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My Left is Underhanded, Act 4 Finale
"Oderint dum metuant." Lucius Accius ;)
Published 01.10. 2012
My Left is Underhanded, Act 4 Finale
A Handful of Nothing
Or
So perfect and absurd
..
Top of Form
This is the fourth movement. It is my life.
Prayed eight days for a storm. It is here. I smoke out and call lightning.
Alderaan went the way of the dinosaur. Mowed down by evil demonstrations of fear kill power. ;)
Dishonor is not in defeat, but in losing respect for life itself.
As above
So below
Fight
But love others first
..
Gino vs me, 9-4. End Game. You Win.
My friend is gone a few years now. He burns brief, but brightly. He dies young, it becomes part of his legacy.
Strong, bold, sporting a grin that said he knew something you didn't. He loved life. I loved him, because I had no choice in the matter.
He would challenge to sound your depth. I answer to find the meaning of this moment. This is how we become friends.
We met, stood at odds. Pulls his ugliest war face. Our postures mirror threat. He did like to test someone new.
He steps forward, raises his arms. A stillness comes over my heart as we fall to blows. All is ultraviolence on the surface with silence abiding utterly beneath.
I have reach and lead right. He watches for it. My left is underhanded. I give him pain, but he is ferocity.
We lock up, find that the other is strong. We take and give ground as we turn. He strikes with forehead and we come apart.
We stand, huff and burn. Are silent. Blood in my eyes. We fall to laughter. He offers me pot for the second time. I accept. He loved me then.
Many years of friendship pass. I had been traveling in the spring and summer of 09. Had no cell, had been out of touch with everyone.
I come home, shower, sit down to the puter and there is a message from Shala that said he is dying. If I wanted to see him I had better get to the hospital. It was time stamped 15 minutes from when I read it.
I sat dumbstruck for a moment. It was the last in a series of messages I had ignored since I returned, in one of my moods, not wanting to talk to anyone.
I didn’t read the rest until much later, which explained how his health had failed in just a handful of hours since arriving at the hospital with, what seemed, minor complaints. I run out the door.
..
Verse 1,
The approximation of human concepts.
What could be commonly agreed upon as sanity
Is that which we are most commonly
Surrounded by
What we have grown
Accustomed
To
How do we know it is sane
It is all around us
You who are cruel to be
Kind
Are deaf and
Blind
And so choose to remain
Dumb and blind
To that which is not
You
Take a breath, I descend
Into the smell of wood fire
Orange flicker
And feel of heat
On my face
Where I drown in depths of
Circumspection
Do not dwell in judgment
Boo! Fear is a ruse!
See the humor in each situation
Dwell in heart silence
Hone my discipline
Hard to get to
In those times
..
Gino vs me. End Game. Score redacted.
I peel around corners. It is close by. He is not far now. I felt like I could still see him.
I charge in, the admitting nurse directs me.
I get on the elevator and so does a uniformed officer. He asks me what floor, I tell him five. "Five, huh? That's not good," he remarks in a cavalier way.
I consider walloping him for a hot moment. He looks at the numbers changing.
I head up one hall, down another, through some open doors, to the end, where people are standing. A few sit against the wall.
Shala was there, perhaps his closest friend. Her eyes red rimmed and haggard. Rancor in her vulpine features. Coals of suffering glow barely contained beneath her skin. The pain madness radiates within.
She tells me to take a seat in an offhand way. I lean against the wall. We wait as the attendants prepare him for viewing. I stood in silence and share the sorrow of those gathered.
..
Verse 2,
Because it’s best to continually pose a question.
The texts read:
"Our old haunt. All is silence above in the cathedral of smiles. Water burbles below the floor invisibly. Soon the sun will be up. It is still as withheld breath. Its presence can be felt in the chill. All is moody blue. Can you guess? In 1 hour. Meet me there.”
Three fingers of bitters, to wrap me in warmth. It’s cold, otherwise.
A flush of headlights. Footsteps on the dock. She carries a torch. I call lightning. ;)
..
David vs me, 16-17. Earlier occasion and ongoing.
We are always neck in neck by my reckoning. The dark horse. He is clever and daring.
"Take her from me." I weary of taunts. We test each other, find the other weak, riddled with pride.
We stand at odds. I want to see the meaning of this moment. I answer the dare.
I visited him at this same hospital only a month before, when he shot himself in the arm. Sixth floor. It was a serious injury. He is pale. I brought him a book that he probably trashed.
