Poetry

September 18, 2013

Deranged Delusions

deranged delusions dance before dawn
daring to be real in the fit of a new day

apologies for carefree freedom rings
ringing but w/no bells, just sound

trees killing themselves in cities
ocean waves rolling tides over white music

but no voices
volunteers borrowing some other country’s sorrow

in the middle of the day, crying
crime of 3:30am prepubescent penal passions

love raining elusively over neo-noir-nouveau fashion
shows

silly salacious serenity says too many faces of insanity
saddam hussein’s feral feeble reminders

of a death invented just so we can stay alive
sublime silence screaming behind bars

bare & naked & nothing else to see in
nonsense

sensing this moment: a now, & now

the end

September 12, 2013

Falling Into Flight

The music spreads its tenement over a city of spirits & coffee flats.

A voice chases the tail of a broken wind,

sipping sentiments from the minds of a people

aching to be free from the claustrophobic raiments of society.

 

A man w/his strolling guitar forsakes the city

in the lilac wake of a flute dream reaching timidly

for the hand of any god wearing a jaded dress,

spilling forth lace & perfect notes nearly weeping

in the midst of angels falling into flight.

 

Everywhere, the dawn lies september failures down in the tired streets.

A flower breaks its petals into bloom,

then laughs loud enough to whisper over the edge

of someone else’s beautiful scream scattered

across a concrete floor into insanity.

 

The door to the basement café closes,

leaving the bones to hallow w/in, where no one is dying,

but a funeral song just finishes its last verse.

No body hears the final note touch briefly on silence,

then dissipate into obscure obelisks.

 

On Thursdays, Friday turns to green to hide its child-echo indigo eyes

& week’s end follows a subtle rinse of sunshine around the corner.

Monday comes anyway w/too many melodies

playing in the private garden of a backyard cemetery.

 

The morning rolls carefully to the end of the line

& waits for the moon to glow

so it can let go & disperse itself into music,

sleeping in a bed of fluidic ambiguity.

September 11, 2013

A Schizophrenic Way Of Saying Things

I’d like to go home

but I have to go to the bathroom

and they won’t let me see the stars

cognitive-symptoms-of-schizophrenia-03

I’ll give you a doughnut

because I haven’t got anymore

toilet paper

I want to go to Disneyhome

but Mickey’s dead

God looks at me from the sky

I can see the eyes of

Atlantis

diaptych(right) :: mess-up N/N mess-age

Shut up! she said

I told her somebody stole

my bananas

the walls are missing

where did my feet go

I can smell your armpits, Mister

The hallway’s flooded with blood

because somebody farted

now the toilet smells like

home

Thousand Plateaus Drawing

When I comb my hair pieces

of wood fall out

My brother eats maggots with

his bare feet

My feet went home

Can I go too

I hear dogs calling my name

They don’t know the TV’s on

Oprah’s interviewing Justin Bieber’s

image

diaptych(left) :: mess-up 1/1 mess-age

My mom’s in the audience

with her pet home on a leash

Jim Morrison is singing in my

ear

But I can’t hear the water

running     What?

Was that the doorbell

Someone let the table out

I want to go home

but the silverware left without me

Is it my fault the bed’s on fire

oh, it is

catatonia-schizophrenia-symptoms-01

I don’t sleep in a cloud full

of roses

Want to go outside and play

in the weeds

the roaches won’t care

They’re too busy picking curtains

at the supermarket

Go away but I lost 10 pounds

of home

Help me.

*Image Credits (all work used with permission through CC lisence)–
“cognitive-symptoms-of-schizophrenia-03” by Life Mental Health
“catatonic-schizophrenia-symptoms-01” by Life Mental Health
“Thousand Plateaus Drawing” by Magda Wojtyra
“diaptych(left) :: mess-up 1/1 mess-age” by Joel, Evelyn, Francois
“diaptych(right) :: mess-up N/N mess-age” by Joel, Evelyn, Francois

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July 23, 2013

Like Magic

It’s a great deal,

but perhaps not enough

The show must go onEach word: a stroke.

