At an interesting and quick pace,
The man asked to be seen by the doctor,
No distasteful strand of eloquence left unopened—
He asked for a mailbox, and she gave him a shovel
(And a shower for a show!)
That just became so readily amusing to me,
That I might have failed to have mentioned, dear reader
An atrocity unwinding for us we have found—
and we have found such indeed, in perpetual times,
To be one another, and all at all times! A quest!
Given a seat at the entry,
To have been given any attention,
And keep each of them with me
For factor of disappearance— “¿whereforeartthou women? “
I got tracked down for an autograph
And asked for one, if any
Catch me if you can, car//cat.
How I failed to have lost you at all,
And found one at the crossroads,
Dropped off at the crosswalk
And ironing boards in the flatiron district
Don't do anything I wouldn't
(Fair, and very well said.)
Fair and very well done, your honor
Are we all on the same ark now,
It couldn't be I had ever lived so dangerously
And only lost $22 dollars!
And still owe 30 minutes on the stationary bike
{After 30 More Minutes on The Stationary Bike}
In the crosshairs//crosfires of something once thought as love, we find reason to give in trust to such, as not has now parted from within these sequences
and by time, in and of itself, in nature
—with and throughout cause of now and where we have come, into truth;
Awakened by our judgement,
And in spirit, here gathered as farkind.
Sometimes, I honestly don't know what any of this stuff means— or what I'm writing until after I've done it.
That's Christopher Lloyd.
John Wilkins, Sr. Sir. Reporting for duty.
Have you got your paperwork gathered?
I see here you have— mounted—
—yes…this mission—several times within the last decade.
I've seen to it to show all paths taken within the simulation—sir—both in and out of each district within the series grid.
…I see. And your continuum?
Spotless: In fact— with your judgment, you might confirm I've become somewhat of a—
—it has been well documented.
(Breaks fourth wall, as if to say “i beat you to the punch.)
Since when did we ever know how things happen—
[The Festival Project ™ ]
—In this realm, or anywhere else?
How's “anywhere else” sound?
Marvelous— as long as it doesn't cost too much.
Please tell me you're taking these things seriously.
It's as serious as they come, I think.
They're going to kill him.
They're going to kill me!
AND LIVE FROM NEW YORK, ITS
I just did [bleep] say that
Run the backup generators.
We gotta get this thing off the ground.
I'm sure you'll understand lately.
Wait! Where are you going?!
Somewhere else! I don't know!
There's something you should know.
He—shot himself this morning.
I might have my wires crossed,
The controller of everything
—but if God has a controller
I'm not tryna look cute today;
I just wanna go in on a loan
Seen I seen what you saw—
I play everything on the wall
Someone call my employer,
Leather cuffs and centrifugal force less
But you started it for her
No, I don't want to smile;
I should just start the fire under my soul
I'm still tied to the art,
If I should just move on with it.
I shouldn't move over so fast;
This whole car has bucket seats.
I should just leave it to God,
And I don't want to worry too much
Just thinking about where I've gone with it says
I've been missing a piece of my heart
And I've had a lot of fun times
But I got two dogs barkin
What was that about the crown?
If my plane goes down, all is lost.
I thought about voice activated doors—
Keeping the lights on at night
What doesn't serve you only
Sell the dream they sold you
I need no more open doors
If it's not worth all of it
And more artifacts to show
I could only get cold hard numbers
Wait till you get a divorce—
That'll show you the cold hard world.
I'm not worried about an offer.
I'm not worried about a job,
I'm not worried about the way it works so much
Leaving a piece of myself
(There's no way to get out)
That I loved the whole world over you.
You built the whole world over water
The wall around Rome in a day.
Remember the time you sold your piece
Remember what you could give
To spend your entire life
It's a win-win situation.
It's a push to start world, you know
—-I just want to play with him.
I promise, I'll give it right back when I'm finished
I don't plan on keeping it
Or coming home till morning.
Everyone gets worried after supper
When the car backs out of the driveway, God knows
I could be gone for an hour at most,
When I close my doors to visitors
Open to the public, on some days.
