Monday, December 24, 2012

♫20/320 - ♫21/320: The estate was expanding right before our eyes.


    The estate was expanding right before our eyes. We could sense the confusion which befell our new friend, the American Goldfinch. Thus, we jointly reassured our new associate: “Yes, you are seeing what you believe you are seeing. While we would not wish for you to worry too much over this phenomena, we must react to the rapidly changing reality of the estate’s expansion. It is our desire to arrive safely upon the pillared patio of this estate’s mansion, there, in the progressively looming distance.”


    “I shall fly as fast as I can.” said the astonished, bright yellow bird.
    The American Goldfinch then quickly ascended into a vertical loop which brought him down quickly into a direction pursuant of the estate mansion’s patio.
    “What in the world?” exclaimed the bird. Who, regardless of his spectacular speed, found himself little closer to the mansion which floated further away as the estate grew.
    “A nice effort Mr. Goldfinch, however, on an Unlimited Society estate, all forms of miracles are in a constant state of realization, both above and below the surface of common experience and understanding. Thus, you will need an uncommon advantage to thrive in such an unlimited environment.

♫ 18/320 - ♫ 19/320: Of course! Why did we not think of it on our own?

♫ 18/320:
Of course! Why did we not think of it on our own? What was an American Goldfinch doing amongst the Northeastern realms of our new estate? There exist many forms of finches and even Goldfinches in the world, but specifically an American Goldfinch crossing the Atlantic ocean, on its own, all the way to Svalbard? Uncanny.

There are few birds which could ever fly such a distance and the only one capable of such, that I was aware of–the Arctic Tern–was not the glimmering, gale-glider prancing about before us. It was clear that we were most certainly and undeniably in the presence of an American Goldfinch. It was obvious to me that it was a male American Goldfinch as the gold-yellow coat of feathers it wore was the distinctive brilliance adorned most exclusively by males of their species. A bold, saturated color which was less camouflaged than the earthier tones of the female American Goldfinches who could often hide like angels in clouds amidst the demure tones of the North American woods.

“Mr. Goldfinch,” I said. “I know just the thing to rekindle your memories. A friendly discussion, beside a warm fireplace within the estate mansion, and a grand tour of one of our opulent libraries, full of sights and sounds to catalog your memories into a cohesive framework. Then we can figure out just where in America this 'there,' is that you believe you should be.”


The Goldfinch looked up and then away, as if reflecting. “A library you say? Within your own living quarters?”

“Yes, Mr. Goldfinch, such is the case.” one of my associates responded.

Mr. Goldfinch flapped his efficient, bright yellow wings in a swift flutter of hopeful excitement. The sunlight, squeezing in through the conservative opening in the caves natural roof, seemed to dance on cue throughout a myriad of reflections traveling through the diamond filled cavern. The caribou amongst us–who previously had been quite content and complacent while munching away on healthy forages of nutrient rich wheat grasses abundant in the glimmering cavern–broke from their grazing circle and formed a gateway of sorts. They stood left and right of the gently winding paths which led from the immense diamond table at the center of the cave, through the maze of curving, diamond flanked pathways and finally towards the exit of the cavern. The caribou raised their heads proudly, and individually. Each of them nodded their antlered heads as we passed by them, one-by-one, en route to the mouth of the cavern. We were treated as if a royal entourage by the saluting caribou as we exited the cavern and began our progression back to the estate mansion, with our new found friend–the American Goldfinch.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

♫ 17/320 — After silent deliberations amongst ourselves we considered the proposition of the American Goldfinch ...

♫ 17/320 —

After silent deliberations amongst ourselves we considered the proposition of the American Goldfinch and proposed the following: "We would be glad to help you traverse the path from here to there. However, there are a great, many possible destinations simply 'west,' of here. Could you be a bit more specific?"

To which the brightly colored bird replied, while pacing about in a figure eight pattern atop the diamond table: "Forgive me. You may find this the oddest paradox to ever be placed before you—certainly by one such as myself—however, I cannot see the complete picture of the 'there," of which I have mentioned. I only know that where I must get to is, a place ... called ... uh ..."

"Of course!" Our thoughts interrupted the birds attempt at recollection with a definitive answer: "America!"

"Yes! America, that is where I must go!" replied the bird, obviously distracted by its own enthusiasm in the process.

♫ 16/320 — "It is very good to hear that your imaginations are open to the unimaginable."

♫ 16/320 —

"It is very good to hear that your imaginations are open to the unimaginable."

These were the words of a new voice which emerged from our midst. I quickly realized that they were spoken by the American Goldfinch which had just arrived amongst us.

"Welcome friend." I replied.

"What brings you here?" my associates inquired.

The bird looked down at the diamond tabletop upon which it paced, which served as its stage temporarily. Then he spoke: "I wish I could respond in elaborate detail; however, I have only part of my memories in tact at the moment. Yet, I know I am here to request guidance from you, and your associates."

The outstretched wing of the American Goldfinch gestured towards a direction west of our then current position. Its focused feather seemed almost more like a pointing finger, than a feather, as it squinted one eye and said: "It is . . . there, to which I must attend. Will you assist me? Can you help me get from here to there—in time?"

