Lullaby No. 7 - Paris

Paris! Paris!

The étuvage of dreams

Where the caged bird sings

Of casual perfection

A nice thread

Torn in the empty silence

Of a stateless sky

The collective humanity

No more real than the divine

A woven heartstring unraveling

In the conflict of the others

Bury thy truth

In the expression of distaste

And carry on in the cool flow of things

The free mind pulls

From flights of fancy

To gather the strands of our hair

That have laid to rest on the ground

Burnt in the pleasant sun

The shavings of new life

Hanging in the balance

Of repressed emotion

The waters that came to your eyes

To dilute your disgust

A light heart in the wake

Carry on another day

Dispassionate

Breathe in the future

To save your breath for now

A letter from Paris

Your concept has answered you

In the truest fashion

Smile

The soul of the city

Knows of thy coming

In another life

His kingdom receives you

The power and the glory

Like a child’s dream

You pass

And dare to claim your spirit

From confession

Jason Greendyk

www.jasongreendyk.com

Lullaby No. 6 - Nonexistence

The empty walls exiled you
In the apprehension of dreams
Break the spell
The distance in your voice
Set back to the message
Written in clear blue skies
A nonexistence
Your canvas to believe
In what you will
Otherwise mere
The reminder of God's death
In the existence of the state
Of things
A condemned building
Whose spirits
Were sympathetic of the fair
Bedeviled the April witching hour
I saw the fire in your eyes my child
The breath of new life
In this empty spell
A European draft whistled
In the pliable nature of your freedom
Your Father wore on His sleeve
As He said, I am the Son
And you are one and the same
What I dream you become
What I desire you manifest
Your fiery eyes as cool
As the great blue ocean
And as fierce as the wanting itself
Like pearls
Darting from the light
Pensive they said
What thoughtlessness
Your eyes were like the depths
A mirror of my soul
Iridescent in the endless night of life
Turn to gray stone
What was left
The morning star nodded
In the direction of your fate
And with good Reason

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

Sermon on Reason at the Fridge Art Fair - Recording

Download and listen to the Sermon on Reason held at the Fridge Art Fair on May 10, 2014 in Long Island City, NYC, a reading from the Seven Sins of Reason and the Selvage.

https://www.dropbox.com/s/9kh0nhmobc2j7vv/Seven%20Sins%20Reading.m4a

Jason Greendyk
www.jasongreendyk.com

Lullaby No. 5 – Born into the Noise

Pour out your soul

In the deterioration of your thought

As the delegation

Of futures’ promises

Binds your hands to your back

For you must learn to see with your eyes

And not your touch

Cease the blinding of the wool

That you pull over your heart

In the comfort of the corporate void

An abstraction of your existential digression

The drifter was no more

Instead you justified your motions

With a Reason

Through choppy seas

You stayed your course

The signs of God

Your only direction

In the aftermath of your rebirth

Born into the noise

And whip of the whirlwind

That stirred your dreams

Of once before

The want of absolute perfection

Despite the fine grain of your reality

And the rough fabric of your existence

You drove an impeccable line of your intellect

To the creation of a form

That defined the context of your new belief

The end no longer the juxtaposition of the journey

Rather found itself forming in every thought

The daring journey across the Sea

A Reason to move forward

In and of Itself

Filling the swells of your heart

With fantasies of your situation

That would constitute an end

All illusions that bore your vessel

Along the steady current of a hidden moon

The great Reason in the vast night sky

That caught the light of the stars

And passed it forth to You

To blessed guide you home

Where your family filled your dreams

With a reason for your being

A raison d'être

A cause

Greater than God

Or any Reason that came before

Carried you silent through the noise

And whip of the whirlwind

A storm that was never meant to end

So you just stayed your course

To no end


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

Lullaby No. 4 - A Dark Hole

The world’s breath exhaled

An exhaustion that pulled you to life

Breaking the dawn

Out of your tension

A patient stroking of the drive

A straight line to focus on

To carry you through the smoke

And the mirrors that showed you

Your own infinitesimal cave

Of granular detail

A dark want of perfect order

That not a soul could entertain

A communist insurrection

Of the creative spirit

That drew gray lines

Across the black and white

And built uniform blocs

Of efficiencies

A dark hole in the essence of logic

Through dreams of intellectual filters

To improve the human experience

Like a red balloon let to the sky

Vast and blue like the sea

Into which we are thrown

Best bury your critique

In the clean appearance of things

And guide your direction

Through the filtering hole of Reason

To the high level of thought

That barred your execution

Lest you slip into the rational abyss

Buried in the minutia

By the passing of time

Always always slipping away

A chill down your spine

Would inspire your relevance

No matter how acute your passion

Your emotion is simply not

Important

More a mere reflection of your loss

Of the logical flow of things

In the interest of perfection

Your grip severed your ties

And you were nothing but free

At the world’s weary eyes

Your ideal a mere predilection

Of your divination of Reason

Born from the absence of your soul

In the theory of incompleteness

Within and without withal cast

Into the Sea

Where the old gods were a-swimmin’

In the doubtful nature

Of your existence

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

Lullaby No. 3 - Memento Mori

The advent of new life
Whispered a fleeting notion of finitude
All that you strived to attain
Your departure from a home
Lost on the sprawling winds
Of deeply clutched desires
To satisfy the possibility
Sacrificed to become
What you are capable of becoming
The only end in life
Greater than your errant fashion
A brushing gesture that colors
Your travels the feathered hues
Of a dream once discovered
Once drove you to the border
Of your inherited culture
Where you stood in the brisk
Crystalline purity
On the banks of a river
That was always moving forward
Along the leading edge of your thought
And you watched it unfold
In the basin of your Reason
And the allure lost its hold
Upon the advent of time
You came down from Heaven
A fallen angel
To create a new body
Colored by the neverending journey
Of your mind
And as the ghosts of the past
Came to claw at your grounding
Having once took to the sky
You recalled the distance
And you never looked back
Despite your purposeful disregard
Of its direction
The river never let you go
It bound you in the throes of new life
And the demons of once before
They begged your happiness
Of what comes after
Alas it was your choice
And nothing more
And it echoed bountifully
In the soul of the world
It was your surety
That covered you
In the afterlife of your self
At the birth of your surrogate existence
The midnight river carries on
Unfolding throughout the valley
In the shadow of an Invisible Hope
A sacrifice that was not yours to make
A memento mori that was not your own
And in another life
You came home to your Son

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

Lullaby No. 2 - The Witching Hour

The witching hour
Was upon us
When the drawing motions
Of the womb
Pulled
At your consciousness
To writhe and claw
At the vestiges
Of that pure time
In the empty airs
Of the world
The midnight river
Running
Through your thoughts
And only your voice
Could fill
This new abyss
With the soulful nourishment
You were accustomed to
Through speaking
Could you render
The psyches
Of your creators
To nurture the progress
Of your being
And bend the will
Of existence
To include yours
And late in the noir
Of night
When it seemed
The power
Of your voice
Was faintest
A dark magic
Called forth
Your words
As if the moon
Had sway
O'er your soul
As if the patterns
Of the growing mind
Guided the becoming
Of your voice
And connected you
To a primordial power
Not your own
That you once held
But sacrificed
In your delivery
To shape dear time
With your voice
That reminded us
Of peace
Of humanity
That reminded us
Of home

Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com