ABSTRACT
(Memories of the old centre of learning)
CAUTLEY SPOUT
(The power of the Yorkshire hills)
CIEL ...
(Dreaming before conception)
ALSO, CIEL
(Dreaming before birth)
CRYSTAL CARCASS
(Class 3N, 1968)
THE DIFFERENCE
(Reflections on a Rock Star. 22nd May, 1976)
MAKING DON QUIXOTE
(Inspired by the song 'Don Quixote', by Gordon Lightfoot. 1972)
DOOM
(This is what you get when you try meditation at a creative writing class
...
well; it's what I got, anyway ...
Mid-1990's)
ON THE FACE OF IT
(Ever considered what's underneath that peaceful, rolling countryside, going
past your train window?
Zeus' father ate his children. Perhaps his crime was only symbolic
of a less-acceptable truth.)
FRAN'S PLACE GIVES ME A CORNER OF MY OWN
(Written in an old study-buddy's bed-sit. 1973)
FROM THE GREEN ROOM
(One of the best views from the base of Glastonbury Tor)
CIEL. ALAS ...
(Dreaming of Annihilation)
LAST SONG
(A stairway to God's Place. Not inspired by the Led Zeppelin song.
Sorry, lads)
IMAGINATION
(This one kinda explains itself. 1967)
ACTOR'S GOLD
(Various really briliant actors inspired this. For the sake of their
vanity and mine,
I'm not going to mention their names ...)
MOM, GONE NOW
(2000)
MOONRISE
(Written for a friend's homework. 1972)
MILTON KEYNES MUDBATH
(Written for my best pal from across the pond,
in remembrance of the Genesis reunion concert, 'SIX OF ONE'. Oct 2nd,
1982)
NIGHTWATCH
(1975)
OCEANIC
(Thoughts occuring during a stay at Pete Townshend's spiritual centre,
which he centred around The Boathouse, his studio, near Richmond.
Written 14th November, 1976)
INVOLUTION
(Hints of the beginnings of too much deep-thinking about the universe.
Maybe this is what most call madness...
Better a wise madness, than a foolish sanity@.
Written, 1969)
@{taken from 'DON QUIXOTE' by Cervantes.}
NOT A TALL TALE - (in short...)
(Three pithy tributes to Iolaus, a wonderful character, who
has his own life now,
thank-those-responsible-very-much! - from the ground-breaking and
often
misunderstood, TV show, HERCULES: the legendary journeys.
Written mid-to-late 1990's.)
DID YOU PRAY FOR ME?
(Inspired by Ian McShane's performance of Judas Iscariot, in JESUS OF
NAZARETH.
April 12th, 1977)
TWO PERSONS
(Some deep evaluative process provided these thoughts about the character
Morgan, 'Two Persons' Beaudine, played by Kurt Russell, in the 1970's TV
Show,
THE QUEST, which was based on two real brothers, who lived in the latter
half
of the 19th Century, in America's old West.)
EIGHTEEN
(Written in 1973, when I was still only eighteen, this is about as pretentious
as I get ...)
SILVER
(This one's about mistakes; some fatal, some not. April 17th, 1977.)
THE SWORD AND THE YO-YO
(The indestructible and wily spirit)
ONCE A CELT, ALWAYS ...
(Sort of a lighter, companion piece to On The Face Of It.)
THIN LINE
(30th January, 1977.This one came out of a dream. It's about the
difference
between the Obsessed and the Witness;how it ties them together and how it
separates them.
Also, how no matter how right the cause,the most passionate, the most righteous
efforts, often end in failure.
I believe that Obsession is one of the tools of the impulse to destroy.)
TREE STANDS
(The cryptic journey and the ones you can't turn around and wait for ...
Written in 1975.)
WOOD SMOKE
(A Personal journey's diary.
Written on 14th November, 1976, after Meher Baba exploded into my life.
A curse and a Blessing.)
Return to Original Fiction Page
Bizarre-painted echo trickling down
from the chandelier;
Glass-cracked hanging memories
They leave a shadow on the
Wall when they've gone;
The mirrors in odd corners
Of odd rooms will soon forget you.
We need a Theatre ghost.
It won't be long.
It won't be long.
The curtains curl about you,
Smothering with a monologue
of patter: The ultimate in
Irritation.
