deepundergroundpoetry.com
Whatever Comes Out #1 ( exercise in spontaneous writing)
* scribbled out, non-stop while in a dark room listening to binaural beats meant to replicate the effects of shamanic drumming or chanting. Completely unedited.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Swaying bodies. Flashing brains. Dancing flames. Burning hands. Far-off journeys. No set plans.
Whatever will be, will be. Neck falls limp. Center eye open. Breathing galaxy. Words unspoken. These hands can crush or heal and I feel like a spinning wheel.
Blackbird songs and pounding drums. Rising moon and setting sun. My travel’s just begun. My blood is telling me something I just don’t know what.
Right hand scribbles, left hand’s hot. I feel like I’m drifting away, getting lost, finding me. Am I destined for other planes? No more games, time to drift away. Time to dance like flames.
My pulse dictates my move.
Remove remove remove remove …my waking thoughts from this. Awakening kiss. I’m passed along the wind. Inside, only a kid. Blackbird songs, ringing gongs.
Training ears to hear cosmic tones. You’re never really alone, I’ll never really die.
Did you know that I’m both dead and alive inside?
A perfect home. A perfect web. Middle pillars. Silent ends.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Swaying bodies. Flashing brains. Dancing flames. Burning hands. Far-off journeys. No set plans.
Whatever will be, will be. Neck falls limp. Center eye open. Breathing galaxy. Words unspoken. These hands can crush or heal and I feel like a spinning wheel.
Blackbird songs and pounding drums. Rising moon and setting sun. My travel’s just begun. My blood is telling me something I just don’t know what.
Right hand scribbles, left hand’s hot. I feel like I’m drifting away, getting lost, finding me. Am I destined for other planes? No more games, time to drift away. Time to dance like flames.
My pulse dictates my move.
Remove remove remove remove …my waking thoughts from this. Awakening kiss. I’m passed along the wind. Inside, only a kid. Blackbird songs, ringing gongs.
Training ears to hear cosmic tones. You’re never really alone, I’ll never really die.
Did you know that I’m both dead and alive inside?
A perfect home. A perfect web. Middle pillars. Silent ends.
Published 20th Jun 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 0
comments 5
reads 729
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
20th Jun 2012 7:56pm
I am familiar with such things, makes a lot of sense to me. Spontaneity holds more depth..... A profound journey here, where answers can be found and energies channelled. Nicely penned and expressed Dulcea. :)
20th Jun 2012 8:11pm
Thank you so much. The best stuff seems to come out randomly, with little or no real effort. I'm glad you enjoyed it :-)
20th Jun 2012 8:18pm
I guess that's kind of what it was. Those binaural beats (when done right and listened through stereo headphones) are no joke. Good stuff.
Anonymous
- Edited 20th Jun 2012 9:42pm
20th Jun 2012 8:22pm
You are a mistress of the prose flow.
As Magdalena rightly states, "Spontaneity holds more depth." I really wish more people went went the flow of life instead of swimming upstream with the other mind hacker jackers. Don't misread---that does not mean to be a conformist!
Strider :)
As Magdalena rightly states, "Spontaneity holds more depth." I really wish more people went went the flow of life instead of swimming upstream with the other mind hacker jackers. Don't misread---that does not mean to be a conformist!
Strider :)
