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At The Fringes Of My Imagination (part II)
By joseexist in Musings On Muses
November 12, 2009

At the fringes of my imagination I am on a stage. The wind at my back is a result of the dance my fingers are doing on six steel strings. The heat on my face is a result of the ocean of faces I confront. The balance between the two forces pitches back and forth in a powerful tide. We are all locked in a loop of energy that feeds back and forth between us. This is a sonic mud-wrestle.

At the fringes of my imagination I am in the first balcony with an unobstructed view. The stage glows and hard sonic winds buffet everyone. The floor hums as the ceiling flies away. The smoke will never go down. This will last forever. I came for the guitar solos and my eyes burn towards the stage.

At the fringes of my imagination I am using lightening bolts as an energy source for billion watt amplifiers. Tectonic plates are cracking and soil is becoming airborne. I am louder than the thrum of the sun. The core of the earth begins to “ping-pong” about within the mantle. The “beat” turns everything to vapor. The “rest” is when everything freezes. Yin and Yang are locked into the perfection of creation and destruction. The undeniable consummation wrinkles the fabric of space and time.

At the fringes of my imagination I am strolling on a pathway of floating stones. Water falls from an ocean far above on my left and disappears into a cloud of steam miles below. A citadel sits atop a floating mountain to my right and the sparse dispersion of stones gives way to solid ground that leads to the main gate. Three suns refract multiple rainbows everywhere in the mist. Wispy, ballooned, jellyfish, and four winged birds drift by. Stars twinkle from behind the mountain. The galactic plane slices thru the background.

At the fringes of my imagination I am beating my feathered wings with no afterthought. I am swinging my crucifix-sword with conviction. I am slicing thru leather-wing and horn. Cloven hooves kick at my shield in futility. I climb the mountain of the vanquished at the same time that I construct it. The horn-blast is still getting louder. As far as the eye can see, my companions and I are building mountains. We are constructing heavens parking lot. We are right on schedule.

At the fringes of my imagination I am aware of many things. I have traveled the greatest distances by remaining motionless. I have gained multiple lifetimes of knowledge in the smallest fractions of instances. The wisdom I discover is always there, circling in ether I create with infinite ignorance. The love I feel fills oceans with tears and there is more than enough left over to build uncountable salty comets.

At the fringes of my imagination I am not alone. There is no baggage. There is no class separation. There is no launch. There is no landing. There is only what you allow me to inspire, what you inspire, and, what you create.

Comments


  • joseexist joseexist Report a ViolationReport a Violation
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    Thanks Furthur!
    I'll dig deeper after a couple of detours but I will do more from the fringes of my imagination. That's a promise!

    November 14, 2009 at 6:49 p.m.

  • furthur furthur Report a ViolationReport a Violation
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    Part I was like Timothy Leary, Captain Beyond and The Who's "Tommy" meets Peter Max. This one is like Kurt Cobain meets Hunter Thompson and Edgar Allen Poe. I am staying tuned.......

    November 12, 2009 at 9:28 p.m.