something old something new
DESCRIPTION
This is the temporary draft of a book I am making out of the poetry I've writen and performed with over the last 3 years. A mixture of different thoughts, emotions and moments from my life...Feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated.- Luchessi MontecilloTRANSCRIPT
Something oldSOMETHING NEW
by LUCHESSI MONTECILLOPOETRY FROM 2009 - 2012
INDEXTHROUGH THE WOODS2010
26. Blunder27. The cannibal28. On conquest29. Certainty
30. The android31. Stance32. Stuck in a hard place33. Ghost34. A daughter’s suffrage35. The student36. From Eve36. The frontline37. Blue roses38. If39. Silence
BLACK BOX2012
64. Psychological moratorium65. Fruit 66. Come clean67. Bloodless wars68. The feeble mind69. Whys
70. Reality71. Ruby dreams72. Making love73. What’s it going to be74. Life, life, life75. Love is an army76. The piper77. Life = love78. Progression79. Eye of the beholder
80. Communion81. The deception of stimulus
Book design & illustrationsBy Luchessi Montecillo
© IO Montecillo
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any way witthout permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote sources in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine or newspaper.
SEEDS2011
40. Arise41. Apprentice42. Reality & illusion43. To Adam44. We are an ocean45. Watcher46. Love47. 1 + 1 = 0 pt.148. Temple49. The dance50. Timelines
51. Letter to my unborn child52. Endless nothing53. 1 + 1 = 0 : pt. 254. Milk and honey55. Immaterial manifest56. Amalgamation57. Perhaps58. Music59. The ritual
60. Hunter61. Matter62. Taking arms63. Tao
THE JOURNEY2009
1. Watch, Wait, Listen2. Comfort tremors3. As I am4. Untold5. A piece of me6. Intentions7. Wounded8. Becoming9. Spite
10. Stay11. To serve12. Grateful pawn13. Tender dusk14. From grace15. Something simple16. White flag17. Pragmatic18. Let me hold your hand19. Ode
20. Willow21. Red moon fruit22. Retrace23. Sleeping, waking, dreaming24. The world turned silent25. Through
INTRODUCTION
Like many others before me, I started writing poetry when I was a teenager as a way to express the feelings I didn’t dare tell anyone else.
My reasons for writing have changed over time, as has my relationship to words, or my general attitude towards revealing my innermost feelings to other people, even complete strangers, or a faceless mass.
What a strange and slow journey my life has been and continues to be.
Selfexpression has become a sort of belief in itself for me. Perhaps because the freedom I experience when I do what I love the most which quite simply ,as well as vaguely said, is to create art. The definitions of art are many, and I cannot suppose to appoint myself an authority in any regard.
What I have to say about art, or about life, could be judged as quite primitive, even naive. But I will at least make an attempt to convey my perceptions to anyone who is willing to listen.
For now, these are words and images, a jumbled collage of the journey that is my life; where I’ve been, where I am, and to some extent where I’m going, although not all things may be clear to me, as they might become, or might have been. Only time can reveal all of this.
THE JOURNEYWORKS FROM THE YEAR 2009
© Ikola Artworks by Rene Krogh and Luchessi Montecillo
WATCHWAITLISTEN
Gaze upon melet those eyes slideslowlylike bending time on that which is my cage and form...
These eyes have no deceptionso reflectas the words you speak are the steps you tread to meet me..
These are strange times fellow traveller and long lost brothersoul petitioner and friend
I prepare a placefar beyondbehind and within our realm
See me if you get there and all ends will have no end..
Speak soft and deepthere is no map to reach me only state..
Linger calmly, watch, wait and listen to know the time.
I am quiet oceans, jade meadows and jasmine in summers eve nestled in lover’s vines..
COMFORTTREMORS
Child, these arms are weary though willingthey are full of ache....
The birthpains course to the very bone and there seems to be no end
Be gentle when you weep as the tremors seep into my very soul
Your pain becomes mine and I know I cannot let it go
I am already an ocean and though drops are no greater burdenI feel the weight added to join ebb and flow.
Be kind as these hands take nothing back and has no will to ask
There is life in these veins..
Branching out like summer heat..
The flesh and bone that make my cagetendersereneand aware..
I may be lanky but there is swank in my stridethere is curve, prowl and glide..
There is strength, in wispy form.
I am solid fiber but I yield like soothing water.
There is loving whisper in my touchand molten core In my breath.
I swell and stretch,to the right tune and caress
I cry springtime when I rise and set..
I move with steady rhythmperfect balance and hard-willed grace..
My patience is enduringMy action strikeswith slow, immediate perception
I am forceful, quiet delight,I am hidden exaltationsacred templegates of lifesoul confessionsweet surrenderviolent receiverwilling givereager peacemaker.
I am nature-bornwill-forgedtime-space tornconcept child,wander soullover’s fire
I am words of nimbus and untold promisefierce innocence and sweet flesh.
I am I seein essence...
AS I AM A PIECEOF ME
This faceIs so deceptiveThis smileThese eyes…..
