Distraction and Direction

As some of you may have noticed, I’ve been a little missing in action for the past few weeks. While this has mostly been down to wading through “real world” distractions and issues, I’ve also been rethinking my approach to this publication and my writing in general.

So, here I am, jotting down my thoughts and forming a plan. While this is primarily an exercise in reshaping my own path, I hope it is of interest to you. I want to summarize the three main pillars of my work, and more importantly, redirect and redefine them.

1. McAllister’s Mates

McAllister’s Mates was and is the cornerstone of my Substack world. What started as a small review section on my poetry blog has blossomed—perhaps even evolved. It has helped me recognize and understand high-quality writing. More importantly, though, it has sharpened my own philosophical and spiritual lens as I dig into others’ works, finding hidden aspects of the self there, while forging real friendships with incredible authors and artists.

Until now, the format has been weekly round-ups of two to three stories I enjoyed, accompanied by my thoughts on each one. I believe this has value, and I’ve received some incredibly generous and positive feedback. However, the best issues of these reviews are always the ones where I return to a second or third piece by a previously reviewed author.

Why? Because you have to truly dig into a good author’s work to understand the psychological questions they are grappling with. It is entirely possible to enjoy a single story or poem, getting drawn into the plot or the imagery. But when you take the time to experience a writer’s catalogue, you come to know them and their work intimately. You begin to catch the subtleties hovering at the edges of their consciousness.

When I go deep into an author’s work, my reviews become less about smooth cadences or memorable characters (always important, of course). Instead, I find myself writing about how their entire portfolio has shifted my consciousness, challenged my deepest beliefs, or enriched my worldview. These reviews are always more exciting and intimate—the author’s words shifting my own understanding. Two minds meeting, ropes stretching across the ether.

Going forward, I will be doing deep dives into an author’s work rather than reviewing solitary pieces. McAllister’s Mates may become a little less frequent, but it will be significantly deeper. I intend to start these profile-style reviews with two beautiful authors and very dear friends and .

2. Collaborations

Now, I haven’t been spending all my time away from writing up to my eyes in spreadsheets and SQL queries. I’ve actually been working with my literary brother, Derek, on a project we’re both very excited about. As I mentioned, true immersion in another author’s work can open up new horizons; this effect is increased tenfold within an artistic collaboration.

We’ve just finished a joint piece, which is currently unpublished while we investigate release options. What I can tell you is that working within the Bellageist universe has pushed my writing in directions I couldn’t have foreseen a few years ago. While we certainly have a lot in common—especially an interest in conceptual science fiction and metaphysical psychology—we have very different approaches to the craft.

Where I tend to concentrate on symbolism, lyrical cadence, and mood, Derek constructs entire histories: the rise and fall of civilizations, and the consequences of those shifts across millennia. Working with his stories has brought balance and “grounding” to my usual flights of metaphysical fancy.

To be clear, grounding doesn’t mean a loss of esoteric ideas; it means channeling and heightening them through physicality and drama. I’m delighted to say he liked the results, and we’re already planning more work together.

I’m greatly looking forward to sharing this piece with all of you. If there’s an author you admire out there and you’re feeling shy about approaching them for a collaboration—just go for it. Working with an author who has a complementary approach will enhance your writing tenfold. It will strengthen your weak spots, curb your indulgences, and provide immense enjoyment. Go on—send the email.

3. Poetry and Art Books

Of course, I started my journey as a poet and artist, and I am deeply committed to this path. I’ve published four books https://www.graememcallister.com/p/books and I am currently working on two more. However, even in this process, I feel the need to step back, reframe my work, and cast a new light upon it.

As my writing has developed, I have come to understand my own drives and seekings more clearly. Unfolding philosophical and psychological clues across a portfolio of years is an internal process, too. I have come to recognize an ongoing exploration of the imagination—not so much as a game of creating ever more weird and wonderful fantasy places or creatures, but as an alternative method of moving through life’s experiences and being in the world.

My books and poems have been moving through a cycle of imaginative experience: from wonder at the mind’s creations, to meeting the challenges of archetypal gatekeepers, tempering imagination through the will, integrating it into daily life, and finally returning to a state of naive wonderment.

While an email newsletter system is an amazing tool for authors, the cohesive sense of a “body of work” can easily get lost in linear, chronological postings. Individual poems can lose the context of the larger collection, let alone the messages revealed in their connections across my entire portfolio.

To combat this, I plan to create miniature triptychs from my works. I will select poems from different collections that touch on the same themes but from different perspectives—joyful exuberance, mature rationalism, esoteric reverence, and so on. My hope is that weaving previous works into new essays, stories, and contemplations will reveal new meanings to both my readers and myself.

Closing Thoughts

In writing this all down, I now feel somewhat vindicated—and a lot less guilty about my recent lack of activity.

I know that many of you reading this are authors and artists too, and I encourage you to take some time and space to collect yourself and just think about your process. In the current age, we are compelled to always be visible and active. But sometimes, the most powerful action you can take is to just stop for a moment.

I hope you enjoyed reading these thoughts as much as I did recording them. I’m looking forward to sharing this new direction with you, and, of course, continuing to read your work.

Best wishes,

Graeme

(Click to see full size with greater detail)

The second piece from my in-progress Book "Cerebral Citadel". I suppose it’s something of a next chapter in my ongoing obsession with the imagination as an independent from of experience with its own very real treasures and dangers.

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

3: Sun Sinks, River Rolls
Sun sinks yet lingers
Dim glowering unsated
Pulling at my fingers.
The grey night, tainted.

Bed whispers comfort,
Bed hisses question.
Limbs collapse, contort
Veil upon my tension.

Pillows flow, rolling river.
Cloud currents, silk splashes. 
Scene twitches, shudders,
The vapour river collapses.

That silk turns to stone,
A jagged diamond edge.
Circle squeezed to one,
The river, now a ledge.

Read the previous part here:

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/art-print/Sun-Sinks-River-Rolls-by-Graeme-McA/181840990/wqnt?asc=u

Happy Tomes Tuesday
Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

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The Summer Solstice is here and the sun is officially dying 😀
The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Solstice Surrender
Light thrown, warmth sown.
A transitory brilliance 
Sol seizes solstice crown
Her chorus circles silence.

Golden net, wide and thick
Strained and thinning fire.
Smooth air, perfumed silk
Taut fabric, tightening wire.

Focused flames waxing full,
Dreams ripple through the rays.
Idle dances in sun blushed dells
Deny approaching colder days.

Sol bursts, shimmer, burn 
One moment of splendour.
At the apex of the turn
Forcing night into a corner.

Sol accepts her slow decline
With practiced poise and grace.
Watching children fritter time
Whom spring shall soon replace.

Till the soil, gather, labour
The luxury of thickest light,
Fleeting in its favour
Holds older debts to night.

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/photographic-print/Solstice-Surrender-by-Graeme-McA/181681353/zltf

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

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A short break from my ongoing series "Cerebral Citadel" for this Tomes Tuesday. A greeting to the start of  summer (such as we have in Ireland!)
The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Sol Escort
Breezes balk, rain stills.
Sky clean of dusty clouds.
Sun chases shades from hills
Sets a space for waiting crowds.

