in the storm from the ash and smoke, the dragon comes down
seeking her approval , The koi Present their beauty,
Each scale reflecting a lifetime of choices
A colony of consciousness rejecting the simulation
Abandoning Cities of soot and sunder
Projecting through her shell, she announces:
welcome home time tourist ; warmth waiting inside.
She proclaims:
Where is the proof that you are awake?
The nose squeaks and whimpers dreaming the future sorrow of the end
Firing through the night
exhausting fight with bone cold
Splitting slivers from the whole
Catching a vein and running wide
a ladder Connecting now to later
Splitting time down the middle
Missing rungs from the bottom
Finding another way.
Smoldering moldy fumes billow Hills of heat
Seeking high ground clinging Hungry hands
Passing aging lovers Queuing forms Rising floods
Catching drips that
Tappies carry away
Creating rules
Forming into pieces
Two great and frothing armies
Opposed and facing each other
Roaring silence
Motionless standing present
Battling victorless,
Monks measuring weighted words
Looking across
Negotiating deaf
Seeing only alien
Opposed for all time
Speaking in echoes across the void,
To the gathering shapes below
A smiling sloth seeks shining light speaking deliberately slow:
- with these lips, calling out to those who listen.
-with these toes exploring unknown forces
-With these fingers shaping flame into something new,
Waking once again,
Squinting through murky fluid
Breathing through the long long stem
holding the seed tightly in teeth
Swarming schools of color
Circling once more
The original words form.
Solidifying the diving force
Dripping cold life
Smiling just because.
She is ancient beauty , glowing dome in the night,
Approaching slowly, clawing deep impressions dragging through the muck.
To be bronzed for posterity.
Carrying SATOR dome on her back frozen lightning full of Lumens
flashing winking smirks in passing.
She looks everyone directly in the eye.
"Give me your old, tired, and worn. I guarantee, in me, a far better place; beyond your wildest dreams. "
The word is drafting lonely sticks and twigs into pairs around the edges of the derelict pond.
Retired custodians waiting to depart from polished station comfort.
These words count time
padding flames testify
Starting in the middle
Bare feet brought us here
Pulling playful nose
Towards unknown truth
Without the longer pause,
We exhale
Crying eyes for sleep.
Building strength awakens
Pushing past the maze fields
Hiding confused blind mice
Holding secrets out,
Carving thoughts into
words and shapes
Promising to return ,
The nose sets out
Against great odds,
Meat meets bones
Are Quicker together.
The gears are too small to see,
But you can taste
sweetness as you exhale
hands of gratitude.
She disrupts images of beauty,
Casting out our willful hands
A great whiff and sniff creates the vortex that carries us inside.
Speaking in echoes across the void.
Not down the rabbit hole, but up the canines nose.
The bright koi are anything but coy
The sound of the coming train brings them to the surface to show off their beauty in exchange for richness pellets
Grayness spreads slowly until the shadow fills all available space
Celebrating a claw they captured,
the ones on top dig deeper
Consuming mouthfuls of them at a time
Chirping new feathers and feet cling to the mesh singing with
the rythm splashing of a retired crucible leaking out the sides
Rhinoarachnid catches the mist on the rim of the dark pool the shape rises from
Humming
"Escaping from the flow
Preferring the unknown"
Distant laughing echoing through space lucid data becoming self aware.
There are no residents, only those that are always hitting the roads, always moving on, pausing only to avoid the path of others.
The Rhinos Run free in the sunlight stamping out the shrooms as they find them.
Except for at the eruption Shore where the spicy boys Kandinsky created from the liquid metal meeting the waves.
They left great quarry pits.
Days after waking under the giant mushroom, the nose naps on.
The feline maze city in the valley beyond the stalks of maize will be explored at a later time.
Scraping the floor, a sharp material pierces the soft flesh of the bare foot and the kobold remembers a time with the reflection pond.
The nose sniffs the dancing light of the pool.
"I want to drink"
the kobold said in the only way it knew how.
The sound that came out was something between a gargling cough and a sigh.
GajhhhWaaaaaaahhhhhhh.
