Timeloose

[serge gurkski]

(there is timeless and time loss, tec, I am aware of that, and now, just because I will it so, there is timeloose too. Who am I to dare? Life is cruel, is it not? And now please help yourself and go out shooting, if it helps you any. Poor deer! ;-) )



an ekphrastic poem for myself
over



Sailing down smoothly,
closer to the depth of me,
jam-sessioning with my moods,
giving up resistance to fly away,
phrasing out the icons
from dawn to sun setting,
spelling out and then forgetting
the faces of my lovers,
masks anyway,
possibly smiling,
or beautiful liars,
deceiving themselves
with me and therefore
me, their lover, too,
painting sound, rhythm, dance
beyond the metrics of the day,
the matrices, the cautiously
woven patterns of
so-it-should-be,
I sometimes hesitantly
ask, who it pleases
and who profits
from this show of
marionettes, because
must it not
be a bore
finally finite?

[rowens]

It starts to come together when that bassline comes in.

---

I don't have a problem with writing poetry with jazz. Or even "writing like jazz". I know some people get uptight about it. But people like to have things to be angry about.

[serge gurkski]

@ Rowens: which is where the poem starts.
ty Heart ;-)

[rowens]

I'll read it again, when my music mood is better set. I have instrument moods, and singer/song-writer moods.