Dress code with all the right
I'm dizzy with the loss of time
But you'd chain me to a bedpost,
Steady fishing in a man made pond
I should fill out an app for McDonald's yet
I'm already full of c/gum
[The Festival Project ™ ]
Laramie Hughes is a jack of all trades.
A representative of God on all behalfs
Tearing down the institutions of sanity
They come in all incarnations
The light that brings awareness to all things,
Your pain is words in music
Of forming worlds once thought
As foraged, once of thought
(He looks to meet his untimely demise atop a skyscapter in midtown Manhattan)
Below, the summoned protector waits, awakened as archangel and antithesis to what is known, to catch him — thus prolonging his existence, and though not truly preventing his untimely death, giving birth to his enlightenment...
He jumps, giving way to all element
She stands basking in his glory,
For here once more Friday comes,
Again we call to all Ark,
The light in your language
Has crafted pure steadyform
Thought to be worlds of wonder
Dance, brave fortune has captured!
Light, scared not of darkness
The underworlds unknown to awareness
See you now the heart unfold,
The tired messages of animals form
A love so misrepresented as to call it so
Besides the box of fixatures,
The keeper of keys has gone and fallen
Waking is he to the cries
And the sorrow thoughts of others,
To structure what had bonded
No more a world he leaves behind!
I have forgiven the end of all what is real
In exchange for your interest
If only to forget of you,
A gifted enchanted and given sword,
Trickle now your tears, chorus
Sing now of accomplishments and whistles gestured at the woven wicker basket
Have you a candle for us,
You have fashioned, dear savior
Forgive us of our pondering
Screeched with winds captivated
Would this lapis appease you?
A ring of tin and aluminum;
(Then again to think at all,
Again I am crying for your forgiveness
The fur of cat is groomed
With the essence of frankincense,
A run through the financial cordidor
There, I gathered wood for fire—
The journey a gift of eternal enchantments
A forceful trek to ponder
Will you again find tide with us?
In our minds, we are at feast and in fortunes
For this true, it's no comedy upon us;
And now in New Jerusalem,
Buried in my own blindness and envy
Having thought of myself as the enemy
And she of circumstantial evidence of the devil at large
The blankness of my own heart
The displacement of my own soul
Never having been loved at all
By a man besides my own father
Replacements and mailboxes?!
I got nothing but a refund
Let me get the fuck out of here
Before the whole world follows
Let me get the fuck out of here
Before the whole world follows
Since Prince given 6 senses
BENYONCÉ and her 6 parallel selves are seated at an upscale restaurant in New York City.
A super gay waiter enters wearing by some coincidence a relic he purchased that Beyoncé herself had once worn; he clocks in for his shift and sees the seven neyonces ay the table
{THE GAYEST FANGIRL SCREAM THAT EVER}
Demarcus, as we learn the super fan is called, after losing his job due to the incident, is sought out by Beyoncé and her 6 multidimentional selves and contracted as a bampheramph to enter the void and aide in time traveling the other dimensional multi space, returning each Beyonce to her respective existences and thus restoring the balance to the Beyonceverse as a whole; though he he learns he may never be able to return home to his primary dimension, he agrees anyway to the dangerous feat and is promised upon completion of the mission to be thoroughly rewarded, however Demarcus makes it known that the greatest reward of all is to have had the joy and experience of meeting his all time idol and lifelong hero— a tale of the love and power of fandom, and heroic journey of everyday heroes, brought together though the love and journey of music—and superstardom.
[Demarcus is eventually returned to a dimension in which his wildest dreams have become a reality.]
Nonetheless, here we are-/
All unmasked and known by our titles
In the unknown the darkened light spoken
Had awoken to none more than chaos
A rampant pain and fury of unrequited love
For an eight series coincidal
There we are in the whole form
Besides the hope of a midnight dawn
The chorus and ensemble assembles
Jyre snatches the binoculars from Hyro..
