Of Looping Time

Lately I have been dreaming and feeling like I am stuck in a loop of time the Fates have wound up for my misery and their humor. Yesterday I was reintroduced to the concept of time as thought of by the modernist artists as school. I have thus developed my own theory that perhaps there is a dormant modernist spirit that has molded into me somehow. It would actually explain a lot.

The modernist period is known for the constant search for answers and of course the rebellion of the capitalistic rules and ideologies. It was a wake up call to the gloom that was the reality of the people. Getting up everyday to a routine in everything you do. Work your 8:00 to 4:30 sleep repeat. Time was thought to be fluid and anything but chronological. A powerful influence on the subconscious and how we experienced anything that was happening in the present. Time in my world has become as relative as may be possible.

More than anything recently I have felt like my body is in the now present/ real time yes but my spirit, my mind, my senses are in a past time of some sort. My memories are holding me in a place that is familiar. Scents are compared, sights are reminders. My every thought is either a reflection of my memories or a comparison of what was. The concept of a future time hardly enters my mind. I am having spiritual experiences that can only be linked to ancestors dating back possibly hundreds of years or possibly my own past lives. Dreams ranging from Navajo Indian animal spirits, to African Orishas and Japanese Goddesses. There is one common link among them all that I have already attributed great significance to but can do nothing about at this point.

How does one then put a hold on real time and re-center a reality that makes sense? So far ignoring it has not worked. No real surprise there. The passage of time has always been my trigger factor for depression, feeling hopeless and like Time is passing too quickly. This new dimension (ha ha ha think Einstein) cannot be helpful it only adds a new aspect of the uncontrollable. I am still thinking and I guess waiting for more clarity and watching time pass.

Time Chosen Loop
by Krys Darcelle Dumas on Monday, September 6, 2010 at 9:29am

...and time will prove
the cruelest of Fates
laughing as she
chooses delicately
memory seeds
to drift along
tail end whispers of winds
entangling in present scentscapes.

You will question now
with the wisdom of
ancient sleeping
spirits withing your
eyes,
truth as you
have written it.
Turning molding pages
curling to hold
each stanza as
they sing of what
you thought to
assume.

Watching as night
swallows whole the
day, each a promise
of barrenness in memory
fighting flowing
secret tears
mourning her
insistence on rows, and lines
order in now.
She laughs at hands pulling wildly
thorn scarred
dying each
rose colored pleasantry
it starts again.

Unable to stop neurosis
barrowing forth
too much thought,
faces whisking past inner lids
closed tight
shutting out the kaughter
of the three
twisting even then
for their spiteful end....

(Start again)

....and time will prove
the cruelest of Fates....



Obsession
by Krys Darcelle Dumas on Monday, June 15, 2009 at 11:02am

I am obsessed with time
beyond the norm
in human life
because in mine
he passes rudely by
and most times
I want to stop
and sit
in my darkening corner
curled
forehead
to knees
toes intertwined
eyes closed
and though I ask him to
stop
and stay with me
he never does.

I want to catch up
take a minute and
chat
about years that are gone
and widening spaces
between that time
and this time
sometimes I lose control
of my time
fleeting and flighty
fleeing with any sign of…..
rest it seems
casue in hard times
like sex time before my time
it stretched like the walls
of my tight…….
and in time
I still will never forget.

I cannot let go of that
not now when
tomorrows haunt my
every turn
and reckless abandon
actually seems more welcoming
than a plan that time
will not follow.
It seems I will never learn
never gain the courage
though trust me
I try
but everytime
I wait
On what? Exactly?
I do not know
But after all THIS TIME
there must be something better
here
something my mind
has held on to
to steady that balance
between real time
and surreal time
I am afraid that
soon this time
will be up here
and
where?
will be the next question.
I am barely here
your world is not mine
my eyes do not see
plainly what you see
and in my world
filled with monsters
and cold sweats
without light
most times

I want to
sit
in my corner
curled
forehead to knees
toes intertwined
eyes closed
and stop