it feels like encountering a parallel codebase to my own interior life…body becomes notation, eros//evidence, damage arrives already stylized into structure.
I felt that alignment a while back while reading you. Giddy and excited. It goes beyond structure, mirroring something at the core of concealment. That’s rare. When you know, you know. Syntax sisters🖤🖤
Some of it - I’ve been trying to get his take on expression, so I’ve been listening to his music a lot more too. Glad you liked the poem. That’s a boom for me x
I’d have chosen the late fifties: post-war, becoming a flower child by the seventies. The only drawback is I’d either be gone by now or writing this from a care home. What about you?
Perception would not prevent consciousness from unfolding..only from recognizing itself. No matter what is happening all is like a movie. The flow never stops even if you close your eyes...perception becomes the door(s) that interprets this flow and I beg you ...this is exactly what we’ve just witnessed here through this poem. You’re about to react automatically...more less you might even believe your thoughts are truth...flowing like something solid but ...don't be a fool ...they’re just passing constructions. What’s really happening in here is recognition where awareness is folding back onto itself....right now...I’m reading this forgetting I’m the one who’s reading.
Consciousness is too bland. Awareness - or even a convincing illusion of it - doesn’t satisfy the itch. I’d call it an incarcerated inmate, tampering with the wiring. That’s the unconscious speaking.
you can switch it all off and step back, watching the collapse like a short circuit… you wake up, get coffee, look at the sun, buy a pizza… then you look 2 inches down to the right and realise you’re still here… running the same loop… asking is there anybody in there
No no no this is actually a real physic quantum level I quote now
“…deep pattern at every scale, spin creates a tension between the geometry of the loop and the energy trying to escape it. Push past the threshold, and the loop lets go. This is why quantum gyroscopes are exquisitely sensitive, even tiny rotations shift the quantum phase enough to detect.”
I’m trying to find my way back too - that’s why I began writing. It’s a map I can draw, yet still struggle to navigate. Thank you so much @Mothchewedgirl
You started at the surface of my mind. As this unraveled the depth got added, like ingredients to a cake, you told the story of its function and it told itself because of your words and how you wrote this. I am always having to spend time with your words because they have so much meaning in them. You are a true artist, my friend.
Something about your writing pulls me back into my body and out of my head every single time. This is GOLD. ✨
Meant as torture. Thank you so much @Tianna Diamond
I’ve been dancing around this for awhile but:
every. single. time. i read you.
it feels like encountering a parallel codebase to my own interior life…body becomes notation, eros//evidence, damage arrives already stylized into structure.
eerie kinship.
sister syntax…or something.
cathartic. thank you🖤
I felt that alignment a while back while reading you. Giddy and excited. It goes beyond structure, mirroring something at the core of concealment. That’s rare. When you know, you know. Syntax sisters🖤🖤
“slow.sapphire.control—“
“i.stain.him(pinot.red);
conceal.ash(on.his.tongue);
let.him.suck(on.ice&praise);
starving(softness);”
boom
boom
boom
living like boom Morrison
dig this!
as per
rhythm
red
dark sentences
enigmatic worlds
have you read any Jim’s poetry/writing?
Some of it - I’ve been trying to get his take on expression, so I’ve been listening to his music a lot more too. Glad you liked the poem. That’s a boom for me x
Cool.
I love The Doors
There was a live version of ‘The End’ I used to listen to all the time. And I dig ‘The Crystal Ship’ and ‘Touch Me’ and many, many more.
I’ve read ‘The New Creatures’ and more than half of ‘The Lords’.
That’s lovely to hear.
I hope that you’re well, and that you have a good day, M 🙂
The pros and cons balance out - but for the sake of your reader, I’d still pick you being born in the eighties.
Aww, that’s lovely to hear.
Thank you, M 😊 x
This might be the one time you never saw someone play live. Born a decade late for that. Will check your favourites. Lovely day, M😊
Indeed. I have stood outside the building he died in, in Paris though 🙂
Indeed.
I feel I should have been born in different time.
