Silence requires noise, in which, silence prevails,
aggravates, becoming initiative.
I was born in darkness … stern, frightened, needing
consolation – miles through caves, arriving at dungeons, searching ether, to
heal parts of me.
Aesthetics made of dementia; art made of confusion;
growing into creation; finding location, zeal, depression.
Beauty and bestiality … thin, fragile lines … unison,
division, casual suits, fitted for no man.
Friendly neediness, unfriendly neediness, a soul desperate
for freedom, closed in boxes, becoming more of its agitation; walking morgues,
needing what one denies, edged, at a fringe, wrestling to accept help,
guidance, as far as love demands.
Traditional laws, rules, debating contemporary
dictums, postmodernism, deconstruction of values, long too disagreed with; mature
examination, fighting assumption, faced by principles, naivety, paradox,
contradiction.
Where to place color, woman, religion, science?
Is it a rule because it benefits to assert it?
Flesh in need of tolerance, social bed bugs,
theological isolation, estranged from feelings, asked to endure, by waves into
a different existence; preoccupied mainly, introverted naturally, keeping
silence, with many needing liberty.
Mental agriculture, under-silence kilowatts, emotion
as souvenir; puzzled along a leap—cashew skinned, middle roads, asking what one
can of virtue.
Walking a greater pendulum, challenged by science,
moving into it, as opposed to raw resistance.
Tiptoeing a spectrum, many more extremes, sensing
asymmetry in its balance.
