A Fraudulent Decay

Inspirations

For an otherwise

Uninspired world.

Stagnation mates with ennui,

Trigger offends frame.

Desperation reeks of fear

Grinning in contempt

Decay

We all do

Some late, some soon,

Some in peace,

And then there are the others,

Those that will eventually find themselves

Prematurely exhumed

Or dispatched as they’ve lived,

A fraudulent canvass is a canvass nonetheless

The Requiem and Potential Rebirth upon Preparation's Stage

Before action, comes reflection
upon each question yet to come

Flowing shades of random heights
distill the directions of this future's plight.

protesting or in affirmation, of the shape of space yet to foil


The buildup is the monster we must
slay, nerves, multiplying and thusly spawning

the angst of an evenings slumber lacking assembly,
where true sleep, can be snared by the nightmares net,

As caution's imbalanced by our demons flesh and frame,
for with anticipation, doubt and it's distress are certain to claim

the seeded revelations lost to our many tracts of unplowed soil


Rigid breaths quickly fill, spurring forth the weathered lung,
tepidly pacing each inhalant razed, as exhaled words expunge

rapid measures stirred within, beleaguering conditions born unto
accepted frames of clouded hue, dyeing calmness the colors needed to

foster growth within ourselves, for without, we cannot speak,
and tightly skewered life unglues, severing self upon fate's peak,

where crags punctuate the twisting paths of acmes coil


The quivering moves that make the bow,
unsteadying an aim that's hindered slow

The bass-less voice becomes the arrow, engrained
fears bite down, into a loveless marrow deeply strained

Sautéing respite blind and braised, tunneling cruel
the archer's sight, where a shivered imbalance sets to duel

An internal storm, preceded by its tolling gale,
thoughts breed altered, fingers twinge as pallor pales

the force one pursued, casting frost upon dominion's toil


The student waits in painful pause,
the teacher blames the lies crafted by applause

riddling the jester with glances, heckling forth gestures,
serving the accomplice alone, abetting stagnation and each its slurs,

Our hero swoons in abandonment, staring long unto frozen seas,
bearing witness to the deadliest of dreams


But onward he must, recapturing a light long since dark
Out of practice, out of sorts, yet still he must embark,

over this dirty forge, where each misstep further roils


First scanning through the banks of thought,
seeking that something that's since been lost

bursting forth, the epiphany swallows
allowing preparation a rebirth hallowed

With sword in hand, shield concealing the right
Shining in his armor, he basks aglow, treading toward this light

The words arrive, one and all, he listens, he knows, he now can tell
the truth, the way, to vanquish forever, this darkened spell


The message lines his thoughts.  The wisdom is his power.
Each distance grows close and near.  He is upon the final hour.


Stage's all set, the curtain sprawls, the cast is prepped and true
Our hero lives here internal, reliving all the choices he needs to

Slowly he alters shape, into a hero filled with ire and consumed by rage
and yet, he understands, that if fright should set upon the stage

all will be as well can be, for a society such as this
it's simply a case of dues unpaid, to transform the drama into a comedy

as we know, the world loves a train wreck just as loyally


Over at D'Verse, Mary offers us the notion of preparation for this week's Poetics.  Stop on over, read her excellent article and then stop on by each poet's site for their response.  Most likely you'll find yourself inspired and prepared, to compose a piece of your own.  Once you do, link it up and share it with all the other poets at D'verse.

The Quest for Artistic Relevancy in an Era of Complacency

listen to ‘The Quest for Artistic Relevance in an Era of Complacency’ on Audioboo

Beat Sample

         A rush to judgment

                  in the world of parallel ties

custard cream swabs to skin

         brisk mornings still in states of gin

carving one’s niche often requires a period of trial and error

          how we view the errors

 often dictates how quickly the double blinds begin

Dub Frenzy

         viral campaign

                  demonic strain of wherewithal

damage…

         broken harness…reigning in

damage…

         Hecates scar

upon the aortic wall

         and, all for

WHAT?

         A groove in a time of slow Jazz

                  A riff in the era of the balladeer

                           A solo while attraction is clearly in the corner of creative collaboration…

         bucking trends is admirable on paper

                  yet once your artistic gumption is clearly on display

                           slowly rock aback

until you are innocently enough

         back rocking the beats

                  in a sample of desire

                           in a temporary purge of inner fire

rage…

         adapt.

spin.

spin.

