Polaroid Gravity

With the rumors of ideas and delusions being exchanged in my specimen mind, I lulled myself to a sleep of pastel pastures intercut with red holes and bright lights. I was in another place, a worse world. I was on a map, but long I stood not in familiarity but amid assortments of stranger settings, on a swing set with blurry vision. It all seemed blue, a minor difference from my visions but a plunge back into the shades of the place where I had started. I wasn’t waking up yet. It grew more vivid, the swing was rusting at a rapid pace, breaking at joints, the steadfast sight of blue proved to be the sky, and I forgot to escape, and I forgot to shout. I took the choices less erred by, I took a path of apathy. I lifted my eyes and fell to the power of a dream. I crashed on the floors, but the reverie persisted. The sky flickered and cried before me, I closed my eyes, but consequently, the sky collaborated with the fluffed clouds and grabbed a terrorizing reign over the immobile me. I collapsed to the actuality – I couldn’t be out of my dreams. In the subsequent sequences, I lost my hearing, my ability to speak, well I lost myself. I was only my eyes. Then the rain came rolling down and took that away too and so I was finally in a black sleep, a true sleep.

In the sole liberation of a time that did not undergo my squandering, I ringed a wire thru the war calls. People collected at the printed edges of my books, two-toned solid checks of airplane silhouettes grabbed me off the walls, native styles, tentative desires, and dragged me past the evil motorways. The skies were overcome with rainbows of the history, something revolutionary, something equated, something a little Incan too. There was always the sun in my eyes, the morning after, in it’s final hours, closing my visualization. Ah, the sun.

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It's all a matter of rust and shine, to serve a distinction between to have and to have not.

66 thoughts on “Polaroid Gravity”

  1. The power of dreams what they represent to us and what dreams are capable of transporting us to that unknown territory. It’s a scary illusion how our own creation puts us through
    but, its a beautiful and poetic world that we must learn from it very much.

    The power of dreams gives us the creator to create into words.

    Beautiful and incredible good prose poetry my friend. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Ah, thank you, but let’s not make this about me, when this is about your incredible metaphoric ability and word choice that carried me through this surreal landscape of dreams.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I thought we were talking about how great your work was!!! Does your compliment receiving facility need a little dusting off?! πŸ˜‚. Thank you though, you’re very kind πŸ˜‰

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Great piece. I liked how elements were woven together that in my lifetime have shared their voices with my heart, and of which I have stumbled onto philosophies that stirred my passion and made sense. Dreams… mind… body… Then to have it connected with a gorgeous picture. Love the hues. Reminded me of eating cotton candy.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Drank the language in sips to delay the moment your sleep arrived.

    Rainbows of history: the most precise and lovely phrase.

    I much appreciate your English, Poet.

    I was taught that what has not been written does not exist and, though I came to know that this is not literally true, here you are, Poet, pushing the boundaries and making great harbours for exploration and shelter. Because I don’t want to be contained and we don’t belong to a containable species.

    I am grateful, Poet

    Liked by 2 people

    1. That’s a huge compliment, Sarah. I had a vision that no matter what happens, I remain unaffected. Until everything quits changing within its limits and comes crashing down towards me.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Huge your skill, Watt. Deepening with your practice, I imagine.

    As to this particular vision: It describes our actual existential condition whether we know it or not. Per Andamaya Ma: I am the same. Ever afterward, though the dance of creation change around me in the hall of eternity, I shall be the same.
    What is being unsaid but what we all know, nothing stops changing. And you will remain unaffected.


    Liked by 2 people

      1. It seems that poets are in two minds and that is the definition of a poet. You will know when your sanity evaporates because then you will not be able to speak to us.

        It is always a risk for poets and other artists. But be here with us. Be here and do not leave us for long periods or for ever because we are your life as you are ours. You as poet, I mean.


        Liked by 1 person

      2. I don’t think I’m losing my sanity. The visions I have are kind of synthetic, I weave them in the catatonic state then I divide the residue through a sieve of sense and ta-da! A piece is written!!!

        Liked by 1 person

  5. “… Β but for the sky there are no fences facing.”

    This is a masterful piece. Painting images
    with words that take the reader by the hand
    into a Dali/Hitchcock type dream sequence.
    It takes a true wordsmith to do this.

    “Dreams where the umbrella is folded
    Into the path you are hurled
    And the cards are no good that you’re holding
    Unless they’re from another world.”
    ~ Bob Dylan

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Oh my goodness I just clicked over to your blog and read this. It’s like you were in my mind this morning. How crazy is that? For some reason I cannot go straight to your blog I have to go through my reader so I have a bookmark set up to come here. I read your comment on mine which made me think maybe you have posted. How amazing…we must spend a lot of time swinging. So amazing to me I can’t believe it. Great minds indeed. Wow. I read once that like vibrations are felt and picked up by those who are on the same frequency. Wonder if that’s true like in this case. Wow. This has happened to me before but with a very very close friend! I love it! I’m laughing πŸ˜€

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ha! Really? Well I suppose, I told you already. I wish that what you’re sayong is true, thoughts arw maybe the most connective thing. πŸ˜„


      1. See that’s what I was thinking and feeling too. I’m still amazed by it. I can’t think of anyone I would like to be coincidental with, more than you. I’m intrigued with your writing. I think you are a wonderful writer and I’ve worked with some of the best. πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you very much for the incredible compliment!! πŸ˜€

        You’re a writer of such simplistic grace, your work gives me breaths to process. πŸ˜‹

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Wow thank you for that. I am looking at branding my work so this helps to have feedback of how I’m perceived. Somehow my professional work and my personal work are separated and I’m looking for a way to marry the two. Your work definitely makes me stop and be silent. I try not to think too much but feel my way which is harder in this loud world. πŸ˜€

        Liked by 1 person

  7. Watt, a thrilling surreal trip through the subconscious state of dream where all grounding is lost and there is no logic. A wonderful and mystifying journey through a virtual reality that we suppress in our waking hours. Exciting and beautiful journaling of this enigmatic adventure.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Okay, that sounds like an out of body experience and your true, or real self, watching the illusion we call life, flat in front of your eyes. Caught in the revelation, unable to act, trying to escape, wake up, sleep, things sped up, rusted faster and faster, as life flew past at an accelerated rate, that you could actually see. You had a glimpse into a different reality that runs along side this one and were able to step into it, to see what this one was actually like. Love it. It’s weird when that happens, two planes touching.

    Liked by 1 person

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