Heat stoked, shining lime.
Blooms smoothing petal dress.
Perfection pinnacle sets the time,
Diva wings accept no less.

Sol’s escort in sharp formation
Cerulean chevron, chevron silver,
Flowing faster, arrow ambitions.
Celestial bow empting quiver.

Turn, swerve, glide, dive,
Angled spirals, oddment shapes,
Weave Sol's heraldic device
Joining form her flowing cape.

Swallow tails crown summer,
Signal butterfly shapeshifters
Flowering fields, wilder, warmer.
Honey drones lift and stir.

Whistling flutes sound the fanfare,
Sol's court called to order.
Nesting swallows make their lairs
Basking crowds gaze, adore. 

Happy Tomes Tuesday

Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/photographic-print/Sol-s-Escort-by-Graeme-McA/181345556/zltf

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me A Coffee

McAllister’s Mates - An ongoing series of reviews of some of the wonderful articles, poems, and stories I’ve discovered on Substack (and other places) and more importantly the beautiful souls behind the works.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here!

Please take a few moments to read the works of these authors, artists, and creators and if you find their work as life-affirming and life changing as I do, then please let them know. We need to support and cherish these voices.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 35 34 33 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

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There is a rich vein of tradition and legend in Celtic history regarding the unknowable sea, one that I would argue rivals that of classical Greek myth. While both are rich in magic, wonder, and heroism, the Irish stories are perhaps a shade darker and more tragic.

The tradition of a menacing, ambivalent presence hiding beneath the waves runs strongly through CJ’s latest poem. If these forces are Gods, then they are vastly different creatures from the decadent, philandering, jovial spirits of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hermes. Where the Greek gods demand worship and strike against sleights to their vanity, CJ’s celtic spirits are contemptuous and resentful of mortal usurpers.

Ragged, visceral imagery of listening stones shift into the raw and battered ears of our ancestors, or perhaps the true “inner ears” of our souls. This provides a vivid contrast to the “swollen, sleazy handshakes” of humanity’s prosaic rituals, usurping the deference to the sea gods. Perhaps these deities are enraged by our less heroic times, perhaps it’s the “big business deals” and the associated destruction of the oceans through pollution and climate change that so enrage the faerie folk of the waters. This juxtaposition of humanity’s dull and breezy affairs proceeding blissfully unaware of the raging supernatural forces surrounding them has a Lynchian feel. CJ’s scene of the howling sea raising an orchestra of ancient damned warriors while humanity cheerfully prepares their supper puts me very much in mind of Evil Bob lurking in Twin Peak’s haunted pine forests. Like the great David Lynch CJ grounds both his monsters and his folk in their time and place, rejecting generic tropes and lazy, universal symbols - Twin Peaks was the lurking horrors of small town Americania, this poem is the lurking horrors of an Irish coastal village.

An ingenious double entendre of the English and Irish languages seals this poetic incantation (no I’m not spoiling it). It’s the usual meticulously detailed yet subtly understated touch I’ve come to expect from this man’s work. There are some interesting anchors and touchpoints to his back catalogue, the sharp imagery, the exact yet following rhythms, and the use of domestic objects as layered emotional symbols. As a stand alone piece it’s wonderful, however when read alongside CJ’s other works it is fed by, and feeds into an ambitious body of work from a powerful and ever more refined author.

Between Two Lampposts | Poetry

Fear of the Sea

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2 months ago · 26 likes · 18 comments · C J O'Hare

I encountered this one through a post around pareidolia (the imagination projecting images like creatures and faces that had floated onto my feed. This piece takes the concept a step (perhaps a leap) further and explores the idea of active physical empathy with the natural world. If that sounds a bit airy fairy, rest assured Jonathan’s work here is raw and gritty.

The story opens with a scene that would feel right at home in a German fairytale, and while the story evokes their original mystery and sense of foreboding (unlike their more modern saccharine interpretations), it explores more complex and adult emotions.

The scene opens with an old man sitting beside a hollowed oak - the prose paints both ambiguously and hints at a spiritual link between the two. Is the man a projection of the tree’s consciousness, the green man of the woods, or a shared dream between all who venture here..? The villagers scoff or perhaps fear his promise to mend broken hearts, all except one girl with enough faith or courage to seek his help.

What follows is a fascinating story about reclaiming our sovereignty and indeed humility as a part of the natural world. We are indeed children of the earth and this story reminds us that we must embrace its gentle care and call for hard discipline. What follows is a mesmerising and eerie sequence where the tree does not just resemble her circumstances or raise an abstract memory - the tree’s bulk and knotted structure and the voice of the breeze become her body and she becomes the tree. The shifting,creaking wood softens into flesh and her skin and spine strengthen with the unconquerable might of an ancient storm tested Oak. This is much more than an abstract thought experiment or a meditative exercise, this is a true metaphysical transformation only made possible through this soul meeting this tree at this time. This is a raw, earthbound spirituality that eschews the imagery and trappings of religious systems for a deep, perhaps frightening communion with life itself.

A short and powerful story that holds even more ideas than I have covered here including an intriguing debate between responsibility, courage, and forgetting - but you will have to uncover that one for yourself.

ReidItWrite

'The Tree Keeper' - Flash Fiction

Hi there…

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4 months ago · 8 likes · 6 comments · Johnathan Reid

I hope you enjoy these beautiful works as much as I enjoyed reading and writing about it.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 35 34 33 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Substack has proven to be a treasure trove and I already have a few more gifted writers lined up for my next review newsletter.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here!

You can also claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks.

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me a Coffee

(Click to see full size with greater detail)

The second piece from my in-progress Book "Cerebral Citadel". I suppose it’s something of a next chapter in my ongoing obsession with the imagination as an independent from of experience with its own very real treasures and dangers.

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

2: An Unfocused Allegory
Night's persistent boil
Taints fruit, I bite into fog.
Valerian soaks the soil,
My sight, a muddied bog.

The hours fuse and weaken,
Diminishing the whole.
Communion does not strengthen,
Deepening the hole.

Day demands attention,
I dismiss drowsiness.
I ride the rising tension 
Of rest's pervasiveness.

Chores blur, my hands fly
A Vishnu vision in action.
An unfocused allegory
Of my scattered attention.

Read the first part here:

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/An-Unfocused-Allegory-by-Graeme-McA/181047613/flk2?asc=u

Happy Tomes Tuesday
Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me A Coffee

McAllister’s Mates - An ongoing series of reviews of some of the wonderful articles, poems, and stories I’ve discovered on Substack (and other places) and more importantly the beautiful souls behind the works.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here!

Please take a few moments to read the works of these authors, artists, and creators and if you find their work as life-affirming and life changing as I do, then please let them know. We need to support and cherish these voices.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 34 33 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me a Coffee

Before I begin I have to give something of a warning - this poem and my review of it deal with child bereavement, the poem - vividly and eloquently. If this is a subject that you find to be overly difficult or upsetting I will understand (as I’m sure Kay Castenda will too) if you pass this one over.

