CARICATURES
typically
blaze
with light
a centrepiece
shaped
silently
swaddled
oftimes
disquieting
&
intriguing
vivacious&
synthesised
with
much
precise
elements
so remarkably
begins
a portrait
between
the
continuities
of the
shape
to
preserving
evocation
of the mania
of
passing fads
so
unsettling
&
aloof
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
a point is balanced by its empty space
contraction is balanced by expansion
gravitation balances space
mass balances energy
change balances continuity
irrationality balances 'pi-e-phi' numerical continuities
a numerical existence balances the mental illusion of 'change as time'
mass contraction balances energy expansion as/of a bubble of time
a slow burning candle flame balances wax consumption with energy loss
understanding is a balance between input and output
irrational time perceptions are balanced as/by continuities in/of mind
a large bubble is balanced by the number of small bubbles it becomes
no two things in existence are equally balanced space-times
a lifetime is a time bubble balance in a temporary space-time environ
a lifetime is but the balancing of a candle flame with its space-time
find a slowed life time bubble-balance continuity in an irrational lifetime
stans sand dust
What Are We?
When this question arrives
with increasing and sometimes
desperate insistence..
We apparently must suffer
until we dissolve
the boundaries and continuities
of our youthful bodies..
Frightening this can be
until we discover
the joy of being
transparent
transparencies in transparence
waves in water...
Hills roll for infinity
Meadows spring to life with surreal beauty
Grass covers everything like a sea
Spring is in bloom with spellbinding majesty
Spring eyes are green
They create this mesmerizing scene
The smell of honey feels the air
The secrets of life spring will share
Falcon has two hundred mile dive
Yet he is not a machine he is alive
Nature always for perfection strive
But at perfection it will never arrive
As smell of flowers awakens the soul
The beauty of setting sun it will console
The idea that on the dark side of the moon there is light
Fills my spirit with delight
Falcon to me is more
Not just a bird but symbol from lore
As its piercing eye
Looks through the azure sky
It reflects Eye in all its majesty
The Eye from all points of view is of continuities
Final absolute continuity
Its perfection from all echoes of existence what lets your soul to be free
They say April love is for the very young
This is the time that new flowers to life have sprung
When smell of spring gives air to the lung
And when colorful melody birds have sung
The cherry tree blooms white and scarlet
The elder bush delightful violet
The forest that was once silent
Is vibrant from golden sunrise to night color of velvet
In the forest there is small lake that has a special role
It reflects true visage of person’s soul
Above it the tree has mesmerizing flowers ornamenting it like a stole
On the tree there is nightingale singing song of divine soul
The song is beautiful but hard to understand
It brings to mind taste of honey and smell of moorland
The nightingale will sing his choirs as on the branch it will stand
The song has a way of people’s dreams to expand
Maybe the song sung by nightingale standing at the ledge
Represents consciousness’ other edge
Ultimate consciousness with ultimate having no reference point to continuities’ expanding edge
Only to its own written in stone definition which to follow the song will pledge
Ancient hierarchy of feudal beginnings
And unmarked signs of filthy storms
Spark a change in life’s continuities
Masses of horizons rise and fall incessantly
Through the depression of wet attacks
Altered Mother’s laws lie dead
She said she hated their quiet
So she shot them in their silence
And the drum beat on
Unnatural rhythms of nuclear proportion
Boil the tears engulfing existence
Plumes of black dread end advances
The antique dynasty approach is back into play
And the Daimyo of the sea has no longer slept
Reality has turned into national red dots
Blind incandescent fury of the globe
And unknown tomorrows
Are now forever drowned.
The old year is gone
You say
Dead as leaf fallen
Under a barren tree
Dead
And still mulching roots
Of new growing
Things
Dead and still
Nurturing continuities
A breast in the mouth
Of bitter hunger
No hand can remove
How is a thing gone
And yet remain
To corrupt everything
Every new dream is a fruit
Of old ambition
Every ambition
Has a stalk of pain
Nothing dies
Until memory is lost
And memory
Is not the frost
In the sun.
My order is disheveled
Contemplating time
The root
Of all mortality
While I
Like an old year past
Away
And be dead
When no one remembers
For the ash
Without the ember
Is dust in the wind
The forest
Fragile as love again.
The old year is gone
Dead you say
The river flows
And never comes back
In tears or in rain.
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