Member 2282
6 entries
16113 views

 RSS
jonathan.m.isbell
the quadrant of angles, US
Immortal since Jul 13, 2009
Uplinks: 0, Generation 3

metaevol
anarchitxt.tumblr.com
flickr
behance
vimeo
twitter
  • Affiliated
  •  /  
  • Invited
  •  /  
  • Descended
  • metaevol’s favorites
    From soCinematic
    TOWARD A SCIENCE OF...
    Now playing SpaceCollective
    Where forward thinking terrestrials share ideas and information about the state of the species, their planet and the universe, living the lives of science fiction. Introduction
    Featuring Powers of Ten by Charles and Ray Eames, based on an idea by Kees Boeke.
    From metaevol's personal cargo

    untitled 2010.08.30:0243
    red earth modulated, baked on stacked
    surrounds.
    the ground
    swell.
    from the dust came I.
    from dust to dust i stand
    brought and wrought by human hand.
    undulating tectonics
    swirling folding
    eating itself
    then tectonic wall.
    spanned and capped with tar.

    the planar terrestry
    was never enough.
    we wanted the stars.
    a tower we built.
    elevate the temporal corporality
    if not the atemporal conscious.
    from coop corp.
    communal freedom dies
    killed by collective unconscious.
    the currency of the free world:
    freedom
    is not what we have bought but with which we buy.
    and when our capital is spent,
    what then?
    why, we must buy it back of course.
    they say nothing comes without a cost.
    i say nothing comes at a cost, which is what we get
    at market value.

    when love is lost and never found
    when love was never known
    homogeneity cloistered and common
    individuality becomes
    le modular. unique in it's separateness,
    the illusion of the familiar. all lines bleed into one.
    there is no weight, no density, no differentiation
    only differential settlement, I am.
    i will settle no more. climb out of this hole
    I will. a hole surround. a fortress of internality.
    not to withstand from without. the deep dark well
    is not deep
    not dark enough. a hole in the sky, anchored to the earth.
    its not up but out, not down but in. sucked into the bounds
    of topography, we wash ashore, ebb and flow with wax and wane.

    i remember situations in which i had no consciousness. a prisoner in time and space. i don't want to talk to the imbeciles. they are blind. they see only forms, shadows projected upon the back wall of the eye. their hearts reverberate without resounding. the echo is lost, she calls on blind ears. deaf eyes. they know no moments, endless cascades of time wash over them like sea foam beating them senseless against a senseless floor. even the rock responds to water, and the tree it bends for air. invisible things before our face. we are amiss.

    we spin to face the sun. the air becomes visible in twilight. when minds of men are sleeping. they forget the transposition and call upon star to rise and fall, they are spectators in a tiny arena. a new day dawns without shedding light on the world. darkness surrounds us, penetrates us. I feel it, but our eyes have become accustomed to it, and yet we feel the surface like in the womb, never born, tied to tradition, inertia moves us forward.

    i am placeless, nameless, until you name me, you call me arbitrarily, and i do not respond, for you do not know me. where you should see only your reflection, it is in fact your image which stares right through you, for you are hollow, inert, a ghost without memory or place. nothing moves itself, and yet you move...what moves you? only gravity, which pulls you ever closer to death. you can never hope for a finish, and yet you have never hoped. you forget an ending is eminent, yet your have never begun. if you are lucky, you won't see it until it is too late. but most likely you will never see it at all. so build your walls, that you might occupy them, place your coffin in waiting, and dwell.

    my life haunts my dreams
    which become ever the more real to me.
    reality
    simulation
    which is the more real?

    brown stone black stone
    living skin covers bleach-ed bone.

    i redress myself
    let sleepless days pass silently
    till construction reveals itself in form.
    the waking mind in unconsciousness.
    wordless to the world. i am sleeper.

    Mon, Apr 11, 2011  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
    1 comment
      Promote (1)
      
      Add to favorites
    Synapses (3)
     
    Comments:


    gamma     Sat, Apr 16, 2011  Permanent link
    I though that your image was Saturn. I watched Saturn many times and my attention was adequate for reaching higher goals of meditative nature.
     
          Cancel