This is a poem about a terribly tragic event in Texas, a flash flood in Texas that killed two hundred people. It hit a girl’s summer camp with twenty seven victims under ten. A truly awful event.

The poem has a double structure with literal (yet still poetic) paragraphs intersected with fantastical, spiritual tercets. This is a powerful technique that has not been done for effect - it truly gives the feeling of being on the border of two worlds, and the paper thin line that separates them. This brings a balance to the poem that saves it from both mawkishness and empty despair. The main paragraphs are filled with intimate, sorrowful details yet expressed tenderly and with loving care. The tercets are more ethereal, and take on the voices of the children, innocent and perhaps transcendent, they are touching and perhaps as near to hopeful as one can be under the circumstances.

Art, and spirituality are perhaps at their most truly useful when they lend a voice to the most traumatic periods of our lives. Sometimes they help us to make sense of those harrowing times, often there is no sense to be made and all they can offer us is an outlet for tremendous grief. This is where this poem succeeds, the child-like nature of the opening lyrics which move through to the stony realism at the end gently guide the reader through a similar thought process to the nature of grief. An almost fantastical rendering of what happened gradually becomes grounded in the terrible reality. Yet the religious and spiritual framing of the events is still respected, treated as a dual reality that is not dismissed by confronting the physical. This is a wise, respectful and tender piece of writing, one that I believe could offer some comfort to anyone who is grieving.

The Writer Warrior

Short Sweet Life: The Little Girls Are Angels Now

Short Sweet Life…

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a year ago · 1 like · Kay Castaneda

This story opens with a moody noir monologue as our hero meditates on his drabby, rundown surroundings. Now while this may sound like a Sam Spade homage (or even imitation) it’s actually a piece of delicious irony and immediately sets the scene for a wickedly clever story. You see, our hero is not Sam Spade, Rick Deckard, or even Hercules Poirot. He’s an out of work actor and the noir monologue serves as a perfect illustration of his delusions of grandeur and desperate need to dramatise every detail of his existence.

Conversely though, Tim Cape (the story’s hero) has a tragedy and vulnerability behind his equally funny and ghastly arrogance. As we follow him through the events, his character fills out and deepens, becoming layered and sympathetic. The people around him treat him either with disdain or celebrity worshipping fawning - none interested in treating him as a real person. You can almost viscerally sense his hunger to be loved, maybe even hated for his soul, not his circumstances. We also see his arrogance for what it is, a desperate attempt to cling to the success that has faded. He has fallen on very hard times indeed, tangled in the memories of his past success like the proverbial choking feathers of the albatross. The story raises the pertinent question of whether it’s more painful to achieve our wildest dreams and lose them, or never realise them at all.

While the tale never loses sight of its quirky humour, genuinely dark and sinister movements steadily overtake Tim’s imagined drama. It’s a tension that slips in behind the celebrity satire that was making you smile, and it hits all the harder when it finally overtakes you. It’s a masterful touch from an author who realises that danger is felt much more deeply when it slowly, imperceptibly wraps itself around you than when it openly hits at the beginning. The world of the story is just as dark, surreal, and layered with fascinating contradictions as Tim’s twisting thoughts.

And there I think I shall leave you to explore Tim’s world of garish neon and dark crumbling alleys for yourself. This is just the start of an ongoing comic, thrilling, neo-noir saga and I’m very much looking forward to exploring this world. Tim himself is perhaps my favourite part of this mystery and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about him, but he fascinates me. I find him amusing, awful, and sympathetic by turns. I will definitely be keeping tabs on this one.

Gas Station Carnivals

An Actors Illness

Act I…

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4 months ago · 18 likes · 9 comments · Oliver Losinski

I hope you enjoy these beautiful works as much as I enjoyed reading and writing about them.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 34 33 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Substack has proven to be a treasure trove and I already have a few more gifted writers lined up for my next review newsletter.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here!
You can also claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks.

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me a Coffee

(Click to see full size with greater detail)

The First piece from my in-progress Book "Cerebral Citadel". I suppose it’s something of a next chapter in my ongoing obsession with the imagination as an independent from of experience with its own very real treasures and dangers.

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Slitting Seams 1
Sun's thousand shapes. 
Moon's hundred mansions.
Prickle at my nape,
A press of false liaisons.

Dull, drowsy waking,
Twitching, standing sleep.
Borders slack and shaking
A seam I cannot keep.

Temples and Tendons
Overlap and disconnect.
My internal mediations
Stiffen from neglect.

The dawn is darkened,
Ghosts cling to the corners.
Rising red is patterned
With evening's interlopers.

Happy Tomes Tuesday (a new and exciting project is waiting in the wings for next Tuesday - watch this space).

Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/Splitting-Seams-Part-1-by-Graeme-McA/180704654/flk2

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me A Coffee

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A belated May Day Poem  - Sinister callings of the sun..

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Summer Strings
Colours curl and ribbons writhe
Their spirals close then open.
Maypole strings bend and breathe
Tendons tense and stiffen.

Ribbons reach guiding fingers,
Shaping sky, blood, and apples.
Heaven's hand strokes and steers
Prosecuting primal rules.

Servants dance, directed joy,
Eyes bright and voices shrill.
Abandon social plans and ploys
But remaining servants still.

Dancers twist off their tracks,
Engaging and enraging heat.
Between claps, around the clicks,
A greater heart begins to beat.

Heat needles swollen buds,
Conquering itch, flowers open.
Disturbing cycles of our blood,
Lighting an internal rising sun.

Leading dancers from behind,
Eyes blacken, opening holes.
Blood runs wild, red ropes tied,
Frenzied orbit round the Maypole.

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/Summer-Strings-by-Graeme-McA/180491108/flk2

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me A Coffee

(Click to see full size with greater detail)

I did promise to start serialising my new book - but a bit delayed, here is a piece from a previous work - Filigree and Fire.
The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Saturn Cycles
Saturn’s cycle reaches its peak
Stirs complacency, shakes inertia
Machines throw thoughts across the sea
Cortisol codes ride binary blinks.

Saturn’s cycle reaches its start,
A quiet voice echo’s its question,
To split reality from suggestion.
Is absolution found in art?

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/Saturn-Cycles-by-Graeme-McA/180372243/flk2

Happy Tomes Tuesday (a new and exciting project is waiting in the wings for next Tuesday I promise!- watch this space).

Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me A Coffee

McAllister’s Mates - An ongoing series of reviews of some of the wonderful articles, poems, and stories I’ve discovered on Substack (and other places) and more importantly the beautiful souls behind the works.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here! Next round of open submissions starts Monday 27th April.

