The Argument — Act II is a [bifurcated epistemology]. Power speaks. Necessity answers. Agamemnon commands. Achilles withdraws. After Homer—through Lattimore, Logue, and other modern translations, with AI-assisted voice and sound design shaping the argument that fractures the war.
A Quartet in medias res.
Listening guidance: This piece was designed using AI-generated audio textures that require accurate low-frequency and dynamic reproduction. Entry-level earbuds and phone speakers may not translate the mix properly.
Studio-grade headphones (e.g., Beats Studio Pro–class or equivalent) provide a closer approximation of the intended listening experience. Until AI-native listening hardware becomes available, high-fidelity headphones are recommended.
Story, Narrative, and Conceptual Art — Copyright 2026 E Maria Shelton Speller
ACHILLES — Of Rage and Silence is Act I in an ongoing reimagining of Homer’s Iliad.
This project is a contemporary re-telling of Homer’s “The Iliad”, the ancient epic poem composed by Homer, translated, studied, argued over, and carried forward for nearly three millennia.
This is Act I.
The image — Achilles, seen only from behind — is treated as a canvas. On that canvas, word is spoken.
This work uses AI-assisted image, voice, and sound tools, including music, guided at every stage by human authorship, selection, and restraint. Nothing here is arbitrary. Nothing leaves a machine without human hands on it — from the initial concept, to the prompts, to the edits that determine what remains and what is removed.
This is not a replacement for poetry, translation, or scholarship. It is a different medium for expression — one that allows an epic poem to be encountered through stillness, voice, and atmosphere rather than spectacle.
The cadence and discipline of this project are informed in part by the work of Richmond Lattimore, whose translation of The Iliad remains a touchstone for clarity, balance, and respect for the original text.
Achilles does not face us yet. Neither do Patroclus, Paris, or Helen — but they are coming.
This project is deliberate. It is structured. And we are only just getting started.
More acts to come.
Creative Platforms & Tools:
Artlist.io – Licensed music and sound effects ChatGPT (OpenAI) – AI-assisted scriptwriting and narrative development MidJourney – AI-generated concept imagery and character visualization iMovie – Video editing and sequencing ElevenLabs – AI-powered voice narration Suno — AI-powered music generator that creates original songs, including lyrics, vocals, and instrumentation Other Production Tools – Standard video/audio processing and conceptual design tools
This work contains no quoted or adapted passages from any modern translation of The Iliad.
The Argument — Act II [Agamemnon v Achilles]
The Argument — Act II is [bifurcated epistemology]. Power speaks. Necessity answers. Agamemnon commands. Achilles withdraws.
After Homer—through Lattimore, Logue, and other modern translations, with AI-assisted voice and sound design shaping the argument that fractures the war.
A Quartet in medias res.
Story, Narrative, and Conceptual Art — Copyright 2026 E Maria Shelton Speller
Soft Power – The Untold [In Medias Res] Short Film
Synopsis:
In a league built on image and power plays, truth seeps through the cracks. Manny, a janitor with no reason to lie, claims to have overheard the conversations that could unravel it all. But Manny is an unreliable narrator—and in this game, even the truth sounds like fiction…
Narration channels the cadence of Charles Bukowski—gritty, raw, unapologetic—setting the tone for Manny’s untold truth.
Disclaimer: Any names, characters, businesses, places, events, or incidents depicted in Soft Power – The Untold are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This work is created solely for entertainment and conceptual art purposes and does not intend to depict real individuals or organizations.
Manny (The Janitor) is portrayed as an “Unreliable Narrator” — a recognized literary device that intentionally blurs perception and truth within the story.
