The Enterview (Cemetery Rock) abridged, Spoken word version (C) 2026

 


WHERE DO I GET MY IDEAS from? I get my ideas from changing points of view. When I change points of view, I get different perspectives of why certain things happen to certain people in their life. Having these points of view, I dare implore that one can even travel across space and time; maybe even dimensions. Sometimes, I even go to graveyards and play my guitar. 

"You go to graveyards to play guitar”

Not only because graveyards are silent. One can reap things that are left behind in a graveyard.

Imagines a memory-brought by a familiar sound. And everything gets loud.  The beating of her heart was the bass. The wind carrying the sounds of cicadas, locusts, beetles, the chirping of birds become my treble.

She was stuck in a moment while the setting sun’s rays release ravaging fingers that manipulate the shadows on the tombstones. Then those fingers paint orange red, pink to grey. Then illuminate through the street's light and the fool’s glare faded to a pale green color. 

She stepped outside of herself. She saw me in a puddle, in an oak tree’s root that was above the ground.

I was playing guitar in the spot where she could not return. My melodies are added to

The Ethereal.

There was a voice…

 "I want to die." "But what does  that really mean?"

But then someone had to interfere with red, white, and blue flashing lights, a siren and an intercom speaker.

And as I quickly dismantled my tripod, and my equipment I found a ring. Encased in its circle is dried mud.

“Okay so you play guitar at a graveyard, but have no intention of hurting yourself or anyone else?”

No I just come here to reap the energies left behind. Sure, it’s a shortcut; like sometimes majick is. Got the graveyard dust. Countless grains of sand in an hourglass. Infinite like the things we thought we left behind.

Then Sergeant Lott asked me, "When was the last time you did drugs?"  He was huffing and puffing on his cigarette trying to intimidate me.

At the same time perhaps in a different place: 

Then I took the ring out of my pocket and handed it to him across the table.

 A peace came to Sergeant Lott.The wrinkles that seemed to be the stitches that kept the paper thin skin on his skull seemingly disappeared. His face got fuller. 

He couldn't hide behind fear any longer. His eyes filled with tears;-a release of those years of pain. 

He left the room with his cigarette still burning in the ashtray. I watched the smoke rise. Reminded me of when I opened that Planchette Energy outside of the secluded cemetery entrance. The sound of opening the can. That breath out of releasing things that trap you, imprison you. Precipitation released the apparition. The guidance took it's form and I followed to where I needed to be a channel."

"You should protect yourself," Sergeant Lott said when he reentered the room and handed me a Bible.

"You are free to go now."

 

 "I produced what should

be found as a hidden track

on track 1."


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