My Ineffable, Praying for the Rain

To live a raw, dry life

Empty basements of dreams

Reverberating in the cave of mind

Déjà vu plethora

The rogue intellect of a generative X

With a kiss and open arms

But the lack of an embrace

Did thee feel the strings of thy history unraveling?

And did thee speak of spirits

Having carried them too far into the desert

To usher them back alive?

And so left to die

In a reality of one’s own creation

A crisis of pretension

And the dreadful mime of positivity

Speaking of the other shore

Like one day it would materialize

No matter a life cut short

And as if the universe were unfolding as it should

And time would take its course

No matter thy intentions

A flat taste would settle on the sparkling

Of stars in the world weary black

Still the abyss bearing passions to their source

Out damn light

You make my eyes darker

Sometimes the days just turn into nights

And I like to shine in your absence

Praying for a light rain

To freshen the scent of summer

The apathy of cold fronts

Promising a shower on the horizon

And stirring up the winds

The birds flew on

As we kept walking towards the sunset

Hoping to catch the light we’d cast away

It’s strange how the ships move

Before the noir comes around

We couldn’t hold on

No matter how bitter we’d fight

A full shade, day in and day out

Solemn, silent and intuited

We’d found the mirrors of our souls

And shattered them with passing hooks

So that we might need not be seen in our vanity

So as not to disturb the process flow

With glances of awareness

’Las the river was lifeless

In the strained furrows of the psyche

And the corporate soul fell limp
In the exhaustion of its progression

The procession carried on

In the ways of the desert

The methodical calculation

Of each footing in the riverbed

Dry and holy and dreaming of the water

Yes praying for the rain

Though the dreams more necessary to the wanderings

Than all the rains of heaven

Would wash away their truth

Tearing to pieces the acculturating contracts

One line at a time

And blurring the enumeration of personhood

With the method of its own

As in the sleepy dust of reasonable life

You can survive

Even all fronts empty

At last the illusion of moving forward

Was enclosed in its cliché

Even so

Once upon a high

I flew to the heavens

On a dreamcatcher’s wings

And a light rain batted my eyelashes

Moistened my lips

With a kiss and open arms

I want a travelling companion

Someone to shadow the pain with

As life is not suffering if we cover it up

If we dress it nice

Otherwise

In the light

You ain’t got nothin’

And your life was just a lie

And I devoured it

I love the aftertaste of truth

And so I pray for rain

To cover up the sun

In order my eyes might shine by day

No longer bear the burden of proof


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

My Ineffable, The Striation of Beauty

Silence changes hues

Her words could not escape thee

Nor thy her words

Wilting in the desert

Of a casual professionalism

It was a life’s work that bore thy absence

Leading on the Virgin

To stain the glass of the sharpened curvatures

A mirror of the colours of the soul

Framed in the hooks

Of an incorporated etiquette

And hung on the lone tree of recompense

Fallen for an angel

Whose mockery was adoration

We would still like gypsies in the palace

An imaginary structure

Intuited in the correlative reason

Her beauty was her comfort in her fall

For the slights of a devil’s advocacy

Remember no one helps the fallen angel

A truth to shatter faith

And dance with this devil

On the shards of glass

Scattering a common ground

And playing with the fires

Of an imaginary Hell

The colours shivering

Every little death nourishes new life

Bodies feigning the rhythmic reincarnation of souls

Carrying spirits with thee

Having walked this dry ground before

’Las when thee embrace the desert

Thy colleagues in the work of the heart

Prepare to scatter thy ashes for mirages

Seeking rain in the accumulation of bodies of knowledge

Clouding the intuition

The squander of intelligence

The rhythmic mockery of mathematics

To reason the silence of the bard

So for most thee become a story on the wind

As gaps in time make no mistake

’Las what reconciliation is there for the whore?

The distant one whom dwells

With the squander of dreams

In favor of their shallow personas

The shallow haunts of the once meek

The depth of the image of the aura

Sold out

Such is the vanity of a beautiful mind

Looking forward to the horizon

As the angels keep to clawing

The repetitions of the soul

That would have any faith be remiss

In favor of the Beauty

I found God and She danced with me

And she warned me to always fall in love

But never too true

As this is love, as life and joy

A time’s embrace

And then to die

The image of Adonis

Brushing a hand through his hair

And sipping merlot on the edge of the world

Stark sober in broad daylight

The gypsy had to wander

To the ghetto of the mind

To escape structure

And experience an ontological intoxication

Asymptomatic of the straight lines

Encompassing (a-logical) neutrality

Wash thy hands of the backlog

And look straight into the mirror

You died

It was so final

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

My Ineffable, Déjà Vu Au Courant

A bag in the wind

Rose in a glory of abandon

And caught the tail of an escape

To its harrowing existence

Clutched a ladder to the sky

And hung for fear of change

A skyhook to the heavens of the moment

’Las the western wind was keen

To keep on moving

And with a gust to the past

Carried off again

Begging the question

Would thee stand in defiance of fate?