Please take a few moments to read the works of these authors, artists, and creators and if you find their work as life-affirming and life changing as I do, then please let them know. We need to support and cherish these voices.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 33 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me a Coffee

This is a fascinating exercise in combining ethereal, delirious surrealism with rich, sensuous physicality. The Poem’s structure heightens this duality and tension by using a double form. Luxurious meandering tercets are intersected by punchy singular statements. This approach highlights the strengths of poetry as a medium where writers are freed from the restraints of conventional sentence structure and paragraphing. Luciana capitalises on this opportunity with gusto, the single statements and the tercets wrestle and dance, perhaps in struggle for dominance, perhaps reaching to embrace each other. The formatting, much like the imagery of the lyrics explores and challenges our psychological split of emotions from intellect, and imagination from momentary experience.

The imagery is thoughtful, layered, and highly ambitious. A vast library of punchy, visceral physical metaphors shares the stage with dreamy ethereal whisperings. Both of which are inventive using traditional symbols in inventive ways while also creating a new library of idioms with subjective meanings for the reader to unlock. I think what impresses me most about the piece is how all these complexities of form and symbol are guided into a flowing whole. The tangents of thought reach like branches from a tree, sharp and diverse but natural outgrowths of a living movement. As I mentioned earlier, the effect is very much like a dance where limbs might strike out or flash in rapid movement, but always in adherence to the song’s guiding melody.

While I firmly believe there are many and layered interpretations of a piece like this - my personal takeaway is that we must navigate our relationship to self with all the nuance, tools, and curiosity that we bring to our dealings with others. Perhaps our internal relationships are even more labyrinthine, maybe we love, fear, and rage against ourselves more than anyone else in the world. Some might say most of our dealings with the world are theatrical projections of our inner wrestles with the simians and seraphims that guide and grapple our minds. I take Luciana’s beautiful poetry to be gentle yet cunning with our contrary natures, to accept no lies from within yet understand why we weave false narratives and find the truth within them. Pray tell what colours are our thoughts? All of them.

Language of Limbo

The Ray

Pyramidal soul with ghostly tenderized hands Songs of past lives through hair strands Pray tell, what color is my thought? Count the longing in the eyes 1,2,3... The fixing sky puppeteer Broken sparks as tools Redraw the cartoonish contours better…

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5 months ago · 16 likes · 6 comments · Luciana Moroianu

There are many poems channelling various cultural mythologies and symbols to varying degrees of success and originality. This one does something different. Misty Violet seeks to get behind that process, not sure much a discussion on how specific historical events gave rise to legends, but a movement into the liminal space between the landscape and our imaginations.

There are so many dry and reductionist texts about myths and legends, where these ancient stories are dismissed as political narratives of a conquering army, or an externalisation of their author’s neurosis. This poem achieves a more sensitive, human, and holistic meditation on the process of myth making in a much smaller space.

The opening speaks of a guiding hand through a wintry landscape of harsh stones and glittering snow. I’m not entirely sure that we’re seeing a conversation between two people, at least not in the usual literal sense. What is clear, however, is the recurring theme of attention as an act of creation.

The verses speak of a strength (maybe even a consciousness?) shared by the sky, the stones, and the snow “Should you stop yourself there at the mercy of air”. So these deities seem to lie within the natural world, waiting on the spark of human imagination. But we must be fully present: body, mind, and soul at the wilder places of both the physical and metaphysical worlds. Then the giants become known to us, created or unveiled by an act of creative attention.

As to these giants, do they command, grant wishes, or tell secrets? No. They have their own task sculpting those physical and metaphysical worlds. Even if these beings are birthed from our imaginations, are we so arrogant as to think this talking self pushes and pulls the wells of deep memory, emotions and unspoken desires where the imagination lives? We see the giants and they see us, a gaze meeting gaze. Eternity staring into boundlessness. The giants see who we are, past what the world wishes us to be, past what conditioning tells us to be, past even what we imagine ourselves to be. They see the self that surprises even you on those days when you shake yourself from the daydream - awed or shaken by what you saw in your deepest recesses. Follow Misty Violet’s giants - unfix your gaze from “the whistling grave”.

The Violet Grove

On The Trail of Giants

I could give you my hand and you could come with me — all the way up if we’re lucky but the strength in the stones and in glittering snow is the same that you see in clouds drifting. Should you stop yourself there at the mercy of air, (at the touch of the wind — how they soften…

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a year ago · 54 likes · 14 comments · Misty Violet

I hope you enjoy these beautiful works as much as I enjoyed reading and writing about it.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 33 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Substack has proven to be a treasure trove and I already have a few more gifted writers lined up for my next review newsletter.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here! Next round of open submissions starts Monday 27th April.
You can also claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks.

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

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(Click to see full size with greater detail)

The Final piece from my New Book "Chantry Circuitry". It is a series of poetic calls and incantations to Mystical and Archetypal figures. The Mandalas are meditation tools constructed from manipulated  images of the poetry.

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Print and Kindle Version of "Chantry Circuitry" Now Available 

Hardback Print Edition

Amazon Kindle Edition

Call To The Path

I call to you, O Winding Path,
Past the slow horizon.
Feet floating south then north
Wrapped within your ribbon.

One has lost their bearings,
Another rolls along the line.
I watch them disappearing,
I'll be them again in time.

I call your many faces,
In silence, sigh, and beat.
Valkyries and graces
Guide my slipping feet

Path wrap around the all
Blood within, soaking rain
I name you in every call,
Itinerant bard again.

Happy Tomes Tuesday (a new and exciting project is waiting in the wings for next Tuesday - watch this space).

Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

Print and Kindle Version of “Chantry Circuitry” Now Available

Hardback Print Edition

Amazon Kindle Edition

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/Call-To-The-Path-by-Graeme-McA/180209051/flk2?asc=u

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

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McAllister’s Mates - An ongoing series of reviews of some of the wonderful articles, poems, and stories I’ve discovered on Substack (and other places) and more importantly the beautiful souls behind the works.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here!

Please take a few moments to read the works of these authors, artists, and creators and if you find their work as life-affirming and life changing as I do, then please let them know. We need to support and cherish these voices.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me a Coffee

A few weeks ago I posted an article ridiculing the Substack gurus and algorithm whispers and their restlessly shameless grift of original (digital) “sin” and “redemption”. ‘Your writing's dead bro, only I can save you for $599….’.

Thankfully I have come across the opposite - a Yoda to Emperor Palpatine. Where other writers “rage against the machine” and offer a villain who rigged the system against you, Phillipp simply reveals the machine to be a myth. The writing takes a somewhat Zen approach by methodically, yet gently dismantling our most beloved and hated visions (both toxic to our writing by the way) of the cold-hearted publishing industry and maybe, just maybe we will be the next Substack Millionaire.

So once Phillipp has helped us push aside all that drama - what remains? Well, to paraphrase Friedrich Nietzsche: beyond “good” and “evil”, there is love. Now we're getting somewhere - we step away from the video game and take up the true adventure, to find or perhaps return to our true voices.

