Prismatics

But, whats this?

The once calm seas are churning.
Alas! The final tower light has been doused,
what can we see?
and we let our eyes wander.
How does an eclipse move?
Without a thought for its own survival, it is undefined.
The senses can not discuss it, locked into a brief notion of presence, as opposed to a thorough understanding of absence.
Shades dance along the ground, an advancing army filled with equal urge towards retreat.
Maybe in passing, things are further understood, surrealized and imprinted abysmally deep inside.
Then left alone, doomed to be forever forsaken and forgotten, now only an isolated subterranean memory of what used to be, somehow smothered by the overwhelming need for prismatic cognition.
The colors have fallen!
it is upon us, and it has consumed our broadly beloved earthly lesions.
and we let our eyes wander once more.
We lay stille, pondering the only question that is.
How do you analyze the ambiguous? Bound the boundless?
That definition -we need it-
That idea -we want it-
That idealogy -we will have it-
yet we have nothing, the immaterial continues to escape us.
We are many,
Our eyes no longer wander,
They Scorch the Earth.

And now it is done...
Freedom for the truly nocturnal of mind,
or body,
or spirit...
No longer to be stung by the wicked sun's wretched rays!
Oh, my sweet envelope of twilight,
blanket me in your liberation,
relieve me of my instability, my insecurity
my insincerity.
Hide me, cover my bright eyes with dark pitch
let me see the celestial truth.
My soul now in your grasp, I needn't fear dawn's revealing light any further!
We have conquered Apollo my sweet,
Now Who Dares Challenge Us!?!

but where are we?
lost in the deepest sub-octaves of the worlds ringing ovation.

I have been radically shocked and burned,
but who...?

My own imagination!?

how could she do this to me...

Sometimes I let myself drift,
continentally consumed with my own minds eye.

Winter sends its swift whispers,
and the golden glint of the sun's tide isn't satisfied with surly silence,
oh no,
he must break it once,
so we find ourselves dissolved into the vibrations of his herculean roar.

Let's avoid specifics and let a relative generality enshroud us.
Oh, why does the world wander so?
Ashamed about aiming at children,
their precious essence may not stay quite unharmed.
Looking at the truth through a sniper scope,
is it less real?
is it more symbolic?
is it less alive?
is it more violent?
Life! How dare you lie to me!
I was once a world shaper
now...
now even my thoughts are shaped by someone else.
But I still may create,
for even doomed into insignificance,
I will always stay

With complete lack of insincerity,
Your humble word shaper

In order from top to bottom pictures are: "The Prismatic Practice" by TwilightAmbiance, "Prismatic Ocean" by Sepha, and "Seasonscape" by alexiuss, all were found at www.deviantart.com

Inspired Reflections

Busy for weeks and then sick... my content has been a little thin to say the least.

Here are some thoughts created during the process:

All I will say is that everyone has their brushes with darkness, their spots of near insanity, their moments of emotional break, I think mine are no more or less Trajik than anyone else's, because subjectively what can be worse than the worse thing we have experienced? I have lived quite a life to this point, and along the same lines, I have discussed many things dark in nature.

What causes you emotional distress? It cannot surpass the joy of life. Passions clearly show a connection with life and the spiritual, emotional and social evolution. So what could make you challenge that connection? Ask these things to yourself...the fear of life is not worth death.

To conquer that fear oh what glorious triumph! How challenging it may be, however, trying to deeply understand a fear which will evaporate at the very end of understanding

Humans are animals like anything else, we have needs, emotional, spiritual, social, physical, is one of those needs not being met? Push to be surrounded by the people that meet those needs and satisfy those thoughts!

Oftentimes, a confidant alone is enough to take a deeply unhappy person and transform them into someone who steppes forward and challenges themself. One who is unafraid of making the necessary changes so as to be satisfied with their life, and henceforth motivating themselves towards their own spiritual, physical and social self efficacy revolution.

Conversations with a Muse

January 19 8:52
You were right and I should have listened to you.

January 20 at 8:53am

Well I'm glad to hear you have seen the truth of my all powerful mind!!!!
Was our speak of high tides and happy tidings?

