Filter your angst. Bottle it in a tiny green bottle, and label it “Poison”. Then read the label, every day, until you are ready to flush it down the toilet.

House your fears in a derelict mansion on the edge of town. Dress them up in period clothes & take away their shoes. Let them loose on each other.

Push the walls on both sides until your hands sink through them. Lift them up in the air. Take a deep breath. Then blow them apart.

Imagine thoughts as butterflies caught in the steel net of your troubled mind. Pierce the net with a sharp sound. Let them out. One by one.

Let go of what most concerns you, and fill the void with water. Then let the water flow slowly onto fertile ground. Wait.

All narrative is a lie. The truth can only be heard in the pauses between words. In stillness. When we recognise our own breath. Welcome to Poets, Mavericks & Prophets, a manufacturer of philosophical mischief, psychological acrobatics, alchemical art projects & esoteric master plans. PMaPs regular offerings are soulful nuggets, ephemeral impressions picked up in…