As one goes though it one see that the gate one went through was the self that went through it. RD Laing, Knots I. SOLITUDE Solitary stone under the streetlight - starkness echoing the days of self-imposed isolation in fright of selfishness, of greed, of journeys of blood and tangled weed in search of non-self. But seeing the need is the seed to be found as it sinks and is grounded at my feet. The thinking me drowns in the thought as my feelings compound my solitude, perceived of its unfulfilled emptiness. And so it goes... II. DUALITY So it grows she read and her head sped... So it flows she said threading her hair So it shows replied I So it knows asked she To be No more Be Sat knowing my no's for when it goes its throes it throws to sea Know more See Note floating she wrote Boat to sea and light to night Though it goes know it rose in sight So it flows she shed Her thread read she rose and said It shows It grows She knows III. SILENT CONVERSATION Pantomime frozen time liquid stare - solid air motion in rhyme. Impressions remain in silent refrain. Smiling eyes spirit flies crested swell - woven spell unspoken ties. The silent words thread emotions re-read. Perceptions untaught, the mind reflected in space. Unfathomable thoughts re-wrought and moulded in face. Assembled forms the image clear in the head as insight dawns and scorns the silence unread. The characters take their cue in the wings - the tale is never told. The curtains are drawn, a telephone rings, and time takes its time to unfold. Clearing haze shattered maze face the sun - life's begun warm fire ablaze. The motionless smile remains yet awhile. IV. LIBERATION Let the beginning be the end. Let all that we are be the nothing that we can be so the nothing that we are can be the everything that we are not. faroutsider © 2008-11-25 ************************************************************* For Linda (hipps13), who gave me the spark and the confidence to use words creatively for the first time in nearly 25 years. Thank you, my friend, for your wonderful gift! These pieces were found in a very dusty recess of the vault, and needed a little polishing. They were written over a period of about three years in the heady days of undergraduate studies, when I was reading people like RD Laing, Kurt Vonnegut, Ursula le Guin and Carlos Castaneda (I still do), listening to polyrhythmic music by Gentle Giant, Frank Zappa and others (I still do) and contemplating relationships, self and others, being and nothingness, and all the other things that make universities dangerous places to be... (I still do). Thanks for looking in - comments and crits are welcome, particularly as I'm trying to re-learn how to use the rusted non-visual parts of my left brain. Craig. *************************************************************
Previous image