He forgets to love others. Spits goety on forked tongue.
I walk in and say, "Bartender! Got any kahlua?" Our old routine.
Says he can’t talk to me. He whispers. Utterly amazed to see me. That I would come after all that had been said and done against me.
I tell him I want to see he is alright. He says that he is.
There is a pallor on his face. Shadow under his brow. I walk away.
..
Verse 3,
Rome is burning.
Night falls through glass
Wind, but no rain, it never
Rains
Except today
When it rains in
Rivers
Perfect weather
Clouds scowl like samurai, but pass
Away
You don’t speak, just
Beat your wings
Light draws geometric figures
Upon on your cool
Surfaces
I can feel you, all around me
Lonely, laughing
Friend
..
David vs me, 16-18. Later, solemn occasion, and ongoing.
David was there, standing with some of the guys, telling his low key lies, as usual. Had a way with clever half-truths.
Had aged in the almost year since our friendship ended, grayed around the edges. His arm bears a terrible dark scar.
He leaves before the viewing. Likely because of me.
As he walks past, he looks up from the floor. Darts a quick glance. I watch him go, burn a hole through him.
We are allowed in. Gino lay perfectly still, his features relaxed. He is in the room, I feel him.
We stand around the bed. Alone I wept. Stood tall and straight.
Respect radiates from those gathered.
Vibrates powerfully above the weight of grief in a nearly audible tantric hum.
Silence between our ears. Hearts heavy as earth. My senses expand.
I am overcome. I could feel his smile. Hear him screaming laughter.
The obvious courage in his carriage. The sometimes purposeful wisdom of his words.
His jokes and stories.
All around us.
I smile, say hello to him.
..
Verse 4,
Kissed by dragon’s tongue.
It is said that all is energy and that energy does not die, but transform. I read Newton. I think about this. For a time our mirth left us. Another time, our voice.
There is much silence. Some verses to her beauty. What was or might have been.
A bottle of cola and sweet red, maybe if funds permit. A wild flower, something colorful, if not, would do the trick.
It’s good and cold, finally, so let’s stand closer together and I’ll whisper off the cuff verses about the weather. Or the sway of your curves in my mind as I waited for you.
Come closer. I want to feel the heat you exude. I want to feel your heart.
Let’s talk. Or we could not speak.
..
Burton vs me, 8-17. Most recent and ongoing.
Close to midnight now. It’s cold and windy. I fill the little barbeque grill with letters and pictures. Douse it all with gasoline and take a drive to the coast.
Walk down the sand a piece and set the grill down, lift the lid and remove a letter. I see it’s marked, “January 5th, 1991” as I flick the lighter to life and draw it near. I dated them all upon receipt, for they had been precious.
Flames catch quickly, despite the chill wind off the water. Gas giants, dire flames. It had all, thus far, proven cyclical. I remember madness and pain. Would it come again.
"That which is below corresponds to that which is above, and that which is above corresponds to that which is below, to accomplish the miracle of the One Thing."
Our paths diverge. Wills clash. The goety is a creeping fog, a labyrinth of webs.
Disregard. Disrespect. Defamation. Desecration. He fights without love. These are his discipline.
I drop the letter, an inferno roars to life. Spirals upward in the grip of wind. Resembles a pillar with three conical tiers.
It was magic, a vestige that lay within these captured words and images.
I willed the old memories into the fire, hung them before my eyes and hurled them in, for nothing of the love that lived in those days remained.
I douse flames with heaps of sand, throw wide and release the lid, Wind catches and carries it.
A sigh of dispersion. Motes of light. A handful of nothing.
..
Verse 5,
Water over bridge.
I am gentle. Patient. Slow to anger. Meeting you now, at this juncture, this all at once you learn. Me, a lifetime.
Don’t hate me, but if not understand that I am to be loved from afar, walk away, leave me be.
All is still on the surface with ultraviolence abiding utterly beneath. Some catch glimpses or see me burn nakedly. I see them. Come closer, embrace me. Burn to cinders in my hands.
My love no fear has. There is nothing my hands can hold. My heart under lock and key. I have no choice. My love is ferocity.
I am calm. Distant. Look on me.
See this discipline.
..
Gino vs me. End Game. Score redacted.
I go home and collect a bottle I had been sitting on. Took it up to the beach. Drank to the dregs.
He was a Viking. He loved war, laughter and drink. He would steal something just to see what you would do about it.