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Northeastern Caribou, Water and Rocks [ Ink Cut ] ©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Northeastern Caribou, Water and Rocks [ Ink Cut ] ©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

♫ 15/320 — "What kind of bird is that?" asked Yeula.

♫ 15/320 —

"What kind of bird is that?" asked Yeula.

"That, my dear, is an American Goldfinch." we replied.

"An American bird, here?" said Yeula.

"Yes, Yeula, that is correct, and it is surprising to see it here. However, this mountain is miraculously enchanted. So much so that I believe most things are possible here: things imagined previously, and the unimaginable—if there is such a thing." I, replied.

♫ 14/320 — Often, after one gives oneself space to receive, there comes an opportunity to give.

♫ 14/320 —

Often, after one gives oneself space to receive, there comes an opportunity to give. The arriving opportunities after such space are free of burdensome feelings and instead present themselves as gilded marking instruments might appear to the desiring hands of an inspired writer, illustrator or composer.

As all of us—certainly including our friends—the caribou, encircled the central diamond. Shadows began to flicker upon its table like surface. The immense form of the shadow suggested for a moment that perhaps the source which cast it was of tremendous volume. However, as the flickering shadow shrank, so did the imagined immensity of that which cast its diamond darkening silhouette. To our surprise, it was a small bird descending through the open top orifice in the high center of the mountain enclosing us. It was of a type which seemed geographically out of place. Our artistic interest in ornithological studies had given us a bit of knowledge on various feathered forms. Our surprise visitor was undoubtedly an American Goldfinch, who was beautifully out of place in lands so far Northeasterly from America as this estate bound, limitless mountain was.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

♫ 12/230 — 13/320: "How did we get here?" asked Yeula.

♫ 12/230 — 13/320

"How did we get here?" asked Yeula.

I responded, "We used many vehicles to arrive here within the mountain, this, very enchanted, mountain."

A naturally trampled path was wound into the mountain cavern's interior, glowing in glistening transparent blue. The cavern was dressed in crystals which by the recognizable blue hue emanating from all directions, could only have been the result of a rare combination of sapphire and diamonds.

The caribou, plural, had moved to a clearing in the center of the enchanted mountain, where light from a small opening in the high top of the mountain came down in sterling, translucent shafts until cascading in all directions by way of one of the largest diamonds one could imagine.

Gentle formations of condensation, which had formed around the open top of the mountain, were coming down in gentle drops onto a good many unusually large neighboring diamonds which surrounded the immense, priceless, central crown-stone. Twinkling musical sounds emanated forth from each drop of the pure, sunlight melted snow, as they found small pools of water held within the cup shaped diamonds which surrounded the central gemstone. These surrounding diamonds had been gently carved into shapes much like those of Tibetan singing bowls over what could have only been countless, enchanted eons. The sounds they produced reflected their resemblance to the ancient singing dishes. Tones expansively reminiscent of vibraphones, harpsichords, pianos and gentle baroque organs—as if played by earth visiting angels—filled the luxurious cavern.

It was a time to listen, to be an observer, slowing to stillness, to receive so that one could better give when such times to do so presented themselves clearly.

♫ 11/320 — "Where did they go?" cried Yeula, "I can no longer read their feelings."

♫ 11/320 —

"Where did they go?" cried Yeula, "I can no longer read their feelings."

"Yeula, perhaps they have reached their destination and no longer need to imagine it. Perhaps they are already there." we responded.

To the untrained glance the mountain seemed closed, lacking cave or cavern. Yet, my feelings told me otherwise. "Yeula, this is one of your first lessons, therefore, look and listen." I, then we, said smiling confidently.

We sent out our voices in a song free of lyrical confines. We uttered text never bound to mortal languages. We augmented the air with Voxian empowered vocalize and like sonar echoes, they came back to us. I read the returning sound waves and we spoke to one another in the silent voice of the mind—the great Voxian Drone.

I, as the humble director of our group, walked alone for a moment into what appeared to be a solid face of the mountain's sides. Then, the others followed me and brought Yeula along safely with them. We had entered the mountain and it was clear we had found the "Shiny Shiny Place" spoken of by the caribou.

♫ */320: Caribou on Ravine Trail. ©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Caribou on Ravine Trail. ©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

♫ */320: Unlimited Society Mansion Interiours: Handmade French Piano Bench.

♫ */320: Unlimited Society Mansion Interiours: Handmade French Piano Bench.

♫ 10/320 — We drew closer and closer to the great mountain ...

♫ 10/320 —

We drew closer and closer to the great mountain on the Northeastern edge of the property. The estate grounds were alive—I was convinced of that. The nearer we drew to the mountain, the larger it grew in all directions. As the caribou drew closer to the mountain their pace quickened. Enthusiasm emanated from the galloping herbivores and suddenly the sound of one waterfall chorused with another, and another, and another.

The wonder of the mountain sang forth in its full astonishing and miraculous nature through the billowing mists of cataracts which wept down its side faces. Into the lovely, lush, billowing mist our friends galloped gleefully. Moments into the caribous waltz into the mist of the mountain's descending cataracts, we could no longer see them, we could only hear them.

