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There is a disparity in my light

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  There is a disparity in my light Clarity, I've learned, doesn't guarantee a smooth landing. While the core recalibration manages the internal mechanics, you eventually have to look back out the window and confront the destination. Looking for a new perspective and a striking contrast to normalised assumptions, there is an abstraction to sort through. The abstraction gives way to a jagged, real-world landscape. As the light of intention widens, the splitting of the universe is somehow centred. On one side, there is a blinding, geometric clarity . The sharp, glowing decisions are on the horizon. It slices into deeply set teal patterns of clinical acceptance. It is the architectural precision of a fully realised destination that is cold and uncompromising. On the other side of the divide, the residue of regret refuses to be neatly filed away. They are vibrant, bleeding magentas and crash heavily like a restless king tide that refuses to stop. This is the whole of me. I carry...

Obsidian static the puppet master

 



Obsidian static, the puppet master.

(Verse 1)

The crevice opens

like a silent, dusty lung

Air thick with minerals and a thousand forgotten years

I'm rappelling down the sheer black

into a chasm's memory

My boots crunch on shattered polymer

No sound but the suit's respiration

But the stillness is a stage

The jagged walls, they lean in now


(Refrain)

The Paraknowing

a cold spike of dread at the base of the skull

It’s not a thought, it’s a wave

Static buzz. Who's the puppet

and who is the master?

High-tensile wires disappear into the light

The tightening

the silent pull above the gully


(Verse 2)

The godly face, brittle stone work

It emerges, eyes blank and unseeing

But it broadcasts a sharp spike of loss and profound love

My logic stutters, snagging on the input

An effigy, a sentinel

or just a mirror

I turn and see the audience waiting

Small, white figures, balanced stone totems

They are all part of it


(Verse 3)

The strings pass through my wrist

Not from me, but through me

I move, but the choice is an illusion

My hand twitches, the stone doll jerks forward

A terrifying defiance of my own mind

The proscenium arch is high above

I am the instrument

The performance has begun

I yearn for the violence


(Outro)

Just stone, I whisper

False

The silence is expectant

The strings tighten now

Fade out on a discordant piano chord









John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett, is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger, YouTube, Flicker, Facebook, Instagram and Deviant Art

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Copyright

This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without the written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.




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