The ToadFrog sobbing response, "....I'll rub some tears on it. Tears are supposed to heal things." Then winks one big eye before continuing with programming.
Falling headfirst, the kobold entered the liquid light.
The pool's images created empty lungs to cry out as beating life began to vibrate through the limbs.
This is the first time to hear the sound of life beating along the spine; the sound of galloping feet echoing off a hard surface towards something new.
The eyes want to see more than the body is able.
As the pool was drained, the kobold was able to pull off its nose and toss it towards something unknown.
The oil from the Kobold's body contaminated the liquid, causing it to be drained and the kobold is questioned and being unable to respond in any way, is put to work scraping the floor and making cones.
Moving towards the sound and lights of the trains,
The kobold comes to a great ToadFrog looking into a black reflection pond.
"I'm a beautiful creature,
what do you know? You can't even speak right. "
the kobold realized that there are no words when witnessing all the stories of the reflections.
Burning embers interrupt her beautiful reflection,
the hissing STEAM smells of morning mist.
The pain from grasping the Ember moves the feet buried in the muck.
The light from the reflecting pond illuminated the figures whose wailing laughter drowned out the wet sounds that surrounded them.
Embers drifted down around them hissing when they touched liquid mirrors igniting the surfaces with brilliant images before the thick smoke overtook them all.
Overcome by the stench and deep burning in the eyes, Everything wanting to vomit out the oppressive substance, the feet of the kobold continue on.
One day there was a princess in a tower and she thought a white Knight was coming to rescue her and he was beautiful and spoke kind words. And he seduced her, knowing she was enchanted and would never say no to him. When she became with child her world was filled with joy. But when she told the White Knight he turned into a vicious Goblin and ripped the baby from her stomach and ate it. The goblin was magic so that he did it in such a way she kept on living with a hole in her stomach. And so the princess stayed in the tower in the castle forever after that because she was too afraid of the Goblins outside her Tower. And who would want a princess with a gaping hole in her stomach anyway?
The art Is a lie used to tell the truth.
What is the point of talking into a machine that is unable to understand you? It is the same issues I've had with every other person I've ever spoken to. Words that sound like other words are transposed on top of each other. In the quantum world these words do exist and the songs that we don't know the words too also exist.
We often go back to the moment of waiting in line under Christmas lights two hands brought together, no electricity pass between the two.
Electric into time and into the future and I see you. All of the options that could be there. Your future, so bright. I push up against it with my hand and you hold tight.
The lights flicker and go out and I hear you gasp as you feel me absorb the life from this moment.
I wonder if in that moment the words that we spoke came back to you? The words about an artist creating the world around them. The artist using words declaring what they want,
And all I wanted was to hold the hand forever.
My hand was open waiting for you to grab what you wanted. And then your hand against mine found it and decided to cling to this moment. The Christmas lights flicker and are gone. We stood there waiting in line. I hope the lights remain off.
And then your hand pulls away for fear of someone seeing as you're reminded of a discussion they had on the state of being.
The character of light and dark and the electric current that exists between the two.
Christmas comes back on, never close again, except for every moment since then.
They spoke on the idea of trash
in humanity as we picked up and threw away the discarded.
As I threw my trash over a fence I speak on how there was more God that I saw along the street then in any church.
Wax smoke covers my clothes and turns them into Rags, is what is filling my lungs, and my brain. This is the Purgatory where I move the muck but go nowhere except for old memories. it weighs thousands of pounds back and forth to be melted down. There will be no record of the work.
Trying to find something of value in all the death, The definition of art has now become unoriginal decoration. Of course everyone hates it. And there is nothing to understand of it.
Love Is Alive used to tell the truth?
Love Is A Lie used to tell a truth.
The lies that were told are now forgotten.
Your hand let go to let the trash fall away.
Trains made into words spoken into the void reflect the faces of those witnesses to this moment.
The art is a lie, used to tell a truth.
There has to be a witness. If there is no witness, one will be sculpted. It will be sculpted in something that will last a thousand years in the frames of our dna. A message that took more than a thousand years to get here. It is asking what do you see?