If you wouldn’t take it back, he would make you ask for it. If you wouldn’t ask for it, he would hang it on his wall for all to see. Try to take it down, you’d have to fight for it.
He did like to test those unknown to him.
He was the dwarf in our party. Short and sore about it. Stout and fierce and proud.
He could be counted on. He was a friend.
I say goodbye to him.
..
Verse 6,
Word is bond.
"This tree has been for an eon
I have watched it flower
Shed, wither and bloom
Anew
Sometimes forgetting
It is ancient”
I step heavily around the tree, to excite warmth into my legs. I take a long draw on the bowl, holding it down.
“I have lived in this skin eleven thousand days. I recall the smell of snow and crunch beneath my feet as I march to school or with powerful eagerness to find a snowball fight. I hold one in either palm, ready to launch as I search. Though seven thousand days have elapsed since I last experienced each, time has not robbed me of all recollection. Not as yet. Some few things are worth holding onto.”
I throw her a smile and hand it over.
..
Gino vs me. A few years before End Game. Score redacted.
He tries to bluff the pot. The bullshit look on that fucking guinea face is a dead giveaway that he is trying to bully me out, that he has a handful of nothing.
Eyes fixed, a rueful smile halted upon his lips, fingers gripping his cards tightly. ;)
The chips are down, and he goes in, and he goes down. David dragged the best pots, however.
Our games were livelier than those I played with others. He often sought to confuse one’s thinking. Like the poor math he feigned in our business dealings. This was his discipline. Ruthless. Duplicitous. Even with a friend. A point to David.
When the moment seems right, I raise my bottle and toast Gino’s coming nuptials. I recite Tennyson to him, Ulysses, across the poker table.
Look to the sky on a starry night and you may spy the Great Dark Horse.
His shadow falls in the space between lights.
Music lives in the silence between sounds.
These are the words of a master. Smoke snakes from the pipe. All quietly attend.
“Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
..
Bottom of Form
Light falls on breath
On teeth bared in
Grins of mutual
Mirth
Or ferocity
Worn with equal
Measure
Light falls through glass
On us
Then, just
Me
It is the fourth movement
Final
It is my life
Birds sing in silence where
All roads
End
And are renewed, a place where we
Find each other
Again, or
Forget
We are ancient
Faces of past occasion, fading
Continuously into the haze
That surrounds all
In space/time, and so
We are swept
Apart
I wept, here
In silent tenors
Where none could question my
Strength
Spheres rotate
Gas giants, dire flames
Feel the awful pull of their energetic
Orbits
Alone
In fever dreams
Where I soar to stars and marvel
In their presence
It is enough
Opera and blues I sing. Come closer. I will show you the fire of the love god. Don’t hate me. Let’s talk.
Hear him hiss with serpents nebula, I am love. Now I play opera, jazz and blues, too.
So perfect and absurd.
Your fear.
..
My Left is Underhanded, Act 4 Finale
By Daniel Christensen
Writing as
The Fire Elemental
Copyright © 2012 by Daniel Christensen. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published 01.10. 2012
My Left is Underhanded, Act 4 Finale
A Handful of Nothing
Or
So perfect and absurd
..
Top of Form
This is the fourth movement. It is my life.
Prayed eight days for a storm. It is here. I smoke out and call lightning.
Alderaan went the way of the dinosaur. Mowed down by evil demonstrations of fear kill power. ;)
Dishonor is not in defeat, but in losing respect for life itself.
As above
So below
Fight
But love others first
..
Gino vs me, 9-4. End Game. You Win.
My friend is gone a few years now. He burns brief, but brightly. He dies young, it becomes part of his legacy.
Strong, bold, sporting a grin that said he knew something you didn't. He loved life. I loved him, because I had no choice in the matter.
He would challenge to sound your depth. I answer to find the meaning of this moment. This is how we become friends.
We met, stood at odds. Pulls his ugliest war face. Our postures mirror threat. He did like to test someone new.
He steps forward, raises his arms. A stillness comes over my heart as we fall to blows. All is ultraviolence on the surface with silence abiding utterly beneath.
I have reach and lead right. He watches for it. My left is underhanded. I give him pain, but he is ferocity.
We lock up, find that the other is strong. We take and give ground as we turn. He strikes with forehead and we come apart.
We stand, huff and burn. Are silent. Blood in my eyes. We fall to laughter. He offers me pot for the second time. I accept. He loved me then.
