Tuesday 28 April 2009

the alien fruit...





I could slice them all day.



Saturday 25 April 2009

A MANIFESTO:


Here is a public declaration of a new perspective for consideration.

At the closing of the Piscean age, we are processing information more rapidly than ever before in history.

Our awareness is vital to our advancements and progression as a universal consciousness.


We have been patronized by society while serving our survival sentences.

This is because we have been told we are free when we really are not, in many cases of what the word entails.
The word, "free", has thirty-six definitions on dictionary.com.

My patience for the desensitization of my human brothers and sisters has worn.


The time is now, the world leader repetitively states and hypnotizes the world.

Now is the time; i sing in my lowest tone, for I sense the rapid communication of energies and attempt to factor in every entity and experience.


Friday 24 April 2009

Tuesday 21 April 2009

Across the Room

"I am talking from a distance, from across the room..."


She fades
She blurs
sideways 
gestures
music taking over
and in
out or below
She is
She spins
She drills
partakes in thrills
and chimes, lost time
for years, no dates, no nines
endeavors, she whistles
her spine
sends shivers
and guides
detached 
and drenched
remedy
clenched, clutched
leading,
She is sideways pulled under
the bubbles
She sings
apart from sand

cadence
three voices 
heard clear

in this cadence
three voices
it dawned like the dusk
this dunce epiphany embroidering
FX processing every second
i am out there
baby blue and black
sedated,
in so many places
dizzy to the orchestra

i found Eurydice last night
She is gone with the wind now

Wednesday 15 April 2009

Fortitruder, Stitch I and II

Death Spliced
Gardens of Paradise



A census of hallucinations;
A paranormal connection.
The night before the full moon,
but where to be found, was Eden?

Seemingly outside herself in
a distorted glass head reflection,
She is a bow-tie wearing apparition
in autosaved formats of disconnected communication;

In this tirade, desensitized blockade of wires,
Eyes lost in the sky, the stars seem to change colors;
I will thank her for my pointy limbs,
and be sure to send her a mother's day card.