Loop Reviewed Poetry Theatre GOMA Take II

Part two of a Loop Theatre Performance at the GOMA review, this one written at home.

Beautifully witnessed,

     Contemporary living unshakeable dreams, too oft left single lonely stage of attention out, Beyond the mountains of stigma, portraying them as mere beautiful insecurity mannequins... Our sight is the disguise, of magnificent change your perception and heart lives.

     As if artistic wish capacity was docile, but it never was... Painting extravagant lip blossoms of budding smiles, forever blooming as happy memories, A new forever recollection portrait of hope, never to be forgotten,  Amidst the ache of our prolific social aptitude sight blemish diagnosis held over others, A test everyone's conscious heart of conviction should refuse to accept.

    Beheld in a magnificent gallery, hall of  acceptance's equality summer after the reign of a bitter December recital, how tangibly organic and beautiful is the heart's choreographed epidermis counterpart locomotion of a memory loop theatre's conscious marionettes, providing more than physical movement!

     If any eyes who witnessed had a heart, surely it  moved!

In earnest anticipation of,

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Loop Reviewed Poetry Theatre GOMA Take I

Written in the moment, 

     As the heart moved whilst watching Loop Theatre Patrons perform at the GOMA, May 2014.

Beautifully witnessed.

     Contemporary living unshakeable dreams, too oft left invisible beside lonely stage mountain, as mannequins... far behind.

     As if artistic capacity wish docile, but not. Painting extravagant lip blossoms of budding smiles, forever blooming in happy memory service upon a museum of faces! A new forever recollection portrait of hope, never to be forgotten

     Beheld in a magnificent gallery, of acceptance choreographed movement.

     If any eyes had a heart, it surely moved!

In earnest anticipation of,

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The Little Things

Sometimes,

      It is better to let be what you have written, as a short malady of words that crescendo into the mind, then the heart and finally the conscious soul of your readers. Let the little things be. For there is oft more magnificence to be found in a brief line than in a poem of infinite stanza(s).

     Standing at the blurred,

      No faithful to hopeless finger lifted in attention; Edge of apocalypse tomorrow, Where the reset of karma's soul caste poverty reincarnation system is blessed by every mythical god's well bloody crimson oil stained red right single digit raised fist!

      The time for equality on our sandcastle hell avarice swollen earth, is at hand...

      Which was posted today, a simple little trick of the vernacular hat poem, that might mean something to someone... Or it may not.

Only a handful,

     Of oaths ever make it... But the disavowed still retain their amnesty towards hope...

     So when toiling under threat of silence in response to your work away, write only what is necessary, nothing more nothing less, as it pours out from compassion's empathetic imagination engine within! But that imp-perfect line, can't be taught, learned or drawn, not really... It can only be discovered in context of the moment as you deem fit.

     For as the art immunization theory states that only you define your art, and therein lies the fluctuating algorithm of assurance, the courage to stand in what you craft.

In earnest anticipation of,

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The Auditorium II

A Place for performance,

     If you're like me, and your home town has no venue for poetry... This space is for you, to win back some of self decaying esteem, back from the beautiful insecurities, that you haven't quite realized are magnificent in your life.

      How we look at ourselves, it shapes us. My journey into poetry began as cathartic journal entries that somehow morphed into stanzas I now know are poetry. But I no longer believe that there are true definitions for what poetry is, in the sense that people can categorise an artists work simply to disavow any creativity therein. This has happened to me and I shall do my best to give you the tools to see through the lies people are feeding themselves and thus handing you.

     One tool is art immunization, a type of self-esteem or confidence, I don't really believe in confidence... That is a disguise projected to create an image, I believe in courage... For it is an image, a disguise worn to projected the created.

     The assurance is not specifically in who you are as a person, more-so as an artist and specifically in what you create and how you interpret people's criticisms of your work(s).  Part of that morale is clarity, or if you will, conviction. Belief in the art you are making is more than just... Or is simply just...

      Created to raise awareness of a particular topic through the finely honed empathetic imagination engine within or woven via inspiration merely to reflect the world around you or the emotional memory shrapnel ache upheaval in any particular moment of life.

