Experentuality

Pick Up the Phone

enocnroll — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 08:42:57 +0000

Written July 2, 2009, after receiving a phone call asking me to not text but to call instead. It got me thinking, when in doubt…

Pick Up the Phone

I met with my shadow indoors all too often
For, you see, I had the habit of being inside
Connected to the social cloud, knowledgeable folks
People for whom my occasional witticism provided
Entertainment, nuggets fashioned around awareness

The enjoyment of brisk walks with portable devices
Prancing about town, carrying out mundane tasks
Errands had become more pleasant, bearable
Or so I thought, since I remained connected to the Orb
Pulsing through my tiny technology terminal, into me

Walter found that though the sunlight was bright
I could not see him, for my misplaced attention
Devoted itself to the information flowing forth
From a source of feedback society is learning to trust
While also enticing me to publish more historical context

So, my shadow began to abandon its duty
Perspective was much more clouded without him
Attempts to understand texts, tweets and e-mails
Could be likened to a trip through a minefield
Where each transmission is potentially explosive

Why have you left me stranded in this digital abyss?
Walter replied, “I cannot exist without light.”
“The Orb is filled with darkness and artifice.”
What will I do without you? How will I discern?
“Unplug and communicate. Share human emotion.”

Soon, artificial light replaced sunlight
As I became ever more entwined behind closed doors
Sure, I cast a shadow, but it was hardly Walter
Rather, a synthetic conscience emerged
Her inorganic nature was all too easy to ignore

She could be staring me in the face
Conveying to me the importance of aural stimulation
Oral interactions would fertilize our points of view
Allowing a garden of insight to flourish
Between us, a fountain of intuition would cascade

If only I would listen to Susan’s metallic musings
The orchestra of feelings within me would play
Loudly and clearly, submitting sounds to the sonic foundry
Forging trust through the tonal subtleties of spoken words
Rendering the Orb as insignificant as all else should be

“Contortions of technology will not bring peace,” Susan advised.
Are you saying that so-called efficient communication is flawed?
“Indeed, it is ineffective and even counter-productive.”
“What do we gain by sacrificing feeling to the compression of meaning?”
What do we lose? What should we do?

“Pick up the phone.”

Dreaming for Consciousness

enocnroll — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 02:27:31 +0000

Written October 16, 2008, for Irene Prado, a dear friend, for her birthday, in response to the first and only poem she has written in English, “(Don’t) Look Back”. I feel that other special people I know may enjoy and relate to this piece, so I am finally sharing it, for the first time.

Dreaming for Consciousness

Consciousness today demands contentment
For celebrating life is her only wish

Laughter shall be her present
Gifted with smiles unforlorn

Belief bestows new life
Birthed within her heart and mind

Spirit vanquishes her shame
Soul unleashes new rhythms

Truth reveals its beauty
Love wipes away her tears

Sleep opens the map
Dreams guide her to you

Turning Promise Into Belief

enocnroll — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 16:18:28 +0000

Written June 14, 2009.

Turning Promise Into Belief

Peering through her starlight
Time delicately beats
Coiling mystery into beauty
Condensing vision into feeling

Sensing her tenderness
It gently splashes
Wetting with anticipation
Marinating feeling with thought

Such a taste excites her palate
Sparks the imagination
Overwhelms all sense of reality
Ultimately infusing thought with possibility

Dreams take root
Hope finds new life
Impulsively encouraging us
To see possibility’s promise

Fueled by new perspectives
Time flattens the obstacles to understanding
Crumpling our doubts
Turning promise into belief

A Privilege I Will Not Cede

enocnroll — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 04:03:11 +0000

Written June 3, 2009, for Melissa Ruggiero, on the occasion of her high school graduation. This will hopefully be meaningful to all those who find themselves on the precipice of a life changing transition, particularly high school, college graduates and perhaps newly single individuals…

A Privilege I Will Not Cede

Memories flood my mind
As my heart compiles the feelings I have gathered
Along with the wisdom I have earned
The precious moments I will always cherish

The friends I trust
The family I love
The mentors who have guided me
The people I admire

Let me hold still a while
To soak in the energy of their hopes for me
Genuinely revealed as if they were their own
A testament to everlasting bonds forged into my identity

