The Rarefied & Colorful

August 4, 2013

 

Albeit barely born, by the time he hit one, he had already seen and created the world.

And while letters had not made sail into his unfurnished mind or wrangled between the columns inside his vacant mouth, his heart spilt of stories in far away lands, undiscovered pastures, roaring seas and of a friend in whom no journey was improbable.

It was upon the back of a pictoric baby elephant, the young boy would fall asleep.

Bobbing inside of sequestered thoughts, his head lay warmed by the sloppy and playful movements of the babes frank and floppy ear.
The sun pressed heavy against his lids, securing a passageway for careless dreams.
Smirking in the golden light, with eyes shut, the boy saw the earth extended and rising; the very form of natures ample bosom evaporating into the mirth that exists inside of a formless habitat.

Illusive was the rushing wind sliding betwixt the window seals of journeying butterflies dipped in ink.
Surrounded they were by birds thrashing about in a performance with grand sonority aimed at pleasing a slumbering prince.

Connected to his dear friend, his hands became prismatically interwoven, holding the very same print.

Sprinkles of mustard dust swirled with black night, flushed into scarlet curves that drowned inside the reflective skin of emerald leaves.

They were one and the same.

Together they journeyed to the ocean, where, through keen magnification, they observed the condensation of a violet sunset cavorting, in blustered fervor, with thawed foliage and sunken clouds of white.

They wondered past caramel mushroom abodes, deers trapped in necking, phosphorescent trees and hospitable vines.
A world built upon the back of the collected musings of  the an emblazoned mind.

And as he grew, in him the elephant remained; a token of remembrance of all uncharted dreams and to the prodigious mastery that rests inside the thirsting veins of  not merely a Walter-Mitty, but a conjurer of immeasurable possibilities.

Porcelain Cup

July 10, 2013

And held between my knees and this gray old cotton skirt,

A porcelain cup it rests, with swivels of you in melted dirt.

And inside these swivels of you, are looping, daydreams
Sparked by deeds, not done, and never ever to be seen.

*

Steam engulfing reveries swimming in my pretty porcelain rivulet.

And all the while I take long

loud, visceral, sipssss

Close my eyes and let the vapor stroke my eager thirsty lips.

*

Sitting here, tapping my foot to the beat of my pen
Imaging you walk through the door,

over & over again & again.

Foam tracings of what was once suppressed, now expressed.
And I delightful in it’s proclivity towards daydreams tasty & undressed.

*

Oh so flushed and out of sync,

my fancy for you makes me re-run & over-think.
Proliferating feelings of upside down, right side up, see-through, covered,

 so in & sane this love drunkard.

*

But until snow and wind freeze you on my way.
(Warmth being the thing you feel with everything I say.)
I’ll spill my ink on willing leaves and scribble away brain waves.
Stare into heated porcelain and see visions;
Falling leaves falling for me, jellyfish stinging you in your head and  having you wake up in my storm happy bed.

*

Transparent cravings bottled in the angst of firmly, fixed fingers
Pressed against floating like fuzzys, sealed in my coffee rim figures.

Man Ray, Self-Portrait with Camera (1930) and, left, Solarised Portrait of Lee Miller (1929)

“But they say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true. “

Shut Eyes Kept Breath

July 5, 2013

That’s where she existed best.

In the dark, in the light, high upon the rafters,

Perched above the clamor of civilization.

Where fog embraces light in the form of bulbous clouds.

Where the pangs of sorrow are dulled by the atmospheric civility that only floating can offer.

Where tears find home in rain,

Calmness in the breath of nothing,

and stillness in the charm of fluttered roses.

And just the mere possibility of all this, that desire to break free from skin,

It cruised beneath her heart and pushed against limp veins.

Like leather tightly wound against screaming bones,

She felt the itch of wanting to escape;

To melt past rattling walls and bursting bubbles.

But only with shut eyes and kept breath could she find the courage to leap.

And spinning in the solitary moment of her first step was truth flashing upon somber lids.

It was in the rain,

It was in the wind,

It was in the beat of the sun

and in every crater of the moon.

She was interwoven in the bliss of this deserted place.

Every night bathing in the light of the stars

And every morning dancing with a flock of wings.