     The Auditorium is a place for people to perform, get feedback, discover who they are as an artist whilst listening to other people perform or they themselves performing. Working with f(r)iends to create a piece, collaborating or merely getting some kinds words of mentorship. The online space will be open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, with a regular performance schedule and competitions which winners will get awards to show their recognition.

     Whoever and wherever you are on earth, if poetry is your thing, The Auditorium is definitely a place you should check out!

In earnest anticipation of,

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Tidings of a Poet's Bargain

It has begun,

      Though a myriad of mistakes have been made throughout the memory ache of this life time; Don't let those mistakes make you.

       Everything is in order, the Algorithymns² Poetry Project Spoken Word University launches it's 30 man spoken word Teamspeak Server this week end! May the conviction in your vocal chords resound in the vernacular of your poetry, as you channel experience through the empathetic imagination engine within, to inspire other to... Arise from inaction to their own aspirations!

In earnest anticipation of,

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Friday's Mental Health & Social Stigma Awareness Poem

Based in part off of,

Dapper Illness Seduced Devil

The Written Spoken Word Transcript from last night's Philanthrobeats performance to end Social Stigma that exists in the intolerant realms towards those with mental ill health.

Dapper Ex-Spider Skeleton Stigma Devil

       For many years of my life, someone very close to me used to tell me I wasn't worth a vivid damn dream, that I should cease to exist at all... Eventually I stopped listening to the ill reprobate in the mirror...

      A quarrelling piano tidal enduring December recital illness flowed like reverse benediction, Holding back the grains of purpose as the beautiful sea of insecurities sandcastles into closed sickness doors of the mind ruins all around the former being that was me.

A Pariah inside my own holocaust anorexic husk.

     A self phantom abusive reflection of a ghastly intangible skeletal devolving limb of hope, no one will ever miss you, fish heritage, not so near the ocean bed of death.

     Compelled in disagreement to condemn the bipolar third deviant-mutated-heroic personality succession Reich, Mindsharing unwanted dermis geometry buried defiled talents of well puppeteered newspeak soliloquim events!

      Holding up shelter under a bulimic self purged esteem, Clothing dripping from the mouth's recent single forced digit crime,  As decay begins to writhe inside gaunt tendencies, Chained to my childhood burnt long suffering watched in emotion terror silence offerings, of health relapsing porcelain criminality!

      Hours distraught spent in earnest anticipation of a redefining night dream cerebus owl curfew moment: When under the napalm amputated wings of sulphur diseased angel's hides the every generation heirloom, written on our poetic sentient conscience soul;  wish!
        A refuge we're all D.N.A promised: of a loving intolerance unadulterated family's acceptance...

     Nature's seemingly artificial knowledge, For in most trial home based cases the embed intel seems derelict of truth. Ringing our bones with purple domestic riddle bruises!
     Our communal reincarnated yearning of a grafted love experience testifies to this sadness...
     But the archaic clarity lore of optimism's structure architects must long sanity lost aspirations ago been released from their infinite ode to a strangely dim joy never found works of sorrow.

      No matter what ill begotten mental strain incapacitates the nights, My fear black dread-ful austerity sheep epidermis is a prison of opaque disguised!

   A guardian's blanket signature pillow cell, With shame walls stained with endless wisdemonic memory ache tears of fallen atonement ash, no longer winged mythical f(r)iends,  Invisible are my only comrades in illness: The seven lions of a pathetic hydra's psalm isolated angel!

      Tonguelessly scream mouthing an inaudible Mother Lord's prayer! Their misery hands severed cauterize bound by incendiary ambitious sins, Are vengeance signing   the unsolicited  failed edge of time safe -  tone scattered grace deaf lethargic hallelujah chorus of inhumanely apathetic shadows, Against the white social lie injustice stigma  that is Avarice's complaisant comfort distracted purpose!

     Bitterly remarking inside that I... I am a strappingly homeless at heart off my own presumptuously assumed arrogant epidermis sleeve! Mumbling like thunder in fright of being vane!

      A dapper self wraith of hope respiratory ill of conscience' breath rarely taken reflection, A solitary mobile devil's anti-acceptance subconscious trench defence against my illness: Denial, Lingering in the paranoid dark murmurs of disavowed ruminations woven in congealing spider's abandoned silken prey blood!