While I strongly dislike gurus and their pushing of “the proper way”, I do believe we all need guidance. After all, the world has certainly worked hard to pull us from our individual paths, so it stands to reason that we may need some help to get back there. There is a calming joy, and a comforting determination in Phillipp's writing - this is the voice of a writer following their path, a path that involves guiding us to ours. In a brilliant turn of phrase, he calls on us to become “Sovereign Writers”, not bestsellers not award winners (but these possibilities are by no means rejected). This is a state of mind (or being) where we answer to no-one but ourselves, or aspects of self if you prefer. Conversely it is when we align with ourselves that we become most useful to the world. That is when our readers receive the infectious joy of seeing another soul being true to their own vision. I also believe this is when we uncover secrets that no-one else can, and those secrets can clear the weeds on others’ neglected roads - not to map their way for them, but to help them unveil it for themselves.

This summary of mine carries very little of the depth of the original article, I very much encourage you to read the original. The map is not the territory and this post is not the process. Phillipp is one of those leading lights of what Substack, perhaps the literary world can be, if only the founders of this site realised what they've built! “Why you secretly want to delete your Substack” may just help you fall back in love with it.

SERAPEX

Why You Secretly Want to Delete Your Substack

There is this guy. His name is Todd, and he is a millionaire…

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3 months ago · 188 likes · 41 comments · Philipp

This is a beautiful piece celebrating those quiet moments where we actually hear the world, not the noise. Ironically it's those quiet moments of meditation that ask us to take real, committed action in the world rather than wading through the waters of our era's collective trance.

As Shakespeare once said - all the world's a stage, Ricardo however, vividly paints that idea in a beautiful scene of a mundane street becoming an ethereal theatre. A forceful act of imaginative will or an unveiling of an underlying astral reality? Perhaps a little of both.

“I stand in darkness that dresses me like a stagehand while my toes flirt with the faint gleam on the floor toward eminence.”

The prose is vivid and alive, weaving together the everyday physicality of the physical street, the imagined (or perhaps unveiled) theatre, and the alluded to mystical audience in a scene of joyful transcendence.

The seemingly simple choice of the theatre as a metaphor for this “mystical experience” (that's the term that I might use) is for me a masterstroke. The theatre combines both the carefree joy of childlike imagination with the solemn contemplation of the temple - it is both of these experiences, and something more. Ricardo invokes the words and spirits of great writers (no spoilers - read the words for yourself) as both angelic spirits and playmates. To approach our heroes with fun and a light heart does not diminish our respect for those powerful, life changing words. I believe it brings us a greater understanding of, and a more powerful connection with those great works. Reciting poems to an imaginary (or otherwise) audience of spirits connects our minds to those works in a way that “intellectual appreciation” cannot, there are numerous psychological studies that prove this to be true.

We live in the imagination, indeed we see the negatives of this on a daily basis as we allow worries and anxieties to create hours of awful experiences in a moment’s thought. Media pressures can create powerful spectres with malevolent agendas. Perhaps our greatest defence against such entities (or psychological disturbances if you prefer) is to allow Ricardo's astral audience in. The sun has set, the house lights - lowered, an audience of a thousand stars waits with baited breath, and our gracious host Ricardo has called you to the stage. Perform!

Ricardo Guzman Jr

Showtime

Streetlamp…

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3 months ago · 37 likes · 18 comments · Ricardo Guzman Jr

I hope you enjoy these beautiful works as much as I enjoyed reading and writing about it.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Substack has proven to be a treasure trove and I already have a few more gifted writers lined up for my next review newsletter.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here! You can also claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks.

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me a Coffee

(Click to see full size with greater detail)

Another piece from my New Book "Chantry Circuitry". It is a series of poetic calls and incantations to Mystical and Archetypal figures. The Mandalas are meditation tools constructed from manipulated  images of the poetry.

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Print and Kindle Version of "Chantry Circuitry" Now Available 

Hardback Print Edition

Amazon Kindle Edition

Call To Gnosis

I call to you, O Gnosis
Understanding all I’ve seen.
Frustrated throws forever miss
Wholeness we’ve always been.

Outer reaching, inner searching,
Up and down the spiral run.
All my effort and beseeching,
Breath’s twin movements, one.

The mandala is the pieces
The mandala is the whole.
Perspective is the dance
Across the map of soul.

Gnosis counts the details.
Gnosis sees the sky.
Gnosis wove the veil.
Gnosis is the eye.

Happy Tomes Tuesday

Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

Print and Kindle Version of “Chantry Circuitry” Now Available

Hardback Print Edition

Amazon Kindle Edition

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/Call-To-Gnosis-by-Graeme-McA/180082399/flk2?asc=u

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me A Coffee

Substack can make us lose touch with our work as a holistic, evolving pathway as opposed to a collection of ranked things. This is a series of observations on friends’ journeys and my own, as opposed to objective advice.

(Artwork entitled Vision Tunnel)

Algorithm or Ego-Rhythm?

There are many articles on the correct publishing schedule to maximise your exposure and ‘engage your audience’ on Substack. I lack the expertise to either confirm or refute the first part of the claim. The second I have some issue with, I don’t claim to know every reader or have statistical insight, but I am one myself and I choose between my favourite authors depending on my needs at the moment - my mood, an idea I recently had, or something I read that reminded me of them. The human soul does have rhythms, but they are more musical and complex than a system data feed. I firmly believe that successful posting schedules are firmly based on the first criteria.

Still, if the publication process must work to its schedule, our minds have no such obligations. This is where I come to my keystone idea in this discussion - we must take OUR time. We may move either faster or slower than the “two large pieces per week” Substack guideline or (as I do) vary between the two at different periods, but what is important is that we honour the pace that truly drives us. Now, even in this care is required for the mind is often a contradictory creature, and we may be writing from a point of comparison to peers or because it feels too lazy not to be writing, conversely, we may be holding back as we feel our writing to be unworthy. What we must listen for, obey, or wait upon is that deep need to express an idea, an emotion or a fully fledged story - that unmistakable call of something that feels as true, irresistible, and omnipresent as wind upon our skin. Incidentally your natural rhythm may be perfectly in sync with the Substack algorithm, what is important is that you find and follow that rhythm, and do not let anyone else (least of all me) tell you what that rhythm is.

Writer’s Block or Clarke’s Monolith?

When speaking about rhythms and publishing frequency, the subject of writer’s block inevitably raises its head. A quick explanation of the subtitle - In Arthur C Clarke’s novel 2001 A Space Odyssey an alien race has distributed evolution enhancement devices shaped like black monoliths. They tower above you and make a hideous shrieking noise but if they find you worthy - they accelerate your development.

Like the monolith, these periods of writer’s block certainly feel dark, intimidating, and seem to scream words like “failure” and “fraud” very loudly, but those moments may also contain that all important next step. However, I believe our first step in working within this stillness is an act of reframing. I immensely dislike the phrase “writer’s block” - implying an unmalleable, lifeless stone to be destroyed, climbed over or discarded to continue on our way, just as before. The problems with this approach are numerous - should we treat our creative facilities as a vending machine to be used as convenient? Is the writer’s block an externally sourced obstacle or a mental defect of some kind? At the risk of irritating you with rhetorical questions, I’m trying to point out the common traps we all fall into when dealing with ourselves and our art.

