tuesday night update

featherfriends,

Digital voice silenced. letters withheld.

- DBL

Tuesday Night Post # 3.5

Workers,

Work is a way to live for death.

-DBL





I misalign go home on my back I realign.
This vehicle of growth even in death does it find a way to dine on misfortune.

This is the irrational growth that I fine myself wanting to explore
This is where phenomenon we still don’t fully understand relate. From this comes seemly chaotic growth. Cancerous on one end, self healing on the other.

a genetic pattern, a fractal existence, a war unending.

A bread crumb deliciously place at the end of surrender. Allowing Wealth to unwind. Towers that tall they fall with vengeance, adding numbers to the body count. Punishing as it loses stature.

A glitch in your terms. numbers deconstruct as they reconstruct adding distant to the equation. They do not fully explain a multi-dimensional phenomenon.

A larger arch that I don’t see but sense its there. That is my hopes to find and explore. A bit vague this descriptions are. My hopes is to leave the space that is need for ideas to Growth.

Tuesday Night Post #3.6

Dear Visitors,

Options are there, third party System.

Creation

Evolution

Ancient Astro-not


-DBL








Musings on DivineBrick


Any good start begins with a solid under-structure. What keeps the pieces together is the frequency the negative thoughts trigger the self replicating behaviors. As before,... the Ouroboros, the irrational numbers, the wheel of life, the cycle of abuse. Positive feed back methods to induce the basic structure, decomposed.

DivineBrick methodology (at this state in time) is to deconstruct the self, which represents the collective self, in doing so belief should be expelled. Attacking the collective self, ripping it wide open, exposing faults and control mechanisms.

Building brick by brick encasing the blue gem. This is not a wall nor a pyramid. It is a path way flat and endless. No hierarchy can represent life energy manifested.

Bricks are square but bricks are made of bare earth. Human hands forcing shape, earth obliges. Human children played with mud, shaping, wishing, playing. Playing and Ritual, that is what we do. Breakthroughs or Beautiful representations. This is what we do. Pretend. We role play the Maker, the Grower, we replicate what we do not understand, our external world. External forces wakes us, teaches us, shaping us. This transformation no matter the method is a privilege and some how a birth right we have.

This Belief methodology is an alternative choice that I choose to choose, a cozen gift to not take lightly. My re-search lead me to the simple building block.

the brick
the cell
the room
the space
the net
the fabric
the self
the unit
the piece

This is the DivineBrick Methodology. Searching from the roots pulling on vines.

Tuesday Night Post #3.5

First drawing in a series entitled "uni0n":

3mbr4c3

Tuesday N[ight Post #3.4

Well Rested,
I am not. A short half awaken thought.
-DBL


To some the obvious selection for failure is the fool. Shrouded with fabric that only children can see, this idiot surmised quick with no mistake. A fault on a jagged cliff side gets lost in rhythm of the irregular.

A hat to signal approach, in the fools walk you can see, stumbles fluidly. Just a laugh is a iron steaming hot bent on spreading this embedded joke. Clinging to concepts desires left alone, abstracted, detached the fool seems malnourished of everyday foes. Just a joker to twist-a-side the truth, in the corner the fool ties the shoe.
In the moments you try to find clarity in the actions that border on obscurities, there the fool traces what can be seen. Picture pleased, there the fool hides in actions.

Tuesday Night Post #3.3

Programs,

System Reformation. Belief Reformatting. Corporal Reformation.

-DBL

can systems really be about destruction?
de-constructing what is not understood
breaking apart what needs to stay
exploring touching reaching for a core that does not substitute
voices recall the past reformed
tongues collided fire revolves
center to the draft of senses
of need
of taste
of knowing and recalling

systems feel
do they feel?
does human well being involve feeling?

feeling is core?
this narrative of sight belongs to us
me the vision seeker-the Light bouncer
deforming planes confusing eyes
deceiver of the Light



efficient divider grower of worth
on this dividing line that she sensed
cubs were lost blood lines severed
her four legs knew this rhythm well
its the constant motion that delivers this sense of vast space
space so vast there is only self
the outer reached it limit
the inner reached a depths profound
Deliverer of Light she will never forget your smell
She tasted you once, strike you down
severed member searcher of Light
She sees no road
She sees no inner end
She pounds on pavement, crumbled glass
soft sands of beaches along the coast
tracking lacking worth

Tuesday Night Post #3.2

Lovers,

Its tuesday

-DBL

At this moment I am frustrated.   Dealing with caves of pastured  hills I resist but I enter, knowing what will occur will be a sense of being outside in the darkness.   Just as the walls are moist, so are the chilled blue blades of grass.  This is where I end up tired and achy.  On trips to wild reactions and decisions I take my naps in institutions.  Naturally the seeds that germinate from this conclusion share the same commitment as my execution.  Dialing the proper number to call the doctor, to fill the prescription that murders the patient, in this proof your fail is the solution.  Redialing context of dissolution I stand proud on broken and swollen legs.  Tree trucks left to spoil, finding necks long and hard, wheels in mud stuck, the child cherishes his freedom.  

