the unknowable transforming point 316/ 320

433 little poems
fictive autobiographical gazing
through the piano looking glass

Thirteen to the beat

Landscape anger in a play thirteen to the beat
beat the beat
fill your grape with two tone gel
exhibition coming from a wild place on the wall
scribble round circles round and round
to erase unwanted words
little heap of curly lines unavailable to the type
car passing
wobbling telephone cable
planes sotto voce shimmer skywards
towards somewhere else
providing little seats
everyone sitting with there headsets
sitting comfortably
beginning electro smog soup for six hours
across the big lake

Anger

Me in my window with universal dictionaries
open a map of sweden northwestwards
what for this day
no piano sun on the bright keys looking out of the window
anger in a black landscape
no 13 thirteen aroma thru doors
the deludedness
the neccessity
poise past participle
the narcissus narcissism narcissistic life
powerlessness in the possibilities
sea of possibilities
hedonistic populace and the sound of practising learners

Some live in caves

Breeze cold breeze
brow of hill quiet earth serenity
soon to be bombarded with G4
last place safe place
represented a haven from electro sensitivity problems
now to evaporate
find look find somewhere
almost an impossibility
some live in caves
some live shielded
some commit suicide
got to cope at a certain level
better the devil you know

Kicking and screaming

Das abend
happy ever gentle schumann songs on antiquarian piano
difficile to imagine landmark decisions
anthills and mentalities
whoever would believe the closed shop mindset
don’t take no for an answer
if you don’t get what you want
ask again in a different way pile driver
she took the book back
kicking and screaming

I move on

Is there a reason for anything
all dissolves before my eyes
generally left with blank stare
long time ago maybe 9 years or so
asked someone a question
answer importantly delayed
to the extent that
still eleven 11′ 06″ silence
I no longer wait
I move on
chinking
push pushing through the thorn bed
alert alert
anxiety descending
next
neatly precisioned greetings cards
show a necessity to ignore the reality
and invent ficfuc word feat of bravura
regressing to infant babble speak
flirting with passive aggression
which is an art in itself
tourettes of the veiled response
lend me an air
Iv’e come to bury the hatchet
unlikely story and no way
simplon tunnel ahead ahead
nose bleed in the dark
I want to go home and haven’t even got there
after the weight of this
multifarious digestive process
the thread discolours
gets lighter as time goes on
the resonance fades

Advertisements

Author: Vv

Composer/ Pianist/ Writer www.virginiaaurorascott.co.uk

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s