One day the sprinklers will
shower down upon a brainstorm; drown all the
little ducks.
I stand on hill, small,
In valley, narrow,
With grey bank, steep,
And green;
And all the silence, still,
And all the valley sides
And hill
And sky
Seep into me.
... there is but one thing
and that is this;
only waiting
only blue
only sometimes
only days
only nights
only rain
only
the dangerous,
wonderful,
overwhelming seas,
the dangerous trees
parading down the mountainside ...
All in you
If I could sing songs to thee -
to keep thee company -
and know them heard,
I would sing them;
But my heart, in doubt,
silences me
to despair.
Be there:
In that space,
the colour of you
Holds everything
that I remember
of your eyes.
Glisten and glow,
Sparkle and flame,
Like moths in the sunlight.
Glass-covered dew drops,
As fresh as the Mind,
Bubbling down the cool mountain stream.
Stand on the threshold and look at the life of butterflies,
Flitting before your eyes in enigmatic elusiveness.
~
Flake and fall,
Disintegrate, to lives of interminable,
Unknown dust.
Limbo.
Left forgotten - until forever ...
Or just until some dog
Decides to go and bury a bone ...
~
Musty and unwanted is the place wherein you lie;
Unliving, dead ...
All attempts at self-salvation to no avail?
Has the civilisation of the world that is best forgotten,
Mistaken its origin?
Are the miscreants that have bitten deeply
Into the Sands of Time,
Wrongfully wronged?
Their nature is no more.
The grass beneath their feet has withered and died.
Like them.
But is the life source still flaring in the souls of these
Cobwebbed, cardboard people?
Do you really want to know?
He draws the lonely to him
With his loneliness
We ebb and flow throughout his emptiness
Does he see us?
Does he know we're there?
Or does the empty air just flow around him
Like his tears,
A wave,
Weaving dark despair?
Lightness is within him
But reflected in the moonlight
Just a shadow of himself
Like a seagull keening to the sea,
Grounded,
Stumbling with a broken wing;
Yet when we hear him sing,
Sending his cry, high,
Circling,
We sway and follow him,
And mesmerised into ourselves,
We see him.
Now we are moving onwards,
Outwards, from our start,
We leave him standing,
Yet he is going on a journey,
Far and farther;
As we move on,
With his eyes he watches us,
Knowing he is one of us,
And yet he journeys on without us,
By himself.
For him, there is no other way.
A flash of white is come and gone
Within the mind of one who seeks,
For the courtroom now is empty
Of the thoughts of one who keeps
All the world together in a fist of tightly,
finely woven steel,
With the strength of twenty giants,
Governs what should happen,
Where and why,
Before all men should die.
Silence spreads the whole world over,
Taking with it dusts of peace.
Years away a fish emerges,
Grows some legs,
A better brain,
On some lonely, distant planet,
The work of God begins again.
Black door; back door.
Red door; dead door.
Green door; seen door.
White door; night door.
The black door was at my back.
The red door was dangerous, like death.
The green door I had already passed.
The white door, like the night, drew me.
I went through the white door.
The stars shone in my eyes, blinding me.
The deep night called to my insides,
Come back, come back.
White door; back door.
Black door; dead door.
Red door; seen door.
Green door; night door.
The black door opened; I entered.
There were memories there.
I looked at them, but then turned away.
They couldn't help me.
Black door; seen door.
Red door; night door.
Green door; back door.
White door; dead door.
I went to the red door.
I could smell blood, hear dying animals.
It was too much and I fled.
I would never come out the other side.
Red door; back door.
Green door; dead door.
White door; seen door.
Black door; night door.
Only the green door left.
It had been right under my nose.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
There, finally, was the blue door.
Green door; seen door.
White door; night door.
Black door; back door.
Red door; dead door.
Blue door; through door.
Thank heavens! All the puzzles solved, all the monsters slain.
I thought I'd never find my way out of this damned computer game!
On the face of it, it's only earth
On the face of it.
I travel, I walk, I run, I drink,
I cry and yell and whisper
On the face of it
I think of it before you say it,
On the face of it
Hands wipe the blurred face clean
Each of us, like a husband,
Paints his wife's face like a harlot
Exclusive, high-powered machine
Executive Convertible, like every other -
A blurred face
Hands wipe clean that face
Every hand.
