Accompanied Spaces

Blank spaces,
Blank pages
Make up,
Mesmerizing magenta to be exact
They make up the infinite possibility
The possibility to speak your mind without spoken words
The troubled treble stands alone unless fingers and palms widen
Widen in search for the next synchronized beat
to the following syllable
To the following notion that life is more than a bunch of blank pages
And blank spaces
Depending on which room and compass you are accompanied by

By another west of a person
By an east group of people
And colors,
Remember the colors
The colors that identify as unity
Identity lingers, but remains stable with
every new chapter
And less blank pages
And no more blank faces.

L'artiste, le savant, et l'amant

Love lacks avant-garde
The septum between anarchy and the bourgeoisi
Romantica et rationale
The status quo knows no metamorphisis
But is subjective to the expression of perspective

Love, if not imaginary or abstract,
a Mann-made involuntary emotion
Originated not from the voluntary muscle
in which the hand continues to compress and release,
for existence


But rather...



"It is visions of entrapment that Kafka led us...it is bored with the past" said Irving Howe
And "If we are now facing an apocolyspe, then perhaps we may need critics with apocolyptic sensibilities..." said Harry Levin 

One person's standard is another person's innovation
L'artiste, le savant, et l'amant

Denial

For I have known denial

Denial is in me

Stimulating the vertical timber of denial

Caressing the bare brawn of denial

I am on denial

Salivation on the brim of denial

Appeasing the appetite of denial

Oh, how denial's nectar is so Splenda

 

A heart throbbing denial

A hammer pounding denial

Denial is my desire
My carnal desire

A Shadow Left Behind

An incumbent shadow lurks behind
A reflection of the disillusioned
A chalked outline of a crime scene
A photograph,
enriched with black and white
Static of a tainted televsion screen
Shimmer of a hologram
Shed of  a snake's scales
Simplistic in all rare forms
The evaporated tear's remnants
The two-dimentional silhouette
The varient translucent soul
casted by the directional sun.
The street cleaner unnoticed.

Drowned

Blank, worried stares along side the cluttered, lingerie infested isles. "Katie are you okay?" Tears gushed from her Hazel eye ball sockets. "N-no, I just don't feel well." Then she glanced at the harsh texted words. She rushed into the bathroom to compose herself. In the mirrored reflection of her 'not self,' her thoughts flew out of her ears, circulating above her golden locks. Whether or not the agony caused hallucination is questionable. What was written in bold red letters is "I feel that I deserve to be alone..." The trembling hands were obnoxious. The pulsating heart pounded her chest like a butcher and his rib-eye. Anxiety streamed through veins of Safire. She thought aloud--no one deserves to be alone. And then to herself--If alone is the answer then I should have the privilege. If that was the case, she would, yet again, be stranded in the centered most point of the Sahara Desert. Abandoned. Without her camel. Without her canteen. It didn't. It didn't happen, but what if it had? Then, shatter, shatter! Glass on the hollow tiles. A faded fossil due to years of erosion. A dagger piercing the once known Sense and Sensibility. The ceased pulse drowned into the depths of the Mediterranean black sea.

National Greeting

Hi, Hello, and Hey. These are the national greetings. Hi, how are you? This is a national greeting that does not expect an answer further from "good and you?" Just "good" is the usual. "Bad," "exhausted," "my brother just found out he has a hernia" is rare in the American culture. People are very impersonal. I, myself am very impersonal. I'll let people dig into my mind, but barely into my emotions. It's the opposite for a lot of people. I mean, those that I do know are emotionally driven. No substance. Merely happy, sad, anxious, angry, distraught. This person said this to me so I felt this way. This person said that to me so I felt that way. Really? The word conversation isn't justified. Then why is it that the national greeting is just a vague response of reality. No one is good all the time. That's, inhumane! Robotic almost.

The Lovers

Him: I like when you do that.
Her: Do what?
Him: Draw circles on my chest