An oaken serenity
original poetrywith reading
Intro notes & recording
Hi everyone! I wanted to try my hand at a longer form poem today. I included some pictures in between the four sections. I'm happy to share with you the daily journal of my life - in abstract form. There are many avenues of life explored in this one, with an obvious fixation on wood grain (the whole universe is in a tiny seed.) I also had an amazing meeting today with some Steemians on the Customer Witness discord server and there are some huge projects in the works that I will blog on soon. In the meantime, I am incredibly grateful for you all, as always! Have an awesome day.
.:Links to the recording:.
.:of "An oaken serenity":.
.:► Listen on DSound:.
.:► Listen from source (IPFS):.
I.
Living in miniature,
I fall inside cratered wood grain:
A termite in the heart
Of the world tree.
Feline avatar of brick, fierce,
Ghosts inside the foundation.
A city built on mistakes &
Rising through a regretful aura
Tinged with colored joy.
Nobody asked the biggest questions;
They sat and sipped lattes.
They studied dead men's theories;
They revel in berry love.
Burnt milk, visions of distant armaggedon,
Someone whispered about paradise
And nondual starvation.
"I will burst the prisons open!"
Someone said.
The intoxication of fermenting millennia,
"Just play by the rules &
Eat at the arsenic banquet."
A pineal spire languishes
Awaiting its resuscitation.
II.
The people are disney animations.
The streets are glass
That endlessly shatters but
Never finishes breaking.
This rain is powerfully basic;
It is the sky that's acid.
To the inside of gaia
We are a hidden grotto;
We are a rotting treasure trove.
Everything here shows the opposites
But ultimate magnetism peeks
Through the cracks.
I am forbidden to mention
The exact alignment of sigils.
I am constrained to uneasy implication;
I am the pinnacle of political vagary.
This wood grain speaks everything
& the people search hidden angularities
In the stirring resonance of spirit.
I was sleeping through the creation.
I am the sun of the sun—
My heart makes the universe grow.
I am the granular seed—fossilized acorn.
I levitate in the oaken crater & keep my peace.
III.
I speak soliloquies through a tin can;
I am the glimmer of grain,
A loving virus infecting indifference.
Passion makes the body ash.
I am a singing cadaver &
Scribe of forgotten heartbreak.
People—they forget themselves
Inside the swirling alcove
At the entrance to the coliseum
They are rainbow grasshoppers.
"Nothing is what is is,
But it is associations."
They teach to eager ears,
They guzzle guilt lager.
Anxiety reveals itself to imps,
Worthlessness in laser eyes,
The world eats kettle corn;
The stalk of the stalk sinks low.
Indigo on a waiting morning,
Anthocyanin ears expand.
I am the wood grain balloon,
Sailing in the craters
Of hidden gems.
IV.
The valueless exhausts vessels,
Slakes the ghosts eating the sails,
The vision fades in jagged symmetries
Of this grove of thumbprints.
In the overwhelm, the genuine rises.
The salvation of the unbearable
Is this colorless falcon
In shaky words.
Tomes of precious misery,
The forest is a frustration.
The spirit of dead gargantua
Cry lakes that boil into heaven.
Paradise inside the heartwood:
Aphid communion & dross in a ditch.
The earth readies itself
With ceremonial robes.
Fog revelation—
The speech becomes unintelligible.
The features crinkle & lips meld shut.
Everything is the silence of
These waves of wood.
I am a miniscule atom
In the fifth curve
Of its grain.
Written & spoken
By 
3/1/18
Images createdUsing stock images
Provided by Fantasy Stock
