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Midnight Sun
Of the Obsidian Sky
Wanderlust, wonder
Of the Starry Night
God of distant,
Alone in the night
Organic decay, igniting
compositions of astralgia
Alone, burning
With a touch of fire
Will
Bring forth,
Natural disasters
Rain drop of fantasy
Alone, shining
In darkness, in woe
Of Abysmal, surrender
Submission of the unknown
Morbid, searing
Cold and frozen
One thousand eyes
Staring back
Empty and sullen
Conscience of cosmic
Bewildered
In awe,
Of the midnight son
Blazing in the whirlwind
Cold,
As ice
Dense
Of the galaxy
Light of pure black
In dark ecstasy
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Into asylum
Don't leave me
My love
When I suffer
The vision,
Spoken thereof
Nostalgic
In astralgia
Frenetic Aesop
Tales of Luna
Folklore Mechanism
Of Aviation, asunder
Alice and the Mad Hatter
Mnemonic riddle
Written in the superhighway
Broken information
Daughter of forbidden arts
Painted grin scars frown
Drink and drown
In an ocean of stars, smile
My harlequin of hearts
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I am Jack's Painted Grin.
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Monday, October 20th, 2008
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Oh my dear with a lost smile
What to do in a cloudless night?
Shall one hunt the moon
And look for sunshine in the sky?
Deeper than blue despair, acid sigh
With a star sign shy
i. dream about flight
A delirium of mine
Looking through the glass with dead wine
Death and destruction of ego and mind
My desire, delusional chaos
and random destiny one acquires
with the presence of theory
A logical demise, the fury of meek
divine savage, primitively wise
This is a love letter
A quantum equation of high
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Thursday, February 14th, 2008
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On this day of hearts,
I gaze above,
Looking for stars.
Finding nothing.
But erratic, static..
Idiosyncratic beliefs.
Falling for love,
Hurt with a broken art.
My soul is tired.
I live in the dark.
And have lost sight,
Of my eyes.
Running.. out of light.
I am the eclipse and the moon
When the snake ate the sun.
Feed your head, indulge
Snatch the fruits of wisdom.
Save me, take me..
You are my cross.
Kill Destiny,
When you lead the lost.
My Muse who inspires,
Don't extinguish my fire.
Born of acid thorns,
I was torn from black roses.
To shed tears of stone,
In the hymn, of angels' voices.
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Thursday, January 11th, 2007
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She is as strong as the Sun..
A girl who called herself Space.
Time has begun..
And now I can't see her face.
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Wednesday, January 10th, 2007
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You are divine in my eyes,
More heavenly than time and space combined
Like an angel in the night
You came into my life and gave me light
My fire and my earth, You..
Take darkness from my soul touching the surface of my birth
My heart and my water, You.. the eternal
Infinite dance, daughter of the purple sun
My gypsy woman, innocent and evil
Virgin priestess, supernatural white lunar magician
A mystic fantasy, is it real or just a hallucination?
I'm a junkie, and you're my choice of poison
You're my heroin, pills, marijuana and ecstasy
My acid trip, the perfect hit, a cosmic dissociative
I'm addicted to your hymn, a song that plays forever
In my head, the dream and journey that never ends
It's a drug that's killing me slowly everyday
I die a different way, always stuck in a loop
In my thousandth death, I found hope
And see the only thing that keeps me going is you
I enter a trance, and look for a muse
Space angel flying free as leaves and petals in the breeze
My air, my flower and my moon
Doomed from the beginning, the end is coming soon
Once, I heard these words uttered
An omen of fortune, that love beats the demon
I guess it does, so I shall be conquered
Dueling fates escape lifetimes and worlds
Miss the final stage and welcome hell,
For I want to be reborn, with you as my angel.
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Thursday, January 4th, 2007
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The sun co-exists with the planets, stars, meteors and organisms in this known universe. Yes we do know and think we have figured it out. Everything there is to ponder and wonder about, time-space continuum, metaphysics and missing link equations. The truth is the modern collective mass has merely but scratched its surface. The sun, like our individual soul will die alone. It might have been created by various connections and links to different trans-dimensional algorithms, patterns and puzzles but through its existence all and every connection with anything personal or otherwise, will be severed.