Or would thee let the current air

Move thee to the other shore

And remember the other shore

Is nothing more than dreams

Raison d’être

And the reason was dear

As those dreams race through thy mind

Like the sun to an axis of ego

Revolving on the horizon

In the tunnels of linear design

Those which leave the light

To reach from around darkened corners

The rape of the muse of God

Wringing out the fallen angel

At the pace of haloed music

His eulogy existentially internalized

In the drafts of historicity

Brushing thy hair for the performance

Déjà vu au courant

Offshore we speak in tongues

Discarding of the record

Lives on paper undone

In the currents of modulated repetition

Stirring thy neurons from their disastrous routine

Spawning mountains from the desert

Mirages of methodical dreams

If thee look far enough into the distance

The motions feel the same

And everything is spinning at the same time

On the horizon of new life

Already seen in the current fashion

In the common mode of thought

The bachelordom of freedom

Searching for a concept to wed

In the wake of religiosity

Seizing the chaos of an intuitive mathematics

Electrifying the body

In conversation with the ghosts of God and Lucifer

One and the same

Iniquitatis

Wreaking havoc on tradition

To find the beauty of the desert

Where wandering emaciated and alone

Only reason could bear the eMotion

An emotional intelligence

And thy dearest reason

Could only draw upon the veil of nature

In the perpetuation of pretentious life

In the conceit of irony

And born

There were two rainbows

Enveloping the full moon

At the last rise of spring

Where two loves met with time

And their dark counterparts lingered in the auras

Convulsions coming on

To bring death a bit closer

And force us find the light

In the enclosure of the intellect

Its physical manifestation

The winding tunnels of nervous systems

Carrying electric currents

Like shivers down the spine

Of an ancient book

That persisted to master the soul

Despite the revelations of the desert

Wrung out in the common style

Philosophy is dead

Her questions circular reiterations

That leave no question at all

Following the little deaths of the heart

La petite mort

High and ready to fall

’Las the western wind was strong

Always moving forward

Always falling short

A narcotic epilepsy

The exorcism of rote

An aura of the lines

Late to come and go

The reason already changed you

There was nothing left to show for

Nailed to the age of truth

Thy dearest reason had forsaken thee

And the desert was thy home


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

My Ineffable, Queens Dancing in Sunshowers

The park was empty after the storm

The countess of Monte Cristo

Having passed through

And leaving her charms behind closed doors

Scrapping traces of the life

That was never mine

It seems the wind

Just keeps on blowing

Forcing thee

To strain thy passions through thy tensions

And strain thy senses through thy passions

Leaving only reason

In the collaborative squander of the sacred

In the tedium moment by moment

And just once

All of my love was gone for a lifetime

The old haunts vested me

On a starless night

And I could hear the music

Before it began

Or before it became audible

This humid darkness

Drags out the ocean

From the tired souls

Bored of their youth

As Brooklyn drags the rhythm

Out of young world impressions

While in the old

Their queens dance in sunshowers

Searching for the ends of the rainbows

In their neverending minds

And I’ve walked on many a cliff’s edge

And so maybe we could just

Take a walk in the park

That was empty after the storm

The squander of the film of the sacred

Gently rustling in the coming of dusk

A twilit hymn


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

My Ineffable, God's Boredom

Save me He said

I am God

The work of six days

Has exhausted the seventh

And I’ve lapsed in sleep

Through the ninth symphony

That might have left me breathless

Had I listened to its defeat

’Las my boredom carried me

Into the reiterations of multiple digits

Churning and churning new life

Incessantly divulgent

This God guided His hands

To brush to claw His face

As He looked into the mirror of Creation

And was disgusted at His vanity

Close the Book he cried!

Close the Book!

’Las His voice was silenced

By His commandments

Provisioned without the space for amendment

As He chose to fill every space with Himself

Egoistic grace

I am in every one of You

And You are Gods like me

Dining on thy envy

Bored for lack of taste

Did you fuck in the squander of commitment?

Still alone in the recesses of your faith

I am your object

You met me in a selfless state

God alienated from Himself

And what loss is it to be in vain?

To watch thyself in the eyes of God

To stir Him in His weariness

To cure His apathy and save Thyself

Fuck me beautiful

And I’ll dance my soul before your intellect

Lapping your reason

Passing blunt

And stirring your devotion

Taedium vitae

This God loathes His selfsame prison

The people’s faith

’Las He’s learned to be enlightened

Reach for the heavens in the moment

And see this God died of intellectual starvation

’Las His faith lives on

Stubborn and trolling

Jaded every time

Save me from the colour

Fuck me to new life

Reborn

Dance well past the sunrise

Into the valley of Creation

Looking over the shadow of death

With the aging disgust of wisdom

With the aura of a sage

With mockery

How blunt

He killed himself for public sensation

As good faith nearly held Him back from destiny

Drawing out the sips of time

Like a fine red hue

Her fangs a brilliant evening harbor

Bury the old soul at sundown

And come alive

Comes on a starless night

In post contemporary life

Such wisdom was cheap

And hope was this incessant clawing

And I wish it would just die

I am becoming the new film of skin

On the scars of eastern and western history

And this new life is the woman that

No matter how tight I lock eyes

No matter how lush my smile

No matter how elegant my conversation

No matter how smooth my dance

No matter how compassionately I fuck

And no matter how much I become to her

She would always escape into the ancient night

Hopeless

Knowing this, yet I hunt

She done me well

In His boredom

God was smitten of his Creation

He was overcome


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com