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UnspokenHow pure, your being.
Misfortunes like drifting snow,
And still you are warm.

When grey packs of misery
hound me, I picture your smile.

My familiar,
silence. A shadow dancer,
the partner for me.

Why bother questioning?
He dances flawlessly.
On The PodiumThe art of conductivity
as the maestro explained,
is that the man with the baton

serves as a lightning rod,
earthing intuitions from god.
Mirror
Motionless, the pool
has trapped the vault of heaven,
spread before my feet.
The Ladder Of JacobJacob dreamed. Though we may know nothing about what kind of man this father of patriarchs was, the record of his dream has been preserved. We have no way of knowing if this was indeed ever a dream that a man experienced. The story has him traveling alone, so artists have portrayed him. In the ancient text he settles for the night, resting his head on a stone.
As he sleeps the vision unfolds, he sees a ladder that reaches toward heaven from the earth, a ladder by which angels are ascending and descending.

He hears the voice of god, so he believes. The god tells him how remarkable he is. We might understand this vision as an allegory of his
Mutations
Existence in flux,
on the edge of becoming
or ceasing to be.
Ladders
The rungs rise and fall,
the direction is decided
by the starting point

so the climber discovers:
The way up is the way down.
CadenzaSuppose each one of us older than the stars,
suppose that we are other than the ragged beggars we seem,
suppose that our engulfing slumber, our inner darkness,
is constantly erupting with the vanity of dreams.

Consider those uncounted aeons swallowed in the oceans
of that virtuality, where we, the ever drowning mariners,
must cling to the absurd shapes we call reality.

Will we, unknowing captives, ever be free?
Has liberty become our cage of captivity?
Oh yes, we writhe, our nakedness become despair.
as our frenzied touching reveals that nothing's there.
Pioneer
The power of flight
begins with a child's fantasy,
the world left behind.
Air Force Revisited.
Flying fortresses,
dense enough to deflect light
yet insubstantial

Water drops suspended in
the high, thin air, wind sculpted.

(Originally:

Flying fortresses,
solid enough to impede light
yet made of nothing.

Water drops suspended in
the high, thin air, wind sculpted.)
AfterwordFunerary goods
always include coin to pay
the ferry man's fee.

What if we had always been wrong,
If none waited by the river?

The end of the line
had ever seemed likely
to leave the traveler

abandoned in empty space,
no hope of resolution.
Stranded 2
The end of the line
had ever seemed likely
to leave the traveller

abandoned in empty space,
no hope of resolution.
Wilderness
A moment, unowned
it seems. In Siberia,
maybe. Winter sun

etched pale on a glass plate,
mysterious yet empty.
A City Augustine Never Dreamed OfSuch strangeness stalks these dream haunted alleys and lanes.
At noon the city's byways still remain submerged in subterranean shadow,

sunk in a motionless reverie. No creature stirs, Within enclosing walls
murmurs, even cries might be heard, were there any curiously listening.

The sun vanishes abruptly. The day ends, precipitating all the activity of night,
the sensual argument of the drum, flares providing erratic, dancing light,

and shadows whirling suddenly like dervishes, across the crumbling plaster
of close packed walls. The alleys seethe with the flesh of strangers,

lives that pass too close to each other, remaining unrecognis
The Perspective Of HokusaiThe great wave surges from the left. The image is frozen as the great tower of water crests. Slicing the mountainous sea, three fishing boats in motion from the right, are threatened with inundation when the wall of water must fall upon them as the wave breaks.

On the far horizon the snow-capped peak of Mont Fuji can be seen, tiny, against the momentary bulk of the wave. Yet and boats are necessarily transient. The foreground is full of the challenge of survival, a moment in the struggle that passes fast into oblivion. The mountain, that appears so small, is wrapped in its motionless tranquillity, its snow mantle dazzles the eye.

Close to,
Crushing
No space for spirit,
the crushing weight
of anguish, of pain.

Yet release is within reach
If the prisoner lets go.
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More from *AlecBell

Airily
Too much sacrificed,
I refuse to play that Ace!
He must pursue me,

If he can rise through thin air,
if he can float at my side!
Unreachable
 Does she feel anguish?
Isolation cannot be shared,
it locks her away.
Nights Fantastic1

He should feel secure,
what lurking trouble could mar
his serenity?

Until dawn dilutes the night
insomnia holds him tight.

2

So foreign to me,
I'm attracted by your dark eyes
that mesmerise me!

I'm ready, immerse me in
your voodoo intimacies.
After Life
Hollow cranium
- an abandoned cathedral,
a meaningless space.
Willing FleshFlesh the means, spirit the end,
yet still the unintended. While deep
embedded in the pulsing rhythms
of the body's routine life, it transcends
physicality, flourishing in realities
never imagined before. Spirit is the key
to unlock the heavy door, to make
the great discovery of joy.

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March 20, 2012
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Hypnopompic

:iconalecbell:

A key too rusted
to turn, a door once solid,
now rotting away.

As sentience stirs again,
the dream's images decay.
:iconalecbell:
A commentary on Enter by *chryssalis

You can see the deviation at full size here: [link]






An hypnopompic hallucination is a vivid dreamlike hallucination that occurs as one is waking up.
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:iconhailstorm13:
*hailstorm13 Apr 13, 2012
very good my friend!!:clap::clap::clap: !!! :worship::worship::worship:!!!:iconwineplz:
Reply
:iconalecbell:
*AlecBell Apr 13, 2012
I'm pleased you think so, Drako
:iconcheerplz::iconlovepowerplz::iconheartballoonplz:
Reply
:iconhalcyonshores:
*halcyonshores Mar 28, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
A powerful write, sir. :nod:
Reply
:iconalecbell:
*AlecBell Mar 29, 2012
Thank you :iconbowplz:
Reply
:iconhalcyonshores:
*halcyonshores Mar 29, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
My pleasure indeed.
Reply
:iconhermetic-wings:
*Hermetic-Wings Mar 24, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
Athina is one of the most powreful artist at DA according to me...And her beautiful image inspires many things to all of us. But your inspişration turned out so well dear Alec. Thanks for sharing :hug:
Reply
:iconalecbell:
*AlecBell Mar 24, 2012
:iconnewhugplz:
Reply
:icontricias:
*TriciaS Mar 21, 2012
:clap:....Brilliant commentary Alec....!!!!:wow:
Reply
:iconalecbell:
*AlecBell Mar 22, 2012
Thank you very much, Tricia! :iconlovepowerplz:
Reply
:iconalapip:
*alapip Mar 20, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
naughty-naughty! you rhymed the
tanka part with the haiku part, Alec!
but, i like it... ;)
Reply
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