Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 21

If look too far past

Doth fall a (leaf in the pond/

Brush of light)

Recursion arrogancia

Le film est la constitution

Lured to raping sages

Consuming figuración

La douleur en pleurant d’airain

(In-constant) motion

Passing passing

Must thee (march/waltz) insane?

Monday, July 25, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 20

Yestereve I dreamt

Of surreal meanderings

Balancing atop the dangling

Daunt objective of former oppress

Peering abyss into

The caves hath led such height

That can no more retrace the steps

Just an instinctual primacy

Opening so much so brighter

The deeper we venture tact

The forest of the mind

Hath no more light than black

The irony

Things are not what they are

This instance

Midsummer twilight wiles

On the dwarf forest

Escher’s relativity

Spirals stretched in line

Endlessly rotating

Material deviation

From the oriental center

The bed of weaving

Be not afeard

If world doth teeter on its axis

Its (axiom/orientation)

’Tis merely shifting its postured weight

Imaginary as is perceptual

Residual escape

Is sheen

Our shadows fell upon the drift of time

Side by side stretching the horizon lean

We laughed

(Water-falls) beneath our kisses

Like tears we’ve chosen not to weep

And rather leaning o’er

Grip so dear abysses

Howsoever daunting to our dangling feet

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 19

Frustration to leap

To bound

I’m bound

Still standing same

Though contend still standing strong

Rather be standing posh

So corporate?

Touché

If I stand too long in the desert

Then the wind may wish thee away

So standing far too long

We hope that not

Though hope I hope is gone

Without belief

Why where’s your wings?

Nowhere to be seen?

Then buried in the dunes

Though shifting only a mirage

For I’ve seen deserts evaporate too

’Tis just lovely how they sway

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 18

Dear miss faith

In Marxist supersession

Of the (personal existential/

Solipsistic concrete)

Wisdom of flames though never enough

(Extinguished/distinguished) tease

The muse of my winter fate

Modal perfectionism

Sometimes the metaphor does not suffice

As prophecy without objective lighted

Execution of sworn statements

(Transgressively/transcendently)

Affirming future (events/phenomena)

Of the global technological debt

In perpetual (descent/dissent)

Despite the rises along the way

Hath marked an end

Save for miss faith

To make her stay

To halt the hourglass figurine

Running dry

When blinded doth synthesize dialectic

In survivalist taste

A dire faith infusion

Of the lingering (artistry/technology/

German hypocrisy)

The lover in pursuit

Of that well stayed ’gainst pursuit

A clinging to which departs

Public sexualitas an awkward ease

The walls however dissolve

If just only momentarily

He looked into her eyes like a soldier

Like the world was a battlefield

Might never we come back from

For (existential/technological)

(Material/empirical) (hypocrisy/objectivity)

Of subjective thought

Sweet Dasein’s suicide

An uprooting of faith

Ashes to the sea

Spanish arc in a tease of flame

Miss agape the breeze

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 17, Epitome No. 1

Bronx hush of wisdom

Breathes heavy descending stairs

Of higher class redundancies

Pristinely emphatic judgment

The artists are critiquing the existential

Atmosphere of postmodern bliss

Incessant touch of reach to bleach

White positivism

And racially contended

Though only in soft spoken utterance

The fallen history between diverse lines

Sharing world wisdom traditions

To breach the abysmal gap

Whoring emotion

On digital recognition

And a façade of Californian sunshine

Taken with a bit of ease at least

After a long and lonely fight

Abstaining from the dilution of self

Into the Bronx river underbelly

The silent grit

Of death or retirement

Merely ghosting on the latter

In brushes of God’s family

Posh good faith

Begging to relinquish the analytical season

Effortlessly

Ineffably

Begging to make haste

In the reckless traffic seeping

Out the river’s daily chase

Come to rest synecdoche

On timely farce to face

Rationalized displacement

In the wake of bitter southern cold

The organ bellows

Beneath fiery Catolic web

Stained glass assertions

Of the desert hath been bred of poverty

Invoking faith in those hath bled

Can taste the droplets

Islamic mysticism curtails a darker poem

Satanic lettings

Of the American liturgic home

Cynic’s harkened repose to zen

The longing egotism envelope of world

I an artist

Must not pace my breath

For my thoughts as cold as stone

As heavy too

And can destroy minds

If only I let them too

Shade the fury in faithless trend

You want me to speak

This Bronx density I wake too?

