Hearing Things

It’s a long distance whisper … I’m not paranoid but on this day.
There is a dark gothic feel to where I am right now.
Just people who are rambling.
In the sense of looking for themselves or lost in some way.
The odds, the oddities, the weird synchronicities, coincidences.
Are these people talking behind my back.
This notion is mounting apace.
I’m being burdened by  this veiled whisper.
It mightn’t necessarily be negative.
It mightn’t  even be of any real consequence.
Oh sense of loss.
The word deprivation  has a running  eerie resonance.
This otherworldly experience  isn’t just a figment.
The lady I adore is faraway.
Ours is a blue moon occasional link up.
It hasn’t dimmed our passion stretching numerous years despite the infrequency of our meetings.
She is a person like me who has an ear tilted for the inexplicable.
Thoughts are now flying.
I’m walking thru  peculiarity in a strangely familiar street.
Maybe ominous is not the real word.
The real world!
It’s that itch in my ear.
You’d think I’d need a hearing aid.
But hardly with this mildly sinister ordeal?
A plot of some kind as my unsteady steps assume a life of their own.
It’s a Saturday afternoon.
I’m this urban hobo in a daze.
Maybe the expression phase might “strike a chord.”
Is it this journey or broad search for a depth that seems illusory or fantastical?
Guffaw, uproarious laughter, red faced giggles at me.
But at what one mystically ponders?
The location I’m presently exploring with these “hearings” as amorphous canvass.
Aloof but tangential muffled power.
Greyness suffuses everything and everyone I encounter.
My obsession with colour and structure lurk only within myself.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
It’s happening again.
I may this extraordinary power of hearing.
Some might say “Imagination” is more apt.
When life events occur which may have that unlikely reach internal self probes they place.
But at heart significant others in my life have been informed of what is happening to me.
Yet a shudder as that sonic intrusion into my ear recommences.
Quite regularly too.

These meanderings of mine are not the inchoate musings of paranoia.
The most bizarre vibrations emanating from this day.
I have for the first time in my life this extremely heightened sixth sense.
Within the last six months it may appear that I have “LOST” everything to these hearings.
All the intrigue doing somersaults .., doing volte face, high risk surreptitious shadowy underhanders.
And meanwhile is there a convulsed conspiracy?
Despite this apparent weave of covert, undercover, spy thriller
who dunnitisms I laugh at each side of my mouth at it all.
Intricately in intermittent spurts.
It may seem incredibly naive to guffaw when a myriad mosaic of fantastic upshots dash at rapid rail lightning speed presently.
There is one sense an ironic comic stand, maybe stand up comic amusement.
The hearing has been magnified by me not in any alarmist sense.
Nor is it a question of having exaggerated connections in other people's lives.
“Oh my goodness, I nearly walked into a poster promoting the amazing powers of the mind for both emotional depth and uproarious laughter.
Did something or things  actually tumble from a bulging carrier bag that had the forehead of a wrinkled brow?
And the incongruity.”
The notice I was actually getting now.
And there were people muttering oafish comments under their breaths.
They were pointing towards my feet.
One of the standers by had a disapproving smirk.
“Groans oozing corn about me being in deep conversation with myself.
They seem to say I must find myself so fascinating that I’m willing to risk my fascinating self.”
I find the above erroneous.
I heard someone say I must have left a lasting impression on that poster.
It was one way of getting in touch with myself.
I digress as I can despite seeing  the “laughing stock jibe” aspect of what is unfolding.
In both my eardrums!
“Watch where you are going … tho it mightn’t be as interesting as you perceive it to be.
Now I’m hearing things of a different kind and it appears to be at a very close range.
Amidst the deep worrying features of this I found an oafish aspect at hand.
Though the phrase peculiar is starting to resurface again and again.
“What’s wrong with this person?
He has left footprints and impressions everywhere he goes.
Reclusive or extrovert.”
I am definitely picking things up.
Almost like signals.
The deeper I go into this area.
But not just this area.
It’s now beginning to dawn on me.
There’s a mental shroud, envelope, cluster.
Sometimes you only notice things, continuities, curious and curiouser patterns.
“Have you something on your mind?
It’s an eye opener …
Just what did that man say?”
Oh, oh, that was just a passing stranger talking about me or so I thought.
In fact I’m half asleep.
In a comatose state.
Now with all these threads, voices in my ear, things going on inside my mind.
This ear of mine has become a vehicle of some kind, a form of transport.
It’s hardly only recently.
Imaginings are imaginings.
It seems to me an interface, a pool, a stream where things get tangled mischievously.
Definitely these things, messages, attempts at contact or just as likely abortive shots at character assignation gossip.
Evanescent strains with all these barely audible hints and tints.
“Did someone or something rub shoulders with me?
It seemed like a shadow.
Fleeting …. Was that a thief?”
Suddenly I saw a reflection of myself in a pool beside my feet.
Now there is a black crow staring at me from a nearly tree.
For whatever reason a sullen town exploded into life.
Maybe that was my interpretation of events unfolding.
Trains,  traffic, trams, now set in motion.
Should I say commotion.
I hadn’t now the faintest notion.
Despite the rising decibel level the ears of mine now had a rush of chats I still struggled to unravel in a hectic speed.

