Four movements

7 04 2011

 

i.

senses awakened

like flowers the touch of silk

on her naked nape

 

ii.

inside the cool spire

sheltered from the sun, i find

seven lost flowers

 

iii.

As rain drops drum sounds

the pavement cries for mercy

birdsong melody

 

iv.

blue ice hangs like fruits

and crackly sound from afoot

landscape drawn with chalk

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Schizomorphic song

20 03 2011

 

 

she’s a dream, she’s a nightmare,

she’s a beam, in the night’s stare,

she’s the sun, the dark side of the moon,

she’s on the run, frustrating fleeting boon.

 

she’s the sea, and the hidden cave,

she’s the tree, the unspoken stave,

the stealthy wolf, by the blood river’s bank,

a never ending gulf, she’s an abysmal pang.

 

she stepped in my way, god got mixed in the strings,

stood me on stage one day, she was put in the wings,

to fly once again, retire to her land,

of milk, honey and pain, she’s alone as she’d planned.

 

she’s the brick, in my pane,

she’s the ice, and the cooling frame,

she’s a trick, she’s insane,

she’s a ghost, in my open grave,

she’s a lure, an eternal game,

a flying star, an escape in vain.

 

she’s Phaedra’s Isle, and Eden’s hair,

she’s Medusa’s smile, and the Siren’s stare,

she’s heavenly sent, and a call to Hell,

she’s my only repent, and my tolling bell.





Clio

20 03 2011

vast cleavage in a glorious landscape

the mount resounds

in renowned chants

like traces of time

she harps on stringent calls

stricken into motion

the chords of souls

relieved from the cave and

slowly up the slope

singing along from memory

with a tremor like

tetra lines

expanding corners

opening the shape

like tentacles

in sinusoid stand

reaching and arching

for unknown pleasures

in the acrid breeze

the voices repeat,

walk with acumen

to a sleep long forgotten.





Leda

20 03 2011

gritty smile rides a

high pitched kiss and

frenzied lips like

wavery hands

drapes the rack,

she hangs on low

to a box beat – to a heart

teased

her pinched phrases

are relative relationships

between absent boundaries

insistent instances

of scratched skins scattered in

scathed landscape

plastering holes in a wall of sound

the snow covers her

pulse

slowly reaching

bodies bound in

shape and form

the textured speech of a

binary torture

swirls

pearly shine

strident

confident

solitary soul

in a pout of blue





Terpsichore

20 03 2011

the body moves around

the sound

curves and surrounds

curbs the frantic drive

the core chords

based on space

limbs shift

lift an airtight tone

like casimodo’s hands

fallen for the grace

of a ten steel string,

the wind buzzes on brass

blows and puffs across the surface

clouds are static

where is the wind?

where is the mouth of its lungs?

apply lips to reed

tickle the tongue

how can it make love

to the tubular

shape

and

move the surface of the ocean?

waves synchronise

curl in chronic rocking

cross their rhythms

clashing and breaking rolls

splatter on the shore

a nervous fret

when the storm has passed

the shoulder blades raised

sharp

neck extended

the body, resounding

heaves. the palm

hits a heartbeat

scratched strings

the sting of high

harmonics

a fish wriggles

twitch in the eye

wet sand

soprano





VIBRATION VARIABLE

20 03 2011

1/

I woke up this morning,

As you do. I woke up

This morning. I Opened

My eyes – after a while.

Living organism. Cells alive –

Awaking. I woke up

This morning. Pain. Bad feeling.

Wrong vibration.

Electrical energy

Pulse in the brain. Negative file

Thoughts travelling. Fuzzy

Data. Exchange; current

Running. Fuzz. Fuzz. Fuzz. Wave

Wave, bigger and bigger –

Faster. Fuzzy waves go

Slash, slash, lashing across

The tissues – 30 kHz

In staccato streaks

Djangy chunks cross cut networks

Phasing away. Out of

Control. Chemicals jump

From cell to cell. Patterns

Of radiation. Slice,

Slice, slice. Spliced thoughts

Electrical signals

Body moves on, shake

Cross section slash

Electrode attack

On receptors – 25 kHz

Ultrasonic dream djang

Djang djang strumming nerves

Like steel – strings electric

Vibration 20 kHz shriek

And decibels till my

Brains bleed. Storation

This morning I woke up

Describing a lesion

Cortex cross-section

Of the left. A zigzag

Swing bundles of fibres

Shake. Chip. Chip. Chip neurones

Shooting lines.

From horizon, to horizon.

Parietal lobe

Electrical probe.

There is activity. Fussy fuzz

Strips across the threshold

Excitatory regions

Axons cross the sky line

And time flashing past, I

Woke up this morning

Happy

To live.

 

2/

Take a walk. Direction

The street. Follow the lines

Stone. Crack. Stone. Crack. Steps

Into the centre. Cracked

Stone. Miss the line. Steps to

Nothing. Along the shops,

I step into a book

Walk around. Follow the shelves

Choice of covers. Language,

Linguistics, poetry, fiction, art,

Gender, gardens and sociology

Politics,

Correct psychology

Make up 18 kHz

Ear pricked, criteria:

Cover, colour, size,

Thickness. Touch the pages

Fit the shelves. Hard cover

To write on art. Funny

One this – philosophy

Outside, the sky stretches

From cover to cover

Follow the plot. If you

Need assistance ask a member of staff…………………………………………………………………………..

