Spoken Word (John Biscello), Bass (Ben Wright)
Posted in Audio, photography, Poetry, Press, Uncategorized, Video
|
Tagged Ben Wright, heaven scent, John Biscello, Marlene Dietrich, Poetry, recorded live, spoken word and bass, the 20s
|
Spoken word (John Biscello), Bass (Ben Wright)
Posted in Audio, photography, Poetry, Press, Uncategorized, Video
|
Tagged Ben Wright, Dylan Thomas, groove is in the heart, John Biscello, no holds bard, poem, recording, spoken word and bass
|
Spoken word (John Biscello), Bass (Ben Wright).
Posted in Audio, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Uncategorized, Video
|
Tagged bassline, flowsteady, John Biscello, L.L. Cool J, Poetry, recording, Spoken Word, Sylvia Plath
|
Winged, we found ourselves
baiting spools of thinning air—
Ground and us, parting.
Here it is, finally.
A séance for the living,
real-time cinema for possessed bones
and sad visionless ghosts,
who are on the cusp of claiming
their spacious reams of empty,
and time-locked vagrancy.
The door behind the door has never existed.
It is a shadow, a tease, a mirage,
a trick of the light.
The way in, doorless, immeasurable.
In this chapter in the book that has gone unread for millennia
(we’re meaning between the lines),
there will appear an ancient-new breed of sorcerers, magicians, mystics, pagans, and witches,
and a summons for the renaissance of the psychic lighthouses
which are seeded in the green-fire country of our hearts.
Do not let the packaging fool you.
Your glyphic bones have flown long distances,
and played dateless concerts in the sky.
When opening your mouth, like so,
you will taste impossibly blue flowers falling out
to anoint secret ceremonies attended
by the world’s lovers and dreamers
of which we have plenty.
And you, you are living mythology,
a blessed paradox
of tensions aligned
to swing and sync
in music never-ending.
This is not a test.
Do yourself a favor:
Burn your old exam papers,
take a hissing blowtorch to the edifices
which falsely coronated the importance of these exams,
or better yet, forget the blowtorch,
the burning, the exams,
forget all of it
and just walk away,
going gently into that good new dawn,
its spawning membered
by your devotion
to the heart’s sired calling.
In this séance for the living,
dream love’s lighted labor
into your breath, and pauses,
and as you approach whatever necessary death awaits,
know that you are not alone,
and your life beyond the flirting veils
is one which demands the tenderest of braveries.
Am I projecting
how cinema becomes us?
Screens to mirror touch.
Silence, within a
dark empty theater, starring
you on a blank screen.
To breathe fire, holy
an act of arson bred by
your matchless dragon.
Crisped at the edges,
gilded wings of the Phoenix
fanning flames to rise.
There are baby phoenixes
burning inside my lungs.
They want to grow
into their deaths
and fiery unabated splendor,
want to consume the ash-cake
coronating their birth-days,
which matches abolition to symmetry.
I am being asked, no forced
to open my mouth
and breathe their remedial fire
out, as if it’s my own,
to give due ventilation
to the ribbed arterial flames
that seek the spatial cradle of air
in measureless rebirthing.
It seems complicated
and esoteric, but really it isn’t.
The way of living mythology
follows its own inviolable course,
a track attuned not to the world’s fractures
but to reality’s filial bond with itself.
There are ancient-new phoenixes
burning inside my lungs,
and with every breath I take
I grow intimately closer to identity loss
through medicinal arson.

(Image by Izumi Yokoyama)
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
|
Tagged Artwork, ascension, firebreathing, izumi yokoyama, John Biscello, mythology, phoenix rising, poem, rebirthing process, the fire next time
|