“I’m looking strange.
But then people are also looking strangely at me.
But is that the basis of my quandary.”
I posed endless looped queries to myself.
The background noise in my eardrum.
Nothing novel about this
Interactions may well be the trigger this uncanny carrier of quirk.
These feeble beeps in my hearing organs have been unravelled by “others.”
Not just adjunct to what is a tormented individual not actually in any genuine sense tormented.
“Unusual looking human on a speed barrier breaking bike.
He hurled some comment
At the same time a flurry of giggles with an embedded insight occurred in my ear.”
This fit of giggles didn’t have any bearing on the passerby or did it?
Going round in circles that were endless rings extending out metaphorically to everything within sight.
Yet sound is a driver on this so called ominous though yet frivolous day.
Sounds and vibrations emanating from the most abstruse and implausible angle.
Sounds in my head.
Interface between things auditory and the mind enclosed but not yet closed.
“Oh dear …. A black crow squawking.
It has dropped my passport … at my feet.
Yes, it must have been one of the two items that slipped from my bag….
I just don’t believe it!”
A tap on the shoulder followed
“You are back where you were an hour ago?
Did you lose this by any chance?
A hearing aid!!”
The thing is I don’t use them.
At that point a light gust whisked away from me a letter with familiar handwriting on it.
“That might be the other item!
A love letter.”
I could have sworn I heard this lady’s voice chant my name in a blurred distance!
It just couldn’t be an unexpected flying visit from….!
Now I Am HEARING THINGS or maybe not.
Doubt if I’ll ever need a HEARING AID though

Seeing Things

Indeed not for the first time  but this scares me and freaks me.
It’s not that I’m being just paranoid in any deep meaningful sense of that expression.
The eyes, that scanner of the external world can’t actually deaden themselves to what may seem or most abundantly alight from thin air.
Faces, odd coincidences
out of the infinte blue sky manifest, that have the ultimately eerie effect from every signpost, every compass, inner hint one hardly ever encounters.
Then only strangely to appear before those eyes that may recoil or perhaps recall.
When a vision no matter how mysterious is taunting one perplexed individual such as myself.
That face again this time it’s what I see seems so brazenly bold and in my face.
In my eyes in that weird scary movie type of engagement when and where sinister plots
are the cue to the unearthly beyond inconceivable dimensions and convenient category.
It’s the oddball thing with classification.
Maybe it’s a covert cover for things outside what is blissfully referred to as normal human encounters or experiences.
“It’s  the face of that lady again.. she is throwing piercing  glances at me.
As if she can telepathically read the depth of a person like me.”
My willingness to face the out of this world through my eyes  and to feel there is a multi layered notion named reality can be a heavy load.
As it happens I have withdrawn into myself in the better sense to probe profound quests.
The  way perception can be underpinned by that  beguiling magic known as overblown plot.
We name it fascinatingly as the  “The Inside.”
I have withdrawn only to ultimately engage  the outside spheres of experience.
With a more munificent sixth sense of self that may intrigue and magnetise everything.

