Scenes and Takes # 13, 1
 
I ran the wind proclaimed,
stumbling
in stuttering evacuative
elapsed time,
evaluating
mercy, opulent prayer
sand grain in size
swaying atop the tongue
whose message massages
syncopated rhythm
delving into faith's cunning
antiquated door.
 
Serial layers, connected through
threaded containment, realization
intertwined with awareness
births a conjoined reality
twirling
amid an absolute translation
of extraordinary existences.
 
 
Scenes and Takes # 14, 1
 
Sequence is disorderly,
destructive
to the mode of another's
figurative routine,
rounded to the
comprehensible captured
reality, level of comfort,
stability.
 
Desire to maintain sanity, pleasure,
the pulsating attribute
of
required attention to detailed
sculpted devotion. Mirrors obtain
realistic reflection,
 
broken, veins obscure identity.
 
 
Scenes and Takes # 15, 1
 
There are many jagged edges
smoothed
into porcelain grade
concepts
within the intellect
of those unwise
soothsayers
 
prophesying
a
succumbing
to
begging dispositions,
traveling through mazes
or
egotistical obstacles,
the
banished thoughts called
eccentric
wisdom
debatable atop concrete awareness.
 
This bipolar dualism
conceptual in Descartes' doubt,
soothes focal points of pinpointing
a reality
whose
notion of traveling among
anti-awareness
breathes toward a death in circling cycles,
calling for personas to acclimate
to wanting to accomplish
a multitude of excellence.
 
 
Scenes and Takes # 16, 1
 
A river of discontent, or
what deep in the disposition
of neosadness
would interpret as
shedding memorable saddened reoccurrences
would define as reflectional:
 
exhilarating juxtapositions of
personality slashing with
humorous understandings regarding
existence
gains knowledge in crawling
increments.
 
The sadness performed aerial stimulants.
Elevating the mind
to that of approving
out of the ordinary vertigo.
 
 
Scenes and Takes # 17, 1
 
The saxophone
discovered a twirling vernacular,
regardless of interrogating turmoil,
prior leaping into subsequent
layers
proclaiming lucent diversity within
its spoken decency
declaring monotony
dead.
Then
of aggravation too
erased, spirituality in the rudimentary
form of causation.
 
Highness in the role model of
royalty inexistent, humble
this vernacular
impressionist of Socratic
modesty.

An Asking; A Telling

The sound is not a sound,

a text.  Please erase its context

-ual prelude, the reality etchings

scissored already into your probability, your of course.  This one time exact Plato's rendition of his Cave's meaning into reality:

                      the sound is of

another meaning, interpretation augmented by imagination-metaphor, complexity.

Why the delight to which explain nothingness?

Understanding.

                The trumpet has a tongue of solitude.  If we listen to it explain a day we too become alone, rewritten in a body of one mind, syncopated sadness.

Equating to Human Alike

The inconsistent is a garden

of various flowers,

each toward an upward angled glare

positing positional difference,

categorized in colors of varying

shape, supplying the eye purpose,

scent to the nose, the air a smile.

The inconsistent borrows a term

called negative connotation.  This species however negates such nonsense.

Suppose dusk hugs in a symmetrical

circle, drawing then a brand of body

around the inconsistency of the scented

burgeon—

does not all of the alive want inclusion, want substance to stick against the ribs to feel the beating of another conception?

The Power of the Species

The methodology of the philosophy of sound transfers layers into a name, octave, tone, whisper.

Man must name everything.  Curled into

void, paused in its own grandeur,

unnamed, —eventually man, with

his own self proclaimed divinity will

impose suffocation toward the neck

of the unsuspecting pause,

creating again traffic atop

a zone which was once empty,

unused.