Puncture/Picture
So friends...I never did write that essay, Ive handed in a poem instead.
As it stands, I beleive I have gotten it through the door, and im not really concerned about my mark so much as dissolving the approach to academics that I dont realate to. So, I took the following studies and formatted them into my extrernal form of what I had internalised:
Roland Barthes-Camera Lucida
Ferdinand De Sausseure
Walter Benjamin- The Storyteller
Wim Wenders- Wings of Desire (film)
Rainer Maria Rilke- The 9th Elegy (from Dueno Elegies)
A little LJ cut shall be the resevoir of my little acadmic faux pas :p and all who are interested in a little poetic lisence can take a look and give me any feedback you like cause im really into this new way of approaching the academic material through creativity :p
Instigated by image.
Through what eye?
Of what eye?
The poetic scene of culture
Opens for analogy.
Segments of history
Pacifying that which would pierce.
Dividends of a material practice
Invented by a perpetual metaphor,
As sharp as its bend to humanity.
Manipulating the soil
Uncovering duplicity
Excavating strings of mortality.
Craft of the individual,
Sustained in
The signified,
Designed by
The signifier.
Present in five senses
A potential in each person
To be punctured,
To sweat and split a cell.
Eternal duplication;
A fact of signification.
Projecting a particle
On paper,
On air,
On the public pupil.
What blocks the interiors
To exteriors?
In the vent that mortifies;
Clings to the air.
Breath in
What the air carries;
The container full with
Crystals
Of culture.
That was
As real as this is now.
To peel the garlic
Flake the skin,
A pearl of flavor locked within.
Chipping the icicle off
In shattering begets
A new formation.
Liquefaction;
A level of mutation.
Swelling with each symbol
We articulate.
Form has its own function.
The delicate can expand,
There is clay in the river
Where we wash the blood
From our hand.
To crane the neck and
Write the word
Again.
Up in the sky is habitual
Territory.
But
Space lies between
In distances.
We comb the beach,
Sift the sand.
In its layers fractals of
Skin and of rock
Outline our figure.
Said in images
That we were here
Close to the sign
Of time.
An elbow in the sand, or,
A photo in ones hand
This tale told Once
And then again
By the man with the eye
The soul,
And the hand.
The ancient and the child;
The two, the one.
He be he
and She be she
Who can differentiate
The duplicate, or,
The maker from the taste.
This is the skill,
The brave writers will.
The symbol revealed
Inside the landscape of
A dream.
Records to
Revelations.
Behold the words
They script ones senses
They shift with mood
And in an image lies the word.
Tell it.
Tell in the pendulum of a sentence
The secrets of culture.
That which we manifest
As mortals:
Myth.
No armor here,
Beneath the clouds
A Steel scope
Pointing from
Behind the sign.
Only
Images hold themselves
In front of the frontline.
Arial
Archives of the
Objectified.
So be wary to mask
In a face or in a field.
These bones do not move
And they take aim
From their frame.
Lens dividing,
We attempt to tame
The fire,
The fortress,
The wind,
The wound.
Overlap of body
In this time machine
The portal and the photo
In sync with the
Paradigm:
Thin, but three dimensional.
The link from then to
Now.
Known
As it comes, to be ‘what was’.
Camera
Coded in image,
Honest beyond
Representation
Instilled
With existence.
In the dark room
Out comes light.
They moved into colour
From black and white.
Angel’s armor
Speaking without words
Of their one-page history.
Inclined,
To find
The link.
To testify,
To think.
Made with
What we grasp
Copper coins with two sides.
Archives of the multiple;
The derived
Destiny.
Lost in wet weather,
Learn to drink or to hide.
Open mouths
and Wings
A pair to imply new things.
The call of the bird
The sounds and the stings
Emotion that burns
From the tickle of tears.
To walk is
To see where you are going.
Muscle to bear witness with.
The vessel behind the eye.
Choice and aggravation,
Learning how to tie.
Lean on the spectacle
Uncovering
Meaning.
To see yourself
As apart, is to understand the
Whole.
For, lost with divinity
Is the puncture of equality.
To see in those,
What is seen in you
Study what we belong to.
Fastened to a consciousness,
A narrative,
A plunge .
Triangular wings of humanity
Enveloped the soul.
Pixels navigate
Cult inside images.
Imagine it and
It is.
