one day I plan to stand in a little village where faces of fans brand the film in camera canisters while the bands deliver pillars of verses and fillers I can't even begin to understand. and, on demand are candid photos on postmarked postcards holding bold ampersands and folk catching glowsticks flipping through the air...
aerial shots of polyglots dropping molly and hashtagging "acid" in ultralavender tattoos on lower back chasms casually zoom out and allude to a sea of congruent blues and congenial greens. freed cosmologic apparatuses hack away at brain matter as The Universe searches for an Emergence called "Earth"; turns out it's tucked away in a couple synecdoches known as "People" and are far more potent than a black hole engulfing the whole of a golden supernova...
novice Rastas proceed to swallow a bottle of ayahuasca and follow a squadron of newts and iguanas until they morph into an ouroboros; churros thrown at a hole in the tree quickly mold into a symbol of infinity.
effectively, acceptance, diminishing timidity and succinctly increasing instances of idiosyncrasies leave People unrigid-ly thinking of The Universe... while The Universe secretly dreams of me...
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Monday, February 3, 2014
shifting paradigms
bright skylights strike from sky-high, scintillating chaotically like
lightning while in the midst of 25 degrees fahrenheit, minus a blithe
humidity...
indigo pigment visible as the wind whips my lips and skims vivid blisters on bits of my fingertips...
mind taken to scathing and surfing a neuro-web of treacheries as hopeless bones lie silently on piles of falsified turf, snow angels birthed as I watch and await the latest vacancy of my latent demons...
I mean, what if Samara proceeded to squeeze from out of YOUR tv?
--
an avid autodidact with a superficial lack of reaction;
the result? brain beatings abound like a ball bouncing around in a bountiful round of ungrounded jai-alai. but I never seemed to be too tired from high-tailing it for the better part of my life; now, if I could just try to convince my mind to retire into a bit of blissful hindsight...
--
until I cease breathing I believe I'll keep living betwixt the sheet of a dream; a place beneath the spaces allocated to the partaking of elated awakenings; underneath spaces being waited on by beings with an innately complex compilation of light beams and pieces of aether...
--
...and if i forget from time to time, please be kind enough to remind me that self-depreciation has no reason or rhyme...
indigo pigment visible as the wind whips my lips and skims vivid blisters on bits of my fingertips...
mind taken to scathing and surfing a neuro-web of treacheries as hopeless bones lie silently on piles of falsified turf, snow angels birthed as I watch and await the latest vacancy of my latent demons...
I mean, what if Samara proceeded to squeeze from out of YOUR tv?
--
an avid autodidact with a superficial lack of reaction;
the result? brain beatings abound like a ball bouncing around in a bountiful round of ungrounded jai-alai. but I never seemed to be too tired from high-tailing it for the better part of my life; now, if I could just try to convince my mind to retire into a bit of blissful hindsight...
--
until I cease breathing I believe I'll keep living betwixt the sheet of a dream; a place beneath the spaces allocated to the partaking of elated awakenings; underneath spaces being waited on by beings with an innately complex compilation of light beams and pieces of aether...
--
...and if i forget from time to time, please be kind enough to remind me that self-depreciation has no reason or rhyme...
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