         SpIN

Another Tuesday is upon us, and as per the wonderfully recent tradition that is D'Verse, Open Link Night is here again.  Doors open at 3pm, so get out your pen and bring your poetic appetite, for this night is always hopping, with the best coming out in everyone.  See you there.  Cheers!

Dutiful Bones

Manicdaily is hosting Poetics tonight over at D'Verse.  Tonights prompt is to write about duty, obligations etc.. Head there to see the great poetry linked up tonight, and while you're there, how about taking a stab at the prompt yourself.  Cheers.

Distancing the gap created
by lost vestiges and saltine
goodbyes, I must say, are
words that I simply allowed
slip from tongue to page.

Transient digressions into
dark and tattered ventricles,
I feel as if I deny this
journey more often than
naught.  For fear, perhaps
I allow the sinew to entangle
and to clot.

Saracens and poets, salesmen
and thieves.  Liars and bigots,
parrots and queens.  Lower-cased
opinions, divided amongst
grandiose ideas that will never
pass the eyeball test….yet
time fades quickly, and we stare
and stare, for ways…

Approaching the chambers of
wind and steel.  Dancing with
zealots and laughing with fools.
Caricatures aren't we all, of not our-
selves than tell me whom?

Chagrined impressions done
with pen in hand.  Sincerity
lost in terrain we've no business
upon.  Or do we?

Isn't the air free to breathe?
Last time I checked it certainly
was….there I checked again,
and perhaps you were right,
there's something in the wind.

A line of prosperity is often not a line at all
An area of magnitude is often very small
Sailboats and augers both
set for the unknown
in spite of what may be
buried
deep
within
the stains we
see

Dutiful bones, unearthed, to dust...

They say to write for twenty minutes
they say not to lift the pen, er. fingers,

They say not to filter
they say not to punctuate
or to worry about spelling.

But if, I chose to do as they instruct me to,
there would be so many dissected sentences,
so many foreign words scattered about the
page.

If I chose to obey their wisdom, surreal
architecture of a journey would not be all
that unwinds…for when I dream, which of
course, I'm a poet, so I do it all the time…

You'd find love, freely anointing most the page…
not that there's anything wrong with love
not saying that at all
but last thing
anyone wants to read
is advice from
one who
never takes
any himself.

So now I'll sing the songs I hear
as they scrawl about the air..
right now, it's Nine Inch Nails
slowly speaking of elaborate
dreams…in a song called right
where it belongs, which, now
as I reflect…is as perfect as a song can get...

darn it all to someplace hot, the
stopwatch chimes it's note, but done I'm not

Okay, I'll cheat, just don't tell anybody…you promise…
ok, I'll quietly finish
by saying, in regards to duty…

I do this for you but
mainly I do this all for me…

Possibilities Abound ( An Article on Interpretative Skill)

A rising toll betrays safe passage.

Interest dims as hidden fees lace the bridge.

Patent evoked.                 

                                           P

                                       C  A

                                   D  E  T

                               T  D  T  E

                           E. D  E  H  N

                       E  I   I  N  E  T

                    A P  N  M  F  B  E

                L  Y  A  T  S  E  R V

            G  B  S  S  E  A  E  I  O

        S  T  E  S   S  R  S  S D  K

    R  I  O  T  A   A  E H  L  G  E

A  I  N  L  R  F   G  S  I  A  E. D.

A   R  L  N  N  E  T  C  N  O  T  R

     O  L  G D   S. E  O  D  V  E  F

         I  P  A   C  R  V  O  I  X  L

            I  N    O  T  E  U  D  T  A 

               C    U   O  R  G  E  U  T

                     N   P   E  H,  S  R  T

                          S,  D  P  T   E   E

                               I   R  H   S  R

                                        E   F   I

                                             O   N

                                                  G

A rolling pin dances.

Countertops, covered in dough,

Provide the textures for flattering.

Even the identical or seemingly similar can take a variety of form.  It’s the job of the poet and the creative to look at our surroundings in as many ways as possible.  We should be able to look at things above and beyond what face value dictates.  This can be accomplished through identifying symbols and metaphor, or it can be as intricate as the reconfiguration of words, phrases or ideas. 

All things have a multitude of faces, a myriad of possibility stitched within their essence.  Perhaps what’s taken at face value will prove to be the predominant and/or overriding image or idea.  Despite authorial intent, or whatever typical reaction may be, for others, for ourselves, we should never solely defer to that judgment without exploring alternate frameworks and/or filtrations first. 

