Friday, November 18, 2011

Centralized Scarring (Hallucination Postscript Vision Three)

I. Naming Rights
Secrets evade
The specters
Voice it craves

Upon shade,
Symbiotic in

In amnestic form
Origins betrayed

II. The Honor Amongst Corridors
Alone, amidst the shadowed blister of an apocryphally setting moon,
I cling, for comfort, in wagered animus, hoping for deception.  As the eyes of spectral fire overrides each sequacious lie.  Every desired duplicitous reach, to run or scurry free—from self-sustaining hypotenuses, is bred solely by anxious corridoritry.  And, only the dream alone can reconfigure such a plot, into benevolent symmetry purged from knot. 

Tenuous is the string stretched long. 
Without relaxed ability,
The honing of a forge,
Is satiated neither nor.

III.  The Winged Flight of Forgotten Salt
A wing, alar, built by man, flutters, in discombobulated reality, stuttering the ridge of wind, searching for a gale, a gale to guide it in. 

Segmented, like the annelid, I scrawl, the cemented pave, oblivious, to the light, annealing down.

It only takes four hours
For utopian idealism to drown

Within the
Oblong white
A song is held,
Yet estranged from preconceptions yet to come

Prosaic containment amidst battle scars—
Perfect is its rhythm—
Pristine animator,
Of precision’s quest,

Trailing the vespers coffered, still
Amongst the spackled sky,

Dreaming of terminal cessation,
Yet visions heed desire naught,

Awakened is the evensong
And hence
Pragmatagnosia rejoins the dwindled day

IV. A Lioness upons a jackal clan

Soon the syllogistic chain
Grows circular in frame

The beast bows neck
If daggers draw…
At moment’s blight,
The sheltered sun’s repaid,
By catechesis’ illustrative light

V. Summa

It takes but an hour
For fragrant lucidity
To cede distraught
Tethered to—
The physiology of the mind

The sails, then breathe,
Exhale to float,
Upon seas,
Where prisms pleasantly distort
The absolute from salt
Every inch of line,
Along it’s wave,

And so we drift….
Omphalos is nigh
Omphalus has left


  1. intriguing write fred...esp. fell in love with The Winged Flight of Forgotten Salt
    ..It only takes four hours
    For utopian idealism to drown..awesome

  2. Wow if the last one let your muse open one eye, this one surely let both eyes open up. Looks like that writers block has truly been shoved back under a rock. Even had to look to words up, I guess that's a win for your column..haha..damn that dictionary collection. Really like how your set the sails and described their every motion too.

  3. This is a monumental write Fred; coming off writer's block it's even more impressive. It roams from deeply forlorn to euphoric and seems to catch everything in its net. The symbolism of the knotted net and its role in foretelling the future is used to great effect and you sustain the metaphor, symbolism, and meaning throughout. The language is exquisite as ever, I had to look up alar as I've never come across it. The pain is palpable, relief fleeting. Did you intend pragmatagnosia in its first or second meaning? I read it as inability to recognize sensory stimuli. This poem speaks volumes about the instability of the mind, especially when plagued by visions. I had to take painkillers when I had all my wisdom teeth removed. I went home and a friend brought over Mars Attacks which coupled with the hallucinations was very concerning. Distortion is sometimes difficult to recognize, one of the reasons I love the word specious as it implies something with the ring of true that is actually false. In one of my poems I liken it to tricks trauma plays in the mind. Truly potent work which I'm sure my comment hasn't begun to do justice.

  4. Sorry for the typo - that would be *truth*, I blame the migraine :) it can't talk back, ouch! maybe it can :(

  5. Thanks Claudia, appreciate that, glad you enjoyed the piece

    Pat, thanks, yep the Muse opened up and swallowed me whole there- It was good to feel the piece just flow organically. Not all the level of layering I usually put in, but I'll take what was allotted for. I did include a bit of allusion and quite a few of symbols, but nothing like I typically do. This was pretty abstract in itself. Making the cat look up words seems to be the only way this one wins:)

    Anna, thanks, really glad you appreciated the piece. It was such a relief, even as I was writing, I could feel that muse returning. You pretty much nailed the idea of the piece. Definitely the most clouded of allusion- yes this is a Naked Lunch type of piece, one that is totally under the veil of painkillers and the hallucinations that they bring. But more than that too, glad you saw it. The definition you used is the one I was using for pragmatagnosia as well. Really glad you enjoyed it, and typos happen, probably have a bunch in the poem and for sure in the comments I'm writing right now:)

    Thanks all