The mighty axe of death, dream and destiny shall fall and flood the lands with spots that darken the light, and through its path might it leave tracks of radioactive abnormal belligerence. Blinded by philosophic truth and massively untouchable pride and ego, the ignorance of a self-central existence. One shall be hearkened by truth and lies, perception, position and point of view. If not, luck should turn fate on its head and mock predestined testimonies. The stubborn shall inherit the gift and those who are always open would permeate the freedom of stillness. Silent, still and solitary. The herald of cosmos and its proportions shall be stranded, stuck in a hallucinatory state, transcendental of problems.
My personality questions my own choice of past, future and present alchemy. Semantically, these loosely strung choice of words would be poorly accepted by the adoring public. Those that know and do know, show that hate is stronger than love. The anger that hides behind the shy exterior of oblivion shines through, trampling over the harmonic bouquet of peace. The fields of tranquility is always questioned in doubt. The honest conscience of a conscious presence cloud judgmental schisms in science and in art. And truly, what the word dictates now is letting go and letting schemes of blunted tragedy and glory blur into one big messy pile of thought and memory. Those who speak of ideas, speak freely.
In the legitimacy of my memoir, I end this somewhat hazy opium induced pseudo-opus with uncanny prose and manufactured simile. It's like the end of a heavenly body, sun, star, planet or lunar catastrophe. Similarly, I end thee with the same analogy in the beginning of the passage. Process by logic and elimination. The fire of our soul lives, through its strength by interpersonal connections. It was good seeing the sunlight when its ashes escape the moon's grasp.
I look at the open sky and gaze at the stars, wondering whether there's others like me in other dimensions and planets. The dream will never end, although the war is never over. My sun will live on and wait in anticipation, to die alone and come back to the ever eternal question that eludes us all. What is unity, should I come back to One?
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Dead Poet in your soul, burn the brightest star
Ancient hymn of chaos and gods
Run with me, we're going to the east
Come, and meet the Prince
The mind is wild inside of a trance
The government's orders, the slaying of lambs
Push you around, in spite of the whole
Wake up now.. we're almost gone.
A pastiche of The Doors (of perception).
Not to Touch the Earth,
See you in time, on endless space.
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In my last days,
With my final breath
I say your name
Gaze at your eyes
And feel..
I can no longer
Do any harm
Before I die
Until I burn
Into the sun
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How is conjugality related to the independence of the young and the erosion of parental control of mate selection?
By not being obligated by any type of hindrance, as opposed to having a predetermined mate selection process.
Matrimony for a lot of people, is considered holy, if not, a rather very spiritual custom. Not only
does marriage connotate intimacy between two people in a culminating degree of relationships but
or microcultural family purposes, it is a means to a meticulous selective process of propagating the
lineage of family. In the house of spades, the mirror image of hearts plow through the mass trance
illusion of space. The world doesn't change, time occupies space and we, as occupants of this
space move on. Life moves on, and it's people that change, not the world. To cope up with the
times, the collective psyche of a generation tend to relagate towards liberation. Being independent
and stable on standing on your own two feet is what we all crave, and if we're fortunate, someone
there to be with us. Freedom from obligations and authority, whether it may come from family,
friends or peers. The point is, we don't want anybody telling us what decisions to make in our lives,
specially not one where it involves spending the duration of your life's span and soul's abyssmal
eternity with a kindred spirit. The unity of two human beings is significantly high in the evolutionary
process of our race, regardless of sub-social differences, even for the benefit of our planet. Without
a proper conjuction of the double helix symbol in our DNA, the genetic strain of humans would not
have had the chance to become what it is today. Therefore, comparatively it is safe to say that this
holds true in the more primeval scheme of things. In simpler terms, we reap what we sow. They say
a positively nurtured environment produces a healthy product, as it is with anything else that we put
effort, attention and love to. Usually it comes out with a good result, with the process overseen and
pre-planned the details of which depend on its producer. As our society grew, world views revamped
and cultures divide, mate selection became a much more complicated process as opposed to the
primitive selection accustomed to the old old world of blissful ignorance, savage rapture and animal
magnetism instinctive to our nature. Marriage became a unity for the sake and benefit of profit,
security, and well human pride and dignity. The ego dies and is reborn under a guise of
preternatural courtship arranged by our parents and anscestors.
