Apr 26, 2020
I couldn't do the Helmojis very well this time, I tried. ¯\(°_o)/¯
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I couldn't do the Helmojis very well this time, I tried. ¯\(°_o)/¯
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I finally figured out how to do the woke meme thing.
I present, wokefy helmojis.
“Where did the day go?” she asks; as if I may know
“Probably the same place yesterday went”
though to regress or move on seems the perpetual problem of the moment
“Not that I’ve ever found it anyways, but tomorrow we can look again,
just like we always do
and tonight we’ll search for tomorrow so we’ll know where we are going to.”
In retrospect, we should have kept away from the clock
as it simply mocks us in our search for every passing epoch
“we never seem to find it, but it has to be somewhere”
as we forever dream to redesign it, redo, and repair
Thoughtfully she offers, “I think I’ve found the time before
on the edge of a memory, though I can’t be sure;
it was like today became a yesterday from long ago
or something perfectly akin, I really don’t know,
but I believe it is called Déjà vu.”
“Déjà vu?”
“Yes, you know, when you find a previous day for a second or two.”
“if this is so, what did you do? being in a day a second time through?”
“I didn’t do a thing differently at all, despite what I now knew,
what I would have changed, I haven’t a clue.”
Anthony J. Ness, 2014
An ever expanding singularity of nocturnal nostalgia that never dies, blossoming in the twilight photosynthesizing starlight, before my very eyes. Billion light years, blessing the night skies it's stunning, magic, timeless; the hours of the soul, the silence, it's mindless. the realm of the dreamer. Decadence. Electric feast, neon fantasies be released and the contrast! The deep shadow, ambient and primary photons! Very precise, constrained, unlike the notions we float on. Illusions inflamed Swollen, bigger than life, or maybe just life sized. An individualized show coatings and costumes of our choice. the smooth schemas we sow and the time is throttling thoughtlessly at breakneck speed. I simply can't keep up. Tick-tock; numbered, still frame feed I caught the image. In an unique lens. Auto focus, the wavelength suspends; blue-violet memory replay. Edit, Clip, Paste. Air the pilot Review and review the same faces, the same cue Pause. On you. Neuronal pathways netoworked, enthusiastically fired through and nostalgia serenades. reminiscient, holographic, data recall reboot. Refocus. Projections on a weightless wonder fall Back of my eyeslids. Front of my mind; hallucinations are the feature I find. Hell if they know pivoting, poisoned pulsations stirring a cortical circus show Rods and cones catching nothing. Lightless, sightless if you will still I see everything; I feel it too. It's pouring through the windowsill Now I'm soaring through the windowsill. I'm lying. I'm sitting still, still. destroying what is real in an attempt to feel anything but now steal the past and make it last. Time just moves too fast or maybe not at all. I return to the synapses, firing them until they fall. Anthony J. Ness, 2012
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