constellations: part 1 I´ve never seen eyes eclipse their color neural paths experience an electrical storm an avalanche of elegance in a turn around but then she turned around and I mean poets sometimes talk to angels and afterwards try to write about but the encounter is ephemeral too much for primitive human minds the details dissolve; that was no angel just a girl that operates hurricanes who doesn´t know the power of winds doesn´t know that she got to me with one simple little spin and I´m not descended from ezekial am no witness to unearthly chariots gathering mists on mountain tops revealing secret political events but still, I can evaluate a posture and she´s not given to exercise probably works well into the night wishing for a mother who would notice that she doesn´t watch much television and that big screen bought for a birthday only narrowed their relationship, it´s sad and she wants to know how I arrange the mechanisms that thread her patterns so I tell her she´s got a nice tattoo a tauros on back of her neck and she looks to be twenty-two so when jupiter´s lined with pluto and mars sits long in the sky they´re just dots up there in heaven but with ways to connect the lines I guess it sounds supernatural a vague map into psychology this synapse is part of orion that tug-of-war is lunar gravity but look at this scenario a picture worthy of a museums wall: the hunter with his bow and arrow the bull on the sidewalk lost and confused a lucky day
Funny how as I read it It felt as if it were spiraling down to a point, like the stars wheeling in the sky, or a galaxy spinning in the universe. Did anyone else feel that?
thanks for the replies, guys and/or gals that poem was actually one of three that I did, unfortunately I'm having a rather difficult time locating alot of my work right now take care
*grins* I agree with Skinny the whole "girl who operates hurricanes" bit is amazing. And the last stanza is very well written and perfect for the poem.
Chaos has a child, a new breed of eve and she doesn’t sleep so well at night and meditates, relaxes, breaths to a rhythm, she knows everything’s a rhythm. a bathroom mirrors dirty reflection. a drivers license photograph. an artist rendered her immortal painted her a silhoette, polarized the cream in her skin that dried as darkness described a room with too much personality filled with projects on the walls a chaos collage of her life’s lessons that would make her mother proud. The detail / attention attached to them creates energy, thickens the air invades her lungs, manufactures late night insomnia imaginings in a bed too big to sleep in for one little girl lost And there will come a cavalcade with a thunder-clap to sound the start, the march of feet a resonance to bring about a cannonade. They’ll catch her in their cameras and they’ll immortalize her name; the daughter of the black & white, who holds a rod of forest fires, a phoenix flare to torch the thought behind a stare. And they’ll talk about her vision study optometry, divide her cornea to pull prophesy from the retina to predict the fall of empires. But look closer, at the color; those eyes hold the night, hold the depths of a black hole: the expanse of incomprehensibility. She’s getting tired of answers and people that don’t say anything only asking questions, unaware Of the inherent irrelevancy. And as the panic attacks, she tries to breath, tries to find a rhythm to meditate to.
You had my heart racing with this one!! I applaud you especially on these lines "And there will come a cavalcade with a thunder-clap to sound the start, the march of feet a resonance to bring about a cannonade." LOVED the poem, the message, the chaos, the character, the papparazzi. BUT...last stanza is much weaker in relation to your language in previous stanzas. That was a bit of a let down! Maybe look into this part.. "And as the panic attacks, she tries to breath, tries to find a rhythm in the chaos cos everything has a rhythm to meditate to" Feels like you're rushing to finish off the poem!
Probably because I've got two completely different versions of this one, both accomplishing the same goals, but the better of the two didn't have an ending and so I kinda whimped out and stuck with the weaker ones ending... I'll rectify some time soon... it's gotta come full circle, somehow, tho!
she radiates an orbit, vibrates to a rising Jupiter highlighting the horizon, blotting out better judgement, igniting curiosity. and it could be a chemical reaction, the earth’s magnetic current or divine intervention that contaminates our eye contact and takes time off track; but clocks hardly matter here in freeze frame elation. we could hold the moment and await angelic guidance in form of the miraculous, but isn’t it a miracle we both were here & our eyes even met? I mean, I’m sorry, I just can’t be convinced it’s mundane coincidence that here, now, I glide up the curve of her shoulder, intoxicated on the perfume hidden behind her ear. I’m on my back, reeling in the languid lagoon of her cool blue eyes. surely, paradise is recaptured in mythical romantic accord. to remain here, static, heavenward, we soar.
Boy! You're on a roll!! I have this uber cheesy grin after reading constellations iii: ascension. Thanks a lot! :H But I gotta say this thread rocks the socks. Very very inspiring and freshly baked with new images even if they carry a similar theme. Most excellent indeed.
"Chaos has a child, a new breed of eve and she doesn’t sleep so well at night and meditates, relaxes, breaths to a rhythm, she knows everything’s a rhythm. a room with too much personality filled with projects on the walls a chaos collage of her life’s lessons that would make her mother proud. The detail / attention attached to them creates energy, thickens the air invades her lungs, manufactures late night insomnia imaginings" Awesome, loved reading the whole work. These two passages were very intimate and I applaud you for them. Thank you.
Very potent and lucid "I´ve never seen eyes eclipse their color neural paths experience an electrical storm an avalanche of elegance in a turn around" Man, what an opening line.
thanks for reading, everyone... unfortunately, I messed up and "ascension" is actually part 4 of the uh, trilogy... and puts a conclusion to the story. I forgot to post part 3, but...
take a deep breath (in and out). don’t worry about your vocabulary or how many planets were aligned; don’t need a star-chart to coordinate cause / effect on the fate-line. you’ve been dragging around that boy who stirred dust storms, left you coughing and retreating outside, into torrential rain, where you caught cold, then fever. guess it goes to show, aquarians can’t stand excessive water, so that was it: told him to get the hell out. now you want closure, so here you are, sitting on my sofa, drinking jamaican blue and frowning cos you forgot the sugar, kinda like that tori song with the tea-cup and the hammer. well, i can’t play piano or pull those tiny strings that concentrates connection, but babe, you need a shotgun with a shell-kiss for all the fuckers out here roaming the calendar. they’ll say you aren’t old enough to go out after dark; that pandora stalks the shadows, divining the passageways of your heart. they’ll tip their tongue with psychological talk, cauterize your memoirs into road maps full of s-turns and caution signs then counsel with a shoulder, a tissue paper, a satisfied ear. so deal the tarot as a meditation and the stories will begin a dance of emotional mechanics contesting control of circumstance and if that high priestess doesn’t reveal her measurements the sun rises in mourning for those with intelligence.