With growth and pain rounded fingers feel around as wealth regains.

With repetition I find nostalgia when nothing changes assuring I remember the following.

With repetition I lay my head at the feet I adore without no standards.

With repetition I assure the memory deforms in dome or shelter bending as needed for the assault.

Gems, found in beds left for dead.

Tuesday Night Post #3.1

Fanatics,

#c0z3n

Man has taken from a womb.  Destroying as he creates.  

Stealing as he rapes.

A newer thought of a feed back loop that spreads thin

evenly across a surface

Of a man given a gift which he sees it as that

the structured thought was the first to notice

Repetition makes the group

Consumption closes the loop

In this act in his behavior he climbs

only to end up face down

People seed in their weight

end for them left in a gram of ash

Tuesday Night Post #3.0

Select Few,

Art as religion.
Art as Prayer.

-DBL





Laying on three rocks. My left foot on the noose. My right on the skull. My back on the wood.
My friend the only friend layed below. A beckon of red hanging from his throat. Loyal and true he laid on small thorns.
Just another ripe vision of true. A twisted repulsion to rearrange this off hue. Each turning shadow replaced by her at once.
Lil witch with power summon defaults. Make them special for others that are lost. Take them in kindly, choose them full.
Give them violence, put them down on moss. Slight adjustments of light are strong enough to confuse. Who follows who, paradox of the muse. Set it balance, sphere and cube.
Step into the darkness. Walk among elders, grab a limb. They swing you distances, as you loosen the leaves. Failing to see how distances bleed. Set it balance, puddle of gore and pile of ash.
On a high rise, looking down at her virtue and benevolence, remembers the frost. Memories of canopy high, bare feet on moss.
Forgetting the chaos, stepping ahead, circuits converging we are all lost. Set it balanced, flesh and mind.
That hazy air that finds you on an off day, that's where I laid. A faithful friend he will follow me as far as any liquid end. With his beacon of love he’ll help me up. No fear is pending. Vacuum of light where no one began.

Tuesday Night Post: break

Friends,

Its finally happened. My computer has died. It was time for a new one. Due to many other artistic and life expenses I had put it off. For now Tuesdays Night Posts will be on break until I can get a steady access to a computer.

Much Respect,

-DBL

Tuesday Night Post #2-27

Greeting from the mobile,

At airport picking up a friend. On this post I send a nod to the creative juggernauts that make to make. To the ones I know personally. To the ones I see bunkered down only knowing one thing. Seeing you make your work lights a fire beneath me. Making me realize I can do more

-DBL

*****

Change the face that we are greeted with
Propelling the idea that we do not see
Without a hint to know that we do well
Grabbing every thought that we make in others
Seeing how you work despite the fleeting hours of the day
You are the make of this state

Tuesday Night Post # 2-26

The Infectious,

I would like to take just a moment to recognize the many brilliant minds that have fallen.  Precisely this moment is for the onesthat were chopped low before that brilliance could be seen.  Seen by others or seen by the ones thatwere born with a different view, a proper view.

-DBL

*     *      *     *      *

AsNatural as Walking

There is no way to destroy a Force that has but one direction

A direction that is a different form of Consumption

This definition is one forgotten and is more human than we will remember

Error are the ways of present thought

Weaponized for ill

Chosen are the ones built to fail

Severed are the ones hailed as agitators

Sneak the sliding hand

Send it low

Channeled low into a deep valley

Dark

Deep

Light don’t shine in tinted windows

Imagination cannot fly with bars on squares

Put them on a bus to a place where they are forgotten

Let the children see that the exercise to think will only follow with distraction

Starve the child of thoughts renowned let them boast their sickened frowns

These children you took would be the anchors

A brilliant light reflected low for the rest to follow

Burn the end in the morning

Drink the thought in the evening

In a box they will learn

You are mistaken if you think this is
a comment on the present educational system

