Letters to the Muse - Episode #2

BLaCK MiRRoR

3-20-2011

Dearest Muse-

So here I am tripping my ball's off in Possum Kingdom.  Eye drove about 309.67584 miles west; then specifically 5.7564 miles north to the lake.  Eye had to ask around, it is so hard to type communications to you at this point.  I am sitting on top of a hill, fire going and I am lit up on the inside.  I came out here to right, to get right, and to write about it all.  Things just haven't been right so much lately.  The will just releases itself unto the most beautiful experience, it is all some sort of metaphysics, all of it.  There are waves upon waves. Wind speaking to the wind.  Out hear you never really know what time it is, but you also really know what time it is not.  It comes through you, it takes over you.  All the greats just automatic right. Right.??   At least that's how this story keeps getting told.

I came all the way out this way to bee with you, only because I knew I would bee without you.  I mean; I knew that I would find you in the wind.  I knew that I would find you in the camps smoke whipping about mine dayglow eye.  I know that I would find you in the sounds, all the notions of the night.  All creeping about me; and you make me smile.  Mine eye smiles from east rise to west you set together a place for us, just shelter away from the annoyances, just a place for us to lie to one another for just awhile, to lay there awhile- just with you.  Just with you we would lie; here under this universal sky. And we would begin our dance listening to the external sounds, dancing to this nights call.

These kids round here totally fucking kool.  There are all these kids up here while I am peacefully tripping along.  This ruckus bunch of kids came round and they began their dance too, and the skies opened up, the walls all came down on to this.  Where it is hard to blur the lines between the here and the now is also where the worst interpretations just splatter all of the over the place.  But these are the muddlings of the moment; here you are and you are not- you have become the meta experience.  Within  these meta experiential fractalizations, even the most random of wanderings can become art.   Eventually you just look like you are some really weird dude typing away every experience as it is.   Every experience as it is will undo any recognizable narration. 

Letters to the Muse - Episode #1

BLaCK MiRRoR

3/16/2011  3:16AM

Muse-

So this is the first time I have written to you in this way.  It has been awhile since you boiled my blood to write.  Then was a different time.  We were connected in the old ways, flesh and bone.  Now only the passing dream catches young men's eye.  Some of us are past the wisdom of the young; only our heart remembers the song...but we still continue the march towards this empty.  Sometimes there is nothing else two do.  Maybee that is why eye heard your name whispered on the tongues of the in know.  Whilst beers and shots cross o=ver the bound swirling into the dance of collective numbing rituals... your tale was spoken.  Eye didn't hear much mind you; but always remember eye have scouts strategic about.  Inn this dream you are still right here betwixt us all.

Apparently you are all still in flame.  Fiery Goddess writhing and sharp.  When do you think all this might settle and kool towards more chance encounter.  It was you that visited me in my waking thoughts.  Eye so believed the curse was benign; that eye had thwarted the serpent's kiss, but still soon your poison engulfs my vision...and eye sea your face and hair tossed unto the wind.  The dark scrawl was still upon your brow, but at the time I thought it an invitation.  For luck and maybee a bit of foresight, eye did not act upon my first inclination.  Deep inside eye still seek your connection, whether it be false or filled with the precision of a moments truth...eye still listen for your whisper.  Your chants reached mine ears this morn, but your trap was eye NOT snared.  Within the reflection of this mirror becomes the grove of thorn.  Eye shall walk around it and converse with you on the other side; if you wish.

Often all eye seek is the simple discourse.  To share and understand through common fluidity can surely build ones strength.  To sit and  reflect in purity might stop my hearts beat.  It only makes sense this foreign war we wage.  Across land and air we traject our worst cause. Surely our game is understood by only the most depraved aspects of our reflection.  Our darkness must be met by uncomfortable invitations to parties where we are the entertainment...and later after we leave; we become their joke.  They gawk and lurch amongst the most ungrateful crimes, but we also have our punch.  Such noble birth and tax bracket hordes often shit out diamonds and nuggets of gold.  Of course they try to conceal their excrement, but we were taught to dance the Gypsies clever hand and to distract, deflect, and then pocket the change.  Hold in all the gold pieces till out the door and down the way we count up our spoils.  Those nights are how eye chose to embrace your silhouette; amongst the cold night we swept away with the kings crowned jewel.

Stay on fire if you like.  Eye will go back in time and recall past symmetries; while waiting for you to kool.  I will hear of the stories and piece them together into thread barren blankets.  Eye shall travel this week.  Away eye am stalking a time to disperse and inebriate into invisible colors.  There are large parties happening down south, and eye wish to find a golden experience. Eye wish eye could find you there but eye know you are not even real.  You are the elusive siren's song.  One day eye wish to crash amongst thine shores and claw out mine eyes to the pitch of your call.

Until Then-
BLaCK MiRRoR