Thursday, August 27, 2015

Shamed Gold

Like pedaling with no hands, calm assures me. Deceitful tin encasing copper grins. The fellows by street lamps speak a tear to me and the shame knowest them not.

Sad hours seem long, as do the days climbing rocks with no rope and washing mud from skin. Trees glancing wind shields through locks long forgotten. However, vanity still swoons like some old friend run-in at a coffee shop. Acquainted, yet not endured. And as those words shiver from me like beads of water off leaves, so too gone are the  syphoning of mirror-looks.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Prologue to an Epilogue

It was the afternoon of a Friday I had decided to die. I had repeated my vows to the Earth as it smiled more sneeringly than the moon. There were no more sinking ships to save. No more bills left unpaid or debts to settle. No more potential to squander. Now just simple principles standing erect on an open plain, I open my eyes to the reality of my glory. Personal though it may be, I was tired of wasting the hours. The only thing worth saving at this point would be someone else. 

Monday, October 6, 2014

Sooner

You grow from the inside. Sharpness crisp with the after-thoughts of lost wonder. You'll fall. Outpouring intellect of twisted misconception and desperate candor. Names of the unknown fitted on loosed lips like taciturn gloves shielding warmth. Shall the wine dance, we dissolve willfully. Placid smiles swimming endings. You’ll roar. Dead shade carrying body to kerosene paramount. Half-way drowned, the last of you floats to absolution. Sheeted, drastic notions whittling deeds forgotten. Brood no longer. Petty nothingness. Faded unchanged. I’ll wish I had witnessed sooner so stars could kiss our toes. The sky will tear us from the ground stealing our dreams, but we shall have them all to ourselves.

Friday, October 3, 2014

Speechless Edition - What Dreams May Come


Speechless Edition - What Dreams May Come from Crowe on Vimeo.

A first in a new series once a week. Edited films with as much speech removed as possible and effective music. Let the story take you away. Words are just symbols.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Understand.

In defense of the stoned. To alter consciousness is to defamiliarize oneself. Dissociated from habitual ways of thinking, listening, and reading, the stoned are often rendered vulnerable and open to strange ideas.

To experience this video or song in an altered state is to experience the flavored meanings of sound and images. The habits of sober states sometimes white-wash meaning------dismissing strangeness and creativity.

 ----August Wissmath

Friday, March 23, 2012

Leafers

We left the city to watch the leaves rain, touching hands and laughing hysterics.  It's some backward contention.  Your press for harmonics.  A hurt doubt offering some godspeed.  I loved your damage.  I burned your heart.  You will never see this face again...  We will all be barren of emotion.  A blank mutation exchanged immutable.  The colors of trees were a palette for melancholy as we sat among the horizon golden.  And you had not read these words. And you had not blessed this sin.  And you had not lost your mind yet. I only wish I could remember.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

A Lack of Over-eventful Evenings

It's a black fade.  Sheepish dark.  Loving embrace.
And I forgot who you were.

It was only one dream and we blew the stars away from our memory, stripped bare cold, and hated good-byes.
All we wanted was love; twisted smile, bearing satisfaction as if that was nothing to ask for.
Touching my self-indulgence from a cigarette.

You bloom the obvious lights. Blame misfortune and high kings for such interpreted gestures. And we can't all become saints. This barren land won't hold water anymore. So islands are the last of us and all minds are stained. Hively, they chose viciously. Consciousness was the only option. One by one, we become one.