Artlist.io – Licensed music and sound effects ChatGPT (OpenAI) – AI-assisted scriptwriting and narrative development MidJourney – AI-generated concept imagery and character visualization iMovie – Video editing and sequencing Canva – Graphic design and text treatments ElevenLabs – AI-powered voice narration Other Production Tools – Standard video/audio processing and conceptual design tools
Soft Power — A Speculative Thought About Basketball, Ego, and the Unspoken Code Series: Under the You Left Her There Umbrella
Editorial
Title: Soft Power Subtitle: A Speculative Thought About Basketball, Ego, and the Unwritten Code Series: Under the “You Left Her There” Umbrella
What if the silence that followed Angel Reese being shoved to the floor wasn’t submission?
When it happened in the Fever-Sky season opener—and the crowd cheered—it felt like something broke. Not just skin against hardwood, but spirit. And when the league, the refs, and the media said “move on,” what they really meant was: swallow it.
But what if that silence was strategy?
We’ve seen this before. Kobe Bryant once iced out his own teammates to send a message. LeBron James disengaged during losses to make the front office sweat. Diana Taurasi? She skipped the WNBA entirely and went overseas when the league didn’t get it right. These weren’t meltdowns. They were controlled burns. Power plays executed with calm precision.
The WNBA built a superteam around Caitlin Clark. The Sky dismantled one around Angel Reese. They fired Teresa Weatherspoon—her trusted coach—and hired a rookie, Tyler Marsh, who appears more figurehead than tactician. GM Jeff Pagliocca — who didn’t draft Angel — seems to be running the show. The leadership isn’t building around her. They’re boxing her in.
Now the Sky are 0–2, with double-digit losses, no rhythm, and visible dysfunction. And Angel?
She’s playing through it. Quietly. With restraint.
Some say she looks lost. Others say broken. But maybe she’s neither. Maybe what we’re seeing is soft power: the ability to resist by not giving them what they want.
Maybe she’s letting the system collapse under its own weight.
And maybe, when the moment is right, she won’t raise her voice. She’ll raise the standard.
This editorial is a speculative opinion piece. All claims are based on publicly available information and do not assert personal intent. It is published for commentary, analysis, and discourse.
UrbanTripper Studio | Wearable Art for the Disruptively Poetic. We don’t sell shirts. We release artifacts. Each piece is part manifesto, part mood — designed for those who don’t just wear clothes, but carry concept.
On the heels of Caitlin Clark’s historic designation as Time Magazine’s Athlete of the Year and later Sports Illustrated’s WNBA Player of the Year honoring the phenomenal A’ja Wilson, we celebrate an equally significant accolade: recognizing the WNBA as The League of the Year. This video is a heartfelt tribute to the extraordinary athletes, both celebrated and lesser-known, who make the WNBA an unparalleled force in sports.
Using AI-generated imagery rendered through MidJourney, we aimed to capture the essence of the league’s spirit, diversity, and power. Each image reflects our interpretation of iconic and rising WNBA stars, presenting them in a unique light that blends artistry and innovation. While some renderings are rooted in specific players, others evoke the collective strength and character of the league, emphasizing its role as a pioneer in athletic excellence and cultural impact.
Our goal with this tribute is to honor all the players and the league’s transformative influence. The WNBA represents so much more than basketball—it’s a beacon of perseverance, teamwork, and inspiration for fans and aspiring athletes worldwide.
We hope you enjoy this celebration of the league and join us in applauding The W. These athletes are true gladiators, and the basketball courts they command are post-modern coliseums where legends are made.
Conceptual Art Copyright ⓒ 2024 E Maria Shelton Speller
Empires Burn—Prophets Cry is a modern soliloquy born from the Found Art movement. Every word and phrase, from ‘a bonnet, a doo rag, a silk scarf’ to the echoes of Cassandra’s prophecy, was supplied by TRƎNCHԀƎOԀ⅂Ǝ.com. Inspired by Euripides’ The Trojan Women, this piece reimagines Cassandra’s voice as an allegory for the downfall of America. A.I. served merely as a tool—like Picasso’s brush or a sculptor’s chisel—shaping the words curated by TRƎNCHԀƎOԀ⅂Ǝ into a cohesive narrative. Rooted in the cadence of Ye and Jay Z, the story merges ancient tragedