The swirling, circling shrouds of smokey death
pervade the specks of mystery surrounding this abyss -
Bottomless
Soulless
Gloom.
Twisting and writhing, the central orbs turn serenely:
a children's carousel
Reversed -
Decelerated -
Perpetual -
When I see them, fear clots in my blood
Fear of being lost.
Fear of dying
Fear of denying all chances of bliss to myself.
Two dark pools of hell stare through
my vanquished soul
My own deep wells shrink in horror.
I am lost -
Copyright © JRFB 2012
Showing posts with label imagination. Show all posts
Showing posts with label imagination. Show all posts
Thursday, 9 August 2012
Friday, 20 July 2012
'Review' of an abstract beauty; common, yet an overlooked symbol of Nature's enticement...
[I recently published this via my friend Floraidh's blog - http://floraidhsuncensoredpen.blogspot.de/ but figured I should post it here too.... so here's a repost, enjoy!]
The day before yesterday I went to the most extraordinary event in my lifetime. I did have to travel to some distant field and queue for about three hours, but I can confirm that the discomfort and agitation stirred beforehand was totally worth it.
I had never heard of this event until the very night before. A rogue dressed in khaki bed sheets knocked on my door and offered me a pamphlet for the next day’s happenings. Well I say pamphlet, but it was actually a dried Horse Chestnut Leaf with faint words inked on (presumably this was done by organic means as later, the nomad tried to convert me to Veganism and I hadn’t the heart to point out that the leather jacket on my back and beef steak in the oven would forbid me to do so). I was rather intrigued, to say the least, and since this man seemed trustworthy - if you omitted the stench of horse manure and bare feet which were muddy like a Woodland’s floor and stumpy like a Hobbit’s - I gratefully thanked the rogue and delightfully decided to attend this fantastic affair the following day.
The map on the Leaf was rather peculiar; instead of showing roads and houses, it depicted footsteps, paddocks and cornfields. I know you may think that I am insane for accepting and attending such an obscure invitation to an event so unknown and so eccentric on my own, but I’ll have you know that the neighbour’s Springer Spaniel, Odysseus, barked at the chance to come with me (for this was a once in a lifetime opportunity). Whatever, we set off late that night or early the next morning, (depending on your own perception of Time) and bounded to the field in a state of dreamlike euphoria.
The invitation suggested that fancy dress was appreciated, for the theme was Mythical Beasts, and so I decided Woodland Sprite would be appropriate. I harnessed Odysseus into a dog-sized purple, scaly dragon bonnet, allowing his sun-tainted brown ears to flop around his elated face and I slotted an equally scaly tail over his own. It was dark when we set out, and so I used my luminous wand, crafted from the Stars, to guide the way and to allow my straining eyes to read the Leaf-invitation. I never lost sight of Odysseus, as his scales shone back the glow of magical exuberance from the wand.
We came across a multitude of Mythical Beasts all lined up in an urbane manner, which did not befit their costumes. I could see the licks of Flame of a bright Fire at the very front of the queue, the distant Smoke billowing and curling like the stems of the Wheat heads at my feet. Enriched by the magnificent spectres ahead and those which were still to come, I eagerly took my place in the queue and waited.
I got chatting to a few witches and they told me that they came every year to what they referred to as ‘The Illumination’ and that it was absolutely spectacular. One let out an exhausted sigh as she’d been forced into making small talk with vexing relatives whom one only hopes to see at Christmas parties where the occurrence is somewhat bearable as one tends to be intoxicated off Christmas ‘Spirits’. Sadly, just as she was going into explicit detail about how her Great Aunty Johanna has the niggling habit of exclaiming ‘Esmeralda you’ve grown so much since we last saw one another’, (albeit Esmeralda is in fact thirty-three and has had the same height, width and weight since she was fifteen), an anomalous bugle-like noise jangled through the air, vibrating in and out of our shivering skin.
It had begun. The crowd started heading towards the heavenly light of Flames and swirling grey Air ahead. Although this Smoke was engulfing my blue lungs, I felt as if I had inhaled an air of magic; I marched on with the crowd.
***
When I entered the field with Odysseus, I saw it. There it was: the texture so exquisite, so enchanting, so impeccable that I could hardly believe that I was laying my transfixed eyes on it!
The green tufts were twisting and spiralling upwards like a new-born child’s soft fuzz of hair; the green rinds, so bright, so crystalline, so breath-taking seemed to glint at me coaxingly; it was sublime, surreal. The deep hue of the thick strands was mesmerising, elegant; yet it looked as sharp as a knife, mercilessly slicing the frigid air as it climbed into the Skies.
The warm Loam beneath effortlessly pulsed the opulent curls out from its depths, sighing with each collective movement, as if the Earth was smiling as it tensed and relaxed, the light tufts unwinding as they are nurtured by kisses from the velvet Air…
This event was not a manifestation of humanity’s ‘Creativity’, nor was it a vulgar display of Man’s skill in technology or cinematics; it was an illumination of Nature’s simplistic beauty, which charms those who take the time to value its magnificence. There was I, watching Grass bloom from Nature’s loving bosom: the mane of the Earth.
Copyright © JRFB 2012
The day before yesterday I went to the most extraordinary event in my lifetime. I did have to travel to some distant field and queue for about three hours, but I can confirm that the discomfort and agitation stirred beforehand was totally worth it.