Naturally, what we look for is a realistic and more conservative approach for the future. Parents,
friends and family influence our decisions and usually want us more on the safe side. Having a
financially secure future, the stability of the family and a healthy relationship is the normal thing to
do. This is the thinking that's in most households and cultures worldwide. This represents the
strangle hold of external forces influencing our personal direction. In the course of this process,
people and most teenagers, the collective youth, decide to rebel and since their views conflict with
those of their parents, the house becomes a volatile case of wood and love. People grow distant,
children leave home, siblings fight and sides are chosen. This represents the erosion of parental
control as we move on with the times. Slowly, culture is being overthrown and revamped. Revamped
by the same off-spring of the old generation which chose to suppress and control our natural
desires. It becomes a cycle where the youth want more space and freedom associated with their
choices and lifestyle. If they can't get in the house with their parent's approval, they will get it
somewhere else, by hell or high water. Slowly, but surely, we reflect a hounding cry to times past
where freedom reigned and imaginary border lines were not crossed, but blurred in fantasy and
ecstacy. In the beginning, was chaos, and with selective process, and love it was unified in a holy
matrimony of sorts. When views clash and perspectives change, is it up to science or chance, to
tell our story? Is there a method to the madness? Nurture versus nature? Will we succumb to our
deep desires, or will we give in, to the desires of our parents and live "happily ever after."
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Dream shatter
Scatter brain
Rapture
Tragic end
Foretold
Never seen
If foreseen
They never told
Me, to be
My dream is shattered
Days have gone longer
My brain scattered
All in the ground
Some are left in the clouds
Some are left in the clouds..
Some of them are pushing me around
Some of them are punishing me now
Rain turn ripe
Right away
Raid the weak
Rape the strong
Right to aid
Inspire me please
Respite and leave me
Clear blue seas
The sun bleeds
Eyes
Despite the cold
Frozen tears
That burn your soul
And it reminds me
Of you..
Foreseen stories,
Gone and never told
Scare the truth
Truth is scary
Carry me enough
Are we bold?
We figure
And wonder
If we'll hold
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Wednesday, May 31st, 2006
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Love kills.
Love lives.
Lovers leave.
Lovers bleed.
No one dies,
Body is born.
Empty hearts,
Breathe in need.
Hide Away
Tears Kiss
A Cursed Gift
Secret bliss,
Tomb of Hope.
Together.
On the road
To Excess
Cease to Exist
My Flesh
Your Blood
Dead Flowers in the Mud
Stars under a Cross
Together.. nowhere.
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Seeing ourselves contained in the perception of one’s self-ordained
matrix of thoughts and experiences as we grow, I tend to understand how
we build up our personalities and character traits as to how we want to
be seen. This becomes a basis for how we communicate with others and
how we may be perceived. It becomes an issue of familiarity and in a
sense, we function best where we find the most comfortable environment.
To those people close to us, who knows us very well, they see glimpses
of our deeper selves when we use certain expressions. Some of which may
be usually associated with our behavior, and they piece together what
they get from these impressions. Like figuring out an eternal puzzle of
human emotion and experience, our actions and words act like little
clues, one by one falling into place, solving the equation of who we
are. They base their impressions on what we generally put in, and in a
way, it shows that we are responsible of how we are perceived and
known. And so this becomes an integral part of how we interact with
others.
These calling cards to our personalities usually are influenced by
something we may have seen in a movie we like, or read in a book that
really captured our attention. A well presented character that we
relate to, some vivid experience that we share in response to a plot,
whatever that may give us insight into who we are. I saw a film the
other day which reminded me a lot of what I went through at one point
in my life, living on the fast lane towards the highway to self
destruction in a hedonistic spree of an excessive lifestyle. At some
parts, in one of the conversations, a phrase or an idea that would
sound like something I’d say will pique my interest and with a wild
imagination, I’d emulate the certain characteristic and maybe copy the
scene’s presentation in the movie when I’m in the same situation. I
think not only with characters in movies but musical influences as
well. At one point in time, listening to the same song, or genre, you
get general ideas of its various moods and mental imagery, we get parts
of our musical taste blended into our personalities conveying a
demeanor closely related to our influences. The affinity for music and
appreciation to the artists who create them also plays a factor as I’ve
seen hardcore fans of a genre reflect their adulation by dressing a
certain way, acting a certain kind. Some even go as far as having
emblems and names tattooed on their bodies to symbolize a personal
degree of attachment to the lore. Shrines are built and a collective
reproduction of appealing manifesto and artifacts are collected in the
name of their beliefs. Mythological novels and legendary stories which
develop diverse cult followings show its impact when a whole group of
people unite in a cause to recreate the experience of a classic story,
whether it may be in social gatherings or actual role playing games and
festivities.
