Sunday, December 4, 2016

Repurposed idealism

Picture credit- David Cox,2008 Visualizing the Sieve of Eratosthenes 

Seeking fleeting light and beauty in small hours. Searching small margins for the bleakest of consolations. Reaping an enlightenment that was brought out forthright. Supplanting only with a profundity of misgivings.

Vacating all sensing of making moments whole. Gripping adrift some claustrophobic sense of belonging. Mourning beyond the crest of well-scripted ideals. Burying the baggage of all hope and its remains.

Watching the lines of your fingers intersecting. Blurring in the first light of semi-conscious awakening. Drifting in cold comfort a voyeur of subversion. Praying an opaque projection of sense and context.

Friday, August 5, 2016

Internal compass

Passing through interminable spaces of grating noise. Enclosures of timed movement into back-lit shade. Shadows fell driving a stake through a jaded heart. Uncovering the passage inside to the darkness or the light. Dual meaning and moments interchangeable. It's all about which ride you're about to jump on. Or how to define the role you stake. In this signature moment in time.

A veil of smoke dropping down from leering eyes. Staring into the gray-orange sunlight maze. Drifting around peering into windows of idealized existence. Every day bears the weight of an unraveling scene. Until it drains the weight and drags its way. Into the darkness that colors your context. That shapes the inside of your eyelids. That lives on larger than life.

Or passing through landscapes in motion and in song. Pattern recognition of the unknown and unknowable. Aspirations into total purity and context. Adjoining paths into some expanse of wonder or willingness. Pressing forward into the shedding of skin. Giving space for some unknowable truth. Its dimensions laid bare internal to eternal. Through passage from the inside out.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

In accordance with the shared vision (for Jonathan & Sylvia)

The days that we meet are the days that we’re born. Enchanted lifetimes where origin is risen again. Of the ashes from randomness or pain. Or from pillars of understanding and enlightenment. We refresh and begin anew with the ones we love. Raised of the love of our creator, creators, and creations. Pathways reveal themselves though cloaks and shrouds. And light illuminates through fiery incisions.

In journeys toward a maze or a riddle. We become the cycle we tune ourselves into. Until some crucial moment turns itself inside-out. Like the first break of the sun into dawning skies. This is the moment when you two have become. Beacons in the diecast mold of a hardened world. Or reflections of color and illuminating beauty. Raised in the shine of your redemption and love. 

Friday, July 15, 2016

Modern conscience

Strange dots distant on a horizon line. Encircling approach without cause without pause. Sewn and/or rooted into a frame of modern conscience. In fellowship degrade it's shifting it's drifting.

Strange re-circulation within tidal pools. Entropic forces alive will metastasize. The dirge of symbiosis grounds into a pattern. Treachery of its passing into scourge into birth.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Dark days beckon

Every dim-lit candle burns away. Wistful melting wax in reveal. An ill-formed layer and cold-gray ash. The burnt calendar days and rotations. Passing across a channel or walking along an edge. The brow beckons inevitably. To barren landscape below. To time well-traveled.

Every dim-lit hand of minds' decay. Watching in waste's rotation. A permeation of broken ideas or trite remainders. Through worn pages and dimming screens. Passing through some type of afterlife. Some pervasive move into. The post mortem of certain ideas. To permanent reminders.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Out of sorts with being in sync

I'm looking to simplify but not dumb this down. Crystallizing the flow of light and tones of sound. Into something we can move forward with. More tangible than than the tics we've developed. And more sensible than a rapid response. An instant aggrandizement of a position. Positioned on the edge of blurring fields. On the slope of crumbling ground.

Some burgeoning fantasy quest develops. Across toasted slopes and through spring flowing shade. Into murky dusk and down into night fire. On through the pricked points of thousands. Simultaneously broadcasting code onto the path. Laid out with a mirage of muddied water. Littered with signage marking confusion away from established boundaries. Into the just pattern.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Awake to mourn the passing of your future perception

Deep within a core of rotten wire. Tied in hundreds of little knots. A dynamic torture tension. Like puppet strings from within. Forced pleasantries within the line. To the edges of a panic room. Scaling around a giant centerpiece hole. To a jimmied up window board.

Awake before the alarm. Greets the day like a mourning song. Morning's mounting heaps. The death and despair and uncertainty. Blurring perception of the moment. And mirroring the acid eating away. The guts' core lining and structure. Or the labyrinth in your ear.