Speaking for myself I sometimes find that I view my own mind as both too unified and too divided - and definitely over simplified. Sitting down to write poetry, essays, or even (the dreaded) Substack notes and marketing material, I fall into the trap of thinking of my conscious mind as the thing in charge commanding the “word generating appendage” to perform - “Right hand lift cup” - “Right brain make words”. (NB I’m using the “right brain” trope for convenience, the truth is much more interesting and complex - I highly recommend Iain Mcgilchrist’s work for more on the subject.) My point being that the fatal flaw lies in assuming our conscious/logical minds have the authority and that the “word generating appendage” doesn’t have its own, perhaps superior agenda. Also, why assume the conscious/logical mind is the one framing the question at all? Perhaps it is merely responding to the directions our artistic mind posed previously.

So where could this sort of framing lead our old friend the “writer’s block” to? A few interesting places, if considered as a message from the self to the self:

1. A warning against disobeying your natural rhythms as discussed earlier, not so much a “no” as a “not yet”.

2. An evaluation or maybe a rejection of your current piece. Is this going over old ground? Reaction to a trend? Or perhaps taking the wrong perspective?

3. (An extension of 2) - maybe this isn’t the right time for new work - maybe now is the moment to review and reread your portfolio.

It is option 3 that intrigues and excites me the most, such reviews can review useful, even expansive questions: What are the connective threads? Is there a consistent path - maybe even a mission you’ve been following? Sometimes we can only see these things clearly in hindsight, once you see the patterns in your previous work, it can reveal hidden motivations, then things get very exciting.

Counting Points vs The Point

Perhaps the most pernicious trap of the internet era is the diamond post/dud post rationale. The post that garnered the most views/likes/comments becomes the “winning formula” and “the template”, and the least viewed becomes the “failed experiment”. While, I do think there is some element of truth in this and likely good reasons as to why you may be getting different results- it can quickly lead to seeing your work as a series of arrows. Each piece becomes graded on its success or failure of hitting a perceived target, rather than its success as a step in an unfolding journey. This may seem very obvious to fiction authors, especially those serialising novels and novellas on Substack (a vibrant group ill-served by the platform’s structure and rather tone deaf development plans), but it also applies to poets, musicians, and visual artists too. Such long-running creator journeys go beyond an aesthetic style or subject matter (or at least their surface level understanding). They can be delicate and complex themes, philosophical questions, or even a deep investigation into a particular aspect of the medium. Van Gogh’s obsessive colour experiments are one example. I’ve often imagined that he was trying to develop or perhaps uncover a symbolic language of colour itself.

Whatever your individual mission is, and I do believe you have one if you’re pursuing art and writing on any serious regular basis, you must not lose sight of it in the drama of transitory events. By all means review your past performance, but take time to see your past. Look for the themes, figures, and concepts you return to again or how one piece connects to another. It can take some time to reveal your personal mission, so let things unfold at their own pace. Don’t force obvious coherence or consistency, if your work is naturally diverse, let it be so - that variety is part of your natural and unique thread. Sometimes the thread of our private truths runs straight and steady, sometimes it zig zags, or even performs quantum leaps. I believe that trusting your intuition and committing to the development of your voice to your standard is key. This can be the work of months, perhaps years, you may even find that you are pursuing several personal missions at once. Trust in yourself, and trust in others who recognise key patterns and themes in your work (and they may see them before you do) are key.

What About You?

Before I finish, I’d like to turn maybe the most important part of the creator’s toolkit in the process of self-discovery, but perhaps the most reviled, the “About” page. Conventional wisdom tells us to use this as an opportunity to sell ourselves, make a unique value proposal and so on. I think the real opportunity is to explore our work and be honest with ourselves and our audience about what art and literature means to us, and what drives us to create. I carried out this exercise on my own About page, moving from an explanation of how I work and promises on how I would make the reader feel to an exploration of why I’m driven and what I’m seeking, hopefully with greater sincerity and clarity. I have outlined the before and after pages below.

About Page Old

“Growing up in Northern Ireland, I was fascinated by ancient myths, folk tales, and fantastical poetry. From the Children of Lir to the poetry of William Butler Yeats, my earliest memories are of becoming lost in wondrous worlds bursting to escape their parental pages.

I soon discovered the transcendent works of William Blake and the Book of Kells, where letters and words gained even more power, becoming vibrant, living art pieces as blazing, jewel-like letters moving almost supernaturally around the page. Their musical poetry, dramatic stories, and visual beauty create another world. I fell in love with both poetry and graphic design, seeking to create modern, contemporary works that continue the magic of the illuminated poetry of old.

My books aim to combine bright, electrifying visuals with rhythmic, mystical poetry. Poetry and art that I hope will plant seeds in the limitless gardens of your imagination. What strange and beautiful flowers shall you grow?”

About Page Revised

“While growing up I was fascinated by ancient myths and fantastical poetry, especially Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Shakespeare and William Blake. I was drawn to the illuminated works of Blake and the Book of Kells, where letters and words gleam like jewels. Poems and stories become living art, their blazing letters bursting from the page.

I went on to study software engineering and graphic design, but my love of poetry and myth stayed with me. I spent my spare time researching the legends of my Irish heritage and ancient stories from around the world, and of course developing my own poems.

As my poetry and artwork has matured, the work has moved from expressing my imagination to a deeper mapping of its potentials and its pitfalls. Where once I imagined adventures with elemental spirits, now I recognise their roles as gatekeepers to deeper, more complex levels of the self. Where images were once illustrative, they are now visual paths and symbolic diagrams offering complementary messages and alternative understandings of the lyrics.

My work has grown into an investigation of how and where the imagination and experience can meet. Not in rivalry, not as subject and subjugator, but as partners in a dance. I am exploring how poetry and art can feed experience with wonder, and how the world can temper and sharpen imagination. The works of the writers and artists I love first opened that path for me. Perhaps these works may offer a stepping stone, or a subtle path on your journey through your own rich and hidden depths.”

I think the difference is fairly substantial - but the shift in perspective is subtle. I implore you not to treat these thoughts as a set of rules or a rigorous piece of advice. If I have successfully touched on the universal then you my dear friend can work that nebulous clay into the specific, the sculpted. We have no shortage of data, information, or stories, but we do have a very real risk of the banal drowning the beatific. I have written at length and depth about the search for your own voice, but I do not think we can do this alone. We must see truth before we can recognise our own, and while those truths may be unique they are interlaced. So whether through the infectious energy of seeing a creator find themselves, or by revealing an inroad to another’s true path - you are wanted, you are needed.

May our paths cross again.

Graeme

(Click to see full size with greater detail)

Another piece from my New Book "Chantry Circuitry". It is a series of poetic calls and incantations to Mystical and Archetypal figures. The Mandalas are meditation tools constructed from manipulated  images of the poetry.

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Print and Kindle Version of "Chantry Circuitry" Now Available 

Hardback Print Edition

Amazon Kindle Edition

Call To Desire

I call you, O Rising Desire
To shake the bolted room.
Wind and tinder awaiting fire.
The opening scarlet bloom.