Friday, December 14, 2012

♫ 9/320: "Yeula, how do you know this?" we asked.

♫ 9/320—

"Yeula, how do you know this?" we asked.

"I can see the feelings in their thoughts. Then those thoughts get pushed around by those grunts and groans and bleats they make and then the words of their wills finds me. It is like this with some animals, not all, but some. I can really hear them well. It is very clear with them, the caribou. I do not know why, but with them, it is stronger, the other voice."

We resumed our pace again, allowing Yeula to lead. I felt it best for us to wait before telling Yeula that many of us had learned to "listen," to the type of voice she was referring to. However, we had not yet heard the caribou say anything about this, "Shiny Shiny Place." Only Yeula had heard this and we felt led to believe in her potential, and follow for a bit.

♫ 8/320: We were above and just west of the caribou procession when Yeula came to a rather sudden stop.

♫ 8/320

We were above and just west of the caribou procession when Yeula came to a rather sudden stop. She squinted and tilted her head as if she was listening to something beyond the already impressive array of environmental sounds amidst us.

"Shiny." said Yeula.

"Shiny, what do you mean, shiny?" we inquired.

"That is where they are going, to ... shiny, shiny place." said Yeula.

Although we were new to the estate, I had gone over the local maps well and I could not recall any nearby locale named or nicknamed "Shiny Shiny Place."

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

♫ 7/320: We had been instructed by our Council of Wisdom that Yeula's ability to communicate with animals ...

♫ 7/320

We had been instructed by our Council of Wisdom that Yeula's ability to communicate with animals would be quite advanced. Therefore we allowed her to indulge her desire to draw nearer to, yet keep a safe distance from, the caribou. Yeula smiled, then she began jogging, just before running towards the caribou who had since taken the hill down just past our visibility.

As Yeula began to run, it was apparent we were dealing with a unique set of capabilities. Her speed increased towards the better part of thirty miles per hour. As I was unsure of just how fast she could already move, I went into a level of ability I was sure she had not yet seen, teleportation. To speed up, one must sometimes slow down, or in the case of accessing teleportation capabilities, enter total stillness. I became aware of the architecture of the blades of grass dancing about my shining shoes, then the roots of the trees, their trunks, their leaves, the air, the sound of my voice traveling across the landscape to a point of ten paces in front of the racing Yeula. Others amongst us arrived there as well, creating a distraction by transforming into caribou themselves. 

Yeula smiled. It seemed a game to her and she gave a playful attempt at evasion. I went into the mind speak of things to see if she could already hear me somewhat. In the communal voice I spoke of the respectful space which all creatures deserve, and the difference between observation and interference. Yeula stood up, from her set to run position, and pointed to the ridge which seemed to run parallel with the caribou's path of departure. We understood her request and suggested the parallel ridge would be a fine point to observe and study the caribou from a safe distance.

♫ 6/320: "Yeula. Welcome!" we said, in that odd way we often do.

♫ 6/320

"Yeula. Welcome!" we said, in that odd way we often do. Yeula and her protector thought it odd that one of us spoke one side of our introduction and another the other—as if a large group capable of twin speech. In time she would become quite accustomed to Unlimited Society synchronicity—Voxian in nature. However, to her then, such ways were new.

While we wondered how difficult it would be for her protector to let go of  his attendance to Yeula's immediate care, his years of service and matured, intuitive abilities were apparent within his smile, as he glanced at the letter of acceptance our society had sent to Yeula's family—a year prior—then turned the carriage about face. He looked upon Yeula one last time and gave a confident nod, and tip of his derby hat, just before disappearing over the gentle hill that led away from our monumental estate.

There were a great many things to teach Yeula looming on the horizon of destiny, however, she was immediately distracted by an unexpected visitor whom caught her attentions before ours, which was odd. On a far, Northeastern edge of our expansive property, one could see, if one looked quite closely with intent, a singular caribou. I twas grazing and through Voxian heightened capabilities of sight, those of us upon a certain level skill wise were struck by its direct eye contact with Yeula. Yeula looked up at me, then to all of us, and then back towards the caribou on the distant hill. We knew without having to access our augmented powers, exactly what she wished to do.

♫ 5/320: We within the Unlimited Society enjoyed making fitness a regular part of our own lives . . .

♫ 5/320

We within the Unlimited Society enjoyed making fitness a regular part of our own lives, and therefore made our way to the entrance patio into a bit of a race. Rather than a competitive venture, our swift passage was a gesture of exploration instead. Some of us had abilities which were from long term discipline, others of us were new to various abilities, Voxian in nature. There were leaps, flights and teleportations. All of which, resulted in our arrival amidst the neoclassical pillars which held up the majestic patio entrance to the estate. 

In the distance the beautiful rhythm of galloping hooves. Such a strange way for Yuela to arrive we thought. In a world of advanced vehicles the sound of a horse drawn carriage emerged with the odd flavor warm sunlight in the frosty airs of those Northeastern regions upon which the estate stood. Her driver, as Unlimited Society intelligence had informed us, had also served as her protector throughout her life. He was an elegant man of a matured age and noticeably odd physical strength. The way of things placed a guaranteed protector amongst Yuela's environment to see to it she would one day safely arrive there, with us, and there she was.