I had never heard of this event until the very night before. A rogue dressed in khaki bed sheets knocked on my door and offered me a pamphlet for the next day’s happenings. Well I say pamphlet, but it was actually a dried Horse Chestnut Leaf with faint words inked on (presumably this was done by organic means as later, the nomad tried to convert me to Veganism and I hadn’t the heart to point out that the leather jacket on my back and beef steak in the oven would forbid me to do so). I was rather intrigued, to say the least, and since this man seemed trustworthy - if you omitted the stench of horse manure and bare feet which were muddy like a Woodland’s floor and stumpy like a Hobbit’s - I gratefully thanked the rogue and delightfully decided to attend this fantastic affair the following day.
The map on the Leaf was rather peculiar; instead of showing roads and houses, it depicted footsteps, paddocks and cornfields. I know you may think that I am insane for accepting and attending such an obscure invitation to an event so unknown and so eccentric on my own, but I’ll have you know that the neighbour’s Springer Spaniel, Odysseus, barked at the chance to come with me (for this was a once in a lifetime opportunity). Whatever, we set off late that night or early the next morning, (depending on your own perception of Time) and bounded to the field in a state of dreamlike euphoria.
The invitation suggested that fancy dress was appreciated, for the theme was Mythical Beasts, and so I decided Woodland Sprite would be appropriate. I harnessed Odysseus into a dog-sized purple, scaly dragon bonnet, allowing his sun-tainted brown ears to flop around his elated face and I slotted an equally scaly tail over his own. It was dark when we set out, and so I used my luminous wand, crafted from the Stars, to guide the way and to allow my straining eyes to read the Leaf-invitation. I never lost sight of Odysseus, as his scales shone back the glow of magical exuberance from the wand.
We came across a multitude of Mythical Beasts all lined up in an urbane manner, which did not befit their costumes. I could see the licks of Flame of a bright Fire at the very front of the queue, the distant Smoke billowing and curling like the stems of the Wheat heads at my feet. Enriched by the magnificent spectres ahead and those which were still to come, I eagerly took my place in the queue and waited.
I got chatting to a few witches and they told me that they came every year to what they referred to as ‘The Illumination’ and that it was absolutely spectacular. One let out an exhausted sigh as she’d been forced into making small talk with vexing relatives whom one only hopes to see at Christmas parties where the occurrence is somewhat bearable as one tends to be intoxicated off Christmas ‘Spirits’. Sadly, just as she was going into explicit detail about how her Great Aunty Johanna has the niggling habit of exclaiming ‘Esmeralda you’ve grown so much since we last saw one another’, (albeit Esmeralda is in fact thirty-three and has had the same height, width and weight since she was fifteen), an anomalous bugle-like noise jangled through the air, vibrating in and out of our shivering skin.
It had begun. The crowd started heading towards the heavenly light of Flames and swirling grey Air ahead. Although this Smoke was engulfing my blue lungs, I felt as if I had inhaled an air of magic; I marched on with the crowd.
***
When I entered the field with Odysseus, I saw it. There it was: the texture so exquisite, so enchanting, so impeccable that I could hardly believe that I was laying my transfixed eyes on it!
The green tufts were twisting and spiralling upwards like a new-born child’s soft fuzz of hair; the green rinds, so bright, so crystalline, so breath-taking seemed to glint at me coaxingly; it was sublime, surreal. The deep hue of the thick strands was mesmerising, elegant; yet it looked as sharp as a knife, mercilessly slicing the frigid air as it climbed into the Skies.
The warm Loam beneath effortlessly pulsed the opulent curls out from its depths, sighing with each collective movement, as if the Earth was smiling as it tensed and relaxed, the light tufts unwinding as they are nurtured by kisses from the velvet Air…
This event was not a manifestation of humanity’s ‘Creativity’, nor was it a vulgar display of Man’s skill in technology or cinematics; it was an illumination of Nature’s simplistic beauty, which charms those who take the time to value its magnificence. There was I, watching Grass bloom from Nature’s loving bosom: the mane of the Earth.
Copyright © JRFB 2012
Monday, 2 July 2012
The Minons
While TV's blare ~ mindnumbing
While the students study ~ boring
While the second hand emigrates back to 12 ~ tick
tick.
While the night moves on ~ slowly
*
The Minons glide past – carefree -
Their purple cloaks shift and quiver as the night unravels,
Yet the air is still.
*
While the cold night shivers in echoes of the last night
and the night before...
The Minons go to where we are not, do not know, and never
shall be.
For the Minons, their flight has just begun.
hearts screaming; minds pulsing; eyes fixed:
They know all that is Unknown to us.
*
Beyond the superficial cosmic din that we call space
Beyond the immortals
Beyond Mars, Neptune and Jupiter -
Lies the People of Minacia.
*
There, the fruit grows bigger – fuller - juicier.
and the corn.
and Their minds.
*
While late night programs seem to be entertaining...
At Minacia, such a thought is trivial. Foolish. Unthinkable.
It is beyond enlightenment.
Beyond life
Beyond love -
Ropes of tires and
Strings of fires.
*
The Minons compel us to cease
like a downhill rally, We must
decline.
To us, colour is merely colour -
but at Minacia, colour is not seen, nor heard...
It is felt; they thrive off sensations.
Love – is - simple, shapeless -
like a cold shadow under the afternoon's sun.
*
The Minons marry the day and disturb the night.
The Minons seduce the day.
The Minons rape the night
- tearing at the still air - groping
the darkness till it
bleeds and grows yet
darker. They inhale the stench of self-pity; smothering
Their lungs, as the essence trickles into Their soul.
*
*
*
They are indelible, infallible, perpetual.
*
*
I would know.
*
*
Because they came for me.
While Life's disruptions blared
While heaven's fires blazed,
They came.
-Jaguar **Disclaimer: 'The Minons' are imaginary beings who shun humanity and believe that their own way of existence is a far more substantial way of living**
Copyright © JRFB 2012
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