These two “poems” have been arranged in a manner that forces the reader to break from tradition. In the majority of cultures, people are conditioned and accustomed to reading from left to right.  By constructing these examples in the manner I chose, we are forced to accept an alternate pathway.  We must adapt to the setting and attempt a coexistence with what we most likely feel uncomfortable doing.

This exercise allows the reader the experience, albeit simplistic in overall design, of immersing oneself into just one of the many possibilities that exists in everything.  I may have set these pieces up in certain manners, but who’s to say that meaning could not be gained by a traditional reading of the pieces.  While most would likely see an incomprehensible and meaningless stream of letters, it’s also possible that their may be others out there that will harness meaning, see things that are not visible to most.  Is this then an improper interpretation?  Of course not, simply ignoring the possibilities that may exist, even when particular meanings have been overlooked, unconsidered or even incomprehensible to the author, is limiting in scope.  Opening range and expanding possibility is what we strive to achieve.  This is especially true for the creative and the poet alike, where, at times, the monikers often become blurred, hence merging the separate, yet similar definitions, into one.   

By altering vision, by opening and expanding your comfort level you are living courageously.  When you allow yourself this courage, you therefore allow yourself the ability to not simply accept more than one reality but to look for and seek out as many alternate possibilities that you are able to find.  

In doing so, you will also undoubtedly find other nuances, other ideas that are hidden or camouflaged.  Sometimes these ideas are hidden on purpose; sometimes you will find that they are ones that only you will be able to see, ones where only your unique experience and understanding enable their detection and discovery.

Another idea conjured here in this discussion is the idea of randomness.  Through randomness we find links and bridges, connecting words to portraits, sentences to design, patterns to theorems.  Again, I shall remind you that while most would claim authorial intent is very important to the grand scheme of a work of art, which I freely include the written word into the categorization, I tend to place it’s important behind interpretation.  If an author wants the reader to experience an observation, an idea or emotion, the reader should be able to, if the author did his/her due diligence, accomplish the intended goal.  But when working with possibility there is no distinction between what intent and interpretation.  If a drawing clearly shows a boy in a field you will see a boy in a field.  But if your interpretation tells you that this boy is in grave danger, than for you, that boy is in grave danger.  The manner you arrived at such a conclusion is irrelevant to a point, it’s the interpretation that matters.  Perhaps you saw something in the brushstrokes that led you to your interpretation, perhaps it was the wording of a caption or a scene from something you had experienced prior that brought you to the impression mustered.    

To close this article out, I will acknowledge the importance of intent as the primary rationale of the author for the creation they’ve offered to the world.  The importance though cannot be simplified and in some cases perhaps it may be the only interpretation available, yet I find this notion extremely hard to swallow, if not unbelievable itself.

When working with the possibility, it’s paramount to state that you are not skewing anything.  You are not destroying the author’s vision or damaging the piece’s integrity in any fashion.  Being open to all the possibilities that exist, you are not eliminating the face value or the primary purpose of the author; you are simply expanding what is there to see beneath the obvious and elementary.  That all said, it is possible that you may, and I’ll even go as far to say that you probably will, in certain cases, valuate your interpretation to a higher level than what the author delivered at face value.  This does not mean you are belittling or degrading the work or the author, not in any facet.  Instead you are acknowledging all options and then making the decision for yourself as to what you choose to interpret as most meaningful for you and yourself alone. 

As an author myself, I personally savor when this type of thing occurs.  When someone sees something I didn’t intend to be there or interprets my work in a manner I never considered, I feel like the muses were working through me and I became somewhat like a medium in such cases.  It’s always important for an artist to feel that their work is of value, which the creation itself is often value enough for the poet or painter.  When someone enjoys your contribution you get an added sense of pride and accomplishment but when something you have done strikes another on a personal level, where they opened themselves to all the possibilities that were available to them as they reflected on your words, your phrases, your art, it’s a feeling that transcends intrinsic elation all together.

Notions like this; emotions given life by such discoveries would never be possible, if the reader simply interpreted word upon word, hue upon hue.  By limiting your vision, by leashing possibility, you are not only doing yourself a disservice, but also limiting the effects the piece may hold and diminishing the value present in art itself.  Possibilities are endless as should be the range of what we allow ourselves to experience, whether in art or in life.