Blogging Volumes

And it’s off! It’s propelled by the sparkly stuff, The new pictures of people all processed above And then fed to this neuron; his job is to rush Down the river that’s cold, filled with ionic slush; Then his neurotransmitter converts him to clouds Made of chemical signals that swarm like a shroud Up towards the next neuron. The enzymes attack, But enough of the message survives past the gap To be able to change to electric again. His mood’s positive now as he starts to ascend Up one dendritic tendril, he moves with the group Now, combining their efforts to swim through the soup Of the neuron’s cell body. Collectively they Are formidably forceful, they barely delay So the axon is passed through at terminal speed, Our original signal’s last terminal deed Was to merge with the surging electrical mob. He is no longer He; He is They; They’re a blob. They’re expanding beyond all their previous shapes, Down the downtrodden lanes of the brain they escape, And they’re flexing their power to zip

The greatest martial artist acknowledges his fear, his anger, his pain. He acknowledges his weaknesses, he acknowledges his tendencies. The greatest martial artist uses his knowledge of these things to attack his opponent. But he does not attack with flailing emotion, with structureless, animal, primal rage. His anger is directed, like flaming gas through an engine, to exactly where it needs to be. His is a poet’s rage: functional, efficient, and contained. There are no fixed rules in the ring. Every fight can surprise you, and you will be forced to adapt accordingly. Wrestling with your opponent you will realise they are a more complex beast than you could ever have anticipated before you challenged them. But still, the greatest martial artist practises menial and repetitive drills, hoping to subject his base, instinctive, creative impulses to drilled-in restraint. He feigns the motion of a thousand moves, despite the knowledge that such perfect movements alone will never wi

SONNET-19 When I consider how my lockdown's spent, Attached to a device, devouring time, While others ration minutes, breaths, and I'm Consuming content just to keep content; While patient-focussed carers still are sent Without protection to the new frontlines, Like miners drilling in untested mines, And undergo this trial without complaint; I understand I’m squandering my days. ‘And yet,’ they say, ‘Consider this disease That lunges between lungs at growing rate; As long as you’re a citizen who stays At home not spreading it, you’re key’: It seems They also serve who only stand and wait.

This Blog was written by the Metaphorical Concept of Light, On the 21st of May 2020 War was declared in January this year, when a small cluster of radical virus cells in the extremist group ‘coronavirus’ decided to assassinate a 61-year-old man in the Chinese city of Wuhan. Following the murder, they enjoyed widespread media coverage, and were able to rapidly recruit new members, bolstering their efforts to become an international threat. In their homeland of China, they continued to wage war on civilians, even as the government deployed troops with spray guns and inhalation armour (or, ‘Masks’) to combat them. Despite dismissive responses from countries like the United States and Britain, who were slow to react in the early stages of the war, believing this group to be no more worrying than the terrorist cells already active within their own countries (i.e. the radical Influenza), the group took over large portions of Europe.  At long last, Britain acknowledged its need to