It is a
Part in
Elastic
Society.
As it stands, I beleive I have gotten it through the door, and im not really concerned about my mark so much as dissolving the approach to academics that I dont realate to. So, I took the following studies and formatted them into my extrernal form of what I had internalised:
Roland Barthes-Camera Lucida
Ferdinand De Sausseure
Walter Benjamin- The Storyteller
Wim Wenders- Wings of Desire (film)
Rainer Maria Rilke- The 9th Elegy (from Dueno Elegies)
A little LJ cut shall be the resevoir of my little acadmic faux pas :p and all who are interested in a little poetic lisence can take a look and give me any feedback you like cause im really into this new way of approaching the academic material through creativity :p
Instigated by image.
Through what eye?
Of what eye?
The poetic scene of culture
Opens for analogy.
Segments of history
Pacifying that which would pierce.
Dividends of a material practice
Invented by a perpetual metaphor,
As sharp as its bend to humanity.
Manipulating the soil
Uncovering duplicity
Excavating strings of mortality.
Craft of the individual,
Sustained in
The signified,
Designed by
The signifier.
Present in five senses
A potential in each person
To be punctured,
To sweat and split a cell.
Eternal duplication;
A fact of signification.
Projecting a particle
On paper,
On air,
On the public pupil.
What blocks the interiors
To exteriors?
In the vent that mortifies;
Clings to the air.
Breath in
What the air carries;
The container full with
Crystals
Of culture.
That was
As real as this is now.
To peel the garlic
Flake the skin,
A pearl of flavor locked within.
Chipping the icicle off
In shattering begets
A new formation.
Liquefaction;
A level of mutation.
Swelling with each symbol
We articulate.
Form has its own function.
The delicate can expand,
There is clay in the river
Where we wash the blood
From our hand.
To crane the neck and
Write the word
Again.
Up in the sky is habitual
Territory.
But
Space lies between
In distances.
We comb the beach,
Sift the sand.
In its layers fractals of
Skin and of rock
Outline our figure.
Said in images
That we were here
Close to the sign
Of time.
An elbow in the sand, or,
A photo in ones hand
This tale told Once
And then again
By the man with the eye
The soul,
And the hand.
The ancient and the child;
The two, the one.
He be he
and She be she
Who can differentiate
The duplicate, or,
The maker from the taste.
This is the skill,
The brave writers will.
The symbol revealed
Inside the landscape of
A dream.
Records to
Revelations.
Behold the words
They script ones senses
They shift with mood
And in an image lies the word.
Tell it.
Tell in the pendulum of a sentence
The secrets of culture.
That which we manifest
As mortals:
Myth.
No armor here,
Beneath the clouds
A Steel scope
Pointing from
Behind the sign.
Only
Images hold themselves
In front of the frontline.
Arial
Archives of the
Objectified.
So be wary to mask
In a face or in a field.
These bones do not move
And they take aim
From their frame.
Lens dividing,
We attempt to tame
The fire,
The fortress,
The wind,
The wound.
Overlap of body
In this time machine
The portal and the photo
In sync with the
Paradigm:
Thin, but three dimensional.
The link from then to
Now.
Known
As it comes, to be ‘what was’.
Camera
Coded in image,
Honest beyond
Representation
Instilled
With existence.
In the dark room
Out comes light.
They moved into colour
From black and white.
Angel’s armor
Speaking without words
Of their one-page history.
Inclined,
To find
The link.
To testify,
To think.
Made with
What we grasp
Copper coins with two sides.
Archives of the multiple;
The derived
Destiny.
Lost in wet weather,
Learn to drink or to hide.
Open mouths
and Wings
A pair to imply new things.
The call of the bird
The sounds and the stings
Emotion that burns
From the tickle of tears.
To walk is
To see where you are going.
Muscle to bear witness with.
The vessel behind the eye.
Choice and aggravation,
Learning how to tie.
Lean on the spectacle
Uncovering
Meaning.
To see yourself
As apart, is to understand the
Whole.
For, lost with divinity
Is the puncture of equality.
To see in those,
What is seen in you
Study what we belong to.
Fastened to a consciousness,
A narrative,
A plunge .
Triangular wings of humanity
Enveloped the soul.
Pixels navigate
Cult inside images.
Imagine it and
It is.
It is a
Part in
Elastic
Society.