I ate my Children then,
and you condemned me for it -
I still eat them
and you still condemn me -
But they don't.
What's my name? You don't know it -
But they do.
It's all for Nothing, this -
On the face of it.
I walk on my own face
FRAN'S PLACE GIVES ME A CORNER OF MY OWN
Under this roof
Within these four walls
Home is new to me
I never knew what home was
Here, here is comfort
These bare boards a welcome mat,
as pictured carpet never could be.
Warm feelings
The floor of contentment
Familiar pictures that I know I've never seen.
What dark and homely secret hides behind that cupboard door?
The vibrating hanging on the wall behind me
Shows me sea and sand,
I feel like I am sharing a million different places;
All I want's a corner.
Soft sounds I never knew about comfort my ears.
There's a lion on the wall;
He's smiling at me -
At everyone
But then again
Just at me.
'And I lifted the Stone.
And the clouds drifted
And the water beneath
The spirit, hanging in the
air, quivered
full of possibilities
And the wind sang in the sky
All still and waiting
Awaiting Trumpets cry
brazen and heart-breaking
*
You cannot break my silence.
Heart in the Hill
beneath my feet
fills me to
Shiver and throw wide
The Gates
and all asunder down to
the barest depths
In a single touch, the
heights sound
And full and blowing
and nothing but nothing else
Only thee
Thee
I feel no cold glass
of the water
There is the Heart's Storm:
Only the Heart's Storm.
Across all the plain
- the Thunder of it -
I have no belief
There is nothing but thee
No faith
Only the wind
No knowledge
Only the light - all and
unbearable
Then the Brightness in the
Blackness gathers all
that is left of me
in its warm arms.
Goodnight.
to Kiss You
again
would be the sweetest thing
I know
but there is
only one
way
and that is
to never Kiss You
again
God stood at the top of the stairway to Heaven and looked down to see who it was coming up at such an unaccustomed hour:
Coming with such a noise of singing and coming, it would appear, quite alone - but rejoicing for all that.
Who is it who dares to climb by himself, in the middle of the night, and to sing with such a loud voice?
The singer stopped singing and laughed, and kept on climbing.
I am climbing because I know how, she said, and I am not alone.
And I am singing because of the others who come this way, singing, and believe that they, each one of them, comes alone.
So God sat down and waited for the woman, as she climbed,
And they sang together.
I say to myself
How does that person
manage to be like that?
I always fall flat
When I try to be someone else.
Not being someone else
I have no idea of how
to set about anything
so complicated as this.
I sit locked in my own
Ugly, dead-end, little world,
Searching, searching for a
Way to burst into
the world, reborn
As someone no-one
has ever heard of.
That person that I sort of
envy, holds the key
to my enlightenment
But I can't buy.
The key not being hers to sell.
So she carries on as she
always has.
Happy?
I imagine happier than I.
I who still sit here, in the dark,
imagining strange things.
Imagination.
Never should have been invented.
Your head thinks their thoughts
Your courage bares your soul, mirrored in theirs,
The faceless soul is silver - mirrors ours -
"Enough!" I cried.
"No more," I whispered.
You must have been there in the walls I have
beaten with my screams, when I thought there
was no-one there.
You, I am sure, would think all this very bizarre.
I am only saying what I see in the mirror.
I can't even imagine what it was like inside your head, ever.
At any time of your life.
At any time, anywhere near the end.
The past ten years.
What did you think of me, then?
How did you feel about me?
I feel like this is just a new phase of your life;
A summer holiday, and then a new school,
In a new country.
A much new understanding.
What do you think about me now?
How do you feel about me now?
I can't even imagine.
I wish I could feel comfortable about you watching me.
I wish I knew you now.
I don't.
So, please ...
Don't watch me too closely.
The black needle-barbed firs
waved their angry arms at the
oblivious dark
Which was answering back
with stars flashing stabbing whispers
encouraged and enclosed by the depth around them.
Futile anger.
I don't know why they bother.
For every night the Pale Protector
awakes in her perennial 'sleep-and-wake'
And the demons vanish.
Pale in the night,
Dim in Street-light,
Sharpened by frost, not frosty.
Same night,
Same sky,
Same waving arms.
Light brings many changes.
A hearth-warm night embraces a
cat-sleeping sky.
