HOLOGRAPHICON

Periodic pulses of alternating current

Ongoing up to date in circulation
Prevalent in the instant of the mainstream

The shade has elapsed down the corridor
Like an umbrella being drawn at the dawn
Once again we've spun away from the Sun
While being captured on a leash, its pawn

For the time being coming undone
Divining the state of the moment
Reallocating while now on the run
Heading off the revolution to foment

Periodic pulses of a domineering sequence
Continuing on through with its transmission
Frequently in the alternating exigent current 

Perfectly ubiquitous and transparent
The fish reflected in a curve slip by
Each one a former adherent
To being one scale in a suit of armor

Softly drowning lullaby
Bubbling under a viscous bay
Slippery when wet at the seams
Dreaming of finding the way

Through the slipstream we're nosing
In between sheets screaming to the wind
the Fall of the Circuit flashing exposure

calming in a sense we cannot pretend
achieving a true sense of erasure
we feel beginning here at the end
along the course of developing pleasure

the Empire of the Opticon
Saturnalia of all the rulers
As seen throughout the sprawl
Apparent to all of the users

We're plugged in to the holographicon
A delegation of representatives
Who have nothing to do with each other

Micro Chip (Monumental)

art by Prince Satyrn

 

Under the ridges of unfurled magnetic
schematics working their magic
in collective tides.

Rendered beyond the fringes
of the world stalking the tragic
on their retrospective rides.

Hallowed be thy presence
in the crowning wake of an eternal
sunrise on the other hand.

Of darkness let the rays cast down
be reminders illumination
may come from the obscured.

They say you have never seen darkness
like the one in the cave
who betrayed the light.

A blue jewel droplet forms for the one
who enters and then escapes
back from the void.

It is the smallest bead capturing
the inverted sky and mirroring
it in our own darkened eyes.

The multifaceted compound
eye of the panopticon
staring into itself
at every camera point.

Drowned into a yawning crevasse
unzipped along the stepping spine
of its own devising.

A factory's evolution
of reassembled parts
can never reach a fair
and balanced conclusion.

Sculptors For The Museum

I've always been thought of
as a really crazy boy
but now I've lost my noggin'
my favorite toy

They ain't seen crazy no how
til you know I've gone insane
There ain't no tellin'
What I'd do without my brain 

So help me find my mind
I left it around here somewhere
If you would be so kind
So I can reboot my software

A sympathetic hallelujah
a nod, a glance, a look
just an indication
we're in each other's book

Itself a collaboration
Woven of the moment
Strands of eternity
Building the past left
Behind as a monument