      Fragments of an internal multiple schizophrenic green over sleep's black screen text sourced matrix dream monologue! For which there was no relief from... A jilted shelf white li(f)e of a self deformation ebb and sickeningly thin skeleton flow of a emaciated secondary intramural carapace platform harbinger's requiem!
     A not so wholly believable diagnosis of dissociated identity, unpleasantly haemorrhaging: a war! 
     Hunting the scent of a F(r)iend's silhouette reflected in fire infused sand, With a spear grin tipped dialogue, Entitled: false dismantling pretence, My a-smile!

     Marking the shadowy impression with the scent of dried vampiric dried gasoline thirst vermilion!

      Thriving on lucid burlesque swollen no undergarment tattooed open neck unto fang spectral fantasies!

       At a loss for consuming an arachnid woven silk pill, A gentle ashen mind soothing future from a forest box of fire incapacitated fox wood's second narrowly wicked genesis verse of a prescribed regeneration methods to contain the shadow's self annexed PTSD esteem sickness!

     Declaring a genocide of disagreements from illusionary cohabitants, Abusing the affairs of hope's dignity, The combatants have forever put the self - libel of - acceptance out of action!
      Creating the sub surface sequence of expounding daily episode of regrets, Leading the mirror towards this creeping forlorn doubt twin emotive helix sonnet parasite of well contempt rehearsed humiliation and suicide harmonic guilt!

      Aftermath of a single skin to knife f(r)iendship attempt is this: A blazing steal singed wrist scar!

     If you take no words away from this, remember  the following. Not as lecture or unqualified psalm, but as a reflection from a poet.

Here is the adage:

No one can say they love another, if they do not accept them!
No one can say they accept another, if they do not know them!
No one can claim to know someone, for who they really are, unless they desire it! 

In earnest anticipation of,

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Charles Bonnet Syndrome I

Mainly Affects Elderly or...

     The Lost of Sight, A visual synapse loss syndrome chapter of, 'for the most part,'mild off mental ill social health stigma target quota let down reality's guard to blindness organized enjoyment hallucination merry unexpected entertainment break from the dreary on kilter edge of normality.

In earnest anticipation of,

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A Written Spoken Word: Polite History

     The following is but a small 'written spoken word' adventure that blurted out this evening, this is one of six of these that was done today and nearly every day from our Curator, Juton. Hope you all enjoy, look forward to witnessing submissions for exposure, growth and thought provocation in the future.

Glittering etymology,

     Paper historical oracle marionette figures, Lost in a sea of captivated heart beats trying their obligated best to endeavour one grand suggestion upon the shores of inhumanity's next discovery, 'Be ever reminded children of the one truth clause; that no narrow profit black screen of riddles gone cold in death as the green metaphoric text bleeds off can ever outweigh any minute seemingly insignificant cost. Remember to tolerate one another in simplicity of duplicating the true remedy of acceptance via dignity and enjoy the attention given to society by attempted artistic intervention methods against the monetary deficit into debt before the queen of crimson faltering hearts flailing tattoos bleeding off sleeves amidst the complex of this falling Sandcastle Earth.

In earnest anticipation of

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Clarity of Avoidance

(un)Certainly,

     Just a simple slave to hope that someday the words pouring forth unspoken to written, will inspire something in others someday. Some people have contacts and friends out there who can help them achieve their dreams in the pursuit of acceptance, the only treasure worthy is said virtue.

      I strive alone, however, my mouth aches after a jaw crack nearly breaking from the anthem of silence's threat that resounds so loud in the desert of the vernacular double new think speak written by the empathetic imagination engine scribbling inklings upon these pages.

    But we should always protest the most abysmal ransom, hold our hearts captive, threat of emotion terror that is silence. For some day, far off or just round the next unforeseen bend, we'll find our courage in the dignity that is acceptance, in the unguided front battle lines of our greedy agent mustard orange intoxicated moral trenches, barely surviving on our avarice earth, this beautiful planet in Sandcastle Universe.

    Forever and then another day in the ethereal complex green over black text tattooed heart off my sleeveless wrist bleed out finality infraction occurrence shall there be poetry, even if no one remembers a word this sponsor of hope ever wrote.

In earnest anticipation of,
Juton

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