Description: i am such a pretentious artwhore.
ignore my ramblings.
seriously.
i'm only posting
because i'm in limbo right now.
a night of conflict -------------------------------------------
and i know that's what i seem to
desire as a pyramid to tutankhamen's
eyes lined with kohl and coal covered
fingers cupping flame to ceiling asking
asking what all those symbols mean
when everything can be taken
out of context and eventualities
which never quite eventuate
how you will it
to be
and i sold my palms
to the closest fortune-teller
willing me empresses and rivers
and rabbit-holes into my wonderland
where conversation is a silent motionless
enterprise of saffron and silk and
rustling curvatures implying
bodies dancing and living and laughing
and searching for the next
little thing
and i on the mezzanine and i
in a hallway circumventing solutions
mapped out by cartesian thinkers
by encyclopaedic memories and notes
and notes and more endless misconceptions
given salt and pepper
to taste
i want all of this to crumble
for hieroglyphics to bathe in
green currents green melodies
in silver solutions
inseeming and insoluble
inscrutable and enchanting
you
i like how you say that we so desirious of good things , tone our minds and bodies to search for eventualities which never come out the way as willed. Then in crippled desire we consort with fortune tellers (the blinders to our vision) as we search for the next chanceful thing. As we search through the all of knowledge, we find they are only guidelines for us to flavor with the salt and pepper of our own lives. in the last stanza , i surmise that with all that knowledge wefinally come to realise that the end result is how we interpret how our lives should be lived.
Submission Name: a night of conflict