Arms seeking alms, move softly,
in a humble way.
Stars glow 'comfort' 'til the
tensions melt away into a peaceful
state of mind.
Moonrise ... a necessary thing,
and alone in its solicitude.
Until we rise to meet the moon.
Every single problem created by the day,
Soaked into a solid sodden mass of 60,000
Dripped off rubbish bags
to pool into the mud -
We were a vision in brown,
Was washed away.
The bouncing punk up our cold, wet paper problems
On the Souls of his beat
and drummed them into the mud.
We were drowning at the feast -
Drowning in the Danger
and the Joy.
You have written,
Cuneiform
High,
Flying high
Higher flying
Higher, flying
Highest.
Still, through the water, the bird slides,
Flowing with the current,
Creeping with the darkness,
Soundless creeping,
Sleeping through the dawn -
Not aware to face the Piper when he comes.
And I am waiting
There, on the shore,
Feet, wet-sand-sinking.
Still, and grey light
Daring to stray
Into the light-flute image of my dream.
Gull call.
Wait for that.
A single beating heart,
Beating, wing tip to wing tip,
Messenger in purpose,
Hungry in form.
I caught fish to await his arrival.
While he ate his fish on arriving stateside,
I read the proclamation,
Chewing on a chicken bone.
Had the Queen of Egypt waited so long for an answer?
I looked up.
There were rain-skies moving inland,
Growling down from some place East Nor' East.
You were coming home.
So I would get wet waiting for you.
Now the time for leaving.
This place of wood, very comfortable wood.
The wood is the trees,
I am surrounded by trees
Very still.
And when I go,
The wood will still be here,
And it will be here
When I come back,
This wood;
Safe as Mercy.
Birds in this wood;
You can hear them
Or not hear them
A walk in the wood
Is very quieting to the soul,
All different trees
Go to make up this wood,
And in the still air
You can see them very clearly.
Pictures of me in a space in the wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
'Pictures of gliding through airless confusion
Are coming to you, so they say,'
So they said.
Passing from nothing, through something,
To nothing,
Is nothing like anything I've ever known,
Seeing the Universe blinking an eyelid to see
Only mutes,
Like the birds that have flown.
Mankind in a vacuum,
A speck of dust caught on a slate that is yet
To be written upon.
NOT A TALL TALE - (in short...
)
A TRILOGY
Once tested, not found wanting -
tried and true.
Short in stature, heart of fire -
eyes of blue.
Always hungry, never greedy -
past to rue.
Crowned, untitled, lover's bounty
Overdue.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shine and
Blue Shine
and Purple
Shine and
Bright Shine
and Light
Shine and
Out Shine
and Lightning
Fast and the
Mast will
each Storm
Out Last.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Winter Tree
No leaves
Cold, White
- getting lost in it all.
Spring Grass
Springs Back
Still Green
- grass is king.
Summer Bee
Flower Forest
Honey Blossom
- light heart's flight of fancy.
Autumn Leaves
Tree Bare
Change Again
- losing today for the Future.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The waiting is the longest part;
Knowing that they paint me black
When they cannot see.
I see no-one;
There is no-one here, but me,
Waiting in the tunnel dark,
Hardly believing what is there behind me,
Greatly fearing what my lie in front.
Fear takes my breath,
puts the breath of winter into my heart;
It is difficult to move.
So, like an automaton,
Forward, inch through outstretched inch, My back near-glued to the oppressive tunnel wall,
I move.
So long,
(I cannot remember when I started),
So long I have been moving,
That it seems I do not move at all, but wait -
Wait for the light, Lord, to come,
To show me where I am going, if anywhere at all -
That light which I could never quite see, Lord,
My heart it seems, was elsewhere, when I saw you.
The eyes in my brain played wonders with my imagination.
Thus I darkened the sky by the indifference of my heart
As God sent his plague of locusts
To strike dead
To strike dead
That light - which I could never quite see.
But Lord, even as I betrayed you -
I, Judas Iscariot,
Whose name shall be the sacrificial goat
To slaughter,
In the hope that it will give sight
To the blind, blind men -
I, too, was betrayed.
Betrayed by lies, black cunning, the glib tongue of a serpent.
If ever sight I had,
That serpent, drooling his venom over my eyes,
Removed it.
