Saturday, May 19, 2012

Arc of the Dream World

Mind is not matter. It consists of solliloquys and magistrates. Fine tuned, it shall step aside in order to serve the vast domain of otherspace. In the longing hours of dreams, mass becomes frigid.  Smoke is the essence of the trembling spirit - the twilight hour of the eye suspended.  What the eye sees is not there. We are not here, for here demarcates the situation of energy at zero flux. Visions of suns descending into fiery lakes, demons and hell hounds, otherworldly fantasies, sex with robots on distant planets, all things actualized at the whimsy of a sudden thought. For centuries soldiers suffered at the blows of each others lost dreams. We have come here to give them back, to return them like a wish granted.  Where the moon lies underneath the eyelids, where the graves of children spring open and skeletons dance alongside hospital beds. One can hear the howl of hungry wolves at the right hour, and always is the right hour. How can there be any other way? You conceal your love in prideful moments. You've followed the rules that never existed except within the sub-fantasy of your least favorite fantasy. And you erected monuments to celebrate the damned.

Hyper-reality precedes the thunder. The barometric pressure seeks relief. For too long the fertile soil has been left unattended. At the risk of sounding unemotional, let us demand that all words that fit the crime shall deserve their fitful punishment. Silence to the least conductive element! We call upon the vagabonds of the world to raise their staffs and begin their march.

Precision is an instrument of cruelty. One can never be precise while staring through infinity's crooked window. And yet infinity is left perfectly open, endlessly pouring itself, in some cases like a waterfall against a damn.

A butterfly comes to rest seeking refuge in the pages of a simple story that will never be written, at least not in blood and stone, as the lamps run dim and the thunder begins to explode. Pain is your worst modesty.  Let us endure the light together at the dawn that always dreams.

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Love's Violin

Love's Violin
A bird in the rain