There exist a place where even you are unfamiliar

A box set aside for the young to rot or fall inside

Self reflected they become dejected

Waiting to be passed from one failure to another

A radiant mind would only find consuming ways to self destroy

This is for the ones that knew before they were broken

There are better answers

Than the ones we hold as tokens

For you the few that Consumed every ounce of satisfaction

That this world is a puzzling sensation

For every question you felt there was an answer

For every point you turned to get it

You found a greater sense that it was out there

All you got was strange reactions

For the moment when you forgot to remember to care

For the moment you died and you cared for no affair

You still had a chance

You left the next a reason to fear a brilliant rant

I won’t forget you child

Your sense of wonder

A simple question brave

For you we fight this plague that
We still try to evade

Tuesday Night Post #2-25

Patient Naysayers,

Lets end the argument.  Lets agree that there is nothing to believe. 

Time is short, well this night is.  All I wish I will do, so I cut this short I’m going to spend the rest in a dance. 

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

The Wasi’chu, the Pariah

This keeps falling out my box

Just as you opened up all those sealed tombs

Few to take the blame

Fewer to explain

As I empty my box of the things that don’t belong

I try to reorganize all the things you took from the encoded songs

My vision is only a weak connection with the past

The same one you took so you can last

As I get closer to razing the WhiteBox

Your growth surpasses the one I try to resolve

You and I see the desperate fight

Of the two sides that give the Force to a body upright

You and I see the change

The question is not what to believe or not

Let the adults fight

Forgetting that in truth it ends

In questioning it begins

For you its about the respect and awe that kept us in flight

A choice is yours to spread your wings of copper

It’s my choice to make mine in something I find more proper

As you approach a single moment undefined

It looks like I turn away left alone a path unrefined

Mine is the voice that you tried to forget

A nail looking for the force that could get it set

We know lots has been answered

Past the stage of assessment we are engaged in application

You want war you want a destruction of what came before

Turned away I keep it in

I am myself I dance in myself

Nothings true at this state

Until the end I keep it straight

Tuesday Night Post # 2-24

Unknown Lovers Made of Substance of the Stars,

Believe that what we know will change in a present time, tomorrow.  Be ready to accept things your child self would have had an easy time.  Prepare to love the things that same child longed to see.  Forget the ground that you find so dear rejoice in the urge to resist the voices that pull you here and there.  Never forget the lover that made you who you are.  Smash the thumb that keeps you all but a dog.  Let your minds eye tear to clear the fog that smears your fear.

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *    

Isolate the crooked bone

Wind that urge that leaves you to believe

In that seat left occupied with the heat

This is fiction resolved to exist to replace

Known is objects hide in plan sight

Reasons creep in stride with shadows

Never can shake the black skirt

Willingness to love the space in which it spins

In a warm bed in a cool room lies the resistance

This birth that there will be            

Will be the fight we will leave

Change the cheers of pride

Make them tears that one can not hide

Blank will be the paper that will unfold

All the things that could not be acknowledged

Running from the fear of being left alone

Charge one to keep this throne

Swear sweep stare share all that needs to repeat

Scar the flesh that has more strength when it reverts

Gentle finger guide the palm

Into the intersection of numb and hooked resolve

Age passes on a wave of control and comfort

A step towards vocal call is a call to dissent

Feet assemble on a platform of love

Burning their soles in the crucible of misguide empathy

Tuesday Night Post # 2-23

Distant Strangers,

  Find it simple to let it pass through you.  Like a chill that you can't control but feels free and pleasurable.  Wild is a thought a irreplaceable fear of morning light.  What do I search for?  An empty space to stay.  That thought that reminds you what you once understood is actual something you never could. 

-DBL

*     *     *      *      *

 She Died Cold, I lived  Seeing Her Mold

(Stories of the Two)