♫ 4/320: After selecting perfect nourishment from the gardens we joined them with internationally acquired teas.


After selecting perfect nourishment from the gardens we joined them with internationally acquired teas. The water on the estate was a delicacy of rare purity and made for sensationally steamed tea. We opened our journals and began notations and discussions relative to the training of the new student who would be arriving momentarily according to previous agreements.

Various correspondence with the Unlimited Society's Council of Wisdom had informed us that we were to receive one named Yeula. Yeula was born under specific, prophetic timing and location parameters and it was foretold that she could be a key proponent for the greater good. She held the potential to be a legendary Voxian member of the Unlimited Society. These were the words of the Council of Wisdom, and it was well known that their factually born wisdom from proven experience was rarely wise to contest.

We thought largely in synchronicity, as voices in parallel, and there was a clear consensus that we all wished to explore the elaborate details of the newly acquired estate. However, various timepieces revealed that the arrival of Yeula was nigh. Thus, to the grand pillared patio at the front of the estate, we made haste unto.

♫ There was time enough before the rendezvous which we could and did utilize to explore the estate.


There was time enough before the rendezvous which we could and did utilize to explore the estate. However, it was quite enchanted and rooms sometimes led to new forests and enchantments. The rear of any given closet could prove to be made of hidden doors which led to underground, or in wall garages where vehicles of all sorts stood ready in the wait. We were anxious to try them all, yet there was so much one hardly knew which direction to turn to first and give attention to.

The desire for a meal sometimes supersedes grander objectives temporarily and such was the case as we attempted to ascertain which vehicles did what. Up and into one of the many grand gardens of the estate we went. There was a fruit and vegetable lovers paradise easily within a hand's reach.♫

Voice Music: I stand before you to speak of virtuoso performances. 1/320.v2

I stand before you to speak of virtuoso performances. Miraculous performances which I am certain you missed from the perspective of audience members. For it is impossible to see oneself painting, while immediately painting, or, to hear the singer from the audiences perspectives when the singer is singing, or to read the story anew when one has lived the libretto. Thus, I offer to you the position of audience, to your own miraculous achievements. And now, let us begin.


Voice Music: We arrived at our newly acquired estate in the early days of a new winter. 2/320


We arrived at our newly acquired estate in the early days of a new winter. To protect the expansion of the greater good, which our secret society co-facilitates, I am advised by the council of wisdom to avoid numerical references to exact dates and geographical positions. Thus, let me simply say that if the center of the Atlantic Ocean was the reference point to which other coordinates would be perceived, we were most certainly north east of such, by a recognizable distance.

We were in the lands where caribou are common sights during tides beyond that of just the Yule. There was an elaborate door handle which when turned made a squeak. Oddly, it was a pleasant squeak built of highly musical overtones. We enteredand before any candles or lanterns were lityou illuminated the place with your presence.

Friday, December 7, 2012

♫ Voices Are Both Inside, and Outside. A meditation poem, an opera scene ♫

♫ Voices Are Both Inside, and Outside ♫
A meditation poem, an opera scene.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Voices are both inside, and outside.
That is one of many countless things,
that makes them so miraculous.
They are their own entities,
yet also our own.
Being both inside, and outside, is a lovely feeling.

The mountain cavern shields us from frosty winds,
while the opening at its peak draws in warm, and luxurious light.
  • A new arrival amongst us appearsa small gilded bird.
It is speaking in its own vernacular.
However, we understand its libretto, quite clearly.
Is this an opera scene?
It certainly has the looks and sounds of such.
Prolific is the polyphony of this premises, with its:
chattering rhythms of caribou crowds,
glorious gesamtkunstwerk from the gilded finch,
and certainly the symphonic aspects of our own supposedly silent thoughts,
and dreams.

Shh! Hush them all!
From the gilded one a request is deciphered.
It is a call for a going away,
a desired voyage,
an awe inspiring adventure,
awaiting the adventurous,
which I believe we are.

Our Voices Resonate From Within A Cavern.

Our Voices Resonate From Within A Cavern
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Our voices resonate within a cavern,
alongside a choir of friendly caribou.

We are savoring our tea,
and such has a certain sound.
Like seeing a sea of embedded gem stones sparkle,
has a certain feeling to it.

These occurrences bring us to a pause,
upon a generous state of elevated gratitude.

The high center of this mountain chamber,
has a circular opening.
Through such, pure and strong chasms of light travel,
here, into this enchanted cavern.

The entering light swings slowly in circles,
as if they are emanating a chandelier:
installed by angels.

The clouds seem to insure a safe passage,
for the light layering it self upon us.

A small, beautifully gilded bird spirals slowly,
winding its way down to where we are.
It seems, "out of place," in a good way.
Like a yellow flower:
suddenly appearing,
. . . in the center of a snow covered field.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The Voices of Nature are Clad in Soft Gray Fabric. A poem.

 The Voices of Nature are Clad in Soft Gray Fabric
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

The voices of nature are clad in a soft gray fabric.
Undecided spheres of water waver,
between mist and light rain showers.
the basin of a fountain is like a soft cymbal,
playing, away, freely.