Rose seduction, pointing thorn.
Heat soars towards midday.
The rainbow meets the storm.
My will aligns with the way.

Focused passion, Occam’s point.
Needle trail through glooming forest.
Tamed labyrinth, straightened joints.
Aimless adventure becomes a quest.

Directed flame, forge, Desire.
Heat shapes unyielding steel.
Bridging inch from hand to spire.
Beating wings within my heels.

Happy Tomes Tuesday

Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

Print and Kindle Version of “Chantry Circuitry” Now Available

Hardback Print Edition

Amazon Kindle Edition

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/Call-To-The-Sun-by-Graeme-McA/179384402/flk2?asc=u

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me A Coffee

(Click to see full size with greater detail)

A Happy Easter to you and your families - a contemplation on the story.

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

East Star
Setting moon dragged to the horizon.
Time and gravity cling, rusted mildew
Dragging purest light west and down.
Oh guiding light, comfort pulled below.

The weary orb that bears the burden,
Mapping earth's hungry eating holes.
Small stars’ efforts blink and burn,
Fragments unequal to the whole.

The dread hill swallows last light,
Shapes swarm, patch black darker.
Veins crave, eyes weep, breath tight.
Night travellers feel fullest danger.

The long cold hours holding court,
A sinking world, weak and sour.
Bursting dawn, the burning point
Piercing cloud's sable armour.

Terror and triumph torch the sky.
Flaming tongues speak one word
Of  breathing,  blood  and  infinity.
Darkness destroyed on tip of sword.

Endless blue flows wide and high.
Birds sing, smiles stretch, buds open.
Peace and purity of a spring sky.
Cycled Sacrifice of moon and sun.

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/photographic-print/East-Star-by-Graeme-McA/170094201/zltf

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

Subscribe to Claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks. Subscribing also gives you the chance to have YOUR WORK featured in my “McAllister’s Mates” review section.

PS If you enjoyed this, and want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering) - consider clicking the button below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me A Coffee

McAllister’s Mates - An ongoing series of reviews of some of the wonderful articles, poems, and stories I’ve discovered on Substack (and other places) and more importantly the beautiful souls behind the works.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here!

Please take a few moments to read the works of these authors, artists, and creators and if you find their work as life-affirming and life changing as I do, then please let them know. We need to support and cherish these voices.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me a Coffee

I’ve noticed a few odd coincidences (Jung might call them synchronicities) in the academic/scientific literature that’s crossed my path recently. Scientists and serious academics are grappling with questions about the interplay between imagination and lived experience that I’ve stumbled upon through poetic contemplation.

This brings me to the exciting work of Jaime Horrocks, PhD. The opening lines sparkle, expressing disdain for the linear metaphors of ladders as applied to psychological development. A wonderful rejection of Newtonian physics (which actually falls far short of how the physical world really operates) as applied to self. In a world where we learn facts to achieve test scores to obtain the “good job” to achieve status to earn better distractions to drown out the voice inside us crying out for more - this is a call to pursue genuine understanding.

Indeed a rejection of these traditional hierarchies and leaderboards seems to be a very necessary step towards something like self-actualisation. However, I’m aware of how dangerous gamified terms like enlightenment and self-actualisation are in the investigation of self - ladders masquerading as bridges.

This article not only points out the mistakes of our current paradigm, which is causing vast harm both to our internal and external worlds, it also offers an alternative, and perhaps more importantly a practice. A psychic (of the mind, not supernatural) method of investigation, recording, and understanding much like the scientific method (when applied without the pressures of politics and private funding - a rant for another day). There are rich contemplations and questions here that cause the reader to doubt their current standing but not themselves, and to embrace confidence in their entire being but not external achievements. I will not quote these questions here as I feel that you must come to them in the manner and order of Jaime’s writing so that your mind is primed and fully receptive to the wisdom they contain.

The article is bridged by a wonderful poem that weaves together all the ideas and concepts already discussed. While certainly enjoyable, memorable, and underpinning the emotions of these philosophical ideas, the poem actually works as a vital part of the process and cognitive journey the article takes us on. In a work devoted to using language to understand ourselves across all dimensions - this is an intelligent move. Academic writing, personal journaling, and poetic thought meet to create a space where we encounter our whole being.

To bring things full circle- this work found me at the perfect time. I’ve become convinced of the existence of a psychological space where art, linguistics, science, and even spirituality meet as equal partners. It is a place we can find not only within ourselves but also at a societal level - we can and we must come together there. Jaime’s work is an excellent road map to that greater state of being, I look forward to meeting you there.

The AutSide

Reading Between Worlds: The Meaning Map

What if growth were not a ladder, a rubric, or a neat arc of improvement? For many gestalt adults, meaning emerges spatially, relationally, and recursively. The real map is not progress—it is the changing shape of what now makes sense…

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3 months ago · 13 likes · Jaime Hoerricks, PhD

and
This is a beautifully crafted lyrical ballad in the vein of Robert Browning’s Pied Piper of Hamelin and Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Lady of Shalott. This sort of epic poem that emphasises fantastical imagery and musicality is a sadly rare item in modern times. It is strange for a media landscape where fantasy stories are delivered thick and fast (to varying degrees of quality), that one of the richest and perhaps most appropriate forms of storytelling in fantasy literature is so neglected.

The imagery is timeless, weaving a creation myth of elven beings brought forth as an expression of a Goddess’ love and grace. Great battles, tragedy, daring, and hope follow. However, the lyrics also interweave very intriguing references to Daemons and night terrors. The overall dreamlike mood of the piece coupled with the references to Daemons (intermediary spirits between the mortal and spirit worlds - not to be confused with “demons”), bring the piece into the world of the metamyth. My personal feeling is that we’re not just walking through the telling of a magical story, we are also walking through the shared dream. The elves, I think, are the embodiment of our private fantasies - not flat, representational symbols but living entities building and growing together in a shared space. In that context perhaps the goblins and giants become the mundane pressures that would steal our dreams or twist them into stunted fantasies of worldly desire. We can only hope that our courage and spirit can raise its “silvery blade” in defence of our imaginations and perhaps even our minds.

Lyrical poetry at its best unites and deepens the layers of story, imagery, and contemplations through its cadences, melodies, and rhyming movements. The poem excels in this area: the scenes of mystery, tragedy, and rising hope gain weight and vitality through the musicality of the language. The metre and rhyming schemes create a song in the mind that reveals the words behind the words. Hard syllables bring to life clashing blades, the crunching march of armoured warriors and grinding teeth of monstrous goblins. Softer flowing movements and feminine rhymes catalyse the passage on the elves’ wisdom, the mystery of the Goddess, and the spirit of hopefulness that encircles the poem like gentle wings. This is a wonderful collaboration between a storyteller’s deep lore and fully formed characters, and a lyricist’s flowing language, and evocative imagery - I am looking forward to reading more from this wonderful partnership.