Truly, Lord;
Truly was the hour of shadows, mine -
For I could not see.
They cast the tree in silver,
Moulded by experts,
Silver covered my eyes,
Silver tears squeezed from a silver heart.
Into the fire.
Hardened by time in the fire of hate,
Devoured by the licking tongues of flame,
Blackened by the smoke of rumour,
Choked by its suffocating breath.
Lord, Lord, where is the reason?
If only there could have been a reason.
Lord, you said,
You said you had prayed for Peter -
Lord, Lord -
Did you pray for me?
Hard rock
Wind - whipped
Half - Cast.
Sky like a silver bullet
Sand - scraped tin
Why so kind?
You shouldn't be, you know.
Shouldn't say things like that
The way you do.
It's in you
Like oldness and truth.
Perhaps you are hewn of Oak.
And now Two People are fighting for their lives again
They win -
You win -
At odd, unexpected times, you tell such nice stories.
Wait, wait the dawn
Cast the line across the lake
For the biggest fish.
One night, when the moon was dark,
My garden became a blaze of light to me.
The rope-swing on the Oak
No longer swung, as a hangman's noose,
But was still and quiet
Awaiting a discovery.
I walked in lonely solitude
And thought of how all things used to be.
The bark of the Oak was rough and free,
And spoke to me of simple things.
I thought of children's voices
And the tales this tree had heard.
I thought of eyes I loved and
Unheard songs;
This tree, this tree
How much it knows.
Oh, teach me, teach me
What I am and
Why I am -
It's simple,
Yes, I know, so simple.
Close my eyes and let me see.
I did not see the catchpole hid behind me, and
I fell headlong into the pit.
That same catchpole, like lightning,
Pulled me out again
with one hand,
The other demanding a bribe of
Silver to paint within his body, which
I was to procure for him.
Silver-corner, below the clock;
There I was to wait until served.
"Served?" I said -
"As in buy-things-in-a-shop?"
I said,
"Yes," he said.
"Price?"
"Yes, there will be a price."
He said.
Shivering streetly in a streetly city -
The city canvas blacked out, in places,
In indifferent paint,
Made those places cold,
(I was in one of them),
And shivering, I waited
Until served.
He was hasty to receive the parcel I returned with,
The silver weighing heavy on his arm,
And on my conscience.
He wished to leave me - let the paint begin -
Indiscreet withdrawal did not matter.
I was in no position to either help of hinder -
He had tied my hands with the thread that I could not help
but bring along for the occasion.
Working, professionally silent,
He prepared his own canvas,
Spreading from a streetly corner,
Like a blood stain spreading.
It seemed he used his brush to great effect -
Even as the little silver ring I had been given
at our troubled birth,
Turned my finger black,
So the flowing silver turned the canvas black within his body.
A complete black wash.
Then
Wierd colours splashed sunflower bright,
Dazzling his eyes, burning through them, sizzling -
but the black was, even now, beginning to seep through the canvas,
Dissolving all the colours, fading their crazy warmth,
Eating them into black -
All the time soaking deeper and deeper into the canvas,
Rotting the cloth, disintegrating fibres,
Clawing holes in the delicate fabric,
Holes meeting holes,
The black seeping even through the holes -
He was falling apart before my eyes.
He shivered there, blind,
Deaf,
and dumb to the world -
Neither yelling for mercy
Nor craving respect.
My obligation delivered itself
From my hands, as I
Drew breath -
No air in the room;
The black, like the plant from which it had come,
Had devoured the oxygen in the darkness.
I opened a window and
Looked up.
Saw a tiny slit of sky, pinched in,
High above the streetly city -
It seems the currency here does not pay for sky,
"The silver that melts has no value,"
I told the life inside me,
As I resolved to leave.
In my Mind
You are there
Every piece
Everywhere
In my mind
The red of the Rose
Stays the same
Though it grows
In my heart
The Song and the Beat of the Drum
Intertwine
Round my mind
By my hands
Nothing done
Thru' my ribs
We are one
Kick my Soul
Hit nothing, it only thin air
End up flat
See you there
Inside you
I am there
Every piece
Every where
With my mind
Is my heart
And my soul
Is apart
Held in line
Same as yours
On a Once-in-a-lifetime trip
By Excalibur Tours.