“Is this the same point I walked pass this morning …. the sights are either shifting ground with me … maybe I’m shifting ground with it.”
These eyeballs  of mine this time out unlike the last event in prose where the ears might be the weak access point for
the mischievous in my life.
They might be the harbingers  of schemes upsetting.
It could be the other way around schematically but that might be  where imaginations rule.
And now there seems to be an encompassing tangible tension on this day.
It has to be admitted by me that my circumstances have been transformative in the otherworldly fixation .. obsession, fetish, preoccupation with things envisioned but never quite seen.
“I’m being looked at … a stare.
An embarrassed smirk.
An adult face turning red with the exchange of fleeting furtive glances. “
I walked with an incredible haste for whatever reason.
I feel this symbolic highly nuanced, resonating recall.
Turbulent floods of the amorphous kind.
Like  a dedicated musician, artist, magician, manifestor who attempts to nail the project in order to
encapsulate.
They say sight is this empowering notion.
The problem is what we absorb is coloured by a multitude of complexity.
“So very very sorry… thought you were someone else!”
Who was  that other person ?
Today is a mirror.
Mirror on the past, the future.
Is everything I’m seeing right now a reflection?
Thoughts gush like sinewy streams yet are a bridge in some way to menageries I contemplate on this day.
But not exclusively to this day.
A certain stasis has been reached between the wonderful woman of my dreams and our further engagement.
After a prolonged and edifying affair the expressions relating to sight replicated themselves perhaps in a convulsed fashion.
No points of departure were evident. But
this matchless, peerless, unrivalled  woman a philosopher and I found ourselves looking at things in a skewed and hurdle ridden fashion.
That is  on an ongoing basis without any relief.
Every conceivable type of thing or things.
“Something dropped at my feet … my feet another potential metaphor.
No, just that imagination of mine.”
But one can’t put down  alone everything to one’s power of visualising and that surreal card trick that is to dupe the mind.
To fox, fix, conjure in a whimsical though mildly menacing degree what the visuals  perceive life to be.

Constantly looking at my feet for more than signs of wear.
“I looked up and then did a visual swoop.
Sweep maybe even.
Let’s see. I said with a straight face.”
And I have been noticing certain phenomena.
“The lady’s face in a pool I nearly waded through?
Is it possible to notice one’s surroundings only with the power and contents of the mental disposition?
Did this lady actually speak from the mirror image captured?
I’m now mixing up dimensions.”
“THINGS”  are popping up too conveniently.
A telephone kiosk in quaint shades and tints.
Figures are starting to
to dovetail and silhouette
A plethora of terms and adages at play.
“Solemn people like players almost dart, stop start, they crane then turn their necks.
Shivers, another torrid rush, they fly past.”
And that lady has a double?”
There are now two of them.
Mark you.
I must suppress this dialogue of dread, that undercurrent of this, for all intents and purpose a petrifying plot with dare I say it shards of even that dark giggle and guffaw.
Now my hat has blown off.
The hat I’m chasing after with gusts inclement.
An exhibition, lightning race on my part into the sombre, sullen, sulky day.
Was it all light droll relief?
“Your hair and hat are leading you into macabre enclaves.”
The opulent  language and stifled chortle.
Yes, the twang too.”
Extremely academic.
A tall sinewy erect man dressed in a drab attire winked at me.
He found this writer’s plight amusing.
More boisterous elements entered the fray.
The expressions on  the vocal express evoked howls.
An all-seeing world surrounding me.
As well as a catalytic stare from every quarter.
I’m being looked at and I’m reciprocating.
A whirlwind event with denouement in suspense.
Nothing showed any significant signs of abating.
Some tarpaulin encompassing
a flotilla of stares in a misty grey day section  of town.
It  would otherwise be occupying itself with the less than transcendental.
“What… what is this I’m seeing?
The two enigmatic women enveloping me.
Definitely the eyes can’t lie at close proximity.”
To myself in a fit of gasps and grasps.
“We are very shy to an extent.
You must have this sense of being followed.
This is quite personal but your partner with whom you have been having a slow exile from.
She has written this script about the eye and its impact on relationships.
For some it’s HEARING.
The play she has written and the local actors/actresses gave the impression of following you.
They were and including us.”
Clouds descended over my organs of vision.
At the cusp of a whine or whinge.
And the mind at a train wreck platform juxtaposition.
A taut squeak in that voice  I had left.
Shakes and shivers in recrudescence.
The expression “I see” loitering.
“You probably weren’t even cognisant of your loved one’s side project.
Besides in depth philosophy.”
Both women continued.
I wasn’t even dimly aware that this was the case.
At this point I have vivid visions.
Circulating in spiral cascades.
“There is a role in this play which on the basis of the character profile would suit you admirably.”
A poignant pause from these unique ladies.
“Whilst there is no onus on you to accept.
We stress that.
Your partner said you wouldn’t actually object to a light audition with minimum privacy intrusion.”
Hmmm, indeed but I am now glued to the spot.
“I’d have to think it over.
But I’m kind of tempted.”
Nervously I replied.
“We think you should.”
The ladies spoke in unison.
“My darling  I think you should too.”
It was the sound of my partner's voice.
“Look around you please.”
The man with the  opulent voice
I referred to earlier had crept up
behind with a tape recorder
and sample of my partner’s voice.
“Ha ha ha. I bet you are a trifle thoroughly perplexed.
IF YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN.”
He said in a mild sinister blissful way.
“I think I have SEEN  everything in this world now.”
My quavering voice croaked a darting shadow wisp.
Dedicated to my amazing sister
Jay A Pallen