Friday, November 26, 2010

Transitory Verses

Inspiration is a result of something external so influential it jars our internal universe, this external force, or being, with powerful vibrations has just collided super white stars to orange and blue stars, jarring what exists within us, creating another big bang, a new thought, a new idea.

As inspiration thus becomes the beginning, the causal spark that creates and puts forth an intangible idea or ideal into a tangible or intangible expression for the sake of communication, for the sake of tangibility. Inspiration gives birth to a result, which then continues to procreate in an exponential ponzi scam like numbers, colliding and jarring into newer sources of inspiration and result and inspiration and result, dynamically shifting and destroying and creating. We resolve and then dissolve, follow the cycle repeatedly as what nature's evolution has utilized and taken place.

All those that are deemed present up to a certain frame of time are resolutions and dissolutions in process, poetry are inspiration procreating inspiration, these verses are transitory and are in the state of working progress, a step phase per step phase of experimentation and mastery and further mastery, dynamic are these verses that they do nothing but inspire further, hoping another violent and powerful revolution.

Double spaced and placed with well sought out margins were observations from a window of a morning rush of nature as organic matter formed into comprehensible, evolved beings pursue their calculated daily lives. It is but a constant cycle of attaining the minimum required benchmark for survival and the crawl pace of evolution that is met, and that no danger is faced in the process accordingly.

Take into this poetry of words flowing and take that pause to rethink, it all goes away. Keep writing and let it flow, over time, it falls flat on the floor of the lowest level of the mine. It gathers no weight, and yet balance is sought, inspiration is sought, the need to feel that beauty keeping energy and pace to that of the synchronized rhythm and coordination of heartbeat and breath of a marathon runner, or that of the same marathon runner back in his homeland being chased down by a less amused feline, perhaps a Persian cat, or perhaps, a Jaguar.

It becomes abstract and unclear as clouds of verses flow in and flow out, many many choices of words, and of all the words, it makes no sense, but something feels right, something feels good, and you stop and pause to think, if it feels good, is it moral? Is it legal?

Release is relief and relief feels good. Release is an expression, a result that is now due to procreate on its own.

We are but lonely and yet socially connected travelers in a journey through our patterned lives. However abstract, there is a story, a beginning, and end, and another beginning, formed through collaboration of dependency, interdependency, and strict aversion of a myriad of external and internal forces, chi, yin yang, vibes, and alcohol.

We are, therefore, the very poetry in our journey, we are the very transitory verses that are part of creating perfection, as what may seem insignificant, is vital to make a verse grammatically correct, and any misspells are intentional to create conflikt and confusion, to jar inspiration, create a spark, a push, or even a shove, using a tank, to get action from inaction.

On the next page is a new blank page flowing with void everywhere, nice and white to the extent paper bleaching has brought, open to new ideas, suggestions, continuation from its past life, its previous life was page one filled with ideas yet to be further discussed. The story has not ended yet my dear and it just keeps getting better, or worse, depending on the level of sobriety, the level of inspiration. And words will keep on flowing page to next page to next page until said book reaches to its full completion, the journey, the story, is complete, all conflicts are resolved, and an ending is deemed fit.

This transitory verse creates a story, has shaken up planets, universes to great tsunamis and earthquakes for the sake of amusement and media benefit, for the sake to tear down and breed something newer, shinier, different and rebellious in its youth, but inherently in in the footsteps of its parents, inherently carrying the genetic fuckup passed on from generation to generation.

Life, in varying hallucinogenic colors of insight, which is indeed intoxicating, to the point that knowledge be deemed the cause of doom, is the cause of something new.

No comments: