Colour & Sound

Hilma Af Klint-The Swan No 17-1915

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Colour & Sound
permeate porous conscience
saturating & reverbating
awash & adrift
infiltrated by rays of light
pure & impure
sharp & dull
hard & soft

from the East there shines both a brilliant blue light & a dim white light
in the Mirror there shines both a brilliant white light & a dim smoky light
from the South there shines both a brilliant yellow light & a dim blue light
from the West there shines both a brilliant red light & a dim red light
from the North there shines both a brilliant green light & a dim green light

aware of every noise in this impermanent realm
a cacophony that banishes even an ideal of silence
the roar of oceans the creaking of forests
claps of thunder the rippling applause of the audience
the clash of shifting tectonic plates
controlled demolition of skyscrapers
incessant babble of voices
bird song & whale song
barking & mewling 
screams & howls of pain
sighs & moans of pleasure
susurration of waves
sound of metal impacting against concrete

those pure bright piercing brilliant lights
sharp and hard
of blue white yellow red green
arising
in the Eastern Extremities
in the perfectly polished Mirror
in the Deepest South
in the Western Reaches
in the Farthest North
I desire their light
attached to their promise
but I am afraid
of their pure bright piercing brilliance
their razor sharpness
their diamond hardness

the impure dim soft dull lights
of white smoky blue red green
beckon hazily
but I hear someone I knew
someone who cared for me back then
say mantras tantras & sutras
so I abandon all attachment 
to those impure dim soft dull inviting lights

even when the multi variegated rainbow splendor radiates forth
I turn away 
to wander inwards
to wander downwards
in the bardo
 a limbo
this new different intermediate state

Luminosities

Gaspar Noe-Enter the Void 2009

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Where am I?

In the clouds 

Grazing the highest mountain peak?

Or deep underground

Towards the core,

Agarttha or Shamballah?

Or being cut out 

Of a concertitined vehicle

On the central meridian

Of the motorway ?



On the periphery of vision:

Up North,

Rising East,

Down South,

Setting West,

Spreads a clear luminosity;

Unable to even bear glimpsing

Let alone meet face to face.

Somehow I failed to recognize

The pure bright piercing brilliant light

For what it was, is,

Forever will be,

The vividness of the essential realm,

Blissful, empty infinitude

Without centre or circumference.

Rent apart with fear

I escape,

Wander inwards 

Hoping to remain afloat

In a life always in flux

Speeding and fleeting

For even just a second longer.



Dimly I realise 

That is different, 

A new state,

Intermediate,

A limbo or bardo.

Confusion reigns

Although I am beginning

To be freed from the constraints

Of  the body and its demands,

The constant wearying suffering,

I cling desperately

With my drifting consciousness

Attempting to piece together

Shards from the broken mirror of memory

Slicing open my mind;

So when the dazzling luminosity dawns again:

Far North,

Eastern Extremities,

Deepest South,

Western Reaches,

Once more I turn away,

No other option

But to descend further downwards,

Always down.

Blow-Out

Andy Warhol-Orange Car Crash 1964

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Blow-out
drivers side front and rear
choose in the instant
for it's a matter of matter
rollover
or crash-collide into barrier
relax the mind now
though without doubt
this is going to hurt
more than mere words 
can ever say
either which way
but whatever will be,
will be
so pray for me
pray for my liberation,
after all, who knows
I may still hear you
even after everything
has been said and done

White Retreating Waves

White retreating waves

upon the infinite shore;

froth of a daydream,

all the passions, all desire,

just a faint trace of spume.

Except For Name

Empty as the sky

on the ideal summers day,

still as the waters

of a distant mountain lake,

nothing here, except for name.