Stacks of paperbacks and

Hard-core covers facing

Out. Newly published in

Your hand. That’s good. 10 kHz,

Good size on the shelf. That’s

It – I take, he thought. Check

Out the price. Pay the till.

Slight tilt of the head

I woke up thinking this

Morning I bought a book

And a pen to write on

A pack of cards in my

Pocket. Scraps stashed away

I pick the king of Spades

Sit on a bench: poor choice of grass

Watch the action of town

Lines of cars zooming past

Zigzag workers, fussy customers,

Streaky carriers, paper boxes,

Cross-section of the street,

With green lights, white zebras.

Exchange at the corner

A busker jabs at a

Clangy guitar

Stripes of sound wafting past

Like the waves of the sea.

 

3/

This morning

I woke up in a sea

Of sound. Electrical

Discharges

From cell to cell

Strong surrealism

Phase fading out. Falls out

Recurring phrase. Pattern

Of speech. Expressionism.

A book with hard corners

By 5 kHz I

Entered the mid-tones of

A heart of gold with hints

Of shades of grey

Scale.

Fishing coins in my pocket

Thank the lady and read the cards

The cover is blue and hard

Bad omen, the king criss-crossed

A section of words. Severed trunk

Next paragraph on, notes pop

Splashes of softly spoken lines

Repeated thoughts. Enacted turn

Of phrases.

Softly singing seashells crashed against the shore

Sinking in ozone shields, my arms outstretched

Palms open to the ceiling

With a 3.600 Hz

Dream, I yawned a welcome

To the day. Cool it down

I said, fallen from the bed

I awoke, words crossed. Streaked carpet

A ragged rug on the floor.

Slowly sinking pretzel flowers splashed upon the floor

Singing in azure layers, the rug welcomed

My awakening. Eyes open wide

Page thirty 6, I cracked

My paperback. Hard lesion

Of the spine. Lines stretched across the grey

Sky outside

The cell.

Streaking cumulus a-

Cross a compact sky. Birds

That never sleep. Sustaining spell of

Apathy finally

Shunned, withdrawing symptoms,

Its withered waves from the morning sun

I woke up

It was morning.

As my brains came into gear, a great

Bulk of thoughts rasped a rapid rap

Zapped a few cells.

Circuit integrated

800 Hz in the price

Bar code across the sky

The city buzzes a

Thousand self same cells with

Fussy colours. Black bins

With gaudy mouths choke on

Chocolate boxes and

Burned buns

A mote of syrupy

Marmite on my lips, I

Look outside the kitchen

Window and shelve old thoughts

Files full of fluffy cushions remove

Marmite with a lick – a

Remote twitch in the eye

Of the morning. Page 73,

I pause to reposition my legs

Switch to the 530 Hz

Cycle. Probable cross-

Reference along the

Line of scattered sinusoidal

Scale. 390 Hz scratching

My skull with rusty fingers. The smell

Of iron in the cells

Locking position

The house of sleep.

 

4/

Trees were high with flaky

Leaves as I reached the street

Of non-existence.

Clouds and fluffy files flee

Move in puddles across

The hard covered texture

Of the carpet.

Maybe the sun will come

Out. Maybe the cells will

Stop to shake

Maybe the noise come down

To 60 Hz, partial

Subsound throb

The cards are all deranged –

No control, the future

Lies naked on the page

By the morning, the book

Emerged from beneath heavy sheets

Of King-size contemplation. Waves in

Hz hurtle a meter

Deeper cycles of sleep

Inside vibrations hurt

45 Hz and overcrowded

Cells in the centre’s maze:

A lost city. And its

Last children thrown in

Surge the square,

Flood the surgical solace with smiles

On their backs

Radiation of happiness

Pockets full of notes to

Keep the senses off work

Prescribing prozac like

Hot cakes

They supply

Periods of dream blankness

They must sustain the state

Distended, diluted

In the long waves of sleep

Force the depth

Oneiric cycles.

The crest furls at 27 Hz

Rumbles low in the loins

Proper Ride over Zion’s

Analgesic Children

When the dawning sun

Urges the sealed lids

To open, time for dreams

Is crammed in the small hours

Of morning. My brains

In a panic presses

Piles of nightmarish nymphs

And latent plots

To the drifting sleeper

I cringe at the loss of sound

Surrounding and inside

I surrender and dissolve in the mass

A lower flow forms a life of its own

At 20

The dream is now passed on

From head to head

Citizens united

In cells by the illusion

Caress the slender curves

With careless hands

The longer, the softer

The core energy once

Pared away of its cover

The last 7 Hz

Subtle drop

fundamental shake

Shake, shake.

Destruction of the cells.

Explosion.





too late

20 03 2011

it’s getting late sleepy eyes

black days overshadow our lies

walls of faces collapse

grey streets fall on its front

you’re turning fake dreamy eyes

your face tells too many different story lines

no one tells what’s right from wrong

just from the taste of words

just from the waste of sound

 

the weather is changing in your heart

the tether is gripping a lil tight

and all that you can grope

along this slippery slope

and all that you attach

to give you weight

only adds up to the fall

 

 

hervé perez, december 2009