is no medicine man from any ancient tribe

that can force you to see the light

there is no path to truth

it is all up to you

there is no method, no doctrine

that is not entrapped in it's own map

walled from the light

procedured to its doom


so what does one do

with no one left to enlighten you

no system pure enough

no scripture bright enough

no leader strong enough

where does one go for the truth


truth is in no word, no ritual, no belief

one can not find truth

truth is hidden from all seekers

beauty has no name

only the silent mind is pure

eliminate all whom attempt to own you

man, belief, the weight of the known

walk in silence open to your step

it is not of you, it is of love, of beauty, of truth

no word owns god the process the way

the absolute is beyond the mind man has created

eliminate the conditioning of the mind

this endless process of envy

break the pattern from one belief to another

there is no pure belief

walk in freedom, put thought in to its rightful place

a tool that can never be perfect, always adjusting it's abstract form, limited

it can never know the truth

no word can set you free

the truth is absolute, beyond

it is of the silent mind

it is a constant movement of beauty, love

it is of an alert mind, attentive to all

thought may come and it may go

but it has no real control

pure attention is the beauty of god

the way, the process of our universe

start here where you are, not where you are not

what are you, what do you see

investigate your mind with clarity

see only what is and watch it in silence

free yourself from yourself

you are not what you believe

see for yourself

you are much more

no one owns you

not even yourself

break the shackles of the past

see no future

for now

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:00:32 GMT
Silver Light Patrick Wey Art

It was a slim day of silver light shimmering across liquid skies

I was worried about frivolous issues drowning in my eyes

birds gliding over the edge sang their glorious tunes

i carried a few broken dreams shattered from the ruins


In the early light i felt your silver message, your praise, your constant drumming. I could imagine the haze in the gaze as i flew by your perfect thoughts; a few thousand years of visions entangled within your soul. I could feel your pain hidden behind your facebook charm and your sincere quest rotting against your plastic flesh. It was all there piercing my heart with this silver light.


then the day turned round, upside down, right side up

i could see the beauty and feel the pain

of you and i and the silver sky

the false prophets scattered across this new medium

the dreams, the hopes, the stupid lies

this wonderful day of silver skies

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:00:15 GMT
Blessings of Hard Times the blessing of hard times

in the exposure of the composition of friends

the insight of superficial lies under synthetic skies

the absurdities of ancient ties

the uselessness of alibis

and the rare slim glimpse of beauty

from caring eyes

it's all in a days work

in hard times

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 01:00:08 GMT
Death Come Walkin death come walkin
death come walkin round here
it took my love and it took my fear
death come walkin
death come walkin round here

all the moments been shared
up here in gods country
all the trips in the hills
and the dreams along the land
none of this could have happened
to these hundreds of lifes
if it hadn't been for that sparkle in their eye
that took my big sister away north ta here
with long dreams all around
some gone up hill and some gone down
but all in all life has its say
no matter who you are, no matter what way
when death comes walkin
when death comes walkin round here

life is sad and beautiful
and it's true that sadness keeps us sane
and that sacred beauty
keeps love all about
and whatever god is, it keeps both
life flyin in and death keeps walkin out

so death come walkin
death come walkin round here
it took my love and it took my fear
death come walkin

death come walkin round here

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 00:59:58 GMT
Concepts Fainting Concepts Fainting