Beneath them all,Behind them….
Do you feel it….
The pain of joy,The cup that overflows And empties itself….
There is a piece of my heart MissingWalking the earth….
Featherskin,Soft strength chariot,Where are you going And where have you been….?
We were born outside the nest….
I have arrived and am calling your name….
The words bleedMy eyes wander into the distance….
There is a sound I cannot makeThere is a face I haven’t seen But I remember….
There is still one pieceOne piece of meWanderingBehind my eyes and beyond my reach….
UNTOLD
I saw youwith your head bowedyou whispered a silent prayerin a language unknown to any human earand I answeredwithout your asking..
I opened my armsyou smiledacceptedand left me here...
Another name on my lipsanother child in my armsanother scar to bearMy cup overflows and empties itself anew...
Flesh and bone....alive and breathing as it may be
Your eyes are cold...
My determination is torn...
See me...
For oncejust once...
Use those eyes,and connect...
Your words are kindyet they leave me starvingkneeling beneath the starscrying in vain...
I’ve laid my veins beneath your feet to rest,opened every door and yet...
You paint my chest with silence
You washed my feet in doubt and feardried them with good intentions...
All I askall I ever wanted was your moments...
To understand it,to utter the sound would be futile...
One has to feel to know,the mind has to perceive,to understand.
Time and pressure...
What hangs in the balance,of pain,is not death,but the edge of becoming.
To risk life as it is,well knowing what is to come...
Passion is an eight-edged sword,thrust into the core,of being.
With my hand on the handle,I lean against it...
Not yet, not just yet...
WOUNDEDThose words...
Carving wounds in my chestlike angry dogsgnawing at the last bone...
Beneath the cloak of time and distanceI feel hands watching my breath...
Dark stepswhere my dreams were spread..
Something is breakingsomewhere silent and hidden...
I reached outin the darkness,and found only whispersnot forgottenonly given and left for dead...
INTENTIONS SPITE
Blood, water and fire fill my voidmake smoke and mirrors of this breath
Slender hands made up of stringy tendons make fists around the darkness
My bones have been emptiedthe marrow replaced with steely determination...
I will make lightning from serpents hissblack hole armor to fill my chest
Let the wolves comethey will yield beneath my feet...
Where shadow meets dawn,where vines burst forth from the ashes...
I will meet you at sunset,where death was born in that tangled web
I have but one stand,and it moves with the rising current...
There will be gentle tides,and there will be monstrous storm
Guard your eyes if you must,turn away,it won’t be long before the dawn...
BECOMING
Do not leave me love
The world is coldand without youthe lights grow dim...
I do not fear deathand soon enoughit will part us
but stay as long as the moment takes us...
I have abandoned hope,I need no words to know...
Stay with medie with melet the sand shift and slipbetween our twining hands...
STAY
© Ikola Artworks by Rene Krogh and Luchessi Montecillo
I want to hold your hand
but you and I do not speak the same languageso I listenand ask that you keep speakinguntil I begin to understand....
Word by wordI will watch youand try to understand....
There are lovers finding eachother
fumbling in the darkacross crowdsat concertsin barsand chatline forumsholding handswaving and bidding to draw eachother near....
So I ask you
by continuing to listento let me see youwanting only to hold your hand....
It may take years
like the raising of childrenlike the mind maturingto meet with common words...
Nevertheless I am grasping for your hand
that you may know I am herestill listeningand that you don’t have to be alone....
All I ask is that you keep speakingand every once in a whilepause to listen....
Blessed is the common manhe who toilsfrom whom our lives have sprungforgotten by bardsand those who congregatedaround vain idolswhose frozen facesyielded nothing but wantin the heart of man...
Here I standin silent cornerspondering wordsto awakensimple pebble as I amfinding myself in a sea of gemsonly wanting to sing their remembrance...
What timeand pressurehas createdin comparisonto this unrelenting bleedingmust stand i higher favor...
Mere musesare meant to servenot meant to rulein the court of the silent nobles...
So I watchI stand asideto let life unfoldin greater bardsand nobler creatures...
These hands were never meant for sceptersnor will any grace wash away the bloodthat has been spilled...
So I make my way to the deserthoping somehowjustice will rememberher home..
ODELET MEHOLD YOUR HAND
WORKS FROM THE YEAR 2010
Throughthe woods
© Henrik Jespersen and Luchessi Montecillo
As you enterburrowingpast my defenses
Past sweet smilesfrozen silencesand futile attempts at escape
know this...
That every victoryevery inchof meyou conqueris a piece of my lifein your handsthat I struggle to keep
And I wishI wasn’t so scarredfighting this surrender
I wish I wasn’t bruising from the inside outand hardeningfrom the outside in
But what will I doonce you’ve torn throughthe mazepast the face of the womanI have becomeand find the little girlI used to be...?
conquest
I don’t assume you’ll love me forever
I have no illusions of being so grand...
What I knowis simplybeforeand afterthe fact itself...