Feeling the power of this insight
My own dreams begin stirring
Seeking to sprout forth from experiences I have yet to behold
A tapestry I will build in the years to come

Freedom’s wings flutter feverishly as I enjoy autonomy
Testing the limits of my vision
For my future is waiting for me to define it
A privilege I will not cede to blurry souls

A Breath for Weeping

enocnroll — Wed, 27 May 2009 17:29:28 +0000

Written a very long time ago, but I find myself thinking of it often, lately…

A Breath for Weeping

I want to taste the breath you breathe as I slip beneath…
I want to feel your need as I enter between…
I’ve got to know possession as you press against my flesh…
I’ve got to feel your passion as you breathe my breath…

I must live this feeling like a fire burning
Trees dissolving, walls collapsing
Bricks destroyed, space denied
As I stroll into your eyes

The air in the wind carries lust to its home
Fans the fire that will melt our souls
Prepares the spirit for its final climb
Gives us knowledge, guiding light

Maps of feeling, out of date
Books of wisdom, pages faded
Chains of freedom, loosely bound
Angelic ceilings falling down
Painted faces reveal the truth
Whispered statements give the proof

The search continues for love in lust
Light in darkness, might in fright
Day in night, life in death

It stops, it spins, it orbits within
Where thoughts of fire make us blind
Consuming our minds with futile highs

The air in the wind carries lust to its home
Fans the fire that will melt our souls
Prepares the spirit for its final climb
Gives us knowledge, the will to die

I want to taste the breath you breathe as I slip beneath…
I want to feel your need as I enter between…
I’ve got to know possession as you press against my flesh…
I’ve got to feel you weeping as you breathe my final breath…

Cities x Design

enocnroll — Thu, 21 May 2009 00:07:31 +0000

Cities x Design is a worthy exploration of creative expression across the United States. High School friend Jay Corless embarks upon his journey through 35 cities across the country this summer. I am supporting this project and I urge you to consider doing so also. If you appreciate the verve that creative people provide our world, then please help this project succeed and be a part of history!

Only a Kiss

enocnroll — Thu, 07 May 2009 03:17:12 +0000

Written on January 18, 2009

Only a Kiss

This beauty enveloping me
Is your gift to behold
Should your sights be fixed
Unleashed within my gaze

I see what it means
To witness trust and understanding
Cushioning our aching hearts
Pillowing weary souls to slumber

Rest here a while without fear
Holding tight to uncertainty
An emblem of your tepid free will
Choosing to share my consciousness

Feeling its lyrical logic tingling
Up and down your spine twisting
Into knots binding our souls
Even as we lie worlds apart

Sentiment travels between us
Reaching for destinations unforeseen
Reflecting a knowledge of beauty
That only a kiss can convey

Musing Alone

enocnroll — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 04:57:22 +0000

A friend made me wonder about musing and muses. Here’s a poem on the subject, written Mar. 23, 2009. Since this is the first poem that I have published openly on the Internet, allow me to explain that the stanzas tend to blend together but are very much meant to be read independently, including each verse. The blending of lines is intentional and hopefully will add depth to the experience of the poem.

Musing Alone

The Muse transports me
You see, within thee
Fuzes lit with fires
Of a paralyzed gaze

Looking inwardly tempts
Meaning, suggesting what
We want, to be consumed
By the oblivion of essence

Conferring upon the entity
Anything more than ignition
Dilutes the power possessed
Blinding us with light

Mythologized in our minds
We respond to programming
Whether it be theirs or ours
Tucking away memories

Purity of thought might
Circumventing old interpretations
Help us know more meaning
Than musing alone can allow

Expounding on Experentuality

enocnroll — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 20:59:28 +0000

Labels are necessary for context; ask any marketer. Language provides labels and we are constantly organizing our ever growing knowledgebases by categorizing. Since I believe in Networkth™ (a word which I will define in a future entry), and self-promotion and image management are key principles of that philosophy, inventing a new word to represent me (one that does not exist on Google as of this writing) feels like a logical first step.

Here is my initial definition…

Experentuality™:

Lifelong knowledge acquisition & thought experimentation
Treating life as an evolving experiment.
Living in the moment, always seeking new experiences.
Experiencing life as art.