A lot of people would go to great lengths to express them selves. The
impressions they want to be heard and shared must come in a medium
ready for mass consumption. Of course we all want our words to echo and
last through the ages, to pass on to others and maybe somehow inspire
them as we have all shown to derive a lot of our personal salvation to
the inspirations we’ve had from certain experiences and influences
we’ve encountered in the past. We still do right now in the present,
and I’m sure even in the future, self-preservation, for the benefit of
everyone involved and the coming generation.
I think that it’s only logical for us to be more aware of what we say
and to keep an open mind when we hear or see other ideas that may be
alien and strange to our own. Say what you mean and mean what you say.
People are a sensitive bunch, and giving off the wrong impression when
we choose to freely express ourselves touch their nerves, even only in
the slightest realm of the subconscious, therefore it is wise to keep
it in moderation. We express and impress in accordance to our
perceptions and beliefs, a never ending cycle of the magnificent
machine known as the human mind. And expressing our thoughts and
experiences in honesty will definitely further the growth, of not only
ourselves, but society as a whole.
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"Too old to Rock? Too young to Die?"
At what point do we reach our limit? Are there even any limits to our
individual freedoms? Should we be acting our age as a part of our core
personality? Asking yourself whether if another individual is too old
to rock and roll seems like a moot point, to me it is all relative. I
don’t see why we have to judge or even mind another’s personal
business. Why should I even bother to care if someone on the end of
their rope decides to go over the limit past beyond the road to excess?
I know I wouldn’t like people doing it to me, certainly not when I’m
“too old to rock”. Living within the boundaries of limits hasn’t
exactly been my forte. I’m sure everybody is entitled to their own
opinion, when I say I don’t think there’s an age limit for people to
stop rocking, I may be speaking metaphorically. Although I agree that
there’s a certain point in a rock star’s career to call it quits when
the music’s over, I think they have a right to keep their pride and joy
and still rock, even just for themselves, locked in a room alone. A
reclusive swan song for the audience in their minds.
Time and time again I witness people seemingly overstaying their
welcome, sure I’d love to tell them to just stop, stop and do
themselves a favor and take the old pony behind the barn, pull the
trigger and end the show. A lot of broken fragments of music past are
still around, and some of them, if not most, is the reason music, as a
whole becomes stagnant. Like Metallica for example, legends as they
are, still continue to produce albums year after year, but without
their original line-up, the magic seems to have been lost in the
process. Somewhere in the middle, the metal legends who came to be
known as Metallica, became just another bunch of musicians who can’t
seem to know when their guitar is out of tune. In the same sense, I
liked them in their early years, and I’m sure they still have a strong
following, but it’s either they get their act together, or pack up, put
down the distortion pedals and leave the stage.
I like to think there’s a certain code of respect among people that we
must let each other feel comfortable and free, even if it may be
against our tastes or personal opinion. We can always stop performing
in front of life’s crowd and still do an encore for the relief and
benefit of ourselves. Hell, if it is what it takes to keep me content
and satisfied, then why not? Call me crazy, but I love to be free, and
most often than not, rocking without limits is associated with freedom.
Freedom to be ourselves at whatever point in time, even when there’s no
more adoration, or anyone looking as the dust has settled. We may find
ourselves still questioning whether age may have corroded our spirit,
but I guess only time will tell, if I can hold on to my soul and
cherish these brilliant philosophies and radical beliefs, my faith may
last and it’s up to fate, if I’ll last. Can my burning desire endure
the test of time? Is there something that may fan these flames that
seem so bright, and fresh in my youth? I don’t know, and neither do
you, and I think that’s what makes rock and roll as explosive and
volatile as it is. Unpredictable in its genetic structure, random
sparks happening in its chemistry, and when you think it’s over, the
beat restructures, cycles and just goes back on. And we as people, like
children dancing in the rain, innocent of all the troubles that plague
our perception of adulthood, enjoy the experience for what it is.
