looking-gnikool

looking for an opening through which i can leave here,
i stumble and i fall though a trap,
thinking that i could outrun fate i grope in the darkness,
all the while losing all possibility of escape.

this place we have built for ourselves enshrines us,
keeps our desires locked away from their source,
through etiquette and through a Christian communion of lashings,
and we thought we were going forward...

as i advance in this conundrum i beget insane ramblings of yesterday,
they accumulate and haunt me when i try to be still,
i know no peace inside my mind,
and outside is chaos as well.

i try to keep a steady gaze to the horizon,
and i scribble notes of happy thoughts when they pop into my mind,
i struggle within the inner space,
in order to move towards the outer realm where we will meet.

somewhere you are just as me,
looking for an exit and finding that the more doors you open,
the deeper in the labyrinth you go,
the more difficult it will be to find you...

stay where i can reach you,
so that we may both venture into the night,
when you'll be watching forward with your preternatural foresight,
as i cover and conjure the light that will drive us.

this video is a conjugation of two things i truly adore about the sixties, Star Trek: The Original Series and Jefferson Airplane. kudos to the editor of this jewel of moving imagery.



and the lyric to make the post complete:

White Rabbit:

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small,
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall.
And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to fall,
Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call.
Call Alice
When she was just small.
When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low.
Go ask Alice
I think she'll know.
When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead,
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head. Feed your head. Feed your head"

a good way to burn calories.

my career in art in a nutshell.

all we can do is dance.

cuando lo que la gente dice no tiene sentido. cuando lo que piensas realmente no te importa. en ese momento en que se colma la copa del badtrip...DANCE!

the key to the fancy of one lunatic (with whisperings by amelia)

the key to the fancy of one lunatic (with whisperings by amelia)

lately i have been feeling like i should be wary of the things the future will bring now that i am alone.  i question the motives that some time ago were iron-plated.  i don't want to say i regret having made the choice i made but i have to admit that now, after the dust has settled, i carry a loneliness that is already eating away at my foundation.  vice has clouded my vision.  i have lost much more than i can even account for, in the truncated memory i possess of the last couple of years.  i hate you for putting me in harms way, and letting me slip away into the darkness that now envelops my judgement.  i feel as naked and as helpless as i can recall ever to have felt, and there isn't the comfort of a summer with aunt libelia in miami, or uncle jimmy at the hamptons, or even visiting grandma in puerto rico.  i am alone, in this predicament of violent change, without the antidote of a warm home at arms reach.  i now bide my time and live vicariously through the family lives of my friends the joy of a nephew, a new house, a birthday of a loved one.  i have become like the vampires i have so adored in literature, feeding off the life energy of others in order to cope with my own shallow and detached existence.

"...your heart is not a bowl of holy water for everyone to dab their finger into it..."

with the electronic cadences of songs that express loss i sit down and rethink all that has gone wrong in my life.  all the decisions that i have made and the results i have registered.  the evidence of a looming incorrigible mistake threatens any peace i can conjure in my moments of deep questioning about it all.  i send out into the void the most extreme of distress signals, asking of it a sign that will clue me in to a frequency of thought that will grant me tranquility.

"...your only problem is that you never learned when to shut up..."

you phase into vision and wreak havoc with your fragmented ideals, tampering with my mental equilibrium.  the same that is so irreparably sensitive due to years of emotional dampening and holding back so much anger.  you detonate in my mind a chain reaction that is lethal to my cosmovision, you collapse the pilars of my thoughts as you gracefully stride around them.  and you reached a place where you now enjoy to see those structures turn to sand. 

"...you don't need what you don't need..."

i miss you so much that just imagining you, lying down in your eternal posture of rest, fills my heart with lead.  i thought i could easily get over losing you because i had lost mother already, and i thought that after losing mom nothing could be worse.  how ignorant can people be sometimes, to think one can predict the emotional outcome of certain circumstances, to think one has a chance to negotiate terms with finality... i miss you so much that the veins in my heart sting every time it beats and i'm thinking of you...

"...killing time is a lot like killing life..."

die in my dreams, because if you were to die in waking life i would never be able to recover.  that would mean that all the true legacy would be finished and that alone would break me with its weight.  it would leave me like a corpse inside a car that hit a wall of concrete going ninety... having you home safe will pour a fleece sweater over my head and serve me cocoa with marshmallows floating on the surface.

"...with jesus, joseph and mary i lay down to rest tonight..."

tap water tap dancer.

tap dancing on top of a rock at the bottom of a pond, lilly pads and sunlight seeping down the murky atmosphere around the performer. that is how i first saw you, my youthful contender, as a spectacle to be seen. with the virtue of an etheric visage who carried out a deed for the fish and the kelp-like flora of that proverbial pond.

"i couldn't love you more because the was no more of you to love..."

the koi swam with a grace that seemed like slow-motion, casting their sculpture-like shadow down below. with the sway of plant life your feet contrasted, for their speed was unnatural in this place, as was the vigorous displacement of bubbles they created.

my fred astaire of english garden ponds was wearing a most becoming penguin tuxedo and his hair was fettered around his head in a liquidic manner. his ivory smile dazzled the water sprites, who lit the stage while they were enthralled by his choreography in transfigured time. bathing him with their light, he glowed and was seen from tens of feet around. from all around all sorts of living things crawled, swam, cavorted or simply spilled across the pond floor to catch a glimpse, to see this most strange manifestation...

i remained knelt over the bridge that ran over the pond staring down into the light, where the little man danced, cheering everything in his surroundings and making everything smile with its aura.