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Conversations

£5.00

SKU e-book Category

185 in stock

Description

By John Fisher

ISBN: 978-1-84747-780-4
Published: 2008
Pages: 211
Key Themes: prose, poetry, politics, thoughts

ALSO AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK

Description

Prose interspersed with poetries, “Conversations” is a text which deals with the ambiguities of modern life. It is about the interactions which determine the weighing of language that creates thought in the internal life of the mind. As we live in this era of social disorder and political ideals, drugs and medication, repression and individual expression, fundamental theology and secular atheism this book attempts to resolve the conflict which not only destroys society yet seems to cause the obliteration of personal endeavour. It is representative of these dichotomies and the ironies therein that hold together the balances of existence. And yet, within this textual form of internal dialogue, this seeks to be a book of hope in that night after night follows the birth of a fresh new day.

About the Author

John Fisher is a writer who has created a number of books of poetry and displayed rare samples of prose for publication. Educated at Eton College he has tried to study in further education, travelled a bit and seen at first-hand the NHS’s treatment of the mental health issue. Currently residing in East Anglia his interests are the history of the region and, in creative disciplines, forms of art which reveal the avant-garde beyond post-modernism.

Book Extract

Oh astrology, venerable science of the romantics. If stars can shine and we have eyes in the dark night we can fly from our bodies, set our spirits free in dreams as they voyage through the journeys of day and its polar opposite. Sit down and make it good, the only advice you can get is AD. Because now is the year of our Lord and that is just exactly how it is. The time is now and the boy moves on. Isaiah speaks across the years and presents his voice of choice, the limits set for eternity to be gained, how the angels were created by God to rejoice. The only authority that speaks is the Holy Spirit.

Now you can rest your frustrations, match your searing youth to the contemplation of what exactly constitutes the time of peace and allow truth to speak. Eli. I will show you the biography of my grace, bibliography, the changing pace of the wind, nature and the information of what we are, pure culture. The fact that there was competition unnerved me a touch. But, then, what was ever the drive for life? The human finds love and it is beyond anima; it is spirit. And you can ask – what is the matter? And I will say it is truth. And that seems to be deep within the heart. Jesus and Mary take leave of Jerusalem now with the main communication in which he saw Africa come from Pangea with the mark of the holy land and the blues like down the Mississippi to the gulf of Mexico. As if to introduce the experiential nature of life, I would take myself away and begin, the mirror shown to me in the activity of remote control television.

There is alchemy and the time of now like a god creating matter so that electricity can land upon something, a creation and a reason. And, as the spirit takes me away, my screen so huge and complex, the psychedelic enlightens a mind to contemplate the balance of individuality and the syncretic, everything in one, time running on emotion, desire and personality made purely for balance. So we hold the heavy philosophy. If we were to attach the word, convention, to what is allowed, I will strike through hesitation to objectify and lay bare my take on situation, awareness like a single breath, that consent is the universal force of magnetism. And the boy was alive seeing what he took to be life, the procession of the word.

Things were laid bare, frozen open across wastelands of cracked ice. Possession took control of people and years were made of minutiae, stretching eyes across metaphorical deserts. To hear the heart ring true is difficult for people away from the science of chemistry. And dopamine was like an opinion. And pigeons flew and doves grew up.


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