Connected to a much larger drum set,
silk like strands of lovely hair are finger fussed,
and carefully combed.

Childhood walks,
through parks shrouded in mysterious fog,
are remembered and cherished.

Those were surreal landscapes.
Green which could not stop curving.
Gray mist which was ever ascending into unknown altitudes.

An Opera Excerpt from Sleeping Beauty Unlimited: "In a world of billowing white clouds a castle rises."

An Opera Excerpt from Sleeping Beauty Unlimited.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

In a world of billowing white clouds a castle rises.
Its sweeping luxurious lines cut lonely curves into the vista before us.
A glorious night of stars gives in to the emerging daylight.
Beautiful black shadows move in swils in a dance with the sun.
The long black hair of a fair painted beauty lifts like a veil.
The white sheets are a canvas for the beauty's mane.

In the far end of along, luxurious room,
a small, adorable automaton turns the softlly arced shape of its head,
to observe the one it protects.
The automaton was once a gift,
acquired at a mysterious mercantile,
by the Beauty's father—a great, wise and noble king.

"Morning Beauty," says the teddy-bear-like automaton.
"Morning Ted," responds the black silk ink headed princess.
"This day was once like you," says the automated friend,
"It was once a sleeping beauty."

"Aww, thanks Ted." said the princess. "And now we're both awake . . ." 

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Bentley Was A Pilot. An excerpt from the Unlimited Society.

Bentley Was A Pilot. 
An excerpt from, the Unlimited Society.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Bentley was a pilot.There were few, if any, sorts of vehicles which Bentley could not pilot well and swift. Bentley was a member of a secret society. Yet, it was a good-natured, very good-natured form of secret society.The secret society, to which Bentley held membership with, never really tried all that hard to be secretive. It was just that they never really advertised, nor did they have to.

Wealth was one of five unifying factors evident relative to all of the group's members. Often, new members had little idea of just how wealthy they were until sequestered by the secret society we speak of here. Usually the first day at the academyadministered by the secret societyheld many miraculously positive epiphanies for new members within its ranks.

Sing! Oh Ye Sweet Thoughts of Souls in Meditation: For this Journal is a Voice Recorder.

Sing! Oh Ye Sweet Thoughts of Souls in Meditation: For this Journal is a Voice Recorder.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Sing! Oh ye sweet thoughts of souls in meditation.
For this journal is a voice recorder.

Which to some degree captures those visionary vocalizations,
which on occasion might exceed enharmonic compliance.

For those elaborate arias which evolve within a clear mind
For those moments—such as these—which create their own compositions,
beyond the box of communicable musical interpretation,
here, they are set down to be shared.

Here within this sparkling blue cavern—amongst the caribou,
we find natural design has carved a table and chairs for us, long ago.

Now these ideas which come to us here are miraculous,
and I could swear—if I swore—that I can see the caribou smiling.

We could offer to them some of our tea.
Yet, I think they are quite content,
as nature presents to them on its grand table,
a diet described in Genesis 1:29.

One to which I subscribe toand have been infinitely rewarded for doing so as well.

Sing Sing Sing: For We Are Absolutely Content Within This Moment.

Sing Sing Sing: For We Are Absolutely Content Within This Moment.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Sing sing sing: for we are absolutely content within this moment.
For from some distant garden Camellia sinensis has been gathered—for us,

 brought round the world—for us,
  wrapped well in a lovely mesh net—for us,
   displayed beautifully and accessibly on some shelf—for us,
    made incredibly affordable—for us,
     and finally, found its way into our mugs—for us.

Water warmed until hot heated,
this tea that steeps while on our table.
We have each chosen our various forms of camellia sinensis of choice:
from a wide selection of healthy Green's, Black's, and Herbals.

These teas are perfect complements to an evenly ripe banana,
or other fine, fresh fruit of personal preference.

We are blessed within the blanket of this beautiful moment,
surrounded by caribou,
consuming a flowing cataract of Camellia sinensis.

The Fair Horned Caribou March in Allegiance. Lyrics, libretto, a poem.

The Fair Horned Caribou March in Allegiance
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

The fair horned caribou march in allegiance.
With a direction of purpose they ascend towards the Northeast.
They send friendly nods our way.

Somehow, from their herbivorian chatter,
we ascertain an invitation:
 "To the caverns, to the caves!" 
say the caribou.

Are there caves and caverns on this, our recently acquired estate?
Its grounds are grand, for certain, yet ... caves, caverns?

Overlooking the caribou - from a raised set of small hills, we tag along.
The caribou have made us adopted members of their exodus,
to the caves, to the caverns.

From several angles the entrances cannot be seen.
Yet,  the caribou know - and with them, we go:

Into a chamber within the great stone,
its innards shine of sparkling blue light.
For it is rich with gems and cataracts of pure, fresh, water.

{pura aqua dulci}

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Dark Grey Shadows Hover Hand Shaped Over Black Sands. A poem.

