Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Pseudography (Weird Poem)



There I am
Between inner vision
And images I deem elusive
Knuckles squeeze eyeballs in the darkness
Tiny stars rise like bubbles...then coalesce
Eyelids lift_ insides floods with light  
The quantum script it is_ played by visible life
My village square_ a tiny universe
The old, like energy, always at large
Brothers and sisters_
Particles engaged in an erratic dance 
Donned with dark floating robes
Around masquerades_ prancing like suns
Stumbling into regions of order-disorder 
 

Beaming with panic, the stage
Teeming with beautiful art
Sickle thrusts into frame and breaks the heart
Crimson liquid_ wisps of life
Flows out_ hurled by gravity
As it finds way
In the vast expanse_ apparent ruins
The night falls
I lit the lantern
Looking for a pattern
In a life turned grey, as if
Understanding would make me happy... again 

Engineered by peculiar routine
Idea comes to being
Applying the science of symmetry
And performing the art of pseudography
Reality: master of disguise
Switches sides on man's attempts to define
But relates by simple symbol
A plug for the pupil
Or beacon to the people
Man: the frantic recorder    

Nature: the ruthless reckoner 
The last words of father;
… Viscera sold to cancer 

   Chaos rules outside
Objects seen by me
Wobble and cuddle
As if they have a skeletons to hide
Yet an essence to free
 Life struggles
A dying star crumbles
Carrying a splintered glimpse
Each pixel..., a broken dream
Time: a bullet ever burning
Piercing through; melting the sinews
Beneath frame, pain brews
Teardrops streaming down the other side,
Amid a pang of dry heat,
To water the thirsty sand
...And then I depart happy_ I did understand

 Discrete life grips consciousness
This will slip grasp and elude glance
As baton changes hands
Stop mourning!
Do not soliloquize on entropy_
Energy will never run cold
And matter will always have a place to go...
Intelligence materializes from nothing_ dissociates again
Energy emanates as it is_ an essence
Hovering across the void_ immortalizing herself     
As pockets of matter:
Amoeba_ false shape
Insect_ moulting in time
Chameleon_ fleeting colour
 In mans continuum of observation
A lacuna lies forever gaping... like space