Many years of friendship pass. I had been traveling in the spring and summer of 09. Had no cell, had been out of touch with everyone.
I come home, shower, sit down to the puter and there is a message from Shala that said he is dying. If I wanted to see him I had better get to the hospital. It was time stamped 15 minutes from when I read it.
I sat dumbstruck for a moment. It was the last in a series of messages I had ignored since I returned, in one of my moods, not wanting to talk to anyone.
I didn’t read the rest until much later, which explained how his health had failed in just a handful of hours since arriving at the hospital with, what seemed, minor complaints. I run out the door.
..
Verse 1,
The approximation of human concepts.
What could be commonly agreed upon as sanity
Is that which we are most commonly
Surrounded by
What we have grown
Accustomed
To
How do we know it is sane
It is all around us
You who are cruel to be
Kind
Are deaf and
Blind
And so choose to remain
Dumb and blind
To that which is not
You
Take a breath, I descend
Into the smell of wood fire
Orange flicker
And feel of heat
On my face
Where I drown in depths of
Circumspection
Do not dwell in judgment
Boo! Fear is a ruse!
See the humor in each situation
Dwell in heart silence
Hone my discipline
Hard to get to
In those times
..
Gino vs me. End Game. Score redacted.
I peel around corners. It is close by. He is not far now. I felt like I could still see him.
I charge in, the admitting nurse directs me.
I get on the elevator and so does a uniformed officer. He asks me what floor, I tell him five. "Five, huh? That's not good," he remarks in a cavalier way.
I consider walloping him for a hot moment. He looks at the numbers changing.
I head up one hall, down another, through some open doors, to the end, where people are standing. A few sit against the wall.
Shala was there, perhaps his closest friend. Her eyes red rimmed and haggard. Rancor in her vulpine features. Coals of suffering glow barely contained beneath her skin. The pain madness radiates within.
She tells me to take a seat in an offhand way. I lean against the wall. We wait as the attendants prepare him for viewing. I stood in silence and share the sorrow of those gathered.
..
Verse 2,
Because it’s best to continually pose a question.
The texts read:
"Our old haunt. All is silence above in the cathedral of smiles. Water burbles below the floor invisibly. Soon the sun will be up. It is still as withheld breath. Its presence can be felt in the chill. All is moody blue. Can you guess? In 1 hour. Meet me there.”
Three fingers of bitters, to wrap me in warmth. It’s cold, otherwise.
A flush of headlights. Footsteps on the dock. She carries a torch. I call lightning. ;)
..
David vs me, 16-17. Earlier occasion and ongoing.
We are always neck in neck by my reckoning. The dark horse. He is clever and daring.
"Take her from me." I weary of taunts. We test each other, find the other weak, riddled with pride.
We stand at odds. I want to see the meaning of this moment. I answer the dare.
I visited him at this same hospital only a month before, when he shot himself in the arm. Sixth floor. It was a serious injury. He is pale. I brought him a book that he probably trashed.
He forgets to love others. Spits goety on forked tongue.
I walk in and say, "Bartender! Got any kahlua?" Our old routine.
Says he can’t talk to me. He whispers. Utterly amazed to see me. That I would come after all that had been said and done against me.
I tell him I want to see he is alright. He says that he is.
There is a pallor on his face. Shadow under his brow. I walk away.
..
Verse 3,
Rome is burning.
Night falls through glass
Wind, but no rain, it never
Rains
Except today
When it rains in
Rivers
Perfect weather
Clouds scowl like samurai, but pass
Away
You don’t speak, just
Beat your wings
Light draws geometric figures
Upon on your cool
Surfaces
I can feel you, all around me
Lonely, laughing
Friend
..
David vs me, 16-18. Later, solemn occasion, and ongoing.
David was there, standing with some of the guys, telling his low key lies, as usual. Had a way with clever half-truths.
Had aged in the almost year since our friendship ended, grayed around the edges. His arm bears a terrible dark scar.
He leaves before the viewing. Likely because of me.
As he walks past, he looks up from the floor. Darts a quick glance. I watch him go, burn a hole through him.
We are allowed in. Gino lay perfectly still, his features relaxed. He is in the room, I feel him.
We stand around the bed. Alone I wept. Stood tall and straight.
Respect radiates from those gathered.
Vibrates powerfully above the weight of grief in a nearly audible tantric hum.
Silence between our ears. Hearts heavy as earth. My senses expand.