This moment is ours
But beforeand afterwhich existoutside of this
are like wavesbetween two distant shores...
I can only perceiveyour statemy eyes receiving signalsthe mind attempts to process the feedthe heart like a drumbeatinglike bulletsclashing against paperthin senses...
I deconstruct the imageof what wasto see you nowfeel you nowand walk from here...
I am no oracle
I see no certaintiesno mapsbut paths carvedby networks of intent
possible outcomesfrom what iswhat wasform a general pointon the horizonof what I seeas time
From herethe closest I can arriveat certaintyis stilljust here...
Certainty
On
I am a biological androidphysically crafted by natureto trigger stimulus, approach and response...
I was given senses to view the terraincognitive tools to process the datathe result being my choicesactionsas reactions
responses to stimulusresponsesthat are either confirmationor rejectionof inputto which I director withhold my output
I can choose my outputbut any input registeredwill trigger an inward responsewhether expressed or not
such is the mechanism of my existence
Once one action has taken placeanother will inevitably resulteither inwards or outwardsor both
It’s a quarter to 2 in the morning and I can’t sleep
My man beside mepeacefully snoreson my left
The cat purrstucked around my right hand
And I feel like a refugee in this peaceful scene...
As we lie hereside by side
There are politicianssneaking food out of our mouthsand time out of our hands
As we lie here
My little brotherslumbers in his bedhis soldiers uniform hangs on the chair
My little sisterlies newly wedat the age of 22As we lie hereand I long for the peacethat is painted on your very face
A cold chill runs its course down my spine...
As we lie here
The walls around mescream into my very flesh
the streets await our stepsthe clocks await our stampsthe banks await our checks
As they do countless others...
Tomorrow we will riseand I will paint the image of courage on my face...
BlunderThe android
She watches youwith eyes as deep as teacupsand the spiked smilefumbling and scrapingfor golden platitudes
The well known scentof latexand mourningbeershas long since burrowed itselfbetween the hairsbehind the portals of consciousnessand laid itselfas a haloof lusty deceit
Fingers draw circles
in the air with tots of hairon the neckaround the slit at the pushed up breastsand the half open mouthlobbying for thousands of empty, worn promises
Eager, limp fingers
smearing sticky toiletpoetryacross my retinaswhile the beast withinhowls and tears at my insidesunderneath the mask of stillness
I quietly back away from youto hide the claws behind my shadowto escape the words pushing behind my teethand the earthquakes threatening to shatter my chest
THECANNIBAL
I want out
from this sorrowthis female betrayalplanted like a stilettofrom one woman to another
I NEED out
My body begins to gasp for the nearest escape routeaway from this cannabalistic crime scenewhere I can bury these thoughtsand let them bleed out into the dead of nightwhere no one bears witnessto this silent murder
I meet youAs your reflection...
The dreams of your youthThe endurance of your spiritAnd the women before usSpread in my veins
The raging bloomThe pangs of creationThe flush of time steeredSearing to the core
I wear our legacyWith pride
Mother...
You’ve laid down the bow and arrowThe clocks are rustingBut I
I say
We riseWe rise
With heartsStrengthenedBy battle scarsMinds quickenedWith passionWith painThe furyThe peace of creation
Mother...I am....
From the aching womb
Mother...
You carved
From fleshFrom tears
With quivering hopesThrough the struggleFrom tired handsWeary young feet
And gave breath...
To these eyesBurning with the willOf women past...
Created my existenceVesselThe soundOf my name
The badge of honorTo carryTo lift your burden...
Mother...