No we rather huddle the sky rise enclosures

Of an intellectual Manhattan

Pop the music seeping underground

To steal our thoughts in Slavic silence

The dance of raping hawks

And some Catolic heart believes

She must entice the devil to unwind

And fake a modern woman

Elegantly devoid of faithful ties

Doth engender same in good faith relies

I can see through eyes

If only pretend their depth

Like sadomasochistic fashionista

Seductions of the gawking world

To recognize artistic beauty

Is oft destroy the soul

Alas the soul hath fallen ready

From the crucifix redress

The self a mere event

Objective analytic

A continent in distrust of the human fate

Enterprising architecture reprobate

To carry on the reason

Aloft the battles superstitious to instate

Depression mere space to mental rest

No human in the wake

For this is heavy

And the modern artist

Must lighten his expressive taste

Lest shatter minds

On the grips of concepts quite alive

In the fore seen air

What the fuck this cryptic knowledge

Fucking carelessly ensnared

Poets hang on nooses

Having slain themselves dramatic flair

Only place where anger feign sublimity

Save who’ve chosen

Not to understand those airs

They’ll mock in distant careless

And I’ll beg their mercy’s nails

To shiver all my nerves’ caress

And shake from apathy

Hath cradled me so sure

The child who will never leave you

Needs your nurture not your fools

Not your words like fallen hairs

The shavings of a mule

Stubborn on the desert howls

Its image to thy bones

Gazing vultures’ downcast eyes

Thy work a chip off nothing

Collective imitation

Quite clear artistic demise

The rebirth of childhood angels

Line the mezzanine of sky

We’ve forgotten of insanity

Boring out our lives

The artists pile everywhere

To wonder what has died

Now the global dawn has paired

Its set to its new rise

To wonder what we’ve left behind

In the ashes of our haste

That in the loss of our once mind

We’ve organized the majesty

Of Bohemian sprawling miles

We’ve divvied up the land

Organized parcels of medium

To straight lines of concept

Only worthy for an heir

We’ve relinquished all our thinking

Of expression

For the expression of a thought

Condensed in confine history

The childhood is lost

Sifting aura European nostalgia

August a city of angels

Canonizes the past

And emancipates the moment

Nude alchemy

Sparkling glass of city nights

Idealized frugal imagination

Of an artist’s starving sight

Once starving want of nurture

In the bellowing canons of divine

Now starving ideation

In the nurture of consistency

A professional loss of faith

Doth endear good faith in ours of times

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 16

When to jump?
I feel like we are holding hands
At the edge of a cliff
And the world did not turn
The way we had hoped
To leap!
We still hope
Though time has taken its stride
Flame kindled on a leaf in the wind
Must burn out
When wind (dies/dives) down
And breakers rise
Will (regret/forget) this moment
The way only a flame can hide
A sea of understanding
And so we've finally touched
Without singing our skin
Without straining our eyes
In further reaches
There is no turning back
But I do not believe in time

Monday, July 4, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 15

D’imaginer des plumes sur le veut

À fantasmer la femme

Le Buddhist awakening

At emptily epitome disclosed

Commentated (visualization/rendition)

Revolution feminine

The stake of new life

In the afterwake of last great wars

Dum spiro spero

(Perspective/perspiration)

Phenomena of globalization

A mere happening in communicative competition

Glimpses (in-sanity)

Egotistical labor contradictions

The (chauvinist/conquistadores)

Communal (in-gestation)

Maitre,

We must work with diligence

In the revision of the avant garde

À la louange de l’âme feminine

Constant progression to take care (in-sane)

In pursuit philosophy an abstract art

Doth forget the television screen

The same as representation

In o’erlook the anti objected

Strain in eyes just delicate ah

Bien à vous