I am overcome. I could feel his smile. Hear him screaming laughter.
The obvious courage in his carriage. The sometimes purposeful wisdom of his words.
His jokes and stories.
All around us.
I smile, say hello to him.
..
Verse 4,
Kissed by dragon’s tongue.
It is said that all is energy and that energy does not die, but transform. I read Newton. I think about this. For a time our mirth left us. Another time, our voice.
There is much silence. Some verses to her beauty. What was or might have been.
A bottle of cola and sweet red, maybe if funds permit. A wild flower, something colorful, if not, would do the trick.
It’s good and cold, finally, so let’s stand closer together and I’ll whisper off the cuff verses about the weather. Or the sway of your curves in my mind as I waited for you.
Come closer. I want to feel the heat you exude. I want to feel your heart.
Let’s talk. Or we could not speak.
..
Burton vs me, 8-17. Most recent and ongoing.
Close to midnight now. It’s cold and windy. I fill the little barbeque grill with letters and pictures. Douse it all with gasoline and take a drive to the coast.
Walk down the sand a piece and set the grill down, lift the lid and remove a letter. I see it’s marked, “January 5th, 1991” as I flick the lighter to life and draw it near. I dated them all upon receipt, for they had been precious.
Flames catch quickly, despite the chill wind off the water. Gas giants, dire flames. It had all, thus far, proven cyclical. I remember madness and pain. Would it come again.
"That which is below corresponds to that which is above, and that which is above corresponds to that which is below, to accomplish the miracle of the One Thing."
Our paths diverge. Wills clash. The goety is a creeping fog, a labyrinth of webs.
Disregard. Disrespect. Defamation. Desecration. He fights without love. These are his discipline.
I drop the letter, an inferno roars to life. Spirals upward in the grip of wind. Resembles a pillar with three conical tiers.
It was magic, a vestige that lay within these captured words and images.
I willed the old memories into the fire, hung them before my eyes and hurled them in, for nothing of the love that lived in those days remained.
I douse flames with heaps of sand, throw wide and release the lid, Wind catches and carries it.
A sigh of dispersion. Motes of light. A handful of nothing.
..
Verse 5,
Water over bridge.
I am gentle. Patient. Slow to anger. Meeting you now, at this juncture, this all at once you learn. Me, a lifetime.
Don’t hate me, but if not understand that I am to be loved from afar, walk away, leave me be.
All is still on the surface with ultraviolence abiding utterly beneath. Some catch glimpses or see me burn nakedly. I see them. Come closer, embrace me. Burn to cinders in my hands.
My love no fear has. There is nothing my hands can hold. My heart under lock and key. I have no choice. My love is ferocity.
I am calm. Distant. Look on me.
See this discipline.
..
Gino vs me. End Game. Score redacted.
I go home and collect a bottle I had been sitting on. Took it up to the beach. Drank to the dregs.
He was a Viking. He loved war, laughter and drink. He would steal something just to see what you would do about it.
If you wouldn’t take it back, he would make you ask for it. If you wouldn’t ask for it, he would hang it on his wall for all to see. Try to take it down, you’d have to fight for it.
He did like to test those unknown to him.
He was the dwarf in our party. Short and sore about it. Stout and fierce and proud.
He could be counted on. He was a friend.
I say goodbye to him.
..
Verse 6,
Word is bond.
"This tree has been for an eon
I have watched it flower
Shed, wither and bloom
Anew
Sometimes forgetting
It is ancient”
I step heavily around the tree, to excite warmth into my legs. I take a long draw on the bowl, holding it down.
“I have lived in this skin eleven thousand days. I recall the smell of snow and crunch beneath my feet as I march to school or with powerful eagerness to find a snowball fight. I hold one in either palm, ready to launch as I search. Though seven thousand days have elapsed since I last experienced each, time has not robbed me of all recollection. Not as yet. Some few things are worth holding onto.”
I throw her a smile and hand it over.
..
Gino vs me. A few years before End Game. Score redacted.
He tries to bluff the pot. The bullshit look on that fucking guinea face is a dead giveaway that he is trying to bully me out, that he has a handful of nothing.
Eyes fixed, a rueful smile halted upon his lips, fingers gripping his cards tightly. ;)
The chips are down, and he goes in, and he goes down. David dragged the best pots, however.
Our games were livelier than those I played with others. He often sought to confuse one’s thinking. Like the poor math he feigned in our business dealings. This was his discipline. Ruthless. Duplicitous. Even with a friend. A point to David.
