Land of the Midnight Suns

A Thousand Dimensions

Land of the Midnight Suns


Part I 2014

Chapter One ~ Trip ~ Lift Off

The Land of the Midnight Suns, where we are all one, interconnected, leaving behind Levels One to Four, soaring to Level Seven through Five and Six. The Universe. This Space seen outside the contours of my mind, released, free, exterior, not trapped within my skull.

The Land of the Giant Suns, unlocking even youth itself, when ancient Barritt gazed upon Light Incandescent and in life’s instant Age fell away. Time stood still and then doubled backed upon itself.

He stands again at Leary’s door. A youth of twenty, smooth, unwrinkled, beautiful. The man who had gazed upon GOD, he claims, and contrary to fabric of ancient scripts, of religions, a myriad . . . LIVED.

Let us leave him to his flights of fancy …

Chapter two ~ Trip ~ I Surely Fly

Am I right to traverse the landscape of my mind? Are we right to join in Piscean intimacy and gaze with awe upon Gemini? What are these contours that take me to the seventh level opening my reasoning, my intellect, and my understanding?

Do we dare perchance upon the sands where Crowley and Neuberg did enjoin in ritual to call upon Choronzon? And by synchronicity, a century on did Leary and Barritt do the self-same thing unbeknown to them the relevance of the act and hour?!?

Do you and I dare to do as Crowley did, and call upon Chaos?

Let us traverse the slopes, and fly the mountain-tops. Let us see together the Origins of our Universe, and glance upon the wonders of Creation. Let us see those times before visions enacted stiff religions, codified, comatose, lifeless … Let us view our mind maps and plot the course of our trajectories. Do we move from level plain and back again?

Do our mindmaps reflect the Blueprints of our lives Written on The Other Side?

Let us stand outside Time and, thus ageless as indeed Ageless is. Seize that moment! Look upon the ashtray and trace its origin through hallucinogenic Vision, showing us its own path from root and branch. Metal and dust fashioned by hands, and beat upon the anvil and then gloriously anointed by the first kiss of ash from the leaf.

And thence our minds shoot aeons ahead and back and see the leaf, the forest, the soil, the earth, and its history.

Chapter Three ~ Most Wise Counsel

Good friend, I read your thoughts, your musing, with interest and caution care upon your quest for this enlightenment.

I have no doubts at all about the value of the study, the mapping of the mind, the bending of its will to stimulating drugs; and outside, Space, Hallucination!

But I counsel this question.

In every trip, Is it real? Really real?

And I counsel further. Consider Ledger Winehouse. Consider the boys that fly. Do they really? Really?!

Or is it only flying the hills and vales, the mountain ranges, the subterranean places of their imagination?

I ponder, reflecting upon this wisdom. I shall pause awhile. I leave it unfinished in this brief twilight hour in this dismal 2014.

… and if the inspiration returns, then we shall draw this to its conclusion. Poetry and Prose should ebb and flow and not be contrived.

Inspiration does not always accompany us hand in hand to the end. Suddenly we part company, and she becomes elusive, running through the trees, and in glimmers of light we might catch a glimpse but not enough to join her again…

And then suddenly, she is by our side again, beaming. And we continue our walk.

That is the secret  ~ never force her hand.

Part II 2015



Re-examined 15 June 2015

Author Note

9 April 2020

I post this in the public domain so that all who love to write but are encouraged not, to persevere …

A theme presents itself and accompanies the writer … all is well. Paths are walked, lanes discovered, clifftops reached, and then just as suddenly, the theme exits.

Hang on … Where have you gone? Why did you do that?

Do not give in. Quietly set aside the piece … for I guarantee that she or he will one day return and continue the conversation that seemed hither, to have been so full of life, vibrancy and vitality …

It still is! But it tests our resolve. It tests our patience!

It is no different to the Artist’s studio. We see canvasses. We see great works. We also, upon looking closer, see part works, unfinished works, works that suddenly stop …

But that is the joy and freedom of creating work.

So, I say again. Let not Theme’s temporary departure put you off, or discourage you.

She or he, or they, or maybe even it, will return, at a time of individual choosing. Rest assured, we shall be expected to be poised and ready to continue in our creativity.

Part III 2020-2022

From Poetry to Prose



9 April 2020

Published in A Thousand Dimensions 1 January 2022

Dimension Land of the Midnight Suns results from a study of the very controversial life of Timothy Leary. I did not enjoy the study, but I sensed its importance.

I often saw the effects of social drugs in the heart of Liverpool city, and also in the mornings at my offices, also in the heart of the city, when a chap would wander in ‘with hayfever, sorry Ken’, and be completely spaced out. Yet he forcefully reminded me that his weekly pay was his Godsend, that my walk to the bank to collect his wages in cash was his lifeline, and so it went on.

This is not a criticism of my city.

Every city, every town, and every village even, has a problem with social drugs.

My friend across the Channel advised me to read the biography of Timothy Leary. This was not, as I say, a pleasant read, but most certainly, a very important act of research. One might say it was also, occasionally, one of enlightenment.

Thus, followed the poem which I then changed to prose.

Chapter One and Chapter Two give us ‘the trip’.

Chapter Three is my friend’s very wise counsel having read the poetry format. Keeping things in perspective, what I like about Chapter Three is that my friend was, at the time of that advice, still only in his early twenties. He had seen all too often at university in Paris, the wasteland created by the temporary euphoria.

Now very happily married, I know for sure, he is a wonderful husband and father, with a handle on life and on this century. And that is exactly what we need.

There are people who will speak of ecstatic moments in life as a result of their ‘harmless’ enjoyment of drugs.

I watched, however, one young man wreck three careers - a very talented chap - in quick succession and become unemployable.

This is the reality of this Dimension.

It is a dead-end, all too often, ending with the death certificate being handed to the next of kin in a daze, and again, too often, did this come home with distraught parents handing me their child’s death certificate when I practised law, with that terrifying searching in their eyes … what on earth do we do? How did this ever happen?

Euphoria to Wasteland

… the wasteland created by the temporary euphoria.

The Artist’s Studio ~ Dystopian

It is no different to the Artist’s studio. We see canvasses. We see great works. We also, upon looking closer, see part works, unfinished works, works that suddenly stop …

11 March 2025
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LIVERPOOL

© 2025 Kenneth Thomas Webb

First penned on 5 March 2014, Liverpool Waterfront