The pen, a favorite brush.

 Empty Cage

Like magic, it may be

Lack of compassion,

lack of feeling

488 Last Day Dream 15-IncognitoChildren stay children

forever

Never growing up

but growing old

What will be there Losing their grip on reality.

Magic is true

Poems From The Archives (a new section of poems from my Madness Period) by NIKOtheOrb

*Image Credits (all images used with permission through CC license)
“What will be there?” & “Empty Cage” by H.Koppdelaney
“The show must go on. . .” by David Baker
“Magic is true!” by Xava du
“488 Last Day Dream 15-Incognito” by Nebojsa Mladjenovic

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May 3, 2013

A F T E R B I R T H

Magical Level -- Level of Miracles by HartwigHKD

PART I – Origo
The Machine Delivered me to Labor, the Wizard certified my soul. Mommy proffered me to the devil, Paperboy declared me sold. They said, “There’s a light in the tunnel, follow it until you get to the field. Report to the man in the tollbooth, he’ll give you your assignment to kill.”

At the tollbooth, the Man threatened, “You see your life won’t be easy, you gotta toil to get by. You’ve a promised Debt to society and when you’ve paid in full you can die.”

I thought, “What do you mean I can die? Toiling in my life to get by? I was only born a moment ago; no, I’ve got my own plans in mind.”

I looked out across the field to see how many had bought this crooked line. I saw thousands and thousands of backs in the sun, bent with their noses to the grind. The Man walked up behind me and invoked leerily into my ear, “Look here don’t give me no trouble,” said the man with the gun in his hand. “Such ideas here are forbidden, it’s the Law to shoot you where you stand.”

Puzzled, I found a spot in the field and planted my feet in the ground. While I waited to see what should happen, I occupied my mind with the sound of spirits racing by unimpeded. I wondered, how could I survive? I questioned empty eyes, saw they were hopeless and slowly the years crept by. . .

 

Liberation of Psyche by HartwigHKDPART II – Liberatio
Now, 30 years old, a lifetime to go, it’s been hard getting by. I’ve been beaten and bruised for my reason. In silence, I Liberate my mind. I looked ahead to the evening and a dawning of a new age. Of toiling no more for the Giants and freedom to all those engaged. So, I threw down the plough and I shouted, “You’ll no longer have the abuse of me!” I ran for the edge of the field, but before I got there I was knocked to my knees. I felt the mighty hand of an Agent and at my back pressed cold hard steel. “You see, you can never escape from Duty so Forget all your insane ideas,” he dripped onto my head as I kneeled. “Freedom? No such thing here exists. Never has there been in all time. So return to your post and your toiling or you risk the firing line.”

I intoned, “One day I know I shall be free, because I can see beyond the Horizon. A storm fast approaches along your path and you’ll have all the fear when it comes.”

Angered, I found a spot in the field and stood my feet on the ground. I waited to see what would happen, my mind humming with the sound of spirits racing to my aid. I heard something say ‘You have nothing to fear: Soon all your questions will be answered, your days aren’t much long here’ . . .

 

Dreaming by HartwigHKDthe dream
that night I closed my eyes to sleep and awoke walking on a black road of dreams. I saw a dragon flying through a wilderness of herds, an eagle on the wind and a lion rose from the sea. From a cloud appeared a rumbling light; out of the light came a stranger of Being and spoke. “Be not afraid, we mean you no harm, we know what wonders your heart seeks. We’ve watched you since the day you were born and knew you before you were formed. We’ve come to answer your tears, below the Time of Harvest is in the fields.”

the Stranger laid a hand upon my forehead and left a mark, I was full of Light. “Careful,” it prophesied, “they’ll search for you come mourning. Awake now, you’ve no more need to hide.”

 

I wonder what happens by HartwigHKD PART III – Novae Res
With the Dawn, I awoke to sirens and realized the search had begun. I was not afraid; I stood my ground, as I was tired of life by the gun. In my mind sat the strength of clarity and I turned to face the empty-eyed army. I was stampeded, but I was not done: this war I will fight until it’s won. Should I fail? I’ve nothing left to barter, I’ve got no more of me to sacrifice. Next came, an Army of Agents. “I am Come to reveal all your secrets!” I yawped.

