84. Won’t you break my bread with me. (14 June 15).

It Started In The Kitchen

This is the second of three pieces that were born during the same one hour meditation session while on a retreat at Easter in the Herefordshire countryside. It was a productive hour that, maybe not in the intended fashion, but productive nonetheless.

This is the last one to be finally finished, though it becomes the second of them published here, and is in fact the middle piece of the three. The third I’ll be putting up at the weekend. In my mind the three pieces formed a loose trilogy of Gothic Americana, all death and redemption and retribution in a Cash like country music kinda way. That’s how I conceived them right from their first stirrings in the solitude. The first part, “83. Wreck of the old treble 6” was put up on this page a couple of months ago.

84. Won’t you break my bread with me. (14 June…

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About Jim Laing

The Buddha said there were four kinds of people. Those who run from dark to dark, those who run from light to dark, those who run from dark to light and those who run from light to light. From a life going from dark to dark to having a few years running from dark to light, with scuffed hands and knees from sometimes falling, I may be getting the hang of it now. How it began is not now how it is, I need a quiet space, After the noise of the day, So I take sanctuary in the creativity, And my soul feeds, On sometimes dark, Sometimes light fantasy, And I dare like many to work, But stay up off my knees, To dream, perchance to suffer, But always still to dream. Here are things mostly lyrical and poetic, with nonsense sometimes, reviews and personal musings. The coffees hot and always black. The words not necessarily so.
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