For sale (sell-for...)

d-pend (73) in poem • 6 years ago (edited)

hot_music_ii_by_illpadrino-d4xebxw 2.jpg

For sale

I'm all wrapped-up foil and fresh clover,
Crumbs and a clean floor.

The hours and days—
a wan arc,
smiling across concrete.

Something organic has splattered,
become a makeshift hill.

I, too,
am a thumbprint of defiance
am a notched arrow
am a taut eyelid.

Din of sunset carved on flesh,
I too am a gaudy enterprise—
consigned to bins.

$vinyl_diner_by_boxersfracture.jpg$

hot_music_ii_by_illpadrino-d4xebxw 3.jpg

Written by
@d-pend
7/10/18
.
Photography by

.
  1 — "Hot Music II" by Matthias-Haker
  2 — "Vinyl Diner" by BoxersFracture
  3 — "Leaving the Past" by Matthias-Haker
.
what'd yours sell-for

if I told you I'd
sell you

mine's for sale?
hot_music_ii_by_illpadrino-d4xebxw 4.jpg

hot_music_ii_by_illpadrino-d4xebxw 4.jpg

Sell-for...

tags
going
every which way,
sing to the north tune.
tap to the pined Atlantic,
ear to the trim loon.

ringing crates of toil,
bless'd film. sull'n board.
fine kiln. 'stute mind.
sulk sky—
slunk rind.
leaving_the_past_by_matthias_haker-d6h0k3z 2.jpg

poem abstract writing life poetry

6 years ago by d-pend (73)

$39.49

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zeleiracordero (67) · 6 years ago

I am intrigued by the interpretation of this work. Let's see if I understood: Is the voice for sale?Sell the artist who feels ruined, lost like a pile of dusty discs, unappreciated.

Din of sunset carved in flesh,
I am also a shrill company-
consigned to containers

Music is so important that it compares to a house, but in ruins, because that is how it feels in that aspect... Is the mine liquidated? The musical production? Promoting:

tags

sing to the north tune

ear to the trim loon.

ringing crates of toil,
bless'd film.

Or maybe none of this is and only speaks of a change of air in the musical aspect. A search for new horizons, a production on the road that needs support and a strong work to crystallize.
Whatever it is, it feels a lot of commitment and desire, but at the same time, a chaotic vision backed by images.
Blessings and luck in your enterprise, @d-pend.

$0.93

6 votes

[-]

mineopoly (64) · 6 years ago

Thank you for a metaphysical inquiry into stuff @d-pend

I really can't figure out what you are trying to sell but I love the package. It looks like a grungy concert hall and my dad's old record collection from the pictures.

I'm all wrapped-up foil and fresh clover

I, too,
am a thumbprint of defiance
am a notched arrow
am a taut eyelid.

I too am a gaudy enterprise—
consigned to bins.

Considering this description I am glad that I am not the only one that feels like this. The moment that we realize we are only dust is the moment we begin to live. You have overwhelmed me with poetic wisdom. Honestly at first I thought you were talking about selling your equipment to pay for Steem or something crazy like that. Then I thought of you giving up your music career. Then I finally got it that the poem is saying to become nothing.

Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

It would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for us to become nothing after all nothing is impossible and I am doing nothing every day.

Oh, and I can't get this expression: "wan arc"

I like the poem a lot.

$0.56

3 votes

[-]

nancybriti (70) · 6 years ago

The mass man, the concrete man, the waste man, the technology man, @d-pen. The large number of samples that life can become, though brief, are not light. The planet's solid body begs for mercy. There's no truce for man, no refuge in that much debris. Faced with this certainty, the daily walk along the ubiquitous path takes place, and only a long inner journey can save us. Greetings to you