A rising step from heel to toe

Keep this thought close around ample room

Deep in a place a light sequesters a hope to grow

Back when you found it hard to say

Everyone has their way to not to show

Now I get the hints reliving sounds eyes rising wheels turning

Sudden vision of you practicing your gifts

Maybe then I had no way had no help devils live in quiet

To really share manufactured hearts broken machine stuck to stare

Never new just confused often found

Sent away in hopes you would be around

In my heart never true

They tell us sacrifice the new

In a dream walking near

With those heels I never fear

Stretch the time of every night

Details never lost as we engage in this artificial recited flight

Words we choose always right hazy dream teasing me

As before I left you there quiet safe high above the stage of fear

Revisit that one place there you stand always full of grace

Safe to dance wild swing arms climb the vine

Chasing that thing you missed before chasing it just a kiss to adore

Breaking down expose the want finally you are content grab it tight

In this heart never true

Tell me to sacrifice the new

In this scene you walk near

With those heels I never fear

In that thought it was right adjusting for the windy sight

A shoulder pressed hard and strong on a wall of nether thought

Holding back the words guarding back the choice to break

An honest theft to not show you wrinkle you scold you

Had it all never needed to adjust the screw

Just pretend all is grey find it better than to stay clouds cover rancid mildew

Lets spend the moment that follows looking at the line of our dearest desires

A simple map of that stage we never cleared standing on the liquid grave of fear

Always moving always flowing always chases us to empty glory

At the bottom of the pool this rose bathed and pruned drowned of smoke and booze

In dark there is only nightmares but for me

There I find my curse I wrap around this cold fire choke in smoke

Drown your heart kill the true

Show me you sacrificed your new

In my vision you walked with me

In your heels you seemed free

Tuesday Night Post # 2-22

Ritualistic Self Healers,

In a bit of pain I am posting from the mobile from my bed.

The Hunter House show was a blast. I'm glad so many people came out and really enjoyed the performance. Sometimes when making art in a bubble one never knows what response one will get.

- DBL

*****

With every new pain understood
I acquire another to understand
Exploring the mechanics of this pain threshold provide the manual for repair
Sometimes the process requires a filing of priorities
One feeling of disrepair is set aside to degrade and dissolve
For another that has more chance of actual change
One must forget the signs of warning for much more caring signs of growth
This moment of self healing becomes a state of ritual of the self
Awareness comes at the heels of the belief that a string runs through me
If pulled I come apart
The same string is use to move me providing an anchor of self navigation

Tuesday Night Post # 2-21

Viewers,

Posting on my mobile since my ancient artifact of a computer is crunching numbers trying to get vidz for this weekends performance.

Speaking of, come out. It will be two new performances. Happy to be collaborating with long time comrade Mike Meanstreetz. Should be real.

-DBL

*****

Thoughts on Belief

As it is presently there seems to be no grounds for truth.

Belief is a dirty word.

We are more willing to denounce a belief.

Criticize others before we set time to
explore anything ourselves.

This has made many lost and the search has begun.

Although this symptom is party to do to the fact that the veil has been lifted part ways.

Now we see the many ways we have been bamboozled by many institutions.

We resist but the smart opponent weaponizes everything... Even your resistance.

A belief that belief plays no role in rational arts in one of these bamboozles.

The thought that the old fashioned roles play no useful part and must be thrown away with out personal soul searching about these matters is another.

I am a skeptic but one many forget about.

If you resist a doctrine so much why must you follow your evolutionary beliefs to the better end of institutionalization?

This skeptic wants more answers.

Can we dismiss a third party?

Why can't I factor in my ancient astronaut ancestor?

I will soon build my facts on what ever we are allowed to see from Curiosity.

I get that facts are fact...

But really are they?

We take the programing like doctrine.

Have you ever seen a miracle?

Have you ever dug for dinosaurs?

Have you ever read ancient scriptures in their native tongue?

Belief is something I structure myself.

From the ruins of a broken telephone I filter my answers.

Bits and pieces are assembled as far as I can tell as they fit.

In the end I might believe that I have assembled a finely crafted ceramic bowl of fossilized shards.

It might just be a wealthy kings toilet bowl.

Tuesday Night Post #2-20

Random Occurrences,

How exciting a change in tempo becomes.  Some fall to every beat, myself I search the next.  A fine line occurs between free spirit and reckless action.  To destroy this box I search for it.  In a room with no walls I will find it…until then let the choices fall in the order we have to choose.

 -DBL

*     *     *     *     *

Transposed from the Geometric

Left a temple to touch this foot

Seventh of the strand of this rope

He did see but once

An offer from this one of the other

From a position which she sat

Head tilled neck a sway

She smelled the flower that was not hers

In an image the back of a hand

Swam across the arch of this position

The eyes they tried but never wandered past

The hazel ones

Which were honest

Open with the pressure of neglect

She often seemed to belong to the company of herself

Everyone had a share of this impression sitting on a shelf

In the same room they dissolved into fluid smoke

Two colors of distinct

Sharing each a tail of discreet

In a small chamber of this draw
Few things hid

Two flew in the air of unnecessary thought

What is there but the next foot to drop

Tuesday Night Post # 2-19

Family,

Family… forgiveness and acceptance is easy for family, unless you have severed that part of you.  If so I hope that hand will extent to another.  Union is holy.