How about you?
Cool, let me know what you think.
Thank you, M 😊 x
That’s close enough - Paris.
I’d have chosen the late fifties: post-war, becoming a flower child by the seventies. The only drawback is I’d either be gone by now or writing this from a care home. What about you?
I do love wandering those much wandered streets.
Good choice.
I hear you, but I wouldn’t mind being gone now, if I was around then.
I think being born when my dad was, would’ve been good - 1950
a teen, in the 60’s
twenties, in the 70’s
or maybe a little earlier
a teen in the 50’s so I could have tried to ride some of that Beat wave.
I think I would have written more in a world with less distractions.
Maybe less people would have seen it though 🙂
Perception would not prevent consciousness from unfolding..only from recognizing itself. No matter what is happening all is like a movie. The flow never stops even if you close your eyes...perception becomes the door(s) that interprets this flow and I beg you ...this is exactly what we’ve just witnessed here through this poem. You’re about to react automatically...more less you might even believe your thoughts are truth...flowing like something solid but ...don't be a fool ...they’re just passing constructions. What’s really happening in here is recognition where awareness is folding back onto itself....right now...I’m reading this forgetting I’m the one who’s reading.
I should finish this and leave just one question:
what is it that knows this?
Consciousness is too bland. Awareness - or even a convincing illusion of it - doesn’t satisfy the itch. I’d call it an incarcerated inmate, tampering with the wiring. That’s the unconscious speaking.
you can switch it all off and step back, watching the collapse like a short circuit… you wake up, get coffee, look at the sun, buy a pizza… then you look 2 inches down to the right and realise you’re still here… running the same loop… asking is there anybody in there
Imagine looping so hard it sends you off track. How awesome is that?
No no no this is actually a real physic quantum level I quote now
“…deep pattern at every scale, spin creates a tension between the geometry of the loop and the energy trying to escape it. Push past the threshold, and the loop lets go. This is why quantum gyroscopes are exquisitely sensitive, even tiny rotations shift the quantum phase enough to detect.”
So it’s insane and awesome
We always seem to end up on physics theories - so long as they’re proven. Pretty awesome.
I live around the corner from rue Beautreillis. Never felt his ghost until this...just curious, why did you alter the mug shot number?
A number concealed within a number - it holds a special meaning to me. Nothing here is random.
captivating
Thank you @Ray Sweatman
Your writing always feels like staring into a black hole and finding my way back to my body through it.
I’m trying to find my way back too - that’s why I began writing. It’s a map I can draw, yet still struggle to navigate. Thank you so much @Mothchewedgirl
Gosh what a dizzying, illuminating and hot poem! Keep it up ❤️🔥
Dizzying is such a cool compliment, thank you so much 2.0 x
You’re welcome as ever my talented friend x
Fantastic woven together into perfection ♟️♠️♟️♠️
Thank you so much Sevda🖤Providing nice shots just like you x
Jim Morrisson:)
you cray, momo. slow sapphire (out of) control. surgical (precision). #twinbed; relic of effort. 143.
I’m cray proud- balancing too many Riders on the Storm. Nice coding, btw. x
cool as hell. i will always click on jim, but this razed all expectations. will be reading more from you.
Thank you so much Troy, aiming to be as cool as cucumber.
Captivity, corruption, hunger and fatigue. Get your mojo rising LA woman, strange at the Morrison hotel.
Yep, all of the above. Mojo rising in the City of Night. A lost angel.
Uff the ending sent chills down my spine. Sweet torture.
The sweetness of torture should easily balance out the chills. Thank you @Soulhunting x
A lovely use of words.
Glad you liked it, thank you so much!
Thank y…I mean…
…
You started at the surface of my mind. As this unraveled the depth got added, like ingredients to a cake, you told the story of its function and it told itself because of your words and how you wrote this. I am always having to spend time with your words because they have so much meaning in them. You are a true artist, my friend.
Trying to keep you around longer - with my full arsenal, cake included. Sprinkles for visuals. Come back again soon x
Yum.