Inside me I felt the Archives of Reason written on the code of my life. From my mouth came the outflow of Truth and the Tempest rode the back of sun’s rise. Sensing the end the people scattered but the storm plucked them up from the earth. Agents gave up weapons and their last breath and were carried away by a hurricane of death. I saw Giants fall from their great thrones and crawl for cover beneath ash and bone. The Storm chewed them up as a feast and from its throat, it vomited a beast. Lightning struck the beast on its eye and from the sky, it fell with a quake. The earth opened up and swallowed it whole. The Tempest broke, and left not stain. Amazed I stood at the edge of a garden beckoned by the lull of a Stranger’s tune. I laid my hand upon the gate to enter and knew my search would end soon. . .

 

Happy & Wholesome by Philip KirkEPILOGUE
My mind buzzing with the spirits of conscience, I knew this was one of but many directions. The door to the line of Evolution stood open; I crossed the threshold to the birth of new questions.

 

Image Credits–
“Magical Level — Level of Miracles” by HartwigHKD
“Liberation of Psyche” by HartwigHKD
“Dreaming” by HartwigHKD
“I wonder what happens. . .” by HartwigHKD
“Happy & Wholesome” by Philip Kirk

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December 26, 2012 Image

A Transformation of Consciousness

Transformation of ConsciousnessHeal the world

& remember to hold on–

everybody hurts.

*Image credit: “Transformation of Consciousness” by Cornelia Kopp

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November 26, 2012

Dystopia

D Y S T O P I A: a visual poem

One Day in the Future —

What if humans were extinct? What would the planet be like then? This isn’t a nightmare or a dream because there is no dreamer. Imagine a future world in which humans are gone, extinct, what record would remain to memorialize our existence. With current technology, it is already possible to record human thoughts and memories, using a digital camera/camcorder. The true dystopia would be this kind of environment, video memories/thoughts/dreams/ambitions still floating around and playing randomly throughout the world. This is how I would imagine a future Dystopian world.

DYSTOPIA: A Visual Poem (a part of Videotry series, video + poetry = Videotry. Videotry is a new style of poetry using moving images rather than written or spoken words to convey a meaning. Prose is in the form of film, a new way of ambient writing. Instrumental music and images illustrate the concepts, creating a flowing architecture)

More Visual Poetry:
Soar

Credits–
Film Clips* (all film clips from Vimeo.com and used with permission through CC license):
Where Are All The People by Jonatan Lerche, Sr.
To Wall Street by Benjamin Dewey
Still There by Hotaka Matsumura
*[All footage filmed in HD, recommend 720p or 1080p for optimal viewing]

Sound clips (all samples from FreeSound.org and used with permission under CC attribution license from the following):
“Play Ball” CGEffex
“Highway Urban” Cognito Perceptu
“Deep Bass Rumble 3” ERH
“Primary School Children Playing Interior” Nick Pursehouse
[all other clips under CC licence public domain]

Music:
“Tenebrous Brothers Carnival–Snake Lady” & “Peace of Mind” by Kevin MacLeod, Incompetech.com

Other Footage:
Swings & Cage in Field filmed by NIKOtheOrb

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November 16, 2012

Soar

New ideas, new perspectives, new ways of living can add vitality to existence; when we embark upon new adventures it reminds us that we are alive. . . and that life does not have to be squandered in drudgery. I try to do something new each day.

As such, I conceived poetry from a new perspective. How else can we express poetry, if we don’t use the written or spoken word? Motion picture. I imagined that I could use video as poetry, rather than words, allow the images to express and convey meaning. I felt this added a new level of sensation and ambience to poetry. Suddenly, poetry is alive. It is in motion, new senses are involved, for a fuller experience of meaning.

“Soar” was filmed in HD, select 720p or 1080p for optimal viewing.

More Visual Poetry:
Dystopia (also in HD)

Credits —
Film Footage:
Forest Footage captured by NIKOtheOrb
Float (bird footage) captured by Manuela Donoso.

