A Tear in the Dark Fabric Reveals Existence

Blood orange;
Bitter grapefruit
Phase artefacts on the periphery
Fits and starts
Get comfortable in the moment and…

Awake in a new scenario; adjust

Almost gliding; smooth movements as though in a harness suspended from the unknown above. Speed in trajectory seems almost to precede thought, so unaccustomed are you to this sensitivity of response. Like a spirit passing lightly through the broken borders (shattered glass) ((disturbed waters)) of the edges. The centre has a purity (limpidity) ((a hyper-real clarity)) (((distilled water))) ((((a glow)))) (((((a lustre)))))

Pantomime ghost, how do you pass through chaos with ease devoid of confidence (without belief)
With all the natural signs screaming danger? You are the stranger here; the link to the higher plane. You are the centre.

Dream protagonist
Scrambling for the essence amongst a world of his creation
Comparing planes
Doing likewise

Arising from a makeshift bed
Stale remnants
Cauterised surface
Singed hair
Cured meat
The arid talk of idlers
Dry air inaction
(Self-proclaimed insurrectionaries)
Salt from the brow of the raver’s return
Hollow heads in the glow ++ intensity ++
Crushed metal-grinding screwballs
For days on end…

Arising from a makeshift bed
Blood orange; (((((radiating aura)))))
Hyper-real depth
Ruby grapefruit; thickness
Blood orange;
Neither warm nor cold – comfort inside discomfort
Clammy awake or
Too long-since slept and fluctuating

They are gone
And… teleportation

Six-feet to the left and 45°, kitchen, tunnel-vision
Phase artefacts, limpid-dream, magic-mirror

…And lucid waters central

‘I hope the madness of these walls will not infect our children.’

The guttural sound of the throat that betrays the situation’s exceptionality;
Retro-causation undulation;
A portent of wavering;
Antecedent decay-time reverberating in a tube
Casual time-ghost
– Highly-strung people speak in highly-strung voices that emanate highly in the chest and break upon application of the lowest stress –
Constant crying-out above the dream-host
Impacting lustrous through-space-across-time-cross-section
‘I me

I me

I me

I me

I me

I me’

Trigger the memory-maker
Awaken; Rec. in progress

‘I hope the madness will pass over these walls and touch not upon our foreheads.’

Hair aflame (eyes aflame) ((sky aflame))

Emanating from the centre;
Radiating from the hub;
Upon these glimpses your truth is based:
The magical entitlement of observation –
The authority of the visionary?

Unhinged but currently untouched by moving air
– but potentiality is available to the nose immediately –
Ready to flap,
Stony gaze; rigid centre;
Action circumnavigating

No, not me!
I am a young professional and would I not die to be seen in such colour schemes (I would not!)
I am a young professional and I would not die to be seen in such colour schemes (I would!)
Ruby grapefruit; blood orange
Pale grey shadows and blackness all other elsewhere
Rainy nights; perpetual fall
At the extremities a static storm
Snaking-form chronology
Screen-shots (cross-sections) ((plates))
Lucid centre; a hole punched through a veil
At the extremities broadcast artefacts dancing
Blood rushing to –
Hold it (curtain fall) ((hold it))
With every breath a clarity of sight (unimpeded)
Awake the memory-maker…
Breathe it in…

Those that have – to all intents and purposes – drowned, report the occasioning of a unanimous calm late in the process. This moment, amongst others spent in the water, is of itself a pool (of time), and through hampered eyes that, regardless, effortlessly observe, makes an image of bold resolution.

U n d i v i d e d  p l a c i d i t y
R e a s o n a b l e
W h a t   i s   a l l   o f   t h i s   e x c i t e m e n t   ?
Y o u   m u s t   b e   a w a r e   t h a t   I   a m   c a l m
J u s t   o h   ,  s     o       v         e           r               y                 t                   i                   r                       e                         d                           !

A n d s o I r e s t , a n d h u s h n o w
Y o u h a v e t h e w r o n g i d e a
I a m p e r f e c t l y c a l m m y f r i e n d
[ m a y b e y o u s h o u l d f o l l o w s u i t . . . ]

T e m p e r y o u r e y e l i d s
[ D o n ‘ t p o i n t t h o s e t h i n g s a t m e ! ]
T h e r e i s no c a u s e f o r a l a r m , I a m c a l m
I w i s h f o r c a l m

Here is the (foundation of truth)↑

Balance well upon it

/\/\|?z\/\/ \\\|?|?/\//\|??\//\/\|?|||||?\/\\/\|?\/|/||\|?|///|/|/|/|

Close tight your eyes
The grains bloom in waves
Wipe the spittle from your mouth
Measured and apportioned rational ruler
The sweat glands call to you –
Go and fill in your tax return

Days and months and units,
Calendars and progression,
Succession and measure…

…Shrouded in such normatives
Forget the entities at the bottom of the garden

Whirligig dances under artificial lights
‘Salt of the’… days and
Dervish nights
Cold blue of light bulbs in a forest glade;–
In the van’s backside are the tools arrayed
We meet uneasy in the mud
Pale morning encroaching night-time’s rightful sod

In the pale morning, remember the preceding argument and find in it no escape from time’s prison whose affliction now oppresses you disproportionately (exceptionally), and for this reason curse it, for it is only an apology from a better state; a waking reverie; an escape for the unafflicted, but, as it can escape at will, consequently it cannot offer the same to you.

[Cold morning air,
and aroma of mud.
A young man sits on the ground with his knees raised,
ostensibly calm,
considering his palm]

Micro, beam-splitting complex colourations
Speckle and shine;
The blades carried by the clodded hills
Of livestock-land-lustrous as the pallid mist retreats
The daylight is here for real now –
Strange creatures move among it with no talk of purpose

Damp socks and trousers to the shins
Movement and colour
Slow thought of retreat
Take strain and increase
Like the first turn of a weighing anchor
Dormant morning taken wing brought with it no cessation
No termination
Move a group of separate entities with free-will affliction on forgetfulness?
Grinding out dependence on others
Nowhere to hide…

*****Curious casual culture believes itself to be the conclusion*****

Spinning-top vistas
Cold nights to reacquaint with the sky
Knowing cloud passing knowing moon
Hoary heavens horizontal negative whitewash
Broad brush-stroke arc of ether
A child’s creation

Far-flung idiot mornings only alcohol can temper
Death-mask skin drawn tightly to the eye-socket
Foolish hair-of-bed raised and
Searching wild-eyes-wild
For fun of senselessness

/\\//\\//\\//\\/Amber glow and dark mahogany flicks through a thousand pub-scenes with the bitter-sharp taste of liquor in constant accompaniment
Passing, contented and aloof yet social smiles radiate from within

Beautiful autumnal evening calm of repentance
Blood orange sun
Catch the breath as the lines all shift

To proceed to the crux (to the extremity) of the matter (beneath the visible – as all arguments are built atop foundations of metaphysics; a most alarming realisation!)…

By what agency is the blackness punctured to reveal the formation upon which you gaze?

© John Lowndes, April 2016


About johnlowndes

Music and poetry. #wearepatchworkrattlebag https://soundcloud.com/patchwork-rattlebag https://www.facebook.com/patchworkrattlebag https://www.facebook.com/johnlowndesmusic https://patchworkrattlebag.bandcamp.com/releases/ https://twitter.com/pwrattlebag https://twitter.com/johnmlowndes
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