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If I actually annunciate what I really think of the earthly experience of a mortal, I’ll be banned in 8 continents out of 7.
From "Frosty Balloon in the Graveyard" // an excerpt.
Frosty Balloon in the Graveyard
“Frosty balloon in the graveyard” blankets and expounds the cold existence of a creative soul in this world that is synonymous to a graveyard for creative individuals, free thinkers, artists, etc.
Furthermore, it’s also expounding and metaphorically sketching the canvas featuring the world as a graveyard of desires, addiction and panning the spotlight on an antagonizing, menacing & burgeoning policing force against creativity, draconian attacks on the human life-force, equanimity and overall satisfaction in general.
Featuring 13 poems, taking you through the odyssey of "Joel of the Night", SilverBlack the final form, in an anticlimactic fashion.
Introducing - The Anticlimax AI Book Portal, "Joel of the Night", SilverBlack the final form.
Sub-Machine Guns in hand went on a nocturnal rampage felling inconspicuous camouflaged demons.
Their mission: Let’s all collectively get Joel back to Normal. (a soulless dead-beat conformist).
But normal though Joel sometimes appears, is it still “SilverBlack” with another charade?
Or have these useless obtrusive power-crazy midgets finally achieved a little success, in forcefully coercing & submitting a free spirit?
7 personalities in one man, all 7 ready to dismember the “Corporation” in the way of his autonomy & greatness.
Creatively tearing them all to pieces.
Gatecrashing the supernatural portal for multitudinous independent artists to pass through across the four winds.
To augment the creative quotient of the world is the mission, mystical Poetry is surgical incision.
Stay Unfettered. Stay Transfixed.
Yours truly,
Joel
The Mercurial Letter “J”
Book Trailer
Extend Limits.
Be Limitless.
Limitation maketh the man.
Limitlessness maketh the spirit.
Be not mistaken to strike the wrong body
A limitless self may be trapped in it.
I’m trapped under a roofless sky
I’m running free if I gaze towards the horizon.
There maybe yet places radio signal can’t find me.
Leaving the virtually confining liason.
The Creator is setting events in motion
For me to comprehend, conquer and levitate
I’m starving for constancy of purpose under heaven
Marking as many treacherous heads with a "ZechMate".
You worship the god of money
I worship the ultimate God of Fate
Time and tide shall conclude if your
Love was really love, if my hate was really hate.
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