Revolution Number Nine Spins In The Shadows Of Hollywood Temples



Indefinite aversions to Loss, and
Indefinite conversion from

That is
The essential


Change, or

– Of

Such sought-and-

Is not


I -U-
-Necessary Men.


About Epoch Awareness. Writer, J.D. Hughes

I write. Do you read? I write. I write words: Carefully and consistently, and chaotically, from the deep pulsar unison of the still mind (or the violent undoing of the still mind); Sometimes I resemble Robert Zimmerman (my hair uncut, my mind uncut, all unregulated thoughts, wind haphazard along a pale american brow too). Sometimes, Sometimes words are fragments of paragraphs and you find them eschew in and from time, and with care, in the long ribbon fabric or one single unsealed cosmic spiral, and then they burn wild like black-holes ( birthing voids built the milky way); Still there are words so heavy and pure that they anchor fast the mind to the mere memory of their syllables in the quiet echoes, in and around, the deep violet sea of the questioning readers inner-mind. I write sentences: In strands, like silk, or links in chains, or diamond arranged compressed carbon coal electrons, or the frequency of more intimately woven atoms; In intricate quilts of reason, and warmly glowing sheets of cotton fiction that cover you at 4 am on a Sunday (with the sun bright and a bastard, soon to be hitting your face from the slats in the window shades); I write paragraphs, and as such I consider it a duty of the considerate and conflicted human to consider their conflicts human, and consider: In airports, in churches, in penthouses in Hollywood (who overlook the homeless mountains and the slanting fogs of debilitated industries, and the vacuum seduction, and lifeless Angel City in the Wests bleached blonde sand, and lids of imagery cover sad vacant eyes), in station wagons, in deep wood temples in Maine, near the Androscoginn River, where the Native Americans caught silver fish and eternity lived off communal tides to the distant ocean, which is now more black than the sky from our waste, now wrought with the studied three-headed-demon-fish, (but still a holy place Maine, it glows); In any meaningful medium, known or noun, imaginable is mans only true duty. It is mans only Deity (For what was with God, what was God? The Word was, In The Beginning). To chase the promise that reality and truth are not yet only relative devices, and leaving these scriptures: On brains, and on paper, and on papyrus, and old plaster, and on the backs of old Polaroids (once someone did at least), the thin skin on wet hands who ru
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2 Responses to Revolution Number Nine Spins In The Shadows Of Hollywood Temples

  1. kshawnedgar says:

    Would like to know about the inspirations for this. The breaking of the capitalized words is really effective and visually pleasing.

    Btw, aren’t/weren’t we friends on Myspace?

    • Thanks,
      Im glad you liked it.

      As for inspiration, John Lennon compiled the sounds for Revolution Number Nine in the hopes of creating a sound- scape for the “birth of Revolution”. Its odd but I’ve had several experiences with good friends in Hollywood, and there are moments watching young people and our lives, I remember Revolution Number Nine and consider the soundscapes that might make up my own compiled pursuit of Revolution, and the pursuit of those around me.

      Watching the many Revolutions now in Lybia, in North Korea, in Greece, in China, and across the globe today, I was considering what inner force might be involved in the constant cycle of Revolution and the many Regimes which arise time and time again.

      The Revolutionary becomes the Tyrant in time, then another Revolution clears the path for the next Tyrant to take hold.

      There is only one thing I’ve found to be at the center of every Revolution, and every need for Revolution, and that is ultimately Man.

      Haha, that’s a good question, what’s your username?

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