For who can deny any artform
So crafted with such delicate an I,
That any you, fair beings
The circumstance of what love I gave
Or define the son(g)bird,
Once scattered and set to depart
Dear storms would follow,
And the trumpets of swaddled,
Mother goose and laid bane in arms,
The wrath of therefore furious wages,
The seeing and benign snadow of tithings
Speaking our words from quilted fingertips—
Safely perched and at safe distance
From he who does not want her
But becomes of all the treasured stone
Awakened in her fortresses
Bond and tied by boundless skies
And formed awakened in the galaxies
For where apartheid stands as happened
No other circumstance and safety whileyou,
Will I now or neither gathered
Sailors watch the sails have set
Into wind with breath of air,
Forming therefore more words,
The foretelling of stories often told,
By neighbors with greetings,
Dressed as others in our forms,
For once in the den of wolves
Tires, never once to touch the ground,
To be fitted by those of ours
Who have chosen in sense of nature
And on the wicked, resting wings
She keeps holy water by her bedside
Wow! Reese Witherspoon. Hey.
I totally forgot you existed.
—and I totally get you mixed up with Drew Barrymore, sometimes—
A lot. Like, a decade and a half.
Wait, where are you going?
I gotta go— whatever, some bullshit—
Hollywood— blah blah blah.
Everybody wants to be in The Festival Project!
What's “the festival Project?”
For the sake of my bonds,
Machine washed field of fantasy,
Outfitted for us all on the glory of a spring day
California heroine or lure,
Made of truth and of love,
The end of ages laced with wickedness
The way of others are kind in their shadows,
A different one, another kind
The synchronicity of sounds as songs
No wonder the window was open.
To summon up my own galaxy
Here calls my own nature,
Needing to be needing to be wanted,
Then withered, as it were, to something else.
All of your luck, as my witness
Though we are not aligned,
Still the same as many kind,
I want not the slow churning
Of being that, and this at all
And for arguments sake, inquisitive
Gestures of word fare, gameplay,
I haven't! And that's bad grammar—
Don't you tell me how the hell to talk, before I kill ya!
I must admit, I've become quite partial to using
This Jimmy Fallon character
HE'S A GOOD HUMAN SHIELD!
Of travelers, in our time,
Coming the wave of signs,
Come waiting, wanting to know glory,
Comes creeping in the night
A fiercety of weapons kind
Explanations embellished with
Only wanting time to waste,
Therefore I now, part ways
To become rain and ghosts,
Lessons and learned sins,
Pondering to feed the birds
For game and superstardom,
But ground in the greys and silvers of my hair
Awakens under clouds of sun,
Only formed as the ground crumbled under her
Again, I go where there is no light of sun
That needs attention as such,
But friendly enough ghost
To have written songs in your partial kitewind.
A watch upon the wrist would only tell time,
But not the day or the place of arrival for I,
To have whispered into ears,
In which beast he will be
The things you seek to ask and believe
The greetings of long since foreshadowed bark
Amongst you, believe now,
A new tale of these things,
Fuck! Whatever that means!
Is this gonna happen every Friday now?!
Every Friday you fast, yes!
Or don't! I don't care, really. Up to you.
No preference or preference really—
A salamander and wildebeest this morning
With all of the games being played
But having lost the fit of love
Now to be tied at the alter,
Delicate rain falls from leather skies,
Calling beasts of ours to nest in the calm and warm
That I've become humbled,
Now not scrolled upon stone walls
Another monster of my mind,
Shifted into these as saints,
The words of songs and poems,
The pages of unknown worlds,
These things are true to which I know
With what knowledge you have gave me
No attempt to be prolific,
Material things not wanted, but needed
Who wore the pants better.
(I'm sure they're both dead.)
We're talking about two literal ghosts here!
Which is why—we don't have all day.
Do you know how long it took me to get Wilder down here for this?
Almost as mad as the hatter,
GET THAT DAMN CAT OUT OF HERE!
Your annual obsession is in;
Turns out, you've come down with the madness
We all tried on, as a hat once in fables
With the packaging label attached,
None was as mad as the black hatter at all!