SisterFriendPantherRunningCoursingThough my bones
I riseI rise
AgainAnd again
A daughter’s suffrage
THE STUDENTWe are all apprentices of lifeunborn philosophersattempting to solve the equationof our purpose
We become scholarswhen we let go the assumption of certaintyand ask what is possiblewithin the reality of our lives
We become participating scientistsexplorersconquerorsof our own limitations
We move forwardand the empirical studybecomes the resultof our fate and purpose
FromEve
I love a working manwho like his many fathers before himtends the house of his family
Faithful to his dutyhe takes his timeto serve his rightful conscience
And when he returns to mehis eyes are tender with needhis body bruised beneath the skin
A true son of the earthHis broad shoulders carry the weightof our common battle
The shackles on his feetwere made to close his eyesfrom the beating of his heartto tie the lamb to an altar of gold
© Ikola Artworks by Rene Krogh and Luchessi Montecillo
It’s a man’s worldand as a womanI say
As your daughterssistersmothersand lovers
We love our men
As they riseevery morningAs they toil the land
Transmuting sweatfrom brows to crowns
As you standas men on the battlefieldwith bows and arrows
Remember this
that we stand at the frontlinein your heartsin our hearts
Conjoinedinterlockedto remind youwhat you are fighting forwhat we fight for
Life
Transmuting from your toilwe carve the historyof your legacy
Remember what we are fighting for
Fatherssonsbrothers
What we fight forwhat we are dying foris your heartsthat you may remember your honorand return home
We fight for your lives
For life
We loveto soothe the beastand make hymnsof the drums of war
You and IOne and zeroday and night
The ones are never brokenbut sleepingin the fever of your tempest
THE FRONTLINE
SEEDSWORKS FROM THE YEAR 2011
© Ikola Artworks by Rene Krogh and Luchessi Montecillo
ARISEWhat is ready?it is time for the exchangethe ancient rites of passagethe cycle of ancestral passing
Light the candleshonored mothers and fathers
You’ve paved the pathbless these young feetwith gods speed
We’re willing and ablethe dust awaitslet the grave not take the world arising before your very feet
Your eyes grow coldas the blood slowslet us quicken you once through these our eyesreborn before the twilight
See the dust before you arise
Arisethough theseyoung feetnew worldthrough theseour eyes
Let the night not take youbefore the light embraces you
Arisearrive
This world is to become my design
I am an apprentice of lifegazing upon the starsthe godsthe eyes of fateold wisdom raining down from the sky
They are my teachersancestorsfathersmothersthe pantheonthat dreamed me into existenceand through their passingthey breathed me into life
Illustration “In between” by Luchessi Montecillo
APPRENTICE
The consciousness is a self-constructed illusion There is only life and deathexisting and non-existing
To claim lifeone must relinquish desirewhich is rooted in suffering
Suffering is the fear of lossand the speculation of gain
I have abandoned my fearto learn of caution
I have lost my strengthto understand resolve…
REALITYILLUSION&
“Perspectives” by Luchessi Montecillo3 piece acryllic painting Consisting of 80 x 60 canvases
Dear Adam
We were born in darknessbefore knowledgein some state of contented emptinessentwined in a faceless dualityneither halfnor wholeneither lackingnor completeand outside of all time
Then came night and daydarknesslightthe beginningand the end
embodied in this breathing clockworkcounting the fragments of the immeasurableconfining by definition that which is limitless
And so we were delivered into this linear polarityseparated by birth from our selflike broken light reflecting endlessly
hollow faces peer into the nextseeking to break the chain of progressionand return to the undefined nest
TO ADAM
Illustration: “YouMeUs” by Luchessi Montecillo
In the vast oceanbetween you and I, Love
where nothing becomes everythingwhere everything becomes nothingwords are a gilded cage…
Words are limitedby the perceptions of the mind that speaks themand by that of the mind that receives…
Measure the depth of the oceanits endless abyss…
Conceive its partsdiffusing into the void of space…
Feel its ebb and flow rise and then subsidein its vessels…
You and I are vessels….
Bodies of water…
Where do you and I end and beginin this sea…
WE AREAN OCEAN
I’ve heard that faith moves mountainsbut I as a child of new timeshave seen the echoing shadowsof empires that rose and fell
I’ve seen the face of man through the massand the flag of acquiescence raisedin the name of temperancetrading the meek for the proud
I’ve seen rivers of bloodspilled unto retinas of the young and the oldI’ve seen streams of liquid sorrowspilled for the living and the dead
I’ve seen the beauty of life dissectedgambled, tradedand spilled unto the desert sands
There are no innocents we are all parts of a greater sum...
WATCHER
You and Iwe arethe whythe other
Between life and deathlife being the equationdeath being the completion
Every lapse in timea process of elimination
1 + 1 = 0You and I
We…
In time outside of framesthere is no you or me
1 + 1 = 0
Two silhouettesclashwindbendmergedisappear
The conscious division invertsinto a primordial merger
You and I becomes weWe becomewe disappearin the embracein timein the next form
1 + 1 = 0 I am the tenant of this abodeIt is the manifest of spontaneous realization
I existAnd in knowing this is the challenge
The prize was won long ago…
But what to do with such a gift…
Creation is in my graspBut comprehension is more than physical…
Physical is a temporary sum
TEMPLE
Illustration: “Keeper” by Luchessi Montecillo
We are standing at the junctureof history repeating
Those who have come beforesee the times as they have always beenThose who have arrivedsee the times as they could be
What has been and what could bewhat will beexists as one singular pointin the present
Time does not passit is not limited by our existence
Our existences are limitedand we project our limitations unto the common consensus
LETTER TO MY UNBORN CHILD
I wish I could tell you what the world ishow it has always beenand what will come of it
But the fact of the matter isthat I am not your sovereignyou are mine
I am your servantand you are the echo of my dreamsthe sum of my actionsthe unpredictable ripplesof visions to come
What I amis the record of your comingthe mapthe tool of your fate
And youare the dreamerthat sang me into this existence
TIMELINES
AMALGAMATIONI want you to love methe way that I love you, need you, want you, breathe you, bleed youmoths to the flame
I'll burn on through the nightswrap my wings around you in bending wavesI'll be the milky way coffee taste stain on your lipsthe midnight spiraling staircase beneath closed eyes
your lucid operatoryour binary star-born siameseIf you can riddle me this and rid the equationwithin this dreaming mistthat is the dance betweenwhat we believe and what we perceive
I'll be amalgamation to the arrow that defies reason
When you and I meet...