Music:
“Orion 300XB” by Kevin MacLeod.
(NIKOtheOrb added effects/mix to the music using Audacity and Power Sound Editor).

*Header image from Resurgere Stock Resources.

All footage, music, and images used with permission under Creative Commons attribution license or public domain.

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November 3, 2012

Where Time Stands Still

            Hello! And welcome to the 26th Dimension. Careful, you will encounter many unusual attractions. Please mind where you step, the floor in the 10th dimension can get a bit runny, and the walls in the 17th dimension disintegrate altogether. Of course, by the 20th dimension, the telescopic ceiling will evaporate for your mental safety, but you’ll not be able to forget the pregnant pull of event horizons on your body I promise you that. No, please don’t touch that, the material feels and shatters like wedding china.

If you look to your mirror left you should find the bloated gases of infant galaxies comforting, and to your asymmetrical right you may see carbon planets coalescing in the dense, elemental heat. Ah, yes, the explosion of faraway bangs gravid with potential, peaceful isn’t it? I must warn you, Time will dance with the oscillating furnishings before you, and after you, if you pay close attention, but, only briefly, and only with your permission.

Are you chilly? I’m sorry, but I have only a blanket of anticipatory silence to offer you. Stay close, the perverted mobiüs strips of these corners can cause confusion and loss of coordination.

Yes, these five dimensional doorways do belch an ambiguous bouquet. I smell it too. I suppose you could cry out, but the reverberation of collapsing space would swallow it before it reached the end of your face. Apologize for bringing you here? I guess I could, but who (or what?) would bother to wipe up the mess? You could leave this particular dimension, but I wouldn’t if I were you, the doorknobs tend to move with the ticking of the space-time continuum, and you would definitely get lost in some obscure year or century, and I wouldn’t want that on my record. I’m looking to be Tour Guide of the Month, you know. Yes, those bulbous masses of what seem like satisfying sofas are ages scrolling forward and backward, but rest assured, presently we are still. No, I wouldn’t open my eyes just yet, infinity multiplied by infinity tends to stare back, I’m afraid. Even if we did remove, odds are we’ll begin again at the end, so it’s best to just move on to the end of the beginning, don’t you agree? We’re nearly around the room. So glad you noticed, the day breaks (and quite literally too!) here, often, while strange geometrically impossible shapes flap against that upside stairwell. Nothing equals nothing, so something refuses to exist here. Speaking of something, some thing with slobbering jaws and comfortable shoes just floated past your shoulder, and I think you’ve begun to grow a sixth appendage from your ribcage. No matter, the water still tastes like water every other Friday, and like cotton on every opposing Tuesday, that is, when such concepts as “Friday” and “Tuesday” bother to exist. I’m Contradictory? I suppose it may seem so. I can’t tell anymore, I’ve been here a long time. At least, I think I have. It’s difficult to know, all the clocks here are figured in modular arithmetic. Well, believe me, I don’t mean to be cryptic, but numbers are theoretical here. No, if you lean against that wall, you’ll lose viscosity, and you wouldn’t want that, would you? I know you’re tired, but we’re nearly through. See? Here’s the way in again. Oh, you needn’t worry about anything, your senses will reconstitute when you return to your own dimension.

Thank you and I do hope you enjoyed the tour. For your pleasure, there is a universal whiskey bar that serves cosmic-strength caffeinated coffee at the opposite end of the spectrum, a mere six billion light years to the negative sixteenth power from here, and a café that serves three dimensional tea that tastes faintly of summer ginger with a pinch of relish may open in an hour, when and if the hour decides to re-present itself.

Mind your step at the edge of Time on your way out.

*Top image: “Where Time Stands Still” by Thy Darkest Hour
Second image: photomanipulation by NIKOtheOrb using stock “Cosmos 4_0008 “and “Starfield” by Funerium distrubuted by Resurgere Stock and “Yoga Model” by Stock Gallery
Third image: “Constellation of Time” by FractalAngel-Stock

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