I’m (a puppeteer) in this game, you see. A God (amongst men) the planet, my stage. You have (my) props, reciting prophecy. Fallen (heart); I promise I will salvage.
When (people) realize what they’ve done they soon will (witness) a world consuming itself. Never (again) can actors break to virtuous (flames) in fertile forest spell.
But (coded), lost, boy we have had our share of (time) together, now I will leave you alone (prophetic) child without pair. A numbed (mind) which blood and roses has wrought.
Porn, poisoned, (perfect) love of every kind. Your hand, (her) hand in marriage will be mine.
call me jelly fish I have seen this all before Roy fits not on ark
accept these germs, child
devout consummation; wished
‘God’ breathed life through me
Hisako & Selena:
Love bleeds from the skies
end:sans eyes, sans, womb, sans tomb hold my hand, my love
Initially conceived as a college art project, my friend Alexis & i decided to team up and create a theme Poeticle inspired by three novels in particular from a Contemporary (American) Novel course: Apocalypse Narratives, Dystopia to Dawn (shout-out to Dr Konkol). We focussed on Oryx and Crake by the esteemed Margaret Atwood (the Handmaid’s Tale), Galápagos by the endearing Kurt Vonnegut (Slaughterhouse Five), and White Noise by Don Delillo. All words were carefully selected to reflect certain themes within the course; ecological/biological disaster, war, marriage, reproduction, genocide, queerness (ie: the future is queer), and transhumanism (ie: the intersectionality of being post Earth, or post organica through the processes of implementing technology beyond the imagination…) The chant and notes of the synth and harp in the background strike a Tristan chord, which was a large theme explored by Lars VonTrier’s Melancholia. For that reason, the violin and mandolin dance between a brief ‘leitmotif’ from the film’s repeated exert of the opera Tristan und Isolde by Richard Wagner.
“For White Noise, by Don Delillo, we chose to print quotes very important in regards to death, art, media coverage (the shooter from Iron City who wanted fame, and the toxic event), and make them into black-out [poems]. 0 represents black and F represents white. The value F is also reflected in the very fact that a Tristan chord’s first note is F, in a sequence of four notes. The visual representational gif is a mirror frame with no glass to reflect[.]
Humans are born naked, and die naked. To reveal our truths previously unseen, is to become naked.”
*(Listen to the stars scream i’ll paint the night with our dreams & wander alone)
It’s the run-around All these silly games we play i forget the rules
Dream inside of me Now rock the boats back & forth Pierce skies blue with tongues
My eyes: microscopes Memory is the master Motion darkens fate
Cadence in our feet Call & answer our machines My soul is rubber
Yang is the city i look back & turn to salt Yin is the country
Collective lilies Sweat glistening on pavement Gull feathers are brooms
Your silence is full Puddle jumpers; hydroplaning Wind fighting water
(Step on the ruins Stop waiting for their green-light Sighs are pollution)
The focus of this poeticle is more four-four time rather than the abstract meter (12/8) of poeticle I, An Offering For April. 4-4 is both a metonym of vehicular travel (specifically, by truck, jeep or off-road ie; off-road capabilities) and a time signature. i intend to draw connection between power, intention, and moving forward; especially through time. 4/4 is a time signature of our heartbeats, our walking & dance pace. There is a teetering with the odd format of the haiku in contrast to the metrical constraints of the music. There is a disconnect between what is box-like and humanly comfortable (4/4), and what is offered as spherical or logistically circular, non-linear, in-definite, or feminist in thinking (examples here). Similarly, i feel a disconnect in dualist ideals of what Western philosophers would call the human condition and what they consider important to pursue or indulge, and the need we have for power, choices, roads, etc. This poeticle is about teetering between forward, backward, side to side, and is to question the distinction between direction and reflection.
“The fork in the road,” is represented by a pulsating circular orb. Circulation is another word for traffic, in French. Traffic is a divergent word; from human trafficking, to the distribution of goods, to boat and car flow and circulation. Circular or spherical objects have no definite boundaries. The Earth lacks them as well. This is a frightening concept, and some often feel trapped (yet others comfortably adventurous) when we have no boxes in which to fit, so the same people might subconsciously create boxes, little spaces and comfortable homes to settle into… Playing with structure and contrasting it with freeform musical interpretations of rhythm and melody are interests of mine. i hope your mind expands like the raindrop in the center of the gif above, and grows even bigger. Thank you for reading.
Inspired by Gertrude Stein‘s stream of consciousness style of writing, each morning for 12 days i awoke & marched to the bathroom to write a haiku. i attempted to reign in on meter, time signature, & opening up interpretation even further with video. In doing so i hoped to harness some fleeting humanity out of the spirit i have been ignoring for the sake of pressing onward into what feels like a long pause before the plunge.
It is not that i am not content.. but rather, i have experienced all of what has been offered to me. So i sought to experience more. This is my Offering To April; my worries, my ecstacies, & trappings of the mundane. For them, i hope to receive freedom, fruition, & relief.
This poeticle will be further analyzed on my academic page, recently created.