You wake.
You go to sleep.
You consume a few particles of food.
You expel a few particles of food.
You go to sleep.
You wake.
You swim in a circle.
You consume and expel a few more particles of food.
You go to sleep.
You wake.
You hear a voice
Overhead
'Mom! The fish is floating upside down!'
You get flushed down the toilet
And eaten by an alligator
Edge Data converges the multiple dimensions of Multi-Media Productions aroused in the mind of SF/CA residents & of the World
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
The Whole Bowl Life
Monday, June 03, 2013
Somersault
A Work of Prose Poetry In Installments
A Collaboration of Light & Love
Ladies & Gentlemen,
I joyfully present
The 1st Web Installment of...
Wanting so much more in life, other than his 100k lifestyle
He feels his failure inside and squeezes it into a little pill,
Swallowing the bitter pill and leaving reality for a dream.
+++++
Here I am, looking out the window as the sun surfaces,
In awe of such beauty from above, traveling afar
On a venture to find oneself betwixt the mayhem – chaos
How I so long to roam this new road I now journey
I hear the bustle and commotion, as we now descend
The landscape below entices the desire even more so
As we now, approach land and I see my destination
I can feel the rush of the adventure, racing passionately
How it seemed forever, so distant, the dream I envisioned
Time has now come, to initiate this new course of action
All my earnings spent away, to live, as I have never dared
Breathing now slowly in – out, as the plane slowly descends
The
wingspan of a Aeroflot Medium Distance passenger jet is 27,8m. Falling
from the sky // plunging from the atmosphere // forensics will finally
decide it was a glitch // in transmission, from the Navicore 870 cpu,
which caused the turbines to stutter, then into the turbine was sucked a
large-ish predatory sea fowl // whose bones became stuck in a flywheel
// attached to a centrifuge // that centrifuge was spun by a rubber belt
// re-enforced with fine stainless steel cables.
It so happens, that upon the day the molten steel was to be poured in the module, at the parts foundry of Bangalore, the head blacksmith was attending an elaborate Hindu funerary ceremony, in honor of his friend, who was killed in a terroristic explosion at the ashram which, subsequently, took the lives of 123 souls, at final tally.
Giuseppe
'Lucky' Frantellgio called in sick to work this day [the day of the
somersault]. Unfortunately for us and the lone surviving passenger, as
Giuseppe would always, always, always carry a pair of binoculars and a
digital camera around his neck, as he trekked his path, checking the
circumference of the Mt Riglettoni Tree Farm, as part of his daily chores.
The medium passenger jet, en-route to Lisboa caught a down draft and pitched its left wing into the very peak of those beloved mountain (3777 meters) before commencing to turn wing-over-wing, down to the base of the aforementioned incline.
Though
not as famous as the Gran Paradiso, the bottom of this mountain is an
enchanting spot where five rivers, three lakes and two valleys meet.
This, indeed, is one of the most fertile spots in all of Italy, if not
in all of the Mediterranean. This, however, is a privately owned
mountain on a privately owned island, which has been property, for the
last 1300 years, of the famous Marini family.
+++++Let us trying, as it may seem, examine the wreckage, to find what remains of her passenger.
+++++
Larissa Marino never thought that life could end in such a cruel fashion
She could not believe what was happening, as commotion surrounded her
The screams alone were petrifying, how destiny could lead her to this moment
As the plane plummets from the sky falling far off course of what would beLooking out the window, she takes in all the beauty coming into view
Sadly thinking it would be that last thing she would see, on this journey
At least she made it as far as Italy, with the courage of something new
She hears an explosion, just before she loses consciousness
+++++
To be continued….
+++++
Copyright © 2013 Philip Pope / Lucy Martins
All poetry by Philip Pope / Lucy Martins are copyright protected by International Copyright Law, the use without written permission is illegal. All Rights Reserved ©
Wednesday, May 08, 2013
Zero Victim Status
Yes!
This is written to YOU
Neither gender nor scars
Dictate these words to you,
All of you
(the humble & gullible;
the fiery & guilty)
For the very first time,
you notice this child
isn't a child at all but a wise
soul choosing not to be
a victim of any particular railroaded solutions.
You've seen him before,
walking along the river or across the seashore
at the foot of the coastal mountain range.
How could this be?
He must be at least
as old as you are.
Spring, summer, autumn
Out of the corner of your eye,
you can't help but notice
Jesus Christ is healing the blind and raising the dead.
Since all literature is literature,
you notice every phonebook
is a bible and every prayer is a song,
written from the very beginning
of time.
This is written to YOU
Neither gender nor scars
Dictate these words to you,
All of you
(the humble & gullible;
the fiery & guilty)
You saw a young child wander down the rail lines.
Overhead, a flock of sparrows shoot across steel gray skies, pursuing a suspected American crow.
There is no train coming.
You cross the tracks gently,
you think,
to save your shocks,
taking a quick, calculated glance at the child,
further down the tracks,
under the cloud
of warring feathers
For the very first time,
you notice this child
isn't a child at all but a wise
soul choosing not to be
a victim of any particular railroaded solutions.
You've seen him before,
walking along the river or across the seashore
at the foot of the coastal mountain range.
How could this be?
He must be at least
as old as you are.
Count it out the native waySpring, summer, autumn
Spring, summer, autumn
How many have passed?
Very Deja Vu, that.
At the intersection, a crow flies towards the ground
to tear at some dead thing, molded by the tread of a semi-rig.
Time flies and the crow flies
and the light changes.
You take a right
Out of the corner of your eye,
you can't help but notice
Jesus Christ is healing the blind and raising the dead.
Since all literature is literature,
you notice every phonebook
is a bible and every prayer is a song,
written from the very beginning
of time.
The skies open up.
The rain comes down.
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