KALEIDOSCOPE
A carousel on the marina, a harbor of spies, a yard of windows either reflecting the surface of things or rewriting the legend. Turning mirrors make up the illusions of life ~ a dream, intangible perception. Yet within every fleeting moment contains clues to a bigger picture. And every LF piece is a portal into Paradise.
The first Ordinals triptych by Laurence Fuller, with HD cinematic poetry piece minted via Stacks (to accommodate file size) and a handwritten copy of the poem minted on-chain Bitcoin Mainnet via Gamma.
Kaleidoscope ~ Green
Green feather from the wing,
Which time and line,
Brought into prime.
Emerald feather;
I found by the banks of the canal,
Unlike any bird that migrated this way,
I thought it might write,
A better poem,
I strapped it too my quill,
And what it brought,
I could not stop to think,
For the words came flowing faster,
Than the ink could hit the paper,
Call it inspiration if you will,
But what the rules laid out in definitions,
There I saw as clear as day.
The gems and time which greatness made,
And every footstep I placed,
The mighty did survey,
If poetry could write itself,
The wealth that wrought my fingers carved it out,
Like a hand against wall,
With pigment sprayed the colors for this will,
They were matched in gold,
For what was plucked from the fig tree of Eden,
A leaf to cover shame.
Jade stone to immortalize the Emperor’s name.
The emerald mantle which held in frames,
A candle bleeding flames,
Five letters covert fame;
GREEN
~ LF
Kaleidescope ~ Garden
Such a place is wrought with beauty,
It tugs at the veins,
And the feathers of this life,
From the muddy banks and sky,
Where wild animals emerge at night,
To stare death in the face,
Is to touch a plant in passing,
Or to wonder through in bliss,
Is one visit to this garden,
Worth eternity and more?
Is to come upon the vivid petals,
Plants and pollen ~
Of lapis lazuli and marine blue,
Or to see the greens,
Of deeper jade than could contend,
With grass flute blades,
Or reds with depth,
Crimson, sapphire and illusions permanent,
And fleeting the gems by rocks that
listen and punk chant
Watch but change by day,
The rose garden that is fading,
From its roots;
To blues and greys
And in the night the tiger wags its teeth.
Its eyes in flame,
And claws too long were clean of meat
And knows tomorrow comes.
The morning does make new again,
All the prophets of the garden,
And its friends,
When such a place is bound by honor,
When it is a gate to the very end,
If one was to pass it
It should be like this;
Quiet containment.
In paradise my friend.
~ LF
Kaleidescope ~ Conclave
Dripping on the marina was dissolution,
For how long had this been going on?
A carousel, a harbor of spies.
The world a pristine mirage.
A yard of windows
Either reflecting,
the surface of things,
Or rewriting the legend.
The Good, The True,
And The Beautiful.
For beauty it must be drawn,
The arrows in the forge,
Not a single one left in his quiver,
The empty container as Justice left his fingers,
And one by one...
You know not ~ what this man has lived.
Great expectations were placed,
A stack of letters,
A photograph from many years before.
An art collection hung above their door.
The scars above his eyes told of an unspoken law.
Silent and wry,
Something ancient.
The black clouds parted again;
Something woke him from a dream.
What he discovered there;
Was the key unto his sleep ~
That the watching eyes,
Did watch him in the deep.
He was striding in upon a donkey.
There was at the centre of the city;
A conclave taking place.
The brash, the bravest and the famous.
That knew the lines and how to speak it;
But not the life and how to live it.
That technique was a pill;
Swallowed and stuck ~
Lodged in its throat, it stayed.
They could not speak,
No more with danger.
Nor with tongue,
Like a piano that couldn’t play a song.
Its keys did tighten.
Every seed planted did bloom at once
As he stepped forward to the mark ~
It’s time.
Around it’s old flag did circle.
He’d known them all ~ from afar.
He’d seen them rise,
And taken a knee,
Before each their star.
Watched each rise in glory,
Watched their success,
as they told their stories.
Watched them claim,
their masks were great.
But none did have ~ the mark of fate.
He whispered without them hearing;
"Have fun.
Enjoy your time
in the sun.
For soon the
Night will come.
And in the good
Morning you will see
What has bloomed.”
In every seed,
You can gasp and
You can steal.
But nothing matters
for what is real.
It’s time for
The good,
The true,
And the beautiful.
~ LF