Childlike adults, irregardless of creed, belief, race and gender, in
the middle of a raging oceanic wave of sound and salvation.
I remember someone telling me that if you have your own limits, then
they surely are yours, for if you hold on to them, no one can take it
away from you.
We're never too old to be limited, neither are we too young to be free.
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Synesthesia occurs due to the cross activation of two normally separate areas in the brain elliciting activity with one another. It is a strange phenomenon wherein people who experience it usually relate an unrelated sense to a different one. A joint perception where one input causes two or more senses to seemingly blend into one flowing multi-dimensional output. That is to say their senses get entwined which results in sensations like hearing colors, seeing sounds and tasting touch. This phenomena used to be written off as untrue; scientists believed that synesthetes were either experiencing vivid memories, or just simply making stuff up. Some claimed that it may have been a childhood memory of playing with educational toys such as different colored shapes and numbers that may explain the number-color association. Others argued that it might just be a subconscious recollection of one's past memories surfacing to remind the person of a pleasant and/or traumatic experience, but wouldn't necessarily feel the exact same feeling, which can be attributed to the human psyche's cognitive ability. For synesthetes and critics alike, this leaves a gap between memory and thought. One may remember, but one won't actually emulate the whole experience process. Another widespread notion is maybe synesthetes are just metaphorically gifted. That they are merely being poetic when they hear a "roaring red" and see a "somber song". Given that our common languages are full of sense-related metaphors and words, concluding that every synesthete is a closet poet was unacceptable. Many also claim that the experience is easily obtained under the influence of hallucinogenic elements like LSD and mescaline. Altered consciousness coupled with a creative mind going into a transcendental state reportedly achieves the same sensations, maybe even more. Back in 1880, Francis Galton, a cousin of Charles Darwin published a paper regarding the phenomenon. Modern scientists have long known about synesthesia and its intriguing properties but usually dismissed it as a hoax, a product of mere curiosity or the after effects of psychedelic drug use. Recently however, scientists found reasons to believe that synesthesia is a real mental condition. Research showed data which uncovered brain processes that may account for synesthetic activity. These findings can help further investigate the inner workings of our brain, including how we create abstract thought and metaphor. In their research, the scientists claim to have stumbled upon clues that may help unlock the secrets of the human mind, maybe even give them a glimpse of how language originated.
While synesthetes often associate and blend different senses into one, the intertwining senses may differ from person to person. The triggers which cause synesthesia also varies, some may see a color from looking at a number while others may just hear or think of a numerical value and they'll see a certain color as well. It is also possible for a person who has one type of synesthesia to have another. A person with synesthesia may experience a certain taste when seeing an object or shape. Some people see specific colors when days of the week are mentioned, or the months of the year. To some, this condition might feel like a disadvantage but others don't share the same sentiment. The people who hear colors when they hear musical notes, remembers certain color coded chords which tremendously helps them when playing musical scales, making it easier. Certain colors vary depending on the person's perception, but usually it stays the same. If a synesthete said the number six is green, it shall always be green every time they see a number six, even if the six is obscured. And if touching a hamburger patty tastes bitter, it shall always be bitter. Unless other external circumstances like scientific tests factor in, sense and subject correlations shouldn't change for real synesthetes. The sensations aren't interchangeable, or else it wouldn't be real synesthesia. It is possible that certain individuals may have a different cross wiring process than others which may explain the different types of the condition. Depending on where the mutant gene in the brain is and its proximity, different forms of the condition may occur. There are two types of synesthesia; they are sub-classified as “lower” and “higher.” “Lower” synesthesia is when visual stimulation causes other senses to activate, for example, instead of seeing a black number 5 on a white page, you will see the number five in red. “Higher” synesthesia is driven by conceptualization, for example, the word Monday may cause you to see a hue of pink, or maybe even derive a taste in your mouth.