In her despair she had surrendered to the dream and found triumph in the crux of her soul.

Pirouetted in the divinity of absolute mirth, alas she was home.

Midnight Interlude

February 10, 2013

By: Magnolia

To this experience, she was a guest.

Her usual floppy stance became erect and watchful.

Her eyes scintillated and sunken in fright

As a phantom, superior and with bizarre curiosity

Arose, deliberate, detached and delighted while dismembering itself

Inside the lucidity of a half- remembered dream where

All walls collapsed

Atoms took to beat and

Form neglected the boundaries of human conceptualization.

And while reality took to bed possibility

Buildings skipped from side to side, back and forth in comical repetition.

Red became green, blue, pink and plush purple.

Numbers echoed their  “I am’s” until they, like a string of pearls, conjoined into a choir of nothing but decoration in an empty space.

Fatality became a companion only to walking apathy

Bombastic unpredictability became soothing potential

Quick became irrelevant

And like the sloth, all had abandoned the clock

And just like that, slow became comfortable.

This outer body experience left her observing the shell she originally inhabited

As all it’s questions, and pondering and confused, rampant vocalization,

Silenced her ghostly lips, and all that remained, was one thought

“Am I dead, or am I free?” a wonder that lasted but a second,

For suddenly the turbulence of beauty sliced into her experience

And the happiness of a moment coded in the feeling of a kiss;

Encircled, nuzzled and clutched every molecule

Below and between the gaps of every impossibility.

And a voice breathed forth the

Absence of fear and the presence of peace into an anxiety filled form

Everything was nothing, and nothing was everything.

And all that mattered, embraced the obsolete.

Closed eyes, and in the silence of her peace, her skin whispered, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

And in the dark, the face of an old man, expressionless, and bound to no sense of gravity

With one look, injected truth into into her barely beating veins,

“My love, thou inhibits all and everything. Boundless, you are the mother, father, daughter and son of creation. And your soft gel like tissues, afloat inside a castle of bones? A mere means of transport in a sea of possibility.”

And while her veins pouted in swollen satisfaction, with her last ounce of strength before her soul cavorted with a sleeping body, she said,

“I understand now, but if I forget later?”

And with no words, he thumped the answer into her heart,

“Then close your eyes and open your child.”

With those last words, she awoke

Drenched in the knowing that there was nothing more to be done,

She surrendered to trying and excavated complexity from the jaws of her trained mind.

And her eyes, drooped in the reckless abandonment of being in love with the infinite,

Tickled inside her enlivened flesh.

For there was no becoming she already was.

When I was a kid, I used to sit around for hours upon hours and contemplate the nature of the world, particularly trying to wrap my head around humans, dreams, space and time all while accidentals inducing myself into my own silly little mini-headaches. I used to and still find myself in moments where existence seems strange. I’ve always been so curious about how everything works, finding the detailed peculiarities of all that I encounter to be amazing yet spooky all at once. My mind sometimes works as a gold fish (they have a 3 second memory) with every time that I travel, the same feeling and thought re-ocurring yet feeling like it’s the first time I’ve ever run across the idea of “Man, it’s so crazy, there are just so many people on this planet, all with an individual mission to create and be seen.”  I don’t know, every time I think I get it all, I’m spun around only to find something forign to my coding that makes me feel as though I know nothing at all.

Anyways I like random, mythical, and strange facts that make my head bend, so on this Halloween, I thought I’d share with you some SPooktastic stuff!

Oh  and HAPPY HALLZOVEEN!

Newborn babies and the water:

 

I’m Dreaming of….

Information & images compliments of website Bored Panda
“During the Roman Era some dreams were even submitted to the Roman Senate for analysis and dream interpretation. They were thought to be messages from the gods. Dream interpreters even accompanied military leaders into battles and campaigns! In addition to this, it is also known that many artists have received their creative ideas from their dreams.”

Here are some spooktastic facts about dreams

1. You Forget 90% of Your Dreams

Within 5 minutes of waking half of your dream is forgotten. Within 10, 90% is gone.

2. Blind People also Dream

People who became blind after birth can see images in their dreams. People who are born blind do not see any images, but have dreams equally vivid involving their other senses of sound, smell, touch and emotion.

