My Ineffable, A Queen of Oriental Snowdrifts

Ciao Lady Luck

Either arriving or departing

Still always moving forward

To subtle close the gaps

And stitch a tapestry of control

Into the fortunes of becoming

A steady hand to hold position…

We dwell so close to reality now… all the menagerie of our caricatures having found semblance in that which peers out from behind the reflection and all illusion is a masquerade of aura… all mystery a façade of belief… we touch close beneath the surface in the writhing of our tongues on the accents of an adopted parlance… what choice of words would have us fare well into the hush of an feigned advocacy… the arrogance a cold wind upon our heartened shelter…

And what meandering does lead us to flight back farther than tides recede in the ailing of our memory upon the repetition of our straights… what apathy alights to have us buried in the seeming of our age… our idolization of vain artistry having gutted the machinery of our intellect to the appearance of no perception might discover the reality we hold so close in our dangerous admittance slipped our mind for the parallel of truth conjoining in the selfsame illusion of our distancing…

Watch me dance my vanity and thine will be shed… the walls closing in having only fortified us despite our fears of an end… lovers closing on reality… then who are we and where are we going? 

Then, to what end would we want to answer?  What other might be listening?  Save just embrace and trace to mind the longing… moving in our distant slumber.


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

My Ineffable, Becoming of Externality

Arrested in the shifting of worlds

Barreling distance furiously

From an corporate utopian apathy

The beauty of glass panes'

Their partial reflections

Reiterating the vanity of monotony

Jittering to the last light

And caving in the swell

Pressing the juices of our burgeoning

Day in day out pressing further an internalization of machination... the evening groaning in our alighted eyes and the sensuality an atrophy of our discussion... a lingering distillation... and burning reluctantly for the tongues of saturated being to tingle the eclipse of nerves in the wake of capitalistic distance...

Even into the deeper reaches of provocative enunciation the residue of our dry linguistic pinches as a rosethorn... marking the contraction of our veins like the many rivers of thought forgotten on the passing airs of focus... the contingencies of artistic nuance revoked in the nurture of consistency...

All the very best... an externalized contingency of good faith in fortunes born to internal drums... the rhythm of sexuality comprised in the strain of sunken eyes always reaching through the feckless drift of night for the dear enlightening of dawn... a stark sobriety that the sun will rise again and again no matter thy passing on.

We must externalize the psychologizing internalization in the repossesion of our age to stave the lack and pair a trace of our becoming... the wrinkles of an afterthought condensed in the relief of a moment... a disbursement of our residual hesitations to the growth of our adornments... breathe light in need and we must fade until the morning of a sleeping revolution... the sun forever circling...

Impetus.


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

My Ineffable, Población Flotante

The humid air of life in kindling

Teasing the structure had born a stifle

Lapping the onyx stone

Of a steady pace

And overlooking Bohemian haste

In a nomadic consistency

A floating population hanging dear on the strands of an electronic nervous system… for life, perpetual solitary improvisation… flamenco à la ciudadanía… à la corporación.  The branding of the self with the image of corporate elegance… in the dissemination of directive idea throughout an internalized tightrope web of externalized contingencies…

And the world vibrates in these details… the corporate entity of persona a stark weight in the air… perpetually lagging just behind the present at best and continually evoking a credence in solidified progress… the most dire illusion… progress rather the most ephemeral, nomadic element of dynamic constitution… always moving and just out of sight… continually evading real time like a masterful escape artist.

The progression of the modern nomad dwells in a shifting conceptual landscape in the semblance of a moment.  Straining to close the gaps of the past and consistently working towards an ineffable future, a perpetual horizon… The modern world no longer exists as such… it is incessantly becoming to an image branded in the consolidated moment, losing ground.

Stillness is a bore… ay, but where are we to contemplate, moving forward?


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com

My Ineffable, Philosophia

…

“And still skating by the concept

Vicarious assimilation of life

Lingering ephemeral

Thine eyes reflect my self obsession

My awkward silent hues

A forced epitome for structures’ sake

Evoked in concept ghosts of dreams

Shrieking underground

And losing sense of delineated time

To abandon (her/sense/time)

Is the commission of suicide

I’ve no reason to believe

But enjoy the life of night

Its ringing

And ringing”*

… and ringing louder still in the silence of a moment crossing worlds.  Philosophie the flittering trivial nonsense that you’ve abolished in the want of things.  In authenticity, strung to the values of a waste.  The power of the people contained in our aspirations. 

But in the language is an emancipation of this people’s strength.  A backdrop of silence the impotency of word as in legal confrontation.  All a veil of poetry.  We must rather measure our translation as a silence filling sound.  Overcoming the gods of sense and their superstitious ruse that confines our language to our written codes…

Again…

“I do believe

That in the pit the darkest core

Of western rationality

Is the quiet of the eastern shore”**

… the dissolution of corporate personhood an incessant reiteration, that is both legally defined and culturally incorporated in the language of a free people, as if freedom were too much to bear, too light to grasp.

Alas, we must not be cowards when we make our lace to the airs of our externalized humanity.  Rather, we must persistently embrace new life… bien, bien… à bientôt.

*Excerpted from Tango de la Materia, Copyright © 2011 Jason Greendyk

**Excerpted from Šariš, Copyright © 2011 Jason Greendyk


Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com