 Dark Grey Shadows Hover Hand Shaped Over Black Sands. A poem.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Dark grey shadows hover hand shaped over black sands.
You emerge from the center of whirl winds.
In the visible distance, a form looms.
A castle stands within the sun's circle.
Your footsteps emboss the ancient black sand.
The sound of gulls spins through the ocean air.
With a thought you lift into the cool air,
and drift swiftly to the castles entrance.

The castle door hinges sing high pitches,
as the new royalty saunters inward.
Long arms of light reach in through the windows,
pointing towards a descending stair case.
These are the treasures you came to reclaim.
Use the tool of wealth to expand the good.

Early the Caribou Rise to the Song of a New Days Sun, a Guided Meditation, a Poem.

Early the Caribou Rise to the Song of a New Days Sun.
A guided meditation, a poem.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Early the caribou rise to the song of a new days sun.
Up to a grand window we walk to witness the scene.
The birds provide a variety of musical sounds,
some of their songs are new and some are old favorites.

Down in our castles keep, there is a shining repository.
It is fun to look upon our collection of treasures.
The path of the caribou suggests their travels lean towards a lovely lake.

We temporarily leave our fulfilling work upon the table,
and ride quietly alongside the caribou collective.

The grand lake comes into view,
it is only partially frozen.
Slow floes in the distance cause audible cracks in the ice.
The thin tops of the lake's far center fail and then reform, infinitely.

Although our excursion is extravagant, it is well within our means.
The caribou welcome our company, and kinship.

Singing From the Down Center of a Frosted Ravine, an Opera Meditation, a Poem

Singing from the Down Center of a Frosted Ravine
an Opera Meditation, a Poem.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited

Singing from the down center of a frosted ravine,
the call of a fatherly caribou howls. ) ))

^ Up it rises until its immense sound shakes snow from small bent branches.
 Birds spin out in a flight of response.
Clouds glide over the stage consistently,
moving Northeast against the progression of the caribou.
You are an audience to this from a castle balcony.

Its warm interiors are just a few safe footsteps away.
You, ________, have accumulated great wealth,
the kind which affords you this and many other luxuries,
such as magical sleighs which get you here,
and anywhere you wish to go.

Your cupboards bear the weight of the finest, slaughter-free-foods.
as the caribou pass joyously through the grand gardens of one of your great castles.

Christmas Cat One, an Animated Illustration

Christmas Cat One
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Christmas Cat One

You Can Hear a Choir of Caribou - If You Listen Closely, a Free Verse Poem

You Can Hear a Choir of Caribou - If You Listen Closely
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

You can hear a choir of caribou - if you listen closely.
Hear them crossing a snow covered stage.
Their rhythmic chatter is a complex opera,
which only a cultured audience could understand.

Caribou One

All of the Arctic airs listen.
Each singular moment of their performance seems especially spacious.
The sun is a faithful follow spot,
laying its light upon the harmless herd.

A diverse audience overlooks the herbivores.
This audience consists of men, women, boys and girls.
These wise spectators look on from afar.

Not too far, but far enough to see the herd as one,
and the hills as one,
and the snow, and the silent spectators - as one.

You May Wish to be Acquainted with My Ideal Self

You May Wish to be Acquainted with My Ideal Self
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

You may wish to be acquainted with my ideal self.
I assume this is so because he is everything that I wish to be.
Perhaps that type of person is appealing to you,
Lord knows, he is to me!

I envy my ideal self for many reasons.
I envy my ideal self because:

he regularly receives excessively generous commissions,
to compose operas.
and when my ideal self speaks of writing a book,
he receives 6, 7, and 8 figure advances.

Not only is my ideal self a vegetarian, he made "those" movies,
which experts say single handedly pushed that peaceful agenda,
into its maximum velocity, towards global success.
I also admit to more childish forms of envy towards my ideal self.

I also envy my ideal self because he owns and drives:
a Bentley (Rolls Royce)
a Ferrari, and a Lamborghini (both custom.)

I like how when he is asked about having such cars, he says it is more of an "art" thing,
as opposed to, y'know, a "status symbol" type of thing.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Like Beams Rising Forth From Sixteenth Notes on a Staff

Like Beams Rising Forth From Sixteenth Notes on a Staff
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited

Like beams rising forth from sixteenth notes on a staff,
so too, do the new evergreens climb into cool airs.
Soft snow kisses airs which compliment our coats.
Hushed helpful airs heave snow off pioneering branches.

The subdued sound of a horn, of French descent ...
glides in, gallant in fashion.
I share with you a lesser known location:
a picnic table of unique architecture.

The table has an indentation in its stone center.
There go the woods of yesteryear for a fire.
There are trees which surround our royal table.
Chilly air bows to the great evergreen sentinels.

Yams, a deep bright orange burst open upon a the slightest budge.
Cinnamon spice tea is our chosen drink for dining this evening.

POEM: As Arctic Airs Sing through Northern Lands

As Arctic Airs Sing through Northern Lands
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

As Arctic airs sing through Northern lands,
there presides over that domain, the kind Caribou.
In this journey you are ushered to the lands of the high snow safely,
and you may select any cotton coat you so choose.

As your preferred level of warmth envelopes you,
you are welcomed by the eyes of the gentle creatures.
The best beast free boots are yours for the wearing.
Into a trot, they go.