When the moment seems right, I raise my bottle and toast Gino’s coming nuptials. I recite Tennyson to him, Ulysses, across the poker table.
Look to the sky on a starry night and you may spy the Great Dark Horse.
His shadow falls in the space between lights.
Music lives in the silence between sounds.
These are the words of a master. Smoke snakes from the pipe. All quietly attend.
“Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
..
Bottom of Form
Light falls on breath
On teeth bared in
Grins of mutual
Mirth
Or ferocity
Worn with equal
Measure
Light falls through glass
On us
Then, just
Me
It is the fourth movement
Final
It is my life
Birds sing in silence where
All roads
End
And are renewed, a place where we
Find each other
Again, or
Forget
We are ancient
Faces of past occasion, fading
Continuously into the haze
That surrounds all
In space/time, and so
We are swept
Apart
I wept, here
In silent tenors
Where none could question my
Strength
Spheres rotate
Gas giants, dire flames
Feel the awful pull of their energetic
Orbits
Alone
In fever dreams
Where I soar to stars and marvel
In their presence
It is enough
Opera and blues I sing. Come closer. I will show you the fire of the love god. Don’t hate me. Let’s talk.
Hear him hiss with serpents nebula, I am love. Now I play opera, jazz and blues, too.
So perfect and absurd.
Your fear.
..
My Left is Underhanded, Act 4 Finale
By Daniel Christensen
Writing as
The Fire Elemental
Copyright © 2012 by Daniel Christensen. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published 25th Aug 2016
| Edited 27th Aug 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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26th Aug 2016 2:49pm
Whoa...this was a heck of a finale bro! Loooooooonnnggg! lol. BUT I understand that purging necessity :)
Can only guess n expect these excerpts of the "left hand under..." Is gonna be a future book :)
Can only guess n expect these excerpts of the "left hand under..." Is gonna be a future book :)
27th Aug 2016 7:22am
Yeah it's the longest of the four act series. I am glad you enjoyed it my brother, thanks for taking the time.
4th Sep 2016 8:14pm
O.M.G. Daniel this is amazing. My heart ripped at the pain and loss but yet found peace.
Kissed by dragon’s tongue.
It is said that all is energy and that energy does not die, but transform.
I loved not only how you used it but where. The placement sets up the descent (for me, anyway)
of circumstances. The introspect, the reflections of flickering thought, memory, reminiscence as
smoke on the beach whipped by wind, but not relinquished from the fire it ascends.
I have been a sentinel in the presence of Death; I have witnessed the life transform into pure
energy many times, and could not have expressed the experience or the essence of release
as beautifully as this.
Thank you so much for sharing.
Kissed by dragon’s tongue.
It is said that all is energy and that energy does not die, but transform.
I loved not only how you used it but where. The placement sets up the descent (for me, anyway)
of circumstances. The introspect, the reflections of flickering thought, memory, reminiscence as
smoke on the beach whipped by wind, but not relinquished from the fire it ascends.
I have been a sentinel in the presence of Death; I have witnessed the life transform into pure
energy many times, and could not have expressed the experience or the essence of release
as beautifully as this.
Thank you so much for sharing.
6th Sep 2016 4:31am
The descent of circumstances is a great way to explain it. Letting go is central to the work. You are capturing the essence of the composition. It is a powerful experience to stand at the side of a loved one that is departing. I never speak of these things and I ponder them for years before writing about them, most of the time. I am always happy to connect with you. I greatly admire your works.
5th Sep 2016 7:40am
You know my return is always
to share a few runes and definitely
will on this..
o'goddness ..
-Holwings
to share a few runes and definitely
will on this..
o'goddness ..
-Holwings
6th Sep 2016 5:01am
Both of your posts I read today were amazing. I poured over them and marveled at new things each time.
the grazing of stardust...
first thoughts that come to mind after reading
this testimonial journey through the paradigms
of your life..
what i love and envy about this is your PATIENCE..
the manner in which you brought David Gino and
Burton to life through your ink was nothing short
of amazing. articulating nuances in sublime poetic fashion
entwined with laymen's language was just brilliant..
i truly felt the eulogies/epitaphs
the perspectives gained through the passage of time
the lessons..the insights...the scathing truths swinging
like a pendulum..
..and the image you attached speaks volumes upon
volumes..the cosmos looking like black sand sprinkled
with...stardust..where the visage of a smile or smirk [my take]
just adds even more depth to the message in this
transcendent vibe..