In 1999, scientists began tracking down the truth about synesthesia, is it just a figment of our imaginations or does it really exists? They gathered and evaluated volunteers asking if synesthesia really caused the colors to appear as if it was real, or whether was it just in the mind being projected as a memory. To find out if its effects are really perceptual, scientists performed tests called “pop-out” or “segregation” where you basically look at a bunch of slanted lines scattered amidst a collection of vertical lines. Sometimes these slanted lines are placed in a manner where they would form shapes instantly as you mentally segregate them to groups, separating the slanted lines from the background of verticals. Another version of the test is setting a certain color as a background while dots of a color different from the background are placed, if you are asked to look for synesthetic targets, they would surely pop out. In some tests they would show the synesthetes a large number five made up of little number threes, and the synesthetes reported that they would see the color switch depending on what they would focus their attention on. Administering these tests to non-synesthetes will easily confuse them, at the same time, the tests were designed for synesthetes to easily pass if they did really have it. An interesting discovery made about synesthesia was the consistency of the tests conducted. As expected, 90% of the synesthetes were able to identify certain shapes and colors hidden within the tests which further proves that the induced sensations are genuine and not made up. An experiment was conducted where the subject was told to stare at a small plus sign in an image that also has a number five off to one side, it may be easy to recognize the five at first but if the five was surrounded by threes, it would be difficult to identify the image instantly. The subjects with synesthesia said that the number looked obscure and blurry but it was a certain color so they were able to conclude that it was the number five.
A hundred years ago, it was proposed that the brain may have had an abnormal cross-wiring process which was hard to explain. It was a basic concept then, but now recent studies and tests prove these people do have cross activity in different, sometimes even separate areas of their brains. Understanding how visual information is processed by the brain clarifies this. A theory that has been assumed for many years is called “neural cross-wiring”. The cross-wiring theory states that when you experience a sensation, your body receives mixed signals from the part of your brain that is experiencing the transaction. For example, when you hear a number, it is processed through a specific area in your brain, according to Ramachandran and Hubbard this same area is responsible for processing colors, this may explain why synesthetes perceive both numbers along with colors. Brain imaging studies strongly point to the fact that visual representations of letters and numbers otherwise known as graphemes activate cells in the fusiform gyrus, while sounds of syllables otherwise known as phonemes are processed up in the general vicinity of the TPO (the junction of the temporal, parietal, and occipital lobes). Since colors and numbers generally share the same processing vault in the fusiform gyrus, scientists suspect that the number-color synesthesia may be caused by cross wiring between V4 (an area in the fusiform gyrus where color-information goes) and the number-appearance area within the fusiform gyrus or between the higher color area and number-concept area which is both in the TPO. Varied wirings of different sensory-processing regions may cause different sensations and effects which may explain the sound-color synesthesia because the hearing center in the temporal lobe is close to the area that recieves color signals from V4. In another case, the taste-touch synesthesia may occur due to the cross wiring between the taste cortex in the insula region and an adjacent cortex representing sensations of touch from the hands.
After concluding that synesthesia is an actual experience of the mind, the next question was why. Why do some of us experience this phenomenon while others don’t, and how does it occur? One answer that scientists came up with is that synesthesia is hereditary, meaning that if your parents experience this you are more likely to experience it as well. Since the cross-wiring may cause the root of synesthesia and since it has a genetic component, it is possible that mutations may cause different connections to emerge at different rates. Another theory of why synesthesia occurs is because of a mutation in the brain that desegregates usually segregated portions. Maybe a mutated connection causes interactivity between previously segregated areas, or even vice-versa where a mutated connection may have lead to the defection of one or more pre-existing ones. Accentuating the mutations to maybe exert its full effects may give a better insight to the varied forms and different types of synesthesia. In the same sense, to say cross-wiring doesn't necessarily mean the actual physical wiring of nerves and nerve endings. There are instances were the brain wiring is fine without any troubles but the chemicals running through them may be skewed. It is believed that there maybe a chemical imbalance that skews the traveling of neurotransmitters. This is called cross-activation; a chemical imbalance may block an inhibitory neurotransmitter, or fail to produce an inhibitor. Regions of the brain that neighbor each other usually inhibit each other's activity. When an imbalance occurs, a blocked neurotransmitter may cause another brain region to ellicit activity. This theory is supported by the studies and experiments conducted which would also explain some, if not several, of the less common forms of synesthesia.
