Cerberus, Ink on Paper, 24″ x 28″ by Andrew Luk
Debut music video for The Motivated Sequence’s “Colors and Lines”
Story, Directed and Edited by David Fritzson
September, 2011 by Kelly Burgess
A Thousand Lyrical Stories
In the back of my mind
I hear all these songs
All at once
A singularity
All in singing
The form of music
A thousand lyrical stories about a life
They stand in my head together
Singing to me
To better my status
To get up and do what is necessary
Words standing in formation
Showing me the possible
The inevitable
I watch as this idea dances in the crazy that is this idea of music
Of sound coming to life inside of me
They tell me to move
To feel once more
Of a life I left behind
Abeyance and the Renewal of Motion
Candlelight murmurs from individually-inhabited bedrooms poised on platforms upstairs.
We sometimes desire to hold these lights, don’t we?
Don’t we?
Don’t we?
What wind pushes against our faces that hold us in our stance, like autumn trees, like eroding statues, like the robots we have become in the hallways of the mansion of the town in the black and white city of repose?
What is this colorless quicksand that silently swallows our knees and persuades us to hold up our skinny arms above our tiny heads and squeal for the chandelier to save us?
Why have we become so fatigued?
As The World Turns
As the world turns,
I am happy I turn with you.
This very second we spin together.
Not knowing where we will end up.
As the world turns,
I am happy we are doing something together,
enough comfort in my heart.
We can walk away from each other
but we can’t escape this sweet spin.
It is like dancing together,
always.
As the world spins,
I am happy to know we spin in our separate beds.
I love the spin,
our togetherness forever in time.
Together, we will spin no matter where.
We can feel the opposite way
but the spin is what keeps us in union.
I love you so much.
Together as the world spins,
I am happy with just that.
Ben
I set foot in the waiting area and sat down near a wall of windows overlooking the runway. A plane slowly taxied towards the gate. It would be at least another fifteen to twenty minutes before I would be able to board. I reached into my black messenger bag and pulled out a copy of Coasting by Jonathan Raban.
As I dove into the fourth chapter, something caught my eye.
A young woman sat down in the seat opposite mine.
I, Hologram
Can you love someone who was never there?
Can you love someone who didn’t need your love?
These aren’t questions because they don’t need answering.
I have spent a few years of life
trying to figure them out when they were questions,
only to figure I am nothing.
I am only a hologram of something that was never there.
I have touched your skin and you have not felt.
I have written words that you have never read.
I have spoken to you but you have not heard.
I now realize it wasn’t you who was begging to be found.
Walk through me, say nothing to me.
I am only a hologram,
a false representation of a man.
I am only seen in the negative of lights,
the ones that shine so bright.
I can only love you with no end in sight.
We Have Buried Our Faces In The Wind
A little birdie in a tree
said something very true to me.
With pale-blue belly and faulty wings,
she whispered in an almost-sing.
“Can your fingers be umbrellas to the time?
Can they stop the sky from falling before my eyes?”