The one invasivethe other obscure...
A collisionA mergerAn eclipse
Or so one might be taught to believe…
Two bodiesin each their orbit…
They do not rise or setThey do not compete...
They dance…
The sun is fire explosion expansion scorched earth…
The moon is rock reflection regulation swelling tides…
From the EarthI see with the eyes of a child…
It is not the sunnor the moonthat rises and sets…
It is I…
Time dances in circlesand is constant...
You and Iare dancersmade in the imageof unfathomable constance…
THE DANCE
One reason
In the vastness of space
One point in the obscurity of multiplicity
To findTo be foundTo be revealed
The path is an inward journey
My vision is incompleteOnly when I close my eyesDo I reach
1 + 1 = 0
Makes the sum of the equation
Through the maze of myselfIn the maze of the other
The solutionA procesA question that must answer itself
1 + 1 = 0 Pt.2Do not let life in
Remove yourself from the weight of existingLet substance be substancein all its inconsistency
It is the way of naturefor all things to pass
And sowant nothinghold nothingbut be empty
Be the endless nothingthat exists in the between
ENDLESS NOTHING
Eyes open10 am11 am12 am
She gets out of bedbetween the mirror and the windowfacing each otherthe sun bouncing back and forthin and out of the room
He’s up
in the kitchenthe music plays in the living room
“I’m the kind of girl that likes to take it slow and easy”
“One step at a time boy you’re moving to fast”...
Black jeans slideover one leg and the othersilver buckles rustleas she makes her way to the mirrorlooking into foreign eyes
He turns up the volume
“One step at a time boy, you’re moving too fast”…
The bass pounds through the wooden floorthe sound from the speakers pass through the wallinto the bedroombehind the mirror
Bare chest and feet clad in jeans walk into the bathroomtrying to remember the nights dreamfingers splash water over sleepy eyes
Beyond the bathroom wallin the kitchenthe faucet runsthen the sound of glass and whirring of a machinethe smell of coffeelarge feet dancing
Brown eyes look into a mirrorfingers tie black hair back into a ponytaillittle feet walk out into the hallskin and wood form scraping steps
Two figuresspot each other through a mirrorat each their doorone largeone small
Blue eyes meet brownSun meets the moonopen eyes and smile exchanged like a handshake
The volume turns downthe bass explodesday and night spin around each other
From minutes to secondswords tiptoethen crawl over fencesand leapclashing into frontlines
Music turns to silencehands become headrests, handkerchiefs, banners and flags
Silence becomes musicMusic has never been this loud...
MUSIC
The forest is dense and dark
The moon is fulland the stars bear silent witnessto the ritual unfoldingfar beyond the reach of their light
The deer staggers
feverish anxietyguides quivering steps across the mossy floor
A crisp snapwith the muffled sound of rustling leafsmake pupils of liquid resin dilate into vibrating black holes
The shadow of a two-legged tower crouches to the groundlistening for a distant drum
The hunter halts
Bow and arrows are fastened around his backthe remains of slain conquests cover his shark-like form
His hand touches the groundscrying for the location of his preythe slightest movement, vibration, resonance
The nostrils expandinhaling for for a vision that will guide his aimthrough the white noise of silence
Hunter and deerpit wit and skill against paperthin intuition
The night is youngand nature’s ritual game of chess is about to unfold
THE RITUAL
Illustration: “Deer season” by Luchessi Montecillo
We are usI am youYou are I
All is one and separateeverything in its placeto be foundto be revealedin the whole
What is an eternal mistlike a dreamsubjected to interpretationresulting in the physical
What is intentionState your purpose
Multiple directions form shadesbecoming the gathered reality
Black & whitebetween two extremestwo mirrorsone stream
Polarity becomes an illusion
Usthemmeyou
Form and function
Matter
The heart of matter
What is THE MATTER
Beyond formis substancebeyond substanceis meaning
MATTER
It is time to take up arms and by arms I mean hands pens hearts and intentions
How long have we been watching this horror of greed and manipulation unfold and when did we acquiesce to these ways?
Brother against brother sister against sisterelders against the nextwhile the anonymous watch the scraping for scraps…
There is no competition nothing to be won but our souls which cannot be claimed in the afterlifethat may if we are fortunate and deserving serve as muses in the echoes of future tongues.
Heaven can only be on Earth and in our minds the re-evaluation of our evolution is the revelation of the individual on behalf of the whole.
Our minds are the product the transcript of past in the present transitioning into the resulting realityand our limitations are the illusion
We are not alone but bound to the ties that are beyond description
WeAreUs.
We cannot make it on our own,and we will fail without each otherWho are you and where have you been?
