what's the word?

jc//eternity

[artistsoftheunknown]

batten

When soul's been trampled underfoot, can anything truly shock the system? Crucifixes abound, holiness, appears scarce. Even those who stood beside as it all fell away, would sooner depart than bare the thought of reason beyond comprehension. This curious ground we find ourselves on is far from common. Ephemeral in nature, it mustn't serve as base to weather impending torrents. With this knowledge, or lack thereof, what else can be done but plunge, and hope muscle memory catches on, before the familiar gets the better of us?

[artistsoftheunknown]

doublekickdrum

stare into space until particles become apparent. what's the promise of troubleshooting worth if we can't recognize ourselves amidst shifting tides? facades angle to profit off our dismissal of a future assumed attainable within present parameters. we can barely speak to the horror gnawing away, so let's clasp our hands and retain the light, for just a little more. those morning mockingbirds... how clearly it'll all seems when their song is the only thing guiding me.

[artistsoftheunknown]

swelter

Enveloped in rapturous city, no life ever truly concludes.

Slurred theories abound, familiar transmissions reiterate what's understood, in fragments, to be totality. Nameless, best exemplified in space— where her smile fades into a face whose beauty is nothing short of absolute.

[artistsoftheunknown]

dawncounter

A delicate peace mingles between cigarette & indecision. Held close, a reminiscent hand brushes up against life, so damn near figured out, it's as if a single dark horse anomaly could send it all crashing down. This balance yields little in the way of safety. Instead, it is the perilous way we teeter above the abyss which calls us to cling to such ideals, regardless of how haggard they (and we) have become through worship, ad infinitum.

[artistsoftheunknown]

(re)callr

Wasted night beyond temptation's score, nothing left to offer up for a chance to fill the void. Carrion writhing— a fate too common to regard with attention undivided. Stumble out of another season thinner, weather-worn, weary of any principle defining separation between us and a better whole resided within. Expectancy drives me away from the clearing and into the murk of bought-in contrivance.

[artistsoftheunknown]

stopping sense

As options fade, reality sets course. Off kilter from the jump, no salvation is sought. Instead, here's this filthy bed, made by those who lied before, unable to admit a defeat most evident. To cherish abrasion is to recount humanity: feeding ghosts, perpetually emaciated by distance held (too) close, as if to ward off impositions of connection vis-à-vis vulnerability masquerading as wayward oracle lore of sorts...

[artistsoftheunknown]

transeunt

Dissuade me from relishing in self appointed role as savior to no one. Scolded by currents that led to realization, grace was found in the "I" steering this ship through a storm known only by those who, either found the shore on the other side, or were lost to its waves— faultless in their callous disregard of circumstance. Beautiful is and was the journey here to wherever comes beyond the sunrise to follow these lines.

[artistsoftheunknown]

Noted 2

- Did he have regrets about seeing stars burn out before their due moment? Of course, but he couldn’t let that stand between him and the external world. If it did, he would find with relative ease every excuse not to leave his bed. - While passing through Northwestern hamlets they thought of the young ones whose saw life go by on the beds of lumber trucks destined for distant cities. -  Concluding thoughts resemble everything to come before, mere fragments of a whole splintered by my arrival into it. -  With a tired sigh, Bill released into the night those words every man says when living in the shadow of a love that was never his: “if she’s happy, so am I.” -  There was something foreboding about the dog’s refusal to relax at sun down. - “Your rhythm is off, in fact, I haven’t seen your feet touch the ground in weeks.” -  He earnestly tried listening to the man’s beliefs, but found himself distracted by the faint ringing he always heard just before someone tried to sell him something. - A sarcastic laugh rolled off her tongue and over the sleeping mountains. -  The whole of life appeared in an instant: A strong wind blew, carried away ethereal pollen, extinguished my spliff’s cherry, and knocked a chirping nest from a canopy branch. 

[artistsoftheunknown]

2016, RIP Bill

[artistsoftheunknown]

init

faithless subsistence nurtured from root long shriveled, yet, existence persists.

seemingly striving to prove a point with its baring of all thrown its way. pointless it is then to talk oneself off proverbial ledge, for every next step down the path is shrouded in the doubt perpetually accompanying mystery.

[artistsoftheunknown]

makoce

Affinity disseminated amongst crowds bowed over by expectation of further violence brought unto this earth by those whose reasons reside in dissonance. Reverence for such actions dictates a form ever-present, yet relegated to afterthought— historical context left where it lies. It's easier to claim righteousness when the memory of pit and prison permeate in silence.

[artistsoftheunknown]

inkling (28th)

sentience leaks through fissure in the mirage— performance construed as natural, in deference to simply passing through.

[artistsoftheunknown]

onstep

Bountiful soothsayer your words carry the weight of boundless interpretation. By your phrasing, we may send ourselves off to perish in pursuit of finer things, or revel in what's presently held. Pantheon wanderers lurk for a chance at triumph, prioritized only in stupors stirred up by the inevitable crisis of presence. What will be left behind to truly be proud of, and, is there any worth in permanence, beyond what’s made of it?

[artistsoftheunknown]

dumbcorp

Minutes go by without recognition of the space we confine. Sanctify time spent in gradual refinement; how gloriously we fail to exploit bitterness and cocoon in a nature attuned to our suffering— its contours defined by what’s lost in the rush towards soul’s fulfilment. When the trap is sprung all victories are pyrrhic. Ego’s machinations of spirit prove their limits once held up to the light of everything beyond it. How many years must go by until we rediscover the innate beauty flowing through a trickling stream?

[artistsoftheunknown]

haiku(2)

(i) Beaded dew blankets green blades swaying gently in well-acquainted wind. (ii) Glacial erratics rest easy in solitude, broken underfoot.

[artistsoftheunknown]

chnnlr

Navigate samsara with a spliff burning away the chill of an autumn's night air. All the trappings of an attempt to harness the cycle for one's benefit come to fruition. The mark precise, swift in its intention to nothing. Yet, even this contrivance of "the absence of" feels like a ruse longed for, lived in.

[artistsoftheunknown]

adroit

Servitude to concepts greater than corporeal limits appeared before us as destiny, however ill-fated such placement would prove to be.

Whatever we pluck from the ground serves a purpose whose full scope cannot be dictated through fatherless tongues.

Imbued with simmering indignation, we conjure up life on islands distant, divorced from the whims of dogma. Far from fantastical shores, the boulevards beckon unto us in discordant rhythm, reminiscent of what was once lived in, lest we forget our origins.

[artistsoftheunknown]

hexical

Traveler lids hang heavy, burdened by the expectation of an unfamiliar sunrise.

Prescient lips weave tales of missed exits and forgotten roundabouts with a casual disregard that would pulverize the average passer-thru. In a daze of red-eyed routes, the journey is mapped out by makeshift cartographers; their plots reminiscent of constellations charted under naked gaze, in waning crescent light.