Seven Sins of Freedom (Wild Horses)

I watched a thousand flock of thoughts

Scatter like roadside leaves in a fall gust

On a morning ride caught the current

Like the pigeons of European nostalgia

Shifting along the New York avenue

In some vertical representation

Of the mad path of errant passion

Empty lust in the fashion of nothing

Soaking in the early morning rain with grace

And waiting on sunbreak to show their light

Those thoughts that could not bear

The critique of a reality we did not quite believe in

Yet seemed to be the consensual acceptance of the haut bohème

The capitalist

In post-contemporary chic

The prevailing taste of the moment

On the cusp of the prophecy

Anticipating trends

The poetic repetitions of communal mood swings

A harbor for individual expression

A chance to disappear

Into the allowance of apathy

Held in disregard for the sake of an ontological resonance

The trends of a language

A mathematic

Déjà vu au courant

The locus of the current style

A wind that caught thy sails

And measured the meter of thy expression

Tailing poetic

Each pigeon of thought

Safe from the hawks of capitalism

So long they flew in unison

So long the algorithm of trend was their logic, their hold.

Seven empty sins filled the city of dreams

With white lies of express distaste

The rabbits slipping into their holes

And sealing their fates

Was an eerie quiet in the ash of passion

Set free

To roam in arbitrary motion

The cold trails of reason

Whose only guide was a severe taste

An unforgiving pretension

Dismembering itself to allow for growth

For the reconceptualization of an arrogance

Imprisoned by the categories of free thought

Yes as it was freedom

Was the new tyranny of you

Postured for fear of that emptiness

That with a cold smile

Conducted the soul theft

Of the only speciality

Accused of a soulless existence

It was a parody of its own hollow fate

Dancing with the dreadful mime of positivity

The measured sins of a freedom late

In the misappropriation of the muse

And now thy reflection in the glass apple

Was disgusted at the sly smiles of spekulants

Such that a rotten apple was such taste

And the opacity of the black glass was impenetrable

Betraying my youth in my hunger for dreams

And maybe you would usher me through the fall

For I saw the light

It was just a steady flame behind a transparent wall

The shadows merely the auras

Of vagrant passions I’d been dreaming on

For the rabbits had scattered

At the sight of the Three Kings

And I was amongst them

The heart in the spades and the diamonds

The lover in the dark glass

Cast under the bridge

With the grace of wasted luck

A lady stumbling home to her fortune

Her diamonds in the jade stone of her class

Chasing the sunrise hallucinations of a productive mind

Fireflies on the water

We reach for in our desire to be God

Floating on the sea

Even catch but must let go

My friend I held on tight

As the beauty had been shrouded in the veil of ego

On the tail of fantasies

In the Technicolor soul of the world

The fluorescent traces of chemical essences

Fabricated gods or idolizations of emptiness

And their arbitrary categories of good and evil

’Las see all was black and white

And I’d keep burning the same candle

That had birthed my taxidermical imprisonment

In a corporate embodiment of psychological hierarchy

Embedded in egotistical allowance

If it weren’t for you

See for me all was black and white

My words that cleaved for white lies

Like rabbits that cleaved for white fur

Even all was blushed in black

The dark recesses of solitude aged like wine

In the basement of dreams

In the cellar of enlightenment

The hollow of the light outside the cave

The blackest wash of all that could be white

Yes all was soot in black

Except for you

A real color either in the light

Of suns or errant flames

A real touch amidst the shadows

Even I was abrasive, dramatic

I ask you fill the gray

With all the light of the rainbow

That the muses had been searching for

In their neverending minds

In the misappropriation of their currency

And done sweet intellect

Caress

The poet had died in the gutter

Created in the image of nothing

Blossom Earth

This ground I’ve filtered for endless lives

Endless nights

The cool dew of morning

An unforgettable taste perennial

Tomorrow is always around the corner

Even in the winter

The ineffable victories of the intellect had won me over

The only question left

Was the abyss of the feminine deity in my soul truly stilled?

Lahoda jahoda having swallowed her sweet self whole

And the only answer was that only time could tell

Always waiting to see what unfolds

The white rabbit had lured me into her black cave

And feigned to steal my soul

Kneading the silences to carve the vision

The stone pillars of European nostalgia

Ran with the waters of thy silent sentiments

Shining through the fog on a recession to infinity

The elegant horses of fashion

Braying in the evening comatose etiquette

Coming on the wild throes of night

The masqueraded outlet of the repression

’Las the shadows were failing me

They were hiding in themselves

And burning the loose threads of their torn jackets

The heat of their passion too strong in those shadows

To pay mind to the cold

To expand the vision

Walk into the light dear self

Abandon the shadows that would leave you sulking alone

As such only products of thy imagination

Walk through the remnants of night

In the coming of dawn

And let them fall into their blackness

Cling to the sun

Cling to the golden hair

The rays of light that clean would dismember

The sewn limbs of thy nightly struggle

That would leave them behind in the thirst for new life

The horses racing through thy mind in anticipation


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com