The caribou disappear over a frosted hill,
just before reappearing upon your path.
Now the reigns of a sleigh are upon them,
and they are jovial about the kind pilots who will guide them.

The sleigh stops and we step aboard, as the caribou pause patiently.
What new rhythms will be shaken forth from shimmering sleigh bells as we ride?

The Choir of Christmas Eternal Sings

The Choir of Christmas Eternal Sings
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

The choir of Christmas Eternal sings.
Their voices are like a soft cloud leading into a garden,
the Garden of Christmas Eternal:
many parts of this place were designed by Claus.

Many of the lights are not - plugged in.
Yet, they are as bright as they can be.
Shining red spheres wrap the outside world in the season.
The gift of the Magi is received, by all.

That spirit of sharing and celebration emanate outward,
and feeling good is contagious.
The idea that enough to give is in question, melts away,
like cinnamon scented candles on so many mantles.

Holly and ivy are wrapped around the garden's gates.
here, in the Garden of Christmas Eternal.

Upon the Operatic Stage Before You We Place the Following

Upon the Operatic Stage Before You We Place the Following
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Upon the operatic stage before you we place the following.
A futuristic vehicle, and someone in an elaborate riding suit.
This one here, upon this stage is and has been many things.
One of the many detours his life has sent him through, brought him to this check point.
He is entering this vehicle into an interesting contest of great importance.

It is a race, a test of the driver and of the vehicles architect,
both of which are one in the same.

Consider me a gifted go between,
who knows how to disperse rewards from one world to another.
Now let me shock you by saying something ...

In this place we have shown you, you are immensely powerful.
Although you are already so, where you are, whether you know it or not,
across the conduit of these galaxies which we are presenting to you,
you are something even more . . .

Voices Surround the Stage Before You

Voices Surround the Stage Before You
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Voices surround the stage before you.
They are a bubbling brook of polyphony.
The more there are - the more they become a singular drone.
Sparks of plucked instruments spike the murmuring, metrical rhythm.
Various responsibilities dance around in distant thoughts.
The great composer's opera continues to develop.
We are always in someone, or somethings, spotlight,
never faceless, never alone in our dealings.

A change of our own individual actions changes it all.
Yes, you are allowed to temporarily - let go - when you are tired.
Breathe, for a while, in, out, slow and sure,
like a brush slowly going around in circles atop a snare drums head.
Smile and literally feel a Major chord,
and let the lights shine upon you, as every note of your life is an essential melody.

Listen to this Dark Shining Diva We Call a City, Sing

Listen to this Dark Shining Diva We Call a City, Sing
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Listen to this dark shining diva - we call a city - sing.
The architecture of which shines, beautifully narcissistic.
It demanded that is skin be made of reflective, obsidian black,
so it could sing to itself in its own mirrored image.

This city, is much more natural than a first glance might reveal.
It is protection, it is sustenance, it is shelter, from so many storms.

Heavy rains are merely performances.
Puddles are cymbals to be played by petite raindrops,
and grand, fast vehicles,
speeding past puddles till they splash in cyclonic shapes.

The shining vehicles are works of art themselves.
Pistons are relentless players of power,
pushing on through the air,
through the corridors,
into the wings of some great stage, somewhere.

The Voice of a New Illustration Emerges

The Voice of a New Illustration Emerges
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

The voice of a new illustration emerges. [ )))
I am at the moment, merely the curator of this museum,
and this is but one of natures many museums.

There is a fountain -  ))(( - in the exterior lobby.
It is framed with pillars of classical design. II - II
Twigs and old leaves have waited at the base of the basin,
until time allowed them to form the black of a mirror.

The pool - now a mirror ( rorrim a won ) - shows us the sky,
and the breeze insures our view has variety. oOo, Ooo, ooO, oOo.
~ ripples form in the fountain pools mirror surface. (ecafrus rorrim)

oOo, Clouds are pushed and shoved playfully, oOo,

Until a scene worthy of a new sketch forms. [ ~ ]
I am at the moment, merely the curator of this museum.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Voices Have a Way of Reaching Their Intended Audiences, an Unlimited Verse

Voices Have a Way of Reaching Their Intended Audiences
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

voices singing illustration physical digital music pencil vector

 Voices have a way of reaching their intended audiences.
From the full forte of operatic splendor,
to the silent librettos placed upon flat pages,
voices have a way of reaching their intended audiences.

Thus my voice hath found thee.

You who are immensely powerful - here from there, where you are:
this is a call to adventures, and to you this call is made.

If you help me, if you help us, I will reward you, we will reward you.

Thus, I summon the vocal power of your imagination.
For here that power of yours functions on an unlimited supernatural level.

Consider the power you wield,
when holding a hovering instrument of illustration over a page:
lines, cities, life, forms ... heroes ...

Thursday, November 29, 2012

SONNET 17: I Have Imagined Singing Certain Notes

SONNET 17: I Have Imagined Singing Certain Notes
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited

I have imagined singing certain notes.
I am somewhere beyond the space above,
on a world that seems like earth at its best,
and of course I found the beach on that world.
There I am in the morning - in the fog.
I turn towards the sea, and a good sized wave.
For some reason I'm glad I am alone,
and I go through the singing processes.