January 20 at 8:54pm

It was about your sagacity in regards to hope-truth dynamics, oh wise one.

January 21 at 8:55am

My mind fails, flutters, falters and sputters when attempting to remember the memory of this chance discussion we had.

And the curiosity, oh it inflames my soul.

January 21 at 8:56pm

Before I divulge the full magnitude of my quagmire to you, I must say I bow before your loquaciousness. You are the zen tzar of verbosity!!

Can you explain things with your immense wisdom?
You don't need to talk about those incestuous birds and bees.

Today at 8:57am

Ha! That gave me quite the giggle I'll have you know. Incestuous birds and bees :p! How did you find word of mine own study of such acts?
Anyways... Yeah I believe that I can understand, appreciate, and empathize with your situation .

Just imagine having the world rest in your arms. I wish atlas to be with you for the next couple weeks ;-(

Jus' 'Orrifyin Ain' it?

Lucid as Liquid

The Pyre of Lucidity burns its bright civilized light into the retinas of all those who oppose it. Posted atop the tower of brilliance (Tallest man-made structure in all of AmeriKa), what other message could it even be sending?
The shadows that radiate from the tower seem to be almost as brilliant as the Pyre itself. As if Amerika was actually brandishing her almighty powers and telling all the citizens of the world "Follow mine own light, for if you should not, you will face being swallowed by the haze of my penumbra."
Any aurora can be occluded, any gleam in the eyes, smothered, sparkles and glimmers doused... but how can obscurity be obscured? How can darkness be quenched except, not with the supplantation of itself, but with the complete materialization of brilliancy.
That Pyre!! What Evil!! What Crime!! How can I ever live beneath the glare of its abusive corruption? Ha! Lucidity indeed...better to call it sanity, for in this way, my quarantine of said light reduces me to what I have always been guaranteed. Not a connection but the opposite, an insane isolation, my own expression of the light as a beautiful and overwhelmingly disconnected tomb. I accept mine own exile, forever sheltered in this tomb of my forefathers. Though the beacons search, they will not find me, for I have promised myself this one solitary thing...
The next fire that illuminates here will be in form of a pyre indeed, a funeral pyre.


Love,
Haci

My New Page

http://illicitmuzik.blogspot.com/

I have decided to create a Muzik Blog!

Yes dear chaps, with the coming of the New Year I have made one, little, ill fated resolution, to write more.I would love to have your support there as well :-). With new ads, some automatically updating video content and many musikel works to come, you'd be missing the next hottest things not to subscribe! Plus I actually hope to get some videos of myself performing something pretty, maybe even one of my own works:)

Happy New Years to all, and to all a goodslight.

With Love,

Haci

Muse of Salzti

by Craig Shields

Photo manipulation can be very beautiful. We can sand away normal reality and get some of the strong rich tones underneath.

Today is one of those days so this is gonna be one of those posts.
or maybe two of them...

I am happy to see that people have been reading and enjoying my blog :-) I hope it isn't confusing for you chaps, it is the way I like to orchestrate my thoughts. Sometimes I don't think it is the writers job to fill in all the gaps, the reader enjoys it too.

I'm going to dissect this second, this instant in time, to see what is made of. Does it have a leafy green center?

Sigh

it seems with the arrival of the sisters my muse has left me.

for another day.

love,

haciendo

Mitolo

I have been given inspiration by calliope[1]

Millennia later, they are appearing. We see the muses re-awakenen, and its only natural to wonder...

who's next?

It could be anything, the Greek Myths were wonderful, inspiring, and...
True? Well as true as they could be, humans embellish anything if you give them enough time.

Will the Gods return?

Calliope's gift to me is one that will be tainted by desire. I know this because Melpomene[2] knows this.

What is this darkness?

Sitting beneath a sea of red, beautiful words trickle from my mouth as if of their own volition. But as I sit gazing across these slopes of human emotion my words transform, transfigure, transpose. Death, Despair, Dismay, I find myself entombed behind the high walls of legend.

From whence came this darkness?

The deeper I stare, the more rich and complex the language that pours out of my mouth becomes. Cycling through accents, emotions, brogues [3], dialects and inflections of every kind, its easy to disappear between the cracks of meaning.

Why all this darkness?