Shadows and Space

Aelendal's tears

This poem is the result of a collaborative effort between ArcadianWeald and myself. If you wish to learn more about the fantastical realm of God Aelendal, read the free novella Call Of The Winding Road here…

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6 months ago · 38 likes · 102 comments · The Black Knight and ArcadianWeald

I hope you enjoy these beautiful works as much as I enjoyed reading and writing about it.

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A short break from my ongoing series "Chantry Circuitry" for this Tomes Tuesday. It is April Fools Day and a chance to celebrate. Writing about daffodils brings up some uncomfortable comparisons - and yes Wordsworth did it better!

The Audio features a reading by me - as opposed to an automated voiceover.

Avril Idiots
The grey, the gold, plot, observe.
But fools come garbed in yellow,
Naïve, brave, step and swerve
Cliff edges, gaping hollows.

Bulbs burst and stems stamp,
Patrons of fools and dancers.
First to throw winter’s wraps,
Defy frost's gripping pinchers.

Daffodils roar, trumpets blown,
Face wind whips, frozen swords,
Roses wait and claim the crown,
Riding summer’s sure rewards.

Poised pens and plucked strings
Braving trends, battle tastes
Nectar sun behind the stings
Of fearful ice delaying fate.

Note ropes and letter masts
Build ships of brave invention.
Frozen fields with yellow hats
Frightening stale convention.

Soft roses suck coin, acclaim
After tests and trials of Avril.
Sham artists timid, tame
Ride victories of the daffodils.

Happy Tomes Tuesday

Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:

If you enjoyed this poem and artwork - have a look at the various print options available from redbubble.com.

https://www.redbubble.com/i/photographic-print/Avril-Idiots-by-Graeme-McA/169628264/zltf

Thank you for your time as always
Graeme

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McAllister’s Mates - An ongoing series of reviews of some of the wonderful articles, poems, and stories I’ve discovered on Substack (and other places) and more importantly the beautiful souls behind the works.

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Please take a few moments to read the works of these authors, artists, and creators and if you find their work as life-affirming and life changing as I do, then please let them know. We need to support and cherish these voices.

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A poem dripping with atmosphere and a slow, quiet power. The tone and even the typographic shaping of the poem call to mind the severe sharp faces of rocky outcrops and sheer cliffs looking down uncaringly at mere mortals.

However, just as the wind whistles soulfully between those foreboding rocks, this poem’s opening lines hint at wonders to come, but just like John the traveller we must first submit to the uncomfortable feelings of isolation and smallness the words bring forth. Poems are sometimes pilgrimages taking us to places our busy, frantic minds would flee in terror from. Like John you must persevere through the rich melancholy of contemplations on aging and solitude. As the words lead you to the “fuller silence”, the change comes.

The poem moves from silence to spectacle as both the narrative and the imagery explode into vibrancy after solemn contemplation. A manifestation of Jesus appears before John but the poem takes a definite left turn away from traditional religious imagery. The figure of Jesus isn’t presented as a serene reassuring presence, but as an almost terrifying psychedelic vision wrapped in flames with a “voice of many waters”. This poem shows a wise, mature, and a very human understanding of what a supernatural encounter might actually feel like. Confronting your own insignificance in a cosmos where worlds are born, die, and feed their broken mass to a new generation in unimaginable bursts of cosmic energy.

In media imagery and the vast majority of religious art, the focus is often held on Jesus’ mortal life and its heartbreaking conclusion with the resurrection treated as something of a footnote after. At most a Pentecostal scene may be included as a “see he was special” bullet point, but rarely is the strangeness of some of the elements of the New Testament celebrated as it is here.

The line “a memory of eternity.” is an elegant summation of the poem’s core - the longing for the unknowable, the ironically alien state of living in a world of predictable, reliable mechanisms with little room for the mysterious or wondrous.

This is a poem exploring the space between the known self and the invasion or revelation of shocking states of consciousness. No matter your personal spiritual traditions or opinions, there is likely something for you to ponder. This is the voice of the constant within, yet forever unknowable. As we reach into the stranger aspects of art, faith, and our own imaginations, we realise the more we know, the less we understand.

Adrião Pereira da Cunha

Chapter XII – The Apocalypse of John

John had grown old…

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4 months ago · 9 likes · 2 comments · Adrião Pereira da Cunha

Three clicks from this page you will find a poetic musing on the moon - I’ve had a crack at it myself on more than one occasion. This poem, however, offers a very fresh and unique perspective. The opening tone is almost scathing and aligns more closely with postmodern criticisms of spirituality than with the age of classical romanticism. The moon is dismissed as a “counterfeit sun”, its eerie mirroring of its brother sun a coincidence of geometry. However, the same withering gaze then turns on us; it accuses humanity of abandoning our instinctual (and perhaps sacred) ties to the thirteen lunar seasons. We are condemned for our cowardice in allowing our lunar year to be supplanted by a twelve-month cycle of labour. The missing month, buried like Edgar Allan Poe’s tell tale heart, is a standout metaphor that underlines a deep sense of loss touching our collective soul. The poem’s scathing wit melts into a tender scene of two lovers in a place “where guilt ended and grace began”. As the poem’s narrative comes down from its gleaming acerbic tower into the warm earth, it moves into a final journey through the melancholy landscape of the soul, where the need for mystery is embraced again.

The poem approaches a moment of conscious transcendence as its opposing philosophies and perspectives embrace. A knowing critique of scientific reductionism and anthropomorphising celestial objects, while also a celebration of the pursuit of objective knowledge and a validation of the deeper reality buried in imaginative speculation. This approach of celebration and criticism creates an artfully crafted piece where two contradictory ideas fully meet without semantic gaps or broken logic. In the movements of this poem, the moon is both the watchful Luna and an interesting physical coincidence of a mundane collision of two planets. This understanding creates not only a deeper appreciation of the moon itself, but also a heightened state of awareness of the experienced environment. Just like the poem’s tender love scene, the earthly and ethereal meet, creating a power beyond both. In our travels through this poem, both the moon and (perhaps more importantly) the reader become something else entirely - if even for a moment.

The Loom

Poe´s Heart

There is a tongue that flickers in the grid’s unseen static, a frequency not spoken by God but by that cold coin in the night— borrowed light, thin as a lie, burning like truth when you stare too long. It hangs there, shaped and placed so it can counterfeit the sun, a stone the exact size of an absence at a distance we call miracle only because we can…

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4 months ago · 33 likes · 12 comments · Adrian

I hope you enjoy these beautiful works as much as I enjoyed reading and writing about it.

You can meet some of my other friends in the previous instalments: 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Substack has proven to be a treasure trove and I already have a few more gifted writers lined up for my next review newsletter.

P.S Subscribe for your chance to get your work reviewed here! You can also claim your FREE book of Poetry and art Hypnos Hermes - an epic poem presented as a medieval manuscript. A fantastical story written in verse enriched by many colourful and vibrant artworks.

If you want to keep me in caffeine (and keep the ghostly voices whispering for the poetry side of things) - consider clicking below. For any who do so, you have my deepest gratitude.

Buy Me a Coffee