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

The Siblings Know

My Mother once told me

Of the Brothers of Two

At each golden dawn they come to see

With influence and knowledge they can start to peek

A world of wonder not unlike the one before

In the mind of these Beautiful Ones this will not be cheap

Thoughts that once were lost are regained

In darkness they harbored their sweetest treat

The Others lose focus

They soon can’t be reached

With theory and practice the brothers

They chose to grow

Time dissolves

As does material

The pursuit has its woes

Once a search of the above

Lead to a lesson of justice below

What they took from Nature was her virgin repose

Many came after to study the pursuit

Adding influence and bogus shows from

Black hats and suits

Layered in symbols and images

It’s a fashionable macabre dress

Easily hiding the rapes and the pillages

She said

In real

Simpleton was given the golden goose

With his easily gain knowledge he was easily confused

Like him The Others start to fetish words and their use

They speak of abraxian reckoning

Loving what this conjures in peoples misguides refuse

As this happens

Darkness filters in as they push for release

They don’t see

When the dawn comes there is no beauty 

In the souls that it keeps

They romanticize the fear

The pain and the shadow of death

The first lesson the brothers learned

The apple easily falls

To levitate is what lurks in the shadows of “truth”

They are amused by the Others love of self smear

They josh and they kid of the taking of the bait

Which willfully with malice they put on the plate

My mother she sees and she swallows 

The water of ancient dissent

She frees me and shows me

At the dawn there will be many

Information is the key

Some will approach you with text

While others will practice hermetics to secure others fate

There are still some that use magic to sever the inmate

Cast away

Run away

Clear the field for the rite away

My dear mother she’ll tell me again

Remember the two and the words that follow

They’ll lead you to Truth

Two Figures Square

They stand

On the sands of time which now will stand still

It radiates the heat that came before

They cherish the moment

This is the transition

The sun on their backs

Breathing in the last moment of It

They anticipant the reckoning that will come just before 

The new

To others this is a dance of light

In ignorance they don’t notice this dance is for night

Two Figures Round

As trees stood to take in light

They stand in darkness to take in the night

For others they are sullen two alone in mourning

In them they kept the light switch on

A dance for which they anticipate the rest will give

For this moment they use

An exercise to tune and remain away

For the others will panic searching whom to blame

Tuesday Night Post #2-18

Pardon My Grace,

So, I shit these out every Tuesday.  You deserve more intent and at least a bit more gentlemanly attentiveness.   Now what is left is to hone the art of simmering the pot.  Cooking it at the right temp to see if there is some maturity in the words. 

In any case don’t hate my love song, so to speak.  It comes from places unknown that I seek and stumbled onto.  It’s not an excuse or an apology, no no, not at all.  They are just words that come before the ones below, like an excuse to engage you in a prolonged kiss.    

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

Pearing Down to Geometry

(Stories of the Two)

I plan to see you through the end.

Even though these words you will find fitting but somewhat removed.

I speak in hopes of sharing what I have seen in precious moments of the obscure.

If I can, can I remove the Figure Square and the picture in which it was there?

De-flesh the souls that saw, retreat all that are an event with minimum draw.

Lines that intersect to a box

Four planes one of which we have the floor

This plane could be of future use

Altitude we will not share

Losing one, peer in there

A plane removed became the door

He entered

We see him now a ray that has only one direction

Back into itself

The dots that form the set that are in this box

Some of three

One of two

2 of one

Separate lines wind and wrap

The three in the box

The white landscape

Packaged well they won’t tell

From the space displaced went the ray that held the first unwind

To the area of the right triangle

She

Composed of intersecting planes

Each its own

Finding time, laying low

Tender moments left to show

Concentric circles that became his eyes

He had a glance

Even then he would not take that chance, but what he saw the Colors True.

They themselves list the shades he tried to hide.

In the honey brown he did not lose knowing there was interest, which he could not refuse.

Light brown segments made the flow, round the evidence of a wish he traced often.

Fleshy pink and purple nodes, a dense line that should be avoided, this is where a closer inspection finds repetition like before.

An arc that ends up a sweet gesture.

Congruent figures, a light brown section of orbs rolling to the lower quadrant.

Just the same he saw her change in his direction.

The helix that wrapped around her bare, fell to the plane that is now of use.

Two adjacent angles on a block, slowly flowing to a spot.

Can I leave it where we are? 

At this point, which I find fair left to unravel with only the two to share.