LucienMidnight
07-09-2007, 11:45 AM
Darkness would be cliché so Lightness……. My mind wonders in the back of my eye lids, the purple blue dots of the thoughts that don’t exist in my mind but only are overseen by my closed eyes the titles of the classic novels go like this. As my tongue gently swept across my lips giving them the moisture they O so long for I slowly lean close to my own ear and elegantly say look homeward angel..... At that the clock strikes Noon and darkness falls..... Did I forget darkness at noon? No... But I did forget that yellow wall-paper that keeps me and I beautifully separated, you can’t go home again no matter what this earth tell you; yes maybe I will paint that portrait of the artist as a young man.. Weary in thought and philosophy of life, I ponder the predicament that previously happened the lovely evening previously before this one. After seeing a terribly terrific movie of awkward moments of bore I walked out of the cinema and scanned the waves of animals called human beings. Something or someone caught my eye with a slight glance I stared for a lengthy short time. Leaning in to my acquaintance I pointed this quite dashing girl out to him, but to my shockingly attitude of unawareness of my surroundings she saw my daring attempt of singling her out. As our eyes met she raised her hand up, high so everyone can see. To my surprise she didn’t have a hand at all, just a small stub. This left me with a little wickedly queasy laughter in my stomachs mind for she didn’t know I wasn’t pointing the fact she didn’t have a hand, I was pointing out that she was quite dashing. As my mind slowly fast forward I am left in a coffee shop atmosphere, with a man to the right of me. The sun pouring into the windows as if it were their job, at that does the sun have a job? If so does it get an advantage from its job? Me having a deep conversation of the world and the afterlife of eternity and the people that belong and will be there hand in hand, eyes on the future. The statement at which, the present is the pain, of yesterdays dreams really are in reality, are tomorrow’s nightmares. Him and I sitting on a couch in a small coffee shop a man of the early age of 21 with the hair of a black cat split in the middle. His eyebrows which were made of a centipede on the forehead, which was squeezed, commonly we shook hands we start the small talk, which included Marines, sex, Georgia, Black, God and the coffee we were sipping. As the man slowly went back to the car another man walked up almost in a spasm, a man of around 26 a rough 3 inch beard and a florescent orange wool hunting beanie, must have been for the wicked weather we were having, it being 86 degrees outside. He kept making his hands in weird motions of cobras and lions and repeatedly tried to hit my accomplice with his elbow? Saying he was a new lead metal guitar player, and the ironic point of his story was the white eyebrow kungfu studio was next door to his recording studio. So as I stood there asking my self if I was in a dream then suddenly I started re-following the small purple and blue dots the floated past my eyelids. Then I opened my eyes, starting my day with a quote from the old late great Allen Ginsburg “Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.”