PHILLIP QUOTIENT

PHILLIP QUOTIENT

Notes for a cinematic score

to accompany tragic memory sequences

coupled with a madman's impetus

for repetition and aloofness

"Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.

Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God,

And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,

Am not tormented with ten thousand hells

In being deprived of everlasting bliss?

O Faustus, leave these frivolous demands

Which strike a terror to my fainting soul."

--Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593)

Doctor Faustus 3.76-82

Sadness grown familiar becomes a courteous

friend who politely requests admittance

with an intimate chamber audience

sequestered in a studious

and solemn head.

Somber tones from minor chords

--the initial notes neither depressive

nor too intensely sorrowful--rather, mindful

and reflectively pensive about our common

mortal toil shared among all people

throughout all written history

and even before when stories

were heralded and preserved

by lineages of elder voices

jawing tribal sagas and songs

beneath pale moon and stars

to a circle of inspired youths.

Ennui sleeps upon calm seas,

shadows and light… reflections

from the depths--de profundis

tears hardened into pearls;

briny blue and green glass

the remnants of human eyes.

Elegies written for his ordinary brown house

occupying a sedate subdivision street

in a world that echoed dusk lit child-

hood hide and go seek beneath late

summer firefly firmament--insect mating

rituals augmented by their small gold bodies

brightly observed from darkened windows

in a lone room where my virginity

was murdered by his veiny malleus

wedged firmly inside warm innocence

with forethought and malice

most foul past midnight.

Gag reflex recollections rethreaded,

cinematic horror artfully portrayed

in a lone theater that houses one.

Forgetting and Remembering dismissed

from their inattentive services…

Paper cut stewards who file stories

written by a misanthrope's fist

in a cruel and furious font.

Unsettling wagers unspoken…

Willingly sacrificing this tainted

past for those answers Faustus

gained by dread and dedicated

investigations into philosophy

and art--his apt glimpses deep

into dark forest metaphors

conceived without regret.

PHILLIP QUOTIENT