i want to tell you about this self

i want to tell you what i see

i want to tell you what i do

what i am and how you're in me

i want to tell you about what i know

and what i can't believe

i want to tell you about the water

and the relationship to sacred geometry

the golden mean and euclidean dream

the silence and the fire inside the machine

i want to tell you what words can't say

about the feelings that are you and me

about how there is nothing the same

that everything is similar and different

and how that changes everything

i want to tell you how much i hate you

but how much love i carry inside of you

i want to tell you everything i can

about your dreams and my dreams

and how they will all end

i want to tell you that all belief is make belief

that the truth is beyond all comprehension

how thought can not talk in the field of silence

i want to tell you all that but i can't

i want to show you how to be

but i can only be myself

i want you to know what i know

and how you know it too

i want so much for us to be together

but we're not and we can't

it's impossible with the characters we've created

it is that, that keeps us apart, separate in our identities

and it is just this uniqueness that torments us deep inside

but there is no love in memory

i want to tell you that you look so fine

that i wish you were mine

but in this tenderness i have to walk behind

i want you to know that i lie

but i don't mean to and that i try

but it's all in vain, there is no road to truth

there is no way out of here, no plan to love

i want to tell you a secret but i can't

i want to stop wanting


i am watching now

it is so complete

everywhere i am, i am not

it is all so beautiful, we are perfect

there are no words on this train

we talk in silence

we walk together

we are of one

this is the dream but it is no dream

it is the reality we want in vain

but no wanting can get us there

so you and i are done

we and all are one

the dream is over

and if you open up your ears you'll hear

that ultimately, nothing really matters

everything arises and then fades away


Eternity Swimming All Around

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 00:59:46 GMT
Fake Your fake eyes and your fake lips
your fake styles and your fake hips

your fake likes and your fake friends
your fake feelings and your fake heavens
your fake gestures and your fake lies
your fake lows and your fake highs

you’re fake through and through and through
this hollyworld is made of you

your fake radio and your fake tv
your fake hellos and your fake catastrophes

your fake muscles and your fake bones
your fake lawns and your fake homes

your fake poems and your fake songs
your fake rights and your fake wrongs

you’re fake through and through and through
this hollyworld is made of you

your fake advertisements and your fake jeans
your fake politics and your fake schemes

your fake miracles and your fake gods
your fake heroes and your fake dogs

your fake thoughts and your fake memories
your fake talk and your fake dreams

your fake future and your fake food
your fake sympathy and your fake prayers too

you’re fake through and through and through
this hollyworld is made of you

your fake institutions and corporate pride
your fake holidays messing up the skies

your fake ceremonies and your fake systems
your fake moslems and your fake christians
your fake history and your fake hopes
your fake dope and your fake indians

your fake free trade and your world banks
your fake seeds and your fake genetics
your fake money and your fake reserves
your fake prisoners and your fake heretics

you’re fake through and through and through
this hollyworld is made of you

your fake news and you’re fake blues
your fake rules and you’re fake schools
your fake love and you’re fake beliefs
your fake honour and you’re fake cheeks

you’re fake through and through and through
this world is made of you















































































































































































































































































































































(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 00:59:35 GMT
Water Everywhere There's water in the air

There's water in the creek

There's water in your day

There's water where you sleep

There's water everywhere


No matter what you feel, Or if you even care

It don't matter whether your up or down

It don't matter whether your right or wrong

There's water everywhere


There's water in your eyes

There's water in your lies

There's water in the truth

There's water in your alibi's

you can believe what ever you want

hold water for ransom too

but you will die of thirst eventually

if you try to


There's water in your brain

There's water in your memories

There's water in the trees

There's water in your knees

There's water everywhere


when water flows free, it whirls and curls around

condenses,  speeds up, defies gravity

when water is confined, tortured and defined

and if you claim it's ownership

it'll kill you in time


no one knows what water knows

no life lives without it

no thought goes where water goes

that is all too sacred


any life issue is a water issue

water has no borders

it is all races, all spieces, all devils and gods

water knows no boundaries

water is you and water is me

we are one within water when we're truly free


For water i am

For water i be

For water i live

For water i see

There's water everywhere

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 00:59:24 GMT








































(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 00:58:14 GMT
Beyond No Doubt in Jest Take me on an endless trip