We’ve been standing in the shadows watchingwaitingand it is time to speak from somewhere in betweenmeet eye to eyeexpand the definitions which are mutable by nature
We the people are the shapers of this illusionThe structure is not set in stone but built on sand and there will never be a law or a will beyond the power of consensus
TAKINGARMS
I believe in the wisdom of the Tao
I have no need for buildingscongregations or prayers to feel it
It is in all thingssilentlygracefully
I need no titleno landno goal greater than my purposewhich is to seek the Tao
The paththe way of naturewhich cannot be mappedspoken or read
The Tao is the Taofar beyond my reasoningThis body is not mine
It is simply the form of my usageIt is not a prize and cannot be won traded or lost
It is my templethe result of my actions
It is the expressionthat defines my understanding of time
I am naked and emptyIncomplete
To be made wholecan only be by the hand of the Tao
So I lose myselfto see myselfthat I may meet the mystery and be complete
TAO
Writing is my attempt at escaping and meeting an end
All roads lead to consequenceAll consequences require reflection
Words are not actions Actions are not resultsImages are not truth
The most beautiful lies hide the most ugly truths
How the flowers bloom in peaceful resilience
How the birds soar in defiant grace
The trees do not killThey merely reclaim lost fruit
“FRUIT”
BOXBLACKWORKS FROM THE YEAR 2012
© Kasper Dahl Finderup & Luchessi Montecillo
Giddens and Ziehesay we are culturally liberated…
It means that all ties to cultural heritagegender rolestraditionsfamily structuresare merely another choice…
Giddens calls this the democratization of relationshipsor the pure relationship
It means that we are only as bound to one another as we chooseOr as long as there is a use…
What is the heart…?What is love…?
Sartre and Camussay that essenceor identityis found in choice
Frankl says essence cannot be soughtbut revealed in the circumstances of life…
What is choice…?
Freud’s psychosexual theoryMahler and the infant’s psychological birth
Erikson’s 8 phases; growth vs. inhibition at every crossroadan eternal cycle
Riesman’s social identities according to erainner or other-directed personalitythe lonely mass
Narcissismhealthy and unhealthy
Choices…
All fingers pointedat every juncturein one directionthe only destinationis me...
Psychological moratorium
That’s what Erikson calls a breakA mental leave of absence to rechargeor change the tideof the inevitable eksistential frustrationthat occurs in the age of youth
Forming an identityin this worldin these timesor just at this age
It isa challenge
Identityhas becomea social constructa political debatea religious wara philosophical dead enda constricting equation
Is it enough to beDo I have the timeCan I spare the timeCan I make the timeCan any time be mine…
Gardner’s theory of 7 intelligences
Mathematicallinguisticmusicalkinestheticspatial
And most of allIntrapersonaland interpersonal
Intrapersonal - the understanding of selfInterpersonal - the understanding of others
Can Gardner’s emotional intelligence be measured…?
PSYCHOLOGICALMORATORIUM
Birth is an eternal bondThe world is one living entity
War is polarizationConsciousness is benevolent neutrality
Meaning is inherent in existenceExistence is love itself
Meditation is the art of understanding and mastering self
Peace is a meaningful composition
BLOODLESS
WARSPlease...
I am begging youto look into my eyesand take my hand
away from the ghostsyou fill your heart your mind and you body with…
They cannot hear you...
And I knowlike sirensthey seem to sing promisesof a lost paradise
but I am hereright nowbleeding for you
Come back...
Rememberwhat is still here
Forget the love that was wasted
Bitter regret will never offer you warmth
The arms and smiles of strangersthey will not cry for you if you are gone
I’ve seen your lightand I’ve seen your hell
I’ve cried in silence for your loss
I’ve torn myself open to quench your thirst
I’ve borne the weight of your hatred
I’ve watched you stray into packs of wolvesholding your handchoking back the screams
what greater vow do you want?Is it not enough...
All I ever wantedwas to show youthe beauty you’ve missedwithout and within
They are still herewaiting for youto come clean...
COME CLEAN
As I am speaking to youwe share this physical spacebut I am one fragment of the worlda world contained within myselfspeaking to other worlds
I cannot assume your conditions
I can senserecognize evaluate ponder interactbut I am not the world within you
WE ARE
LIKE CELLSWITHIN THE SAME BODY
WE AREbodies of waterFILLED withCONSCIOUSNESSThe mind is like a rite of passageour mazein which we toy with the fabric of existencemultiple timelines converging at a single pointwhilst we delude ourselves into linearity
LIFE IS nowTHE UNIVERSEis NOWtomorrow may not exist in this form
We are not here for ourselves alonewe are not here by our own will
Nature is beyond our feeble attempts at subjugationand she is running out of patience
CONSTANTLYINTERACTINGpermeating each other in our endless separation and unison
All that separates us is an outer shell
WE ARE BODIES OF WATERStudies show the effect of the mind on the structure of water molecules
INTELLECT AND INTUITIONWhy do we praise the intellect so?
If I were emptyI could be molded as it were fit
would it give you more peaceif we were neither happy or sad?
Should we eliminate all discrepancies?
What is normaland what is an anomaly?
