deeperception - a tribute

Faithful brush.
It paints over everything and blesses the disappeared.
The hair damaged and everywhere.
It doesn't care. We don't care.
It syncs with rainbows.
It adds more fun to there where missed is the sun.
And by colors blindly they live.
Loosing time and timing the loss.
Only colors left alive and curious.
To play the remains, to not betray the chaos that they left behind and forth.
In this madness the paintbrush was asked to live.
With the hair now damaged,
for the play was wild.
With the paint now dry and cumbersome.
It doesn't care. We don't care.
We paint.
Over everything.
Becoming anything but something.
Catching a spell,
for who may dwell,
in consciousness that spots
the knots into dots.

Comments

the power of saying

words that still break the silence. words that still break your guts when they can. when you can . when i can. cautious revival efforts stumble over the realm of possibility. have we ever existed beyond this spinning? the stars have brought the mad god back to earth. a shine above the long journey to birth. and some of us, like this digital ink, let to be. a hope that slips through your thoughts to nowhere and vanish. for all they have is a moment. the moment the moonrise meets the sunset. the first look. the one that used to slice their being. innevitable mastering of courage . for this moment they have known well. irreversibly bequeath of forbiddance loves the eternity between the imaginary and the feasible. the martyrdom of magnetism while losing yourself in space. we met an ocean that splitted us when time came for Chorus. it's time to bury our guns, to soften your eyebrows. to look on what we have done my fairy. look ...

Παγιδα μπροστα

Και να σου η τυχη, πανωφοριασμενη με καθε λογης ζεστη αναμνηση, καθισμενη επιβλητικα στη γωνια της σκακερας. Τιποτα δεν ξεφευγει απ'τα δυο της ματια. Ατιθαση αντιδραση κοντρα στην επαναληψη και στην αδρανη μονοτονια. Αρχοντισσα της ρουφιανιας και της βουρκωμενης φινετσας. Αγελη κυβερνα προβατων διχως να το 'χει η μοιρα της. Ξεροσταλιαζει καθε που βαριεται και προσταζει νεα παραμυθια με τον αυλο του γητευτη... Ταπι και ψυχραιμοι, ..μαγκα δε σου 'μεινε δραχμη...

the right foot

in moments of stillness where in favor is to spectate, inteligence arises and listens, captures the fruits of the past, coming to life, growing, in front of the eyes like the mirror, the undeniable, for the years will heal these days, but not the memory of the foot, cause it will always betray the foibles.

deeperception chronicles

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