c u r r e n t p r o j e c t s
"i aim for the content, the shape and the form, to be unlike anything ever before."
"this book is gonna be completely void of grammaticall mistakse.. and if you find something you have my permission to set it ablaze, stone whoever wrote it, or otherwise bury it in a forest amongst the most rapid of wolves and there kin"
One to burn and one to keep.
My plan is to write this book so I can burn it.
I want to breath in it's ashen breath,
to fill my lungs with stale, stagnant, petty human emotions.
I want to create it,
only to destroy it.
Such a relief, never to be seen by anyone's prying eyes,
not even mine.
(Perhaps one copy will remain intact.)
But think about the poetic symbolism behind it -
befitting the content to a “t”.
This is the only way the book can exist.
Half baked.
A smoldered source of season's past.
Shades once gray now oh so changed.
Fire sources all life's change.
Their eyes rode like fire storms from apocalyptic skies.
This is the only way it can exist.
The only way I will allow it – to mask and obscure the content.
Keeping raw emotions somewhat hidden.
And each one, displaying a different pattern.
This is unrecognized art.
This is futility incarnate.
This is suppressed love.
(The futility of unrecognized love).
Or is it only product of my human fear?
To cover my exposed, naked and quivering body with embered pages and blanked out words?
-Coward, you coward
thick gray paint is a collection of desires, grievances and the beauty of monotony as described by a soul who traverses time and space, manifesting dozens of vessels along it's prolific journey.
four stories (musica, mandom, nero, death grips) are woven amidst webs of obscure poetry as this one, transcendent spirit resides in different times, worlds and lives whilst they embody a variety of physical forms.
the first, on a linear plane, of the narratives is the main, central story entitled, musica. for in this tale we meet with and enjoy the presence of al risha who is burdened by life in her screeching metallic, industrious planet. upon the unearthing of an ancient artifact, she becomes consumed by the nostalgia of a forgotten land. her world becomes opened to the symphony of nature, to the joy and warmth of family.
...She heads into her bedroom, whose oversized picture window displays the kinetic city beneath her, already bustling and busy with what ever it is that everyone is doing to have a full, productive morning.
The suns, at this moment, from this perspective, gleaned against the glass and metal structures in a vivid, symphonic display of a gradient orange. The lustrous planet Gemma Tauva shone with such brilliance, it appeared to be glowing with warmth, with a fiery life from within. Al Risha squints her eyes from the blinding light and sighs as she recalls the warmth of the subjects in the video, the laughter and their strange planet.
As she looks out upon scurrying, suited men with important briefcases of a similar hue to their dull, gray suits and a red haired woman who caught a wisp of debris on the spike of her chrome colored heel, who was now, restlessly trying to untangle it, Al Risha longs to watch the video again...
mandom tells of a young girl, shiv, who struggles to live in a grimy, undisclosed city, who seeks the company of men to fill her afflictions, to momentarily occupy her grieving desires.
...Sometimes these men are all I need. But not tonight. I inhale deep the blue, electric smoke from my mentholated cigarette (so fresh) and exhale rings around the almost full moon. Tonight was one of those dirty, filthy jobs that makes me wanna curl up inside and cry, or lay in front of traffic and just freakin' die...
nero, who once was man, has become a stalking beast who hides and lurks in forest caves. his soul is in such hellish peril, his solace is seeked by eating sweet meat.
...He tears through the ceiling and leaps onto hatched rooftop. His growl fills the waning moon. His stomach bulges and quakes as the belly of a snake who had swallowed a dozen rats. He rushes into the forest, recluse to hiding in cave. He curls up in a fragile ball, shaking, moaning. He loudly weeps and falls into a restless slumber...
death grips, reflects the life of a man named tariq, who joins a gang of "hardened criminals" so as to deliver a package to the man he is in love with, the man he has longed to see for years.
...Do-Quinn lodges heavy metal criminal device left, so close to breaking the noose of this emphatic lock, barring convenience store doors shut. I dodge past the howling lights, surging forceable the barricaded night. Do-Quinn eases me a steamy grin and knows my lust to join with him and his crew of emigrants. This city steams and pumps against it's wettened brick facade. A sinister force pulsates just beneath the grim surface, but I, the one, am to be too keen to detect it.
This force is all mine...
one to burn
and one to keep.
(all to burn and none to keep.)
instructions: burn before reading
molekular devices is a collaborative experimental multi-media project involving found and manipulated sounds, video, poetry, performance and various other art forms meshed into one scientific-type experiment, to see what we can do with electronic music.
currently, we're working on making new tracks and getting ready to shoot video 1.
to see what we're up to and to follow/support us go here:
facebook: https://www.facebook.com/molekulardevices/
soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/molekulardevices