I can feel the wind blowing my surreal and ever flowing hair.
Storm clouds gather and forms like dark nether
sprout from the sea.

Fate has declared we must wait for despair,
a current in the ocean,
a stream in the air.

My message has been delivered, so I think it is time to leave this place.

Resist your fear

Who is the darkness?

the sisters are here...



FootNotes
[1]In Greek mythology, Calliope ("beautiful-voiced", also spelled Kaliope or Kalliope, in Greek, Καλλιόπη, pronounced in English /kə'laɪəpi/ ka-LIE-oh-pee) was the muse of heroic poetry
[2]In Greek mythology, Melpomène (Greek Μελπομένη, pronounced /mɛlˌpɒmɪˈni/) ("to sing" or "the one that is melodious") , initially the Muse of Singing, she then became the Muse of Tragedy, for which she is best known now.
[3]A brogue is a strong dialectal accent, notably in Irish dialects of the English language. For example, in the folksong "Finnegan's Wake", the character of the song, Tim Finnegan, was said to have a "beautiful brogue so rich and sweet".

Where is the Wah?

I'm going to put distortion pedals on my life.

Sometimes, doesn't it seem, like the tone is...

just...

a bit...

too pure?

Lets Add Some Overdrive!
lets add some chorus

We're not being sensitive, we're being creative

Turn Up The Gain!
turn up the reverb

Reverberations by *justravelin

but now its time for some smooth jazz baby, so lets take it all back

All the events of your life echo over each other, like a song with infinite delay... but some of those memories fade out. Delay is never infinite...

Take a ride on the major scale, bend your blue notes to make them sound real blue

The delay is still on?

Lets have some nights where you cant remember everything at once...its...all...broken...up...the drugs have just turned your memories into an arpeggio...the chord form all broken up.

You have to have the majors and minors, I mean shit, some of them even sound good together!

Happy and sad have become concurrent, what is this world coming to?

Can't drop out of key, but sometimes its good for a lil change.

Lets pump the fuzz, distortion and wah to its peak, blow the speakers out and teach the world to speak.

JetSet MegaCollab 2006 - Music by ~Vstyle

I think you can...just take a try
Jazz improv straight on the fly
Flamenco, metal, everything between
play the harmonics, find what they mean

I think you can...just try
Open your soul and let it pour from the sky

I think you can, just...

don't...

die

Love,

Haciendo

Creatismo

I am a child of change.

a child of revolution,

born of chaos.

Yep, it happens to be the way I am. See, I don't like when anything stays the same long enough to get boring... So what do I do?

Chaos Fractal by ~Gfx-Team

I alter it.

Most of these things start with myself. Drastic changes of image are in my future.
(p.s. and my past and my present)

but who doesn't change?

A very large percent of people actually don't, just take a look.

A world in motion is a happy one, stagnation is death.

Earth by ~Sphynxia

If I were forced to make a choice between being sent to heaven or being sent to hell, I think I'd have to toss my vote for the latter.

Why?!?! That just doesn't make sense though!?!?

Ah but it does, think of all the people I'd get to meet in hell.

plus...

It probably would be more interesting anyways, especially if heaven is filled with born again Christians. :p

No offense of course, I let my mind speak as it will for the sake of the art.

The art of what? Natural thought I'd say.

This statement is a lie, and you good sir, are a paradox.

If you ever have comments on my writing I would love to hear them, so don't be afraid to comment.

With love to all,

Haciendo

Acá Temblando

I am at war.

War with the geometry of space and time.

Need there be order? Need there be this little anachronistic trinket we call measurement? Is it only existent during its own self recognition?

Chaos,
I ponder on it more and more. Is it a form of organization in itself? Or is it the lack there-of.

Through process of sublimation, I have touched true beauty while lying on the hotbed of imagination we call 'the cosmos.'

Rich with color, Rich with flavor, Rich with error. Hiding, alone, the Dark rushes through my veins. I feel its form, I feel its matter. Losing myself is easy, its the finding that's difficult. I feel the epicenter of being, its far distant vibrations are devoured by my ever hungry soul.

Change, Grow, Mature, Improve, Comprehend.

Live

Love,

Haciendo