I dwell within a vault of seasoned pine,
Where cedar ribs trace curves of spine,
A cavern arched with honey-colored wood,
The quietest home a creature ever could.
Above my head, a rosette carved in lace,
Filters the daylight into one small space,
A golden circle painted on the floor,
Where giant fingers stretch and start to soar.
Then wakes the giant—sweeping arm and hand,
Striking the chords above this hidden land;
And every wire becomes a brazen beam,
Shaking the rafters of my hollow dream.
The notes crash down like thunder from the sky,
Making the air vibrate, the dust motes fly,
A tidal wave of brass and silver sound,
That pins me softly to the maple ground.
And when they rest their palms against the waist,
The roaring ocean dies in breathless haste;
I curl up warm beneath the bridge’s arc,
A tiny tenant sleeping in the dark.
In the shadow of the colossal sphere, where ancient echoes sleep,
Vaeloria fades into the dark, a secret it must keep.
The watchers put their scopes away, the screens fade out to grey,
As morning calls the busy streets to meet another day.
No scholar marks the turning tide, no profit in the view,
For men forget the distant stars to chase what is brand new.
They walk through cities built of glass, untroubled, blind, and proud,
Unknowing that the selfsame veil is gathering like a cloud.
The rot that choked the Aethel Sea now crawls along their strand,
An unremembered resonance that slips across the land.
As silent as the giant orb that hid the world before,
The shadow comes to take their home, and lock them in its lore.
An ethereal resonance
materialized.
A lingering echo beckoned.
His distant call vibrated.
Across the vast, celestial
architecture,
A whispered cadence
fractured through the gloom.
An unexpected, phantom
architecture,
Dispersing shadows in my
quiet room.
That auditory silhouette
suspended,
A vocal silhouette of warmth
and grace.
With every breath, the
quietude appended,
Illuminating all this empty
space.
It was a vibrant, sonic
invitation,
A gentle summons from a
hidden shore.
It sparked a strange, internal
inclination,
To seek the melody I once
ignored.
The squeaking trees
swayed back and forth
through the night
whining and aching
limbs snapping
and wind blowing
the structural wood failure
a tree begins to sway in the wind
typically a low deep groan
or creak followed by a sharp
pop and snap and ping
when the fibers began to
unravel and slit
the stresses of tension and shear
the fibers start to crack
the high pitched tearing or
ripping sounds
where fibers are being pulled apart
and fibers are sliding past one another
The boy leans against the emptiness of his world,
his sharp elbow inclined on the wood,
holding up the burden of a young mind.
His red vest ablaze like ember,
the defiant flare of youth,
glows in the quietude of the auburn ambiance.
The background configured in fractured patterns-
a slate curtain, an olive wall,
capture the space between his thoughts.
His gaze drifts desolate
into the realm of reflection
where silence congregates in introspection,
embodied in emotional resonance of color
and in innovative portraiture of impressionism.
Inspired by Boy In A Red Vest by Paul Cezanne (1889)
A word
declared to stand
without polarity
is then said to
appear as everything:
a nutshell narrative
declaring wholeness
lacking only a
flash of resonance~~
My soul is like a dark room in an abandoned house, where phantom piano keys still dance in the air. Where cracked and broken windows send whispering chills down your spine, yet welcome bird nests on dusty bookshelves. There’s foliage from thunderstorms that scatter on cashmere sheets where ghosts of lovers still lay & hazed mirrors on the wall that still ache for presence.
Every word we leave behind
Hums softly in the spaces between us,
Echoes bouncing off walls,
Through windows, down streets,
And into hearts we may never meet.
A laugh, a sigh, a tear, a whisper
All vibrations that linger
Long after we’ve stepped away.
We are threads in a tapestry unseen,
Knotted, frayed, yet intertwined,
Each story, each moment, a shimmer
That lights the corners of another’s life.
So, write. Speak. Feel.
Even when the world is silent,
Your echo remains.
And in that resonance,
We are never truly alone.
A humbling human crack
in every theological
God v Man
divine spirit v human nature
oppositional relationship
Monotheistic belief
in our sacred past,
religiously fine
but anti-polytheistic hope
desecrating Earth's polyculturally wealthy future,
irreligiously not OK.
Anthropocentric passion
and sacred love pleasure
cognitively and intuitively fine,
but EarthCentric dispassion
and organic life displeasure,
not cognitively or intuitively OK.
WE compassion
good-natured climate conservation
definitely fine,
but THEY dispassion
bad-spirited caste preservation
infinitely not OK
Cracks that whet
shared Light inside.
Waves in my brain
to your cliche songs they entrain
Background music in the store
It takes me over to my core
Others keep looking for merchandise
Or converse with each other to break the ice
But I sing along with nothing to prove
Just taken over by a nonlinear groove.
(chorus)
Waves in my brain like a tidal refrain,
When you can't think, the vacuum's the pain
I sing other people's words, can't think alone
cobwebs grow on a stalling stone
My cortex resonates to the rhythmic beat
I start dancing in the aisles, pounding my feet
It's like I'm under a spell by a witch
As my brainstem resonates to a higher pitch
The people with the white coats come for me
My shrink is puzzled, he just can't see
When your brain is one big empty hall
Music rules it, better than nothing at all.
They were right, I'm just an empty suit
So don't play that piano, guitar or flute
Thinking is hard, But I'm going to be brave
I'll find a way to make my own wave.
I hear the sound of clanging and banging from a distant source
Like an orchestra of metal pots that have fallen on the kitchen floor
which brings a ringing to my inner ear
then a low vibration comes as I stand still
This frequency happens frequently
transmitting a language I've yet to unveil
Creating a magnetic peace during its stay
One day I hope to understand the meaning behind it all
A tale probably woven over a thousand years
I hear the sound and listen in
The tone goes away just as mysterious as it came
As heading down the streets of Paris,
I sensed the guitar strings resonating the air
somewhere behind my ears.
Leaves fell twirling around as if,
autumn started a bit early this year.
The foggy road didn't allow any lights to pass through it
except for the one in the 'Scarlet Red' .
Was the nature romanticising around?
Or was it just my another delusional world dawned?
My heart became a bit tachy, skipping a beat or more
and the eyes just forgot to blink in the flow !
RESONANCE
Small words can always mean a lot
Whether they’re well chosen or not
Like items on a market stall
Believe me, resonance is all
Inspiration fits like a glove
When verses are expressing love
But sometimes it’s like bitter gall
Believe me, resonance is all
A word may just cause a schism
All beats have a certain rhythm
Like echoes in an empty hall
Believe me, resonance is all
When awareness has arisen
All that matters is to listen
Get the message and heed the call
Believe me, resonance is all
Maybe it's not what we think it is,
why you're having all these problems.
Yeah, you are on one.
It's our age that gets in the way.
It's fine.
Fine as wine.
Wine is better aged.
Not that I would know because we ain't on wine.
We're better aged.
On one is just a number.
Yeah, we're better this way.
We're better aged.
There was no room for her honesty,
words turned from a false narrative;
Witnessing the start of this sham
birthed a brand new breed of justice;
Bustling bonfires burn so brightly;
Stay and fight? Her prerogative;
She stole back a stolen rhythm
just to toss in shrewd resonance;
Gospel sung from her diaphragm,
uttered in such sweet defiance.
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