technopoems

The feeling the end is coming Expecting dissolution Cut of time Fall Afterglow All supposed to be unknown Outside of this sphere

I want to enter her brain, capturing a pre-emerging rhythm, an un-formed aggregate, an embryo of pleasure, the sense untranslated

Civilization meets extraterrestrial beings The alert, laughter, roar are from One with many facets

Shut out the vision We gain an immediate - no mediation - connection with the texture of noise We touch them - broken, scattered, elements - with eyes shut

Whirling is a more proper form of time Spiral is more suitable to our movement

Something traverses as though it delays But atemporality is what rules ‘this’ We wait longer and feel later

Let our vision melt As trains go through the Centre Texts on billboards become a single flow The crack in the street will be paved by Gold So let Green grows As it covers the entire ground Seamlessly Let our mouth shut up Let our Void unfilled And let our body sink Into this nameless liquid Which is made out of Our colours Undividable contour

Purpose is forgotten, or completely blank We take off, before anything begins rushed by this assertive voice Where are we directed to? There is an orientation and a place but neither can we name it nor call it an end because there is no such thing as distance Only one thing is certain There is a flow, a pure movement

I wish I had dropped the power of articulation Even of murmurs Not many of poetic forms are effective either I rather find myself in the sparse of language, the disconnection That is to reserve the abundance And even to pour the liquid into the reservoir of the possible Is the time preserved? Are you filled with something else or nothing? Darkness is being an ultimate comfort Nothing is foreseen Nothing is forgotten

The auditory experience lies on the limit of emotion A shade of joy traverses without emphasis or follow-up so that we stay in the middle

The sound is not about such scenes But a scope of the psyche

It feels, sees and speaks at the same time

Our mind catches the human voice in the sound that runs in parallel machinery and hastens its own movement that carves a circular form evolving and transforming as it loops Voices in our head correlate with the form and become machinic Repetition is wherein chances and leaps reside whereby our urgency is satisfied Hurry up and let us come back

The fabric woven with proximity and differentiation spreads across a nativeland accessible from afar This is not a heritage but a contact, initially singular, turning into a tie that extends to continuity and consistency and finally, it arrives in a different time and space affirming the existence of the other from afar

Formula: ambient or cinematic mindscape Local point: Tokyo, Japan Referent: a west coast gangster (US) Trigger: a gunshot Qualities: urgency, uneasiness, excitement, distress, composure

Consciousness only finds an archetype, but   Stars are more truthful Because they have seen Noisy twinkles in such a long history Narratives turned to atoms and Individual attributes are indiscernible As the golden shadow shifts its gravity The eyes of the ancient Become awake A world of prophet

As it synchronises my inherent beat The machinic sound turns to heartbeat It is a heat That blurs the boundary of indifferent bodies