3. Everybody Dreams

Every human being dreams (except in cases of extreme psychological disorder). If you think you are not dreaming – you just forget your dreams.

4. In Our Dreams We Only See Faces That We already Know

Our mind is not inventing faces – in our dreams we see real faces of real people that we have seen during our life but may not know or remember. We have all seen hundreds of thousands of faces throughout our lives, so we have an endless supply of characters for our brain to utilize during our dreams.

5. Not Everybody Dreams in Color

A full 12% of sighted people dream exclusively in black and white. The remaining number dream in full color. Studies from 1915 through to the 1950s maintained that the majority of dreams were in black and white, but these results began to change in the 1960s. Today only 4.4% of the dreams of under-25 year-olds are in black and white. Recent research has suggested that those changing results may be linked to the switch from black-and-white film and TV to color media.

6. Dreams are Symbolic

If you dream about some particular subject it is not often that the dream is about that. Dreams speak in a deeply symbolic language. Whatever symbol your dream picks on it is most unlikely to be a symbol for itself.

(bamboo for h.koppdelaney)

7. Emotions

The most common emotion experienced in dreams is anxiety. Negative emotions are more common than positive ones.

8. You can have four to seven dreams in one night.

On average you can dream anywhere from one or two hours every night.

9. Animals Dream Too

Studies have been done on many different animals, and they all show the same brain waves during dreaming sleep as humans. Watch a dog sleeping sometime. The paws move like they are running and they make yipping sounds as if they are chasing something in a dream.

10. Body Paralysis

Rapid eye movement (REM) sleep is a normal stage of sleep characterized by rapid movements of the eyes. REM sleep in adult humans typically occupies 20-25% of total sleep, about 90-120 minutes of a night’s sleep.

During REM sleep the body is paralyzed by a mechanism in the brain in order to prevent the movements which occur in the dream from causing the physical body to move. However, it is possible for this mechanism to be triggered before, during, or after normal sleep while the brain awakens.

11. Dream Incorporation

Our mind interprets the external stimuli that our senses are bombarded with when we are asleep and make them a part of our dreams. This means that sometimes in our dreams we hear a sound from reality and incorporate it in a way. For example you may be dreaming that you are in a concert while your brother is playing a guitar during your sleep.

 

12. Men and Women Dream Differently

Men tend to dream more about other men. Around 70% of the characters in a man’s dream are other men. On the other hand, a woman’s dream contains almost an equal number of men and women. Aside from that, men generally have more aggressive emotions in their dreams than the female lot.

13. Precognitive Dreams

Results of several surveys across large population sets indicate that between 18% and 38% of people have experienced at least one precognitive dream and 70% have experienced déjà vu. The percentage of persons that believe precognitive dreaming is possible is even higher – ranging from 63% to 98%.

*Precognition, also called future sight, refers to perception that involves the acquisition of future information that cannot be deduced from presently available and normally acquired sense-based information.

14. If you are snoring, then you cannot be dreaming.

This fact is repeated all over the Internet, but I’m a bit suspicious whether it’s really true as I haven’t found any scientific evidence to support it.

15.You can experience an o r g asm in your dream

You can not only have s e x as pleasurable as in your real life while dreaming, but also experience an o r g a s m as strong as a real one without any wet results. The sensations felt while lucid dreaming (touch, pleasure and etc..) can be as pleasurable and strong (or I believe even stronger) as the sensations experienced in the real world.

   OH! and we can’t forget, Minnie, you know she had a heart as big as a whale!

  A New Year is coming, I think a little pre-retching is called for. I’m gonna’ sit while I stand on me box if you don’t mind…

I spent a train ride today trying to hold back tears over how grateful I feel for who I am and where I am  now, and for the courage, ability & most importantly the support to, simply put, pursue whatever, which just so happens to be my destiny. But above all, I’m grateful because I know what’s in store for me. I can FEEL it and it’s goosebump and tear inducing, as it is greater than me.

I mainly wrote this to alleviate some pressure and also because I have some friends & family, who like me, are working to manifest this feeling this gift, with honor, dedication, integrity, goodness and solid, honest hard work. Together we have to work every day in believing and acting solely upon the rhythm of a feeling, ignoring our minds fragmented limited perception of “reality,”and “boldy go where no man has gone before.” (Yes I stole a line from Jean Luc Picard..yes from STAR TREK…so vhatt!) It’s going to be a New Year, so lets get inspired, shall we!

