From the Horse's Mouth

a golden ratio perceived

Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on May 27, 2009

In the chaos of calls and chatter,

Amidst the unspoken assumption of agreed-upon terminology,

Experiencing the dissolution or distillation,

As symbols break apart piece by piece to reconvene as they Will,

We grasp(.)

like a blind man lost among mystic music of a psytrance dance party…

as babes that seek to touch without discerning familiarity from novelty…

with(in/out) Our Selves and Our Vessel…

a drip-down through the aether to prisms from the filters of the channels

with the splash of splatter color dances in tie-dye fractal glitter bubbles

Somehow our human (reptilian… “higher”… poet) brain

cREates

patte(/u)rns

in the Bedlam, Discord, Absurd, Limitlessness

Advertisements

Opal Obelisk

Posted in Dreams by theskinhorse on March 1, 2009

Within the overlayed worlds, in which we were unknown travelers, there stood an opal obelisk wrapped in glittering snow. A vision graced us with her story; a goddess who wept white flowers that sprouted dogwoods at our feet. Her story was as layered as our world, all chronology was twisted and lost, images slid along each other like oil and water. I found many visions of Our Selves moving through and with one another. We traveled dark roads, in vehicles, on horseback or on foot. A flutter of memories rushed through cool winds that carried an array of fragrances that found niches in my brain. There was a ship, sinking or frozen, suspended in blues and black. This was the image that hung above us as we stared up into the sky. A jolt hit, and we flowed backwards through the experiences, meeting the weeping goddess once again, as the opal obelisk.

She has been here more. The tear-filled eyes, her form wrapped in cool hues, her messages floating like driftwood through my skull.

Tagged with: , ,