I can hypothesizebut the shortest distance to any destination is action
Speaking of peace does not bring it aboutSpeaking of oneness does not rid the individual of ego
The dismantling of the egois an individual process
Individuality must be subjected to the illusory extremesof norm and singularitycontained within the single mindto create the fear of losing self
Self exists regardless
But what the self is…
Is the self how we are perceivedis it how we ourselves perceiveor is it both and a third
Reality differs from one to the other
THE FEEBLE MINDKNOW NOTHINGi
Beneath these watery mirrorsat the foot of winding stepsthere is an old treebathed in the dew of dawning days...
From this treeas we lay beneath the branchesI saw flowers bloomwhite as the full moonI heard the grass whisperlike gentle waves...
And the petals did sightowards the earthcovering uslike the feathers of a dove...
I picked you a rubyin a midsummer night’s dreamand placed it on the hearthwithin my ancestral templein the hope that you would read the prayerinscribed on the doorto the inner sanctumand enter...
RUBY
DREA
MS
Reality...
The very definition is:
“the state of things as they actually do existrather than as they appear or may be thought to be”
“In a wider definitionreality includes everything as it is and has beenwhether or not it is observableor comprehensible”
“Or everything that has existedexists or will exist”
It is a grand term to be used by an individualour feelings are not real by this definitionand so the question becomeshow realistic are we capable of being?
Obejctivity and subjectivityA balance between the two is the goal
Introspectionthe self has to subject itself to the scrutiny of objectivity
A paradoxto experience subjectivelyto feel
thento analyseto objectifyoneselfrattionalization
For what purpose might be the question
Understanding my fallibilityis the first step to cultivating what may be deemed as identity
To confess my limitationsis attempting to pass through the nexus
REALITY
We talk incessantlydebating back and forth about the meaningthe definition of love and lovemaking
Despite what you think I actually do love you as who you arenot who you think you areor who you want to bewho you wish you werewho you used to be
I mean you, you, youwhen the party’s over and the crowd has goneand you argue with yourself about the smallest things
I don’t tell you enough, I knowor i don’t tell you in the way you wantbut from the bottom of my broken heart I wish you knew
No explanation could ever be enoughI have no excuses for my flawsthe only thing I care about is what I keep coming back to when the chips are downlove me, leave me, set me free
but don’t tell me I’ve tried to do anything but make love
I just want to love youand what you find a mysterythe sum of my actionsis a screaming conclusion in my experience
I could write endless dissertationsto convince youjust as you try to convince mebut we’d be stuck in limbo
try as we mighttrying is not succeedingit is in the doingthat can’t be found in words
In silencea smilea kissan embracean open declaration
I write you poemsbecause the meaning gets lost in our everyday conversation
A fallible beingwith shaky hands
I write you sonnets, ballads, hymns, prayers, petitionsshouting from rooftops like a madmanwhispering in dark dingy cornerstrickling from my wrists like sweaty moonshineand you don’t have to drink if you’re not thirstybut why pick the cup if you don’t like the drink?
MAKING LOVE
EYE OF THE BEHOLDERThey say beauty is in the eye of the beholdermeaning beauty is found in the subjective experience of the one perceiving
Perception is a combination of the subconscious and the conscious
There is primal impulseThere is social and cultural standardThere is rationalization
The experience of beauty is beauty itselfThe beholder is both sender and recipient
Purposeintentionsubstance
Beauty is in the perceivers understanding of these
The cycle of progressiongeneticcultural and hierarchal inheritance
they are maintained by our fear of changeour fear of failure and our fear of success
We are deceived by cognitive associationstrapped between theory and practiceideal and reality
Freedom is the abilityto realize choiceFate is the designof consciousness
PROGRESSION
LIFE LIFE LIFEOne and only
childish as it may seemwhat can i say I’m a romanticliving in the age of rationality
I’m the the fool who climbs treespicking flowers on the side of the streetthe words “I love you”3 words enshrinedlike crimson pearlsdrink themtaste themfeel themif you want them as much as I can givehow much can you receive?