So here’s my internal contemplation expounded & painted in letters:

(Inner voice..Ehe eh ehem!)

 Man, you better do EVERYTHING YOU CAN and then some to become what you are meant to BECOME, and once you do, let good be not good enough, be GREAT! And then OOOZZE your GREATNESS on to every walk of life you come across and even those you may never meet. And never mind the naysayers including yourself sometimes; they/you are only afraid of greatness. If you want to hear something moving, change the channel and dance to the beat of your own soul. There is no tomorrow, there’s right now and that’s all that exist, RIGHT NOW, DO it Now, FEEL it now, THINK it now,  and most importantly BELIEVE  it now. Do EVERYTHING YOU CAN TO BELIEVE IN YOU RIGHT NOW. Do not wish for it or hope for it, you don’t have to, IT ALREADY EXISTS INSIDE OF YOU.  It is kinetically bustling in you, above you, around you; the world breathes in and out in anticipation for you to soar. This kind of power was not meant to be contained but UNFOLDED, EXPLODED, SCREAMED and TRANSMITTED via SELFLESS INFECTIOUS pathways that leave the world a little or a lot better than it was before you came. Mediocrity is not comfortable; mediocrity is the break that leads to the death of an infinitely expanding soul. Do the best you can and when you feel you can’t, take a breather, a kindergarden drink milk and eat cookies just because breather, and then start again and do the best you can.

 I ask to not be taken from this feeling filled place, no matter how painful it may seem at times in my misinterpretation of events, but for the courage to transfix the world with my brilliant, noble, gracious and honorable gifts.

When in doubt DECLARE to yourself & to the world:

 It’s done, even bigger & better than I imagined, It’s done. As I believe it, as I picture it, in all its beauty and graceful perfection and splendor, it’s done!   I am grateful for the undulating waves that I brave every day, as I become one wave closer to the palpable manifestation of my prodigiousness.

…..and then just take a breath, smile & relax in the grate/gracefulness of KNOWING.

____________

NOw Raise your glasses…..ok well since it’s not New Years quite yet, maybe just raise the nearest item next to you…yessss a pencil will have to suffice.

To: My bud bud & Professional Athlete Melanie Hardy- It’s DONE….YOU HAVE ALREADY QUALIFIED FOR 2012 IN THE 800 & YOU ARE ONE OF THE TOP RUNNERS IN THE WORLD. You work so hard and deserve the best. Your light shines, you can and will  feel it and others are warmed by your glow….oh and um you did it all with a funky too cool for school hairdo. I  dear say the mohawk is gonna’ see a comeback after this Summer Olympics. 😉

To: Estrella,  your ‘simply marrrveelous darling’ fashion company, BerqclÉ LLC “It’s a household name.” (Forrest Gump …Oh soo wiseeee:) You inspire me. And yes, EVERYTHING you have worked for and then some is a comin’ so brace yeself wee laddie’.

To: My wonderful parents,  supportive siblings(cespes-patcat), ENMA (Starpar, Alpalzi- Epitome of Man’ & Nolpolzi -my partner in crime;), my cousin JBaxter (it just doesn’t get any  better than you!), Juanee Cilliers(see you on the track at this Summer Olympics:), Jessica Branker(Olympics opening ceremony crazyness Oh and Viva Mexico!:),MacKenzie Hill, Greg Nixon, Mr. Comissiong, past coaches Harley Cooper, Dave Rodda, Wayne(from health to hippie), current coache & track wizard Darrell Smith, musical poet Frank the Bodega Man, close friends, random friends and my London Crew (Stephen Burgoyne…Stepho my love, Lady Fiona, Andre Shiiii ;), Amina, Robin, Sir Simon) and my weekly unplanned “random” encounters with some of the awesome blossom (it rhymes leave it alone haha) people the world has to offer.

And finally…

To: The BELIEVER, DOERS , SUPPORTERS, MOVERS & CORE SHAKERS out there! Here’s to you, here’s to us!

A New Year is a great excuse to begin to do what you ought to be doing!

Retching complete.

Happy (a few days before) NEW YEAR!!!