And remove that’s all unreal

This road hasn’t been an easy one

That has led my thoughts to feel

That all that really matters

Is ta know that you don’t know

But it’s so hard

Gettin’ on that oneness road


Memories hit, old habits grip

Puts ya right back down

And the more you fall the harder it is

With pleasures all around

Makes it so hard

Gettin’ on that oneness road

Where all that really matters

Is ta know that you don’t know


You better leave i tell myself

Or they’ll kill all your resistance

Then plaster you with secure beliefs

That depends on their assistance

And you’ll be where

You swore you’d never go

And you’ll deny

What you don’t really know


Take me away from this weary crowd

Far beyond my dreams

Open up to me one door

That closes when one leaves

Take me fadin, tripin

Through that mighty storm

I promise i’ll fight the night

Until the early morn

Where all that really matters

Is ta know that you don’t know

But it’s so hard getting on

Just getting on that oneness road

Fall 71  Patrick Wey

(Patrick Wey) Thu, 29 Dec 2016 00:20:10 GMT
Photography is not what it used to be.... Photography at one time demanded much more knowledge and skill than t does now. One needed to know something about the physics of light and lenses, what an f-stop or aperture opening meant and its relationship to ‘depth of field’. You had many choices of various films with a variety of speeds (iso or asa), the relationship to its sensitivity to light. There were many different types of film, Black and white film, colour negative film and colour slide film. How slow of a shutter speed you could safely hand hold a camera with, with a particular lens, a tele photo versus a wide angle.

I am just cleaning the surface of what was once important to becoming a photographer let alone taking an incredible shot. If one was serious you needed a darkroom with a collection of chemicals, trays, reels for your various sizes of film, 2’1/4 or 35mm, large format 4x5 or larger. After you developed your film and hung it to dry, then cut into manageable pieces for cataloguing, then you had to make a contact sheet just to see little pictures of what you got. If they were exposed properly, in focus and the right relationship of chemistry for the sensitive material to the light that had exposed it, then possibly you might make a larger image for a better look. To see its quality before you would dare to print it large enough for a variety of reasons, clients, portfolio, galleries.

Today a three year old can point a camera or cell phone and click and the science is done for you. The exposure, adjustments for low light or high light, colour contrast, with a depth of field as large as possible. When you’re five years old you can adjust the focus by pointing your finger onto the subject on the screen and holding the screen to adjust the depth of field accordingly.

All the decisions of what type of film, b/w or colour and the many possibilities of sensitivity and texture are done for you. You can also have the image adjusted with the many new apps to change its look to look like what once took hours and days to create., sepia, blurry, high contrast and more.

Of course the old time photographer was more careful in his/her selection of an shot since it took a lot of time and cost a lot of money especially if you continuously messed up with exposure and other important decisions.

It was even exciting to produce a beautiful sunset in those days, no more, there are literally millions and millions of great sunsets, portraits of pets, selfies and videos of everything.

It is all about content now. No one needs to be part chemist, part physicist, and an artist any longer. We are all artists now.

We can even go to sites to add your images with a famous quote with beautiful backdrops and sign your name to the collage as one of your own. The whole package is done for you, you just have to pick your particular mood and expose it to the world on your wall.

The best are now in the same galleries as the worst, the walls are everywhere and anyone can join in the fun. You hardly have to know how to do anything other than make choices. We are now a society that respects choice over all else and to make it as convenient as possible and it is getting easier all the time to show your artistic intelligence to the world.

At one time an image was worth a thousand words, today a word equals thousands of images and mediocrity is the form most appreciated.

What once took years to develop now takes a few days to learn, a few programs and how to move around on a computer and a little knowledge of the internet and there you are, an artist, a spokes-person, a literary critic, producer and with a little smooching you can be more popular than most serious unknown artists scientists. ever could be or ever will be.

That is a negative aspect of the new medium but there are just as many advantages for the serious artist as there always was but it may be more difficult for the shy sensitive ones to get noticed. The early bird, the loud one gets the prize.

(Patrick Wey) Mon, 28 Nov 2016 01:03:49 GMT