thank you

to everything,
at this moment, directed
to the blue sky
to all philosophers and inventors,
Jack St. Clair Kilby and Robert Noyce
who coincidentally synchronized the invention of the "integrated circuit" at the same time
and Leonardo Da Vinci, who is an endless source of inspiration

CACTUS SONG I

problematic cacti(i) blowing all about the arch
across the above ground, the bow of rain,
the trickling sound of wheels squeaking past,
soaring the magnetic asphalt,
reminders of my robotic tendencies.
I must be a singing robot, for many days spent
and lost forever, whilst I couldn't have been
singing all along.
What happened to poetry? Astray like a
dandelion seed; I must reconsider fluency,
all words that go unsaid, therefore unheard.
Once i had a passion, i can still hear it now,
it rings through crystals as we tap softly the metals,
resonating steel that echoes throughout my spacious mind
Vacant, placid amid the haste
complacent, my voice, bittersweet to the taste.
Ambivalent, the clouds are garbed in yarn and lace,
and still i watch them closely, asking inside my mind, what really are they?
Without their semi-shroud and without the wind,
the days would not feel the same.
They blow in and out of memory
just as flame helps regeneration;
contempt for the contemporary,
degenerate as distortion.
Turn up the fuzz, hit me with white noise,
like a backhand painted green, sudden, abrupt..
Black holes seen into deeply despite
my sideways forward vision,
delusional in the blink of an eye
as rapid as the movement of the skies.
Cacophony: unknown, struck by the darkness rays,
Your LFO is wavering, the fine tuning is creeping
The semitones are overtaking,
what's in that 'pop' that blows your speaker.
One shot and it's gone
Surrender to existence because it sounds so alluring
Heartbeat captured by the scratching
while the cacti(i) are deterring
Because I can not sing, it is wrong
that everyone can not hear my song.
It is silent, where i once
had laid in snow, I might have foreshadowed in a breath
the sting my hushed harmony would bring -
a soliloquy of dreams that come and go with fleeting melodies.

-EDEN GREY
-----written on 12/30/2006

on 11:11

more more more

last sign in

or sign off,
on my day off,

which is my day on
as time is wasted
every day,
do we really comprehend
when there gets to be too many bubbles
interpretations of microcosms
stacked far and wide and few
one then four three and two
too many fluctuations of the waves
and then we drowned
then we are found

we realize we lose our breath
and that the waves saltwater are throwing us around
sucking us deeper in
almost as a news reporter
emotionless and blank
and i thank goodness
there is still more time

constitution of eden

By chance, i may have this dance - Death's corpse awaits, somewhere in France -




the matrix appears on her windshield, as raindrops -



in the poppy field, where my heart finally stops.

The Golden Boat

Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.

One small paddy-field, no one but me -
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.

Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.

Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to, give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile -
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.

Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river -
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.

No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone -
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.

-Rabindranath Tagore (p. 1932)

farewell sanity

an unexpected leap into the unknown of the present.
i am shaking from the cold and my hands and feet are numb.
frozen in half-life, my queries are unanswered,
and so i sing, FARE THEE WELL to sanity,
it was nice to have known you once.

musician ____ magician

where will again appear my muses.

4titruDR. is gone.

He kidnapped himself, maybe for good this time.

I'll miss you 4titruDR. I know you enjoyed your life with me and I will always keep the memory of you in my heart.