.this is the epitome of what i call micro-telescopic-vision
something to behold on several levels of existence..
your panorama is just ...seismic
yeahhh.. knew i had to clear the cerebral docket for
this finale..
so glad i did..
..and just like that..
i betrayed myself by tying up your comment
box..hahaaa..
i'll holla at you later my brotha..peace
first thoughts that come to mind after reading
this testimonial journey through the paradigms
of your life..
what i love and envy about this is your PATIENCE..
the manner in which you brought David Gino and
Burton to life through your ink was nothing short
of amazing. articulating nuances in sublime poetic fashion
entwined with laymen's language was just brilliant..
i truly felt the eulogies/epitaphs
the perspectives gained through the passage of time
the lessons..the insights...the scathing truths swinging
like a pendulum..
..and the image you attached speaks volumes upon
volumes..the cosmos looking like black sand sprinkled
with...stardust..where the visage of a smile or smirk [my take]
just adds even more depth to the message in this
transcendent vibe..
.this is the epitome of what i call micro-telescopic-vision
something to behold on several levels of existence..
your panorama is just ...seismic
yeahhh.. knew i had to clear the cerebral docket for
this finale..
so glad i did..
..and just like that..
i betrayed myself by tying up your comment
box..hahaaa..
i'll holla at you later my brotha..peace
Your perspectives here are really crystallizing for me. It makes me glad to post these works again after so long.
It is precisely a testimonial journey through the paradigms of my life. Articulating nuances in sublime poetic fashion entwined with laymen's language is a brilliant way of defining it.
Ahavati also tends to leave me messages that help me define things in such a perfect way. I really appreciate it, plus the time and interest that these lengthy works demand. Thank you.
When I posted this elsewhere I was able to provide a soundtrack. I like post rock for my works these days. :D
The pic I chose is the Snake Nebula in the Ophiuchus constellation. The classic depiction is of a man holding a serpent in both hands. Mythologically linked to the infant Hercules if memory serves.
It is said to resemble smoke snaking from a pipe and there was a recently hit and smoking bowl on the table when I recited the lower half of Ulysses to Gino and those gathered. It was the only thing moving besides my voice.
Your idea for the significance of the picture is great though, because there is absolutely a smile and sometimes a smirk accompanying the voice of this composition at times. The measured tone of the work is perhaps its greatest asset, a depiction of the self control I have gathered over time and much error.
Verse 5 is the crux of the work because it is about that very quality. Patience. A panoramic view which is meant to exhibit equanimity. I was always a passionate and compassionate person. These qualities without restraint had lead me to many painful situations, mistakes and implosions in my relationships. Thus my discipline became awareness and self control.
lol Hey no problem lets talk about it here. Four works in a short span is a lot for me to put out there about myself. Possibly will not post anything else for a good long while, but I always enjoy coming here to appreciate the beauty and brilliance of others. Namaste my friend.
It is precisely a testimonial journey through the paradigms of my life. Articulating nuances in sublime poetic fashion entwined with laymen's language is a brilliant way of defining it.
Ahavati also tends to leave me messages that help me define things in such a perfect way. I really appreciate it, plus the time and interest that these lengthy works demand. Thank you.
When I posted this elsewhere I was able to provide a soundtrack. I like post rock for my works these days. :D
The pic I chose is the Snake Nebula in the Ophiuchus constellation. The classic depiction is of a man holding a serpent in both hands. Mythologically linked to the infant Hercules if memory serves.
It is said to resemble smoke snaking from a pipe and there was a recently hit and smoking bowl on the table when I recited the lower half of Ulysses to Gino and those gathered. It was the only thing moving besides my voice.
Your idea for the significance of the picture is great though, because there is absolutely a smile and sometimes a smirk accompanying the voice of this composition at times. The measured tone of the work is perhaps its greatest asset, a depiction of the self control I have gathered over time and much error.
Verse 5 is the crux of the work because it is about that very quality. Patience. A panoramic view which is meant to exhibit equanimity. I was always a passionate and compassionate person. These qualities without restraint had lead me to many painful situations, mistakes and implosions in my relationships. Thus my discipline became awareness and self control.
lol Hey no problem lets talk about it here. Four works in a short span is a lot for me to put out there about myself. Possibly will not post anything else for a good long while, but I always enjoy coming here to appreciate the beauty and brilliance of others. Namaste my friend.