Learning more accurate information about synesthesia has helped scientists understand the brain better. They have now more insight into the minds of creative people, stating that synesthesia is seven times more likely to be found in creative people. The use of metaphor can be compared to synesthesia, when you are linking two unrelated aspects and making them work as one. Connecting two seemingly unrelated ideas and blending them into one perception of a whole new concept. It is possible that synesthetes may see things of value otherwise mundane and insignificant to the normal person, and this very same vision enables them to make something out of nothing. Maybe the first synesthete was inspiration. Truly the origin of this mental condition must have been a gift to mankind, like the fire from Prometheus. And with the same bearing, in a brief and subtle hint, an advanced form of synesthesia may have already occured to humans in the past, and is now going in an inverted half-life reversal of fates as modern scientists try to understand and simplify, maybe even complicate, its nature. Every one of us has the potential to be a synesthete, it's just that every one's not aware of its beneficial properties. Of course, without the help of these synesthetic information I have just absorbed from the article, I couldn't have possibly pulled out these much abstractions and still have the time to rationalize it. The difference between visual and conceptual synesthesia leads us to believe that the phenomenon goes way past numbers, letters and shapes. This phenomena of seeing the world with a joint perception, and the sound of a brilliant metaphorical taste could have been the push that kept the evolutionary ball rolling. Synesthesia could have possibly helped humans in the past, to reach the high level of thinking we use today, which includes: abstract thought, cross-modal abstraction, and language.
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Mislead my soul to the Valley of Beauty
Acid rain flowers the soil of my brain
Clouds drift past, Doors open
And close the Hall of my Mind's Eye
Naked songs of the Poet
And his lonely word
Haunt the Muse
Ignite the stones that fuse
Heaven and Earth, impregnating the land
With seeds of the lovely evening breeze
In a warm morning daze
Day and night division
Everytime I turn I see a vision
Am I imprisoned?
An image of your face, imprinted
Carefully sketched in the coils
Of my subconscious prism
If I heed not my cravings
The need to acknowledge
Your existence haunts my lonely world
And I don't progress
Or even move, stuck on a forbidden groove
The mangrove of poets
Tragically await the muse in irony
The tragedy of a lone poet
In the world of muses
Alone and amused
Tired of fleeing, used
Using his word to enter
A recurring world
Of fleeting dreams, nightmares
A lonely poet on a rhetoric conquest
Haunted by the world, set on a quest
Send word for his lovely muse
To come now, and rest
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Tuesday, January 31st, 2006
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Sunbathing under the shade of cold winter
Wearing nothing but sin, the ear feeding on fear
Fantasy escaping vision, comes and disappears
The makings of an elusive prey
Mesmerizing beauty, portray an innocent veil
A magnificent predator, quickly on the trail
Necromancer's bow, armed with poisoned arrows
The hunt is on, the night howls of sorrow
Broken promise of dawn, never again tomorrow
Woo the crooning graves near mourning
Its scent of decay setting in, seeping
The grindstone spins into the mind it's boring
A gust of wind drills the fang thrust
Injecting lithium to the blood quick and fast
Cells degenerate straining chemical unbalance
Satirical wasps sting, reminiscent of a trance
Inducing a state of euphoric bliss, nostalgia..
All factors contribute, to this involuntary admittance
Letting myself in.. the Hallucinations of Dementia.
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Sunday, January 29th, 2006
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My dear, my dear
Have you fallen out of love?
You must have, I'm sure
Because it's the feeling of falling..
That you love
Indulge in decadence
Heed not into salvation
Forget making sense
Fall right into temptation
Ride around town
In a perfect war machine
Smoke the cowards, kill them all
Let God sort 'em out
Taunt the hasty,
Flaunt grace recklessly in vain
Make the patient wait
Dedicate a beautiful torture
Full of rapture and spunk
The raging ocean dies now
Riverbanks sealed, lake's dry
The Great Flood gone shallow
No ship can chart, no man to paddle
Vices grip tight, choking islands
Of fantasy and disbelief, too sour
Tragic in suspense, grounding reality
The magic played tricks on us
Pulled a hat out of a rabbit
Run, rat, run.. the ship is sinking
Maybe even sandbag the self
Just out of old habit
They do die hard
My dear, a broken soul
The next fall is an ode
A toast to my spirit departed
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Sunday, January 15th, 2006
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God of Sleep.. cast me a spell
Ensnare, my senses
Keen.. to the delight of my soul
Show me where to find Dream
Please be aware
Look into a broken mirror
Find me a spare
Lord of Sleep..
Hypnotize me
Throw me away
Show me the path
Way into my senses
Dwell on my discomfort
Disillusioned and desolate
Desperate for a care
Captured in your illusion
Infatuate me with a spell.
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infin8's journal