Somewhere in the mistI feel you behind melocked inside my clockworkahead of me in timeas I inch my way through this thing I call consciousness
You’re a memorya dreamm.i.a realitylost in translation between my words and my actionscoursing through my veinslike some fluid deity
Life, life, life
I am yours until the end of timetake me, mold me,let every atom quiver to the tune of your willand let them diffuse into the vast nothingnessas I spill out the broken odes from my vocal stringsyou are my song, my dance, my loverthe drum that beats in and out of tunethe invisible writer that traces his stories in folded ink on my face
You are my longingreflected in the sea of multiplying facesthe lump in my throat that would loosen if I could only kiss it away
Somewhere behind the barrier of fleshyou sing me arias, petitions, declarationsof beauty in decayyour awesome mystery in plain view
Because in this metaphysical eden which is the place I come fromthis feeling that birthed me laughing into this worldI have nothing to lose and everything to win
0 is my numberO is the sound of the universe beginningand the only way out is through the way I camelaughing singing dancing crying and screamingas it was in the beginning so it shall be the rest of my days
I’m a crossbreed heathen to all faithsI pledge my allegiance to the muse of inspiration
The pen is my only flag and I will not rest until the red currency searing through these arteries have paid their dues
Love is an army resting in the bosom of every living creature
And those who love are the only soldiers fit for any cause
I’m a sinner in a man’s worldand I think I’m starting to like the tick tock soundof my biological frame shaped like an aerodynamic hourglass
They say history belongs to the winnersbut I love being a loser if the incentive is rightand by right I mean the right kind of wrongthe kind of wrong that means following whatever makes me feel like smoking
You won’t find me on the corner selling what I’ve gotor buying any high other than the natural rushthat priceless tingle that makes a double x chromosome turn from pale to flushed
I’ve got everything I need
And although my pockets are lightthe intonation of my thighsas I close my eyes surrendering to the heathen rhythm of jungle beatsI know I’m too rich to bow to anything but the deep sigh of conquered defenses
It’s a joy and a relief to forget the illusory maze of wordsthat intellectual cage in which we define masculine and femininestrong and weak
AN ARMYLOVE IS
I’m a dandelion in the breezeone of a billiona proud dimeshuffling timethe stuff life is made ofto fashion wingsof some naive dream
Freedom is freebut the piper likes to playand I live in his domainpulling stringsbehind the curtains of the mundanehis midas touchstretches from a tower of ivory
It’s a dance of chess between whitsand he promises green pasturesas he parades me barefooted on concrete streetsblindfolded I ask him where we’re goingas he hums a familiar tune grinning knowingly
Little girlwhere have you beenhe swirls me aroundeyes as wide as the gates of lifetill the change falls out my pockets along with my keys
Hands tie around my waistforking up the sidesto the back of my neckcaressing and I feel his breathwarm like the monsoon on my facethe smell of pine hits my lungs like a clenched fist
Easy goinghe croons me the words like a mantraa little bit of honey makes the medicine go downa little bit of honeybut why the taste of ashes in my mouth
Tell me strangerwho whispers so intimatelywhere are we goingand what do you want from me?
THE PIPER
Life as a speeding bulletblood as flowing time
The heart is the beginning and the endThe pulse is a silent melodytransmitting in sonic morse
The music fills every spaceEven in silencethere is no emptiness
We are singular strings in the eternal wave
Love is a frequencybeyond definitionit exists unconditionallyand on its own terms
Life is love itself
LIFE = LOVE
The heart finds a wayAll questions and answers meet at this point
There is only one loveand it exists within the self
it takes nothingasks nothingit simply is
COMMUNION
I let go my burdento discover my destination
Thankyou for the gift of lifeIt is my holy communionand my one director
It is where I am whole
Life is a journey
A swerve of momentschoicesflickering before my eyes
I cannot predict the futureI can live in the nowand I can chose my memories
Beware the means of your searchThe truth cannot be found outside of the self
External influence and stimulusmay overwhelm the sensesand mask the intentions of the self
Stimulus as escapismboth pleasure and pain
Forget the known...
To be the line between extremesdismantling the judgement of experience
To let go of knowledgethat which is good and evilthat which is finitethat which is life or deathand simply exist
We are form and functionWe are not sovereigns
THE DECEPTIONOF STIMULUS
When two eyes meetwhen the vision emergeswhen I and Ibecomes 1there is only I
I cannot fight youit would be denying my self
I have to travel with youthrough my own depthsand rememberwhat is reachingthrough the core
And when I seemyselfI will meet you
I and Iin different forms
Yes II will drink the saltand change the waterhere in meI will stand with youwhere the rain fallsto know what it meansto be spring
I AND I
One loveis neither naivenor ignorantbut the highest ideal
The greater goodthis can be achievedstep by step
We are on this journey togetherthrough all time
And this worldis our inheritanceand the legacy that binds us unconditionally
We are the onedivided into manyapart we will fail and fall
together we can learntogether we can do more than hopetogether we can acttogether we create the reason for belief
To gatherthe gathering is why we are hereand why we must persist
Because we are meant to perishand we have received the privilegewe owe it to our selfto honor our passage
Through the joining of handsin the pursuit of common interestI meet the divine in manand I gain insight into myself
What matters mostis not the flaws we all possessbut the love that is givenbetween the children of existencein our tolerance and our patiencetowards each other and thus our self
Creationis the one Godand the ultimate love
We are creationsand the goal is to become onewith creationand thus become creators
Mother and fatheryou were children just as I
You were brother and sisterfrom different branchesand I am your seed
Shedding your skintogether you became a tree
Man and woman1 + 1 = 0the ego dismantled
Masculine and femininewe are bothevery one
We must make 1out of both aspectsfinding our corethrough our extremes
Connecting dotsfrom multiple pointswe find the centerand become “I”
I and Iwe are II am we
We are the lastbecoming the first
Realizationis to become primefrom primordialto primalthen primethe height of evolutionboth individual and universal
From masculine and femininecomes strength and tendernesstogether they make wisdomthe treasure of all ages
PRIME