Forsaking all others
We go forward to the next sky
Of one accord
Future We Are
Deep in the realm of the Tree Master
We come together
A green temple
Shadow and Light
Leaves and bracken
Around and underfoot
Goaded by outside forces
Clinging together
For Strength and Will
Walking the Line
Trancing our eyes ahead
Not to be distracted
We will survive
If we can keep our own Mystery alive
In the face of adversity
Keep our faith in
The sense of what we find
Beyond us
Walking in the line of Truth
We will come to our own Time
Our own Place
Our own Immortality
Truth is a game beyond a game;
It must be played without rules.
Your words all rang true when you said them,
My love,
Though they weren't very clear
When you said them;
But they jumped round inside me,
(You know what I mean),
Like it wasn't quite you that had said them.
The words came out hopeless, and gasping for breath,
Just looking for someone to save them,
Like a coloured man drowning in the whites of their eyes,
And knowing that Jesus forgave them.
I could see you would fight with your head and your heart,
Never sure of quite where you were going;
Just speak the words, let your convictions be heard,
And your strength will be there in believing.
But you won't fight alone,
For the fight is mine too,
I've carried it since the receiving;
And I knew from the start,
You were linked to my heart,
We're together now, past point of leaving.
And though we may live with the parting of death,
We're way past the thin line of grieving.
*
I left you last night with a thought that was veiled
In a colour too bright for the morning,
And the thought was a word that I've never yet heard,
So I left it to you,
With the evening.
And the reverence paid, in the chapel you made,
Was a soft winter song we were singing,
And the people around us were joining the sound,
And their voices, like bells, clearly ringing.
They said that the starships were floating aloft,
And we knew it was time for the leaving,
And we left all our tears in the villagers' eyes,
We were way past the thin line of grieving.
*
I remember your voice as I heard it
That night,
Through your eyes that had silently spoken,
You said I was wrong to believe what you'd said,
As our fight was not more than a token.
I watched once again as the coloured man drowned,
And I wanted to reach out and save him;
But your words in my head,
Told me this man was dead,
And the starships were leaving without him.
As the night swallows up the drowned man's grave,
The drowned man I couldn't save,
I'm awaiting the thin line of grieving.
It seems that I can see thee, even now,
Sitting here, silent and supportive,
As if my thought had conjured thee from air,
The wind and rain.
The storm drawing on,
Heaven's countenance grey and thick,
And the dull, oppressive air lies heavy on the limbs,
A heavy wall I yet can beat upon.
It is however, not a wall that holds my spirit prisoner,
But chains - I cannot move.
The padlock holds no promise of a gaoler.
*
I remember; greener than grass
It was - and Summer's hue
Warm, as sunflower, roundly beaming
As an infant's plaything.
I remember you then.
Different seeming from other golden hours and
Memories threaded in cobweb's garret,
Powdering into silver,
Flaring into ash.
Or that night when we lost the light
Climbing the hillside.
We could hear the sea crashing on the cliff-top beyond us.
We lost each other in the dark,
Deep, down we plunged.
By my stumbling footsteps
Silent shadows grew, that pushed upward
To the rocky brink.
This I would NOT have:
I turned and faced them, I looked through them,
Through the darkness and found you.
There, ever afterwards, our hearts beat light,
And shadows darkling countenance,
Knew no more.
*
So this is where we have come to.
They stare, grey faces,
White eyes, pink, fleshy hands.
Here we stand.
Until we fade out.
We are flowing, outwards, onwards.
They won't go when we go.
Please be patient with me, Pearl;
I will come.
I am not full yet,
Neither am I empty,
Yet I feel something stirring,
Nudging as yet, only at my conscience.
There is so much here that is gross, Pearl,
I am swamped by the heaviness of it.
Yet is there any other way that I can go?
I must wade through the mud, Pearl,
Shoulder high through the undergrowth
that is very dense and tangled;
My mouth is very dry,
The intoxicating smoke from the woodfires on my
Right and left,
Attempts to stifle me,
So that when, on rare occasion,
it does rain,
I weep to feel the rain on my face.
There is a cleaing ahead;
I will stop there awhile,
Before I continue on my journey,
So that I may feel a fresh breeze
To breathe, and clear away the smoke.
RETURN TO ORIGINAL FICTION PAGE