What happens next is quite miraculous.
The note goes out and agitates the sea.
Blurry invisible circles reach out.
The note turns the great wave into soft mist.
It was witnessed by a wild horse nearby.
"Have not seen that in a while," says the horse.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

A Thousand Reeds Rose from a Frozen Lake, a sonnet.

A Thousand Reeds Rose from a Frozen Lake, a sonnet.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

A thousand reeds rose from a frozen lake.
They proliferated the horizon.
We ascended leagues of hills near a beach,
and graciously accepted the calm scene.
Letters from home rode within our pockets.
The perfect time to read them then arrived.
We reclined upon the hillsides' soft curves.
The breeze was a choir beneath words we read.

Epiphanies leapt up off our pages,
as the foghorn call of the bittern sang.
Its howl echoed before the reeds rustled,
and the silhouette of the Bittern shrank.
It seemed that our request was well recieved.
Wings once broken were mended amidst smiles.

This Garden Holds Millions of Rich Colors, a sonnet.

This Garden Holds Millions of Rich Colors, a sonnet.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited

This garden holds millions of rich colors.
Far more than flowers fill this bright garden.
This is a place where good feelings blossom,
where the path always finds a gentle hill.
I am not opposed to dark cityscapes,
where obsidian towers scrape the sky;
beauty is a muse which finds all places;
Young trees love square protective enclosures.

It is amazing - to be distracted;
here we were in this colorful garden,
accompanied by lively humming birds,
and to the city I took our wild thoughts.
Small riverside stones were perhaps to grey,
and thus they reminded me of concrete.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

All Wish to Move Some Unmovable Thing: a Deus Ex Machina, Dramatic Sonnet.

All Wish to Move Some Unmovable Thing
a Deus Ex Machina, Dramatic Sonnet.
©2012 Marcus James Christian / marcusunlimited

All wish to move some unmovable thing,
Yet nothing is truly impossible.
Tesla saw a life force of the machine,
and quietly brought it down to himself.
He reached for the lever of focused thought,
while leveraging rich fields of genius,
and he is but one known of great unknowns,
who have known the power of a lever.

A broken branch is a fine sound lever,
whether used as a drum stick or a flute,
biped machines create other machines,
trial and error form into a lever.
The right machines make all things movable.
There is a spirit wielding all levers.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

SONNET 18: Out Amongst the Crisp Cool Pine Scented Air

SONNET 18: Out Amongst the Crisp Cool Pine Scented Air
©2012 Marcus James Christian / marcusunlimited

Out amongst the crisp cool pine scented air,
caressing a canteen of hot coffee,
my eyes drank in blue skies and evergreens.
Somehow the open iris closed quick.
Centered in it focus was a singer,
known as Cyanocitta Cristata.
Name a style and it knew some theme thereof:
Jazz, Blues, Operatic and Classical.

A snap of my fingers conjured a chirp,
as the wind played tops of reeds like pan pipes.
The Blue Jay whistled back the wondrous tune,
adding an improvised riff of its own.
The scene was an arpeggiated chord,
with rules of thirds applied to sights and sounds.

SONNET: Shall We Speak of Finding An Audience?

Shall we speak of finding an audience,
high in the hills just beneath the mountains?
Even in the misty air it was clear,
the Auriculas wished to hear us sing.
The sun was hidden behind the high haze.
Though the back lit mist lit its green gardens,
the flora sought uplifting melodies.
We sought to fulfill the flora's request.

The lawn of the high land's played percussion,
softly shaking in the shared hill gardens:
"Shadows are part of the songs of the sun,
Hill Flowers, listen to light's complete work."
These were the lyrics of our healing tune,
we sang as hollow clouds flashed future hopes.

©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.
"Geologicus," Geographic music composed by Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

SONNET: When You Arrive Anywhere Dressed in Blue

When you arrive anywhere dressed in blue,
it is as if the sky walks amongst us.
Why once, to a gloomy ghost town, you came,
in an outfit which was far from subtle.
The fabric that you wore was bold azure.
After moments with you, none could be sad.
Gratitude at tea time reached greater heights,
and conversations were raised to upbeat.

You can act as if you do not know this.
You can act as if you are less -- in blue.
Yet deep down we know you and blue are strong,
a pairing miraculous in nature.
When you are dressed in blue you are the sky,
the guarantor of good feelings and smiles.

©2012 Marcus James Christian

SONNET: Their Brilliant Shapes Were Like Blades Within the Sky

Their brilliant shapes were like blades within the sky.
Clouds were cut into wispy whirl spun arcs.
Speed and sound were toys for those who could fly.
Courageous dives became ascending loops
There are these misty places within clouds,
where rain storms float in the stillness shining;
the Plectrophenax Nivalis know this.
Thus, they shear through the still showers gloating.

Details of such places were sung to me,
and the universal language speaks clear.
For now it seems as if i have been there,
upon the steps which lead into heaven.
During hours made mundane by men who "try,"
my thoughts will be with the Snow Bunting in flight.