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Page Five

Ad0ra Williams

If I’m living through the code

I must deal with the fall




Failed Alchemy


Midnight Roses play strings in the alleys of my mind

Waves. Sound waves, that are no more than wind going through

A popping bubble made of the ideas that I sometimes pretend

Not to be mine.


And the bubbles travel through the air, it touches the ground

It lands on Midnight Roses leaves

It’s the negative space within the dream


The dream that I’ve laid claim to

Sometimes not as bravely as I should


And the more about the others I tried to make, the more about me it became


I looked at the Midnight Roses and the sound 

Waves blurring the hologram around them

Because I’m a terrible singer and my jazz had a tone of blues

I couldn’t translate the wind and birds were singing

So I let them sing and I saw colours

I needed to raise the Violet flame

That is there but not here

And it doesn’t make sense and my last lover

Had just gone away and I’m afraid

He will never come back


I can’t be violet without a twin flame


So I projected the memories and visions on the other

I killed the Midnight Roses in an attempt to extract purples

Without relying on the contemporary layers

Distrustful, muddy and meaningless 


The flowers became dark and the pigment didn’t show


That’s what happens when you cross the barrier of time

That’s what happens when you project love in the matter

It splits in black and white


In good and evil


In you and me


And we

We have another fight



Useless Maxisms


Time will teach you

It emerged from knowledge itself

It knows all answers 

To everything


Space is a concept made of time, divided by

Deceived by the lie


That we exist alone


But we do, lastly


Everything is the same

That’s why in an attempt to show it through 

I repeat and requote myself so much 

Often, requoting the old enlightened ones right after


The artist is a channel 

A work of art is only complete after the artist’s original concept comes to light

Then, you’ll have the expectant eye’s conception added to it

And the piece will be complete


If the artist’s idea has never made its way out of the darkness

Even for themselves

That must happen first


Or all we would have are rumours fragmented in a Blank State


That’s what happened to existence itself

And that’s what it’s repeated aeon after aeon

When the artist thinks himself infinitesimal 


It’s time and everything within it is petite

We have all - and by all, I mean the collective -

Been here for two seconds so far

That’s human kind


The artist, though, has been here ever since by itself

And since all is so small, why do we have to lose?


The idols are dead

And they were the only ones

Who could access the architect


So they words remain

For us to quote the art

Over and over again


Until the architect

Becomes us


I’m riding this ride because I’m lucky enough to know 

The matters about matter


And breaking the barrier of the sound

I tried to reach the future, but I

Only got tired from time


So I’ve came here and decided to write a maxim that required no much thought

For wires

To seed 

Instead of birds and parchment face the storm

That would wash the ink

And make my thoughts get lost



The billboard for zeitgeist ephemeral contentment in the alleys of my mind said


Be happy today

Or be happy tomorrow

You can’t have both


And sadness will always be in the meantime




This time I decided not to sound

Not because I saw that was the best option

Just to be better heard


And I just threw all the concepts I had written in a

Travel notebook that I have carried around for years


Because I expect someone to find Noetics in it


Because I’m tired of squared textbooks texts

I’m tired of the synthesis

I want to start a longueur and freeze time


So the other, who is me, lastly

Will listen to it in the back of their mind


And we will go back to the start


From where we should have never tried

To scape


And I will awake

Late for coffee

And nothing will have happened

This time

A line






Dodged Reflexion



Numbers, patterns, colours, a sound we can’t hear

But it’s there


The pain isn’t real

It’s just a reflection of the elusive separation

Which isn’t real


And what is real?


Your reflection, of course


You must try your best to keep 

Your reflection 

In your own mirror

Not to be attracted to the reflection 

The other designed for you 

In their mirror, where they keep magnets


Otherwise, you’ll end up letting them

Dream for you


You’ll be just grass in someone else’s garden

You’ll be muddy red pigment

That you can find anywhere


The ocean won’t be wine-looking in your eyes


And you won’t see the patterns

The rhythm in old French 

You won’t notice that music has lost melody

And naught is there to dodge


Your thoughts will evade from your mind

Because you won’t see the veil that connects


With everything else


I wish I could explain to you why God doesn’t care if you don’t care

But you wouldn’t understand once you’re too immersed in being apart

From yourself


Just be careful with your reflection

It is all you have left from the grandeur you once were

Keep your mirror hidden


And do not sent it through wires

The magnets may usurp it





Wicked Antidote


My people 

And my generation 

Have plenty on tragedies

Kept in a Pandora box about to explode


And I’m no more than a wilting orange 

Hanging on top of a tropeless Tropico


Extracting purples 

From the mud of pigments 

That fused way too soon


And the birds are dancing the dance of life

Above water, to bring it higher 

Because the architect think they can’t 

Understand love


And I can’t either


The major glitch about and contained in the knowledge 

Is that it seizes the sheer innocent joy of the process

Once everything becomes too obvious

The illusion of colours and sounds 

Falls in demise 


What comes before and then becomes just a point of view


And I just was induced to write poetry

Because I knew about the past and knew it would repeat


A poet will always handcraft the future 


And the present

The present becomes a burden

Too obvious



It fades to black

It fades to silence


It fades

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