No tea, but only strong Colombian coffee led
And made so strong by Alice,
Who indeed had been shrunk
Would make no sense at all—
And all had fallen on his kingdom
To become something other
She had fallen, dear Alice,
Into some hole in Compton,
Into the bottom of the ocean
Propmptly below The Island
Nothing happens for nothing at all
No justice for just calls,
It's a purple flermergerder!
Whurt er luridly purple plurbergerder!!
Oh!! Ernd Shutrd ur lurvley sherd erv pruplelerplre!
An evening with fate if he misses it
Assumed to be dead, or with you—
There was no absolute certainty of the remittance—
The scoured and folded body
Of the wonderful world of God,
Once betrayed and forgotten
With Gratitude asking for an experience
Her waters had sculled canyons,
And her words fell as oceans
For a toxic and harmful incarnation
Alignments and reconciliation
If it's going to go fast,
And if it's gonna be loud
It might as well be a gun
But moving my parts where they ought to be
If I'm called with the promise
Maybe i'm the one they call
Better known as Brooklyn New York
Where the mullet is making a comeback
Thinking of skylines painted
I almost forgot I'm still a cat
But I've no use for a litter box
(Which things should be and which things though not)
The curious case of Benjamin Button
That's the second mullet I've seen in a week.
Haven't I been standing here
More than 12 minutes already?
Standing still in New York
I must have done something wrong today.
The bus driver was okay lookin.
I don't look at bus drivers.
You can handle all that you can handle all this.
Can you please stop using me as a human shield.
No! Cause then I'd need another human shield!
Then get another human shield!
This one is indisposable!
What! She never came here!
What do you mean!? She said—
I was here the whole time! I didn't see anybody!
Nobody, just some crack head!
Goddammit, we missed her!
Didn't I tell you—all the crackheads are God?!
What! Nobody ever told me that.
How did nobody ever tell you that? I told you that!
I told you that. I know I told you that.
Why the devil always wanna be BEHIND a motherfucker?
Do I have something on my back?
The Devil attached to my back
I might have to take a knife in it
(Something told me not to go out.)
But God was lost as crossroads, either how
And anyway, we all got lost
Once formed to one another
You really want to bring the—
When you need it most, you become the hero you are
Especially now that everyone
This for sure is why I dont fly spirit.
I've never been to bowling green
You put your practically newborn baby in a bus
Exposed to all these people?!
BITCH, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?
Yo somebody' actual grandma just got on the bus
This woman was like 70 years old
And you know black don't crack!
Then she gon sit down next to me,
She's checkin her stories.
She looks about the same age as my actual grandmother.
My grandmother don't do all that.
My grandma taught me how to make lemonade,
How to make lemonade, and to stay in abusive marriages until the kids grow up.
I almost like this lady better.
She tore up, but she hip!
Is not the entire world a chemical dependence?
Stunted in movement, alcoves
Shallow ponds and hollow rivers tides
She got off the bus, I was like
You know racism is really bad
When a colored woman would rather wear an old, ratty old wig
Than her own natural hair.
And this is because I know
The way you are treated in public—
By not only whites— but other blacks
Judgement and mistreatment of the public in general—
If you natural hair is the furthest away from what has been made to be the ideal standard.
I'm rolling through the hood
Which never worked due to “outages”
And came with hidden fees
The deeper I get into the hood, and the more the bus clears out
The most clusters of housing projects
And dilapidated buildings I see—
A reminder that the world at all much has not been changed
But only further hidden away from the eyes of what is known
A car without a name a fixer upper but a keeper
I thought none deserving of such
And suffered star worshipers
Watching for lost survivors
Horses colored as unicorns
Mezmerized, believing you will fold at mercy
The ions, are to say at least
They had already worshiped her
Already bloodied her gown!
Return to sender, your creatures
Garnished of the underwent
Now, remember how you found her
YO, FUCK YOU JIMMY FALLON.
He shakes his head and smirks smugly.
“OH” ?! OH! YOU RUINED MY LIFE.
Somebody get this guy out of here!
You were wrong about everything.
You shifted! Who are you?!
Your rot weiler's name was “bubbles?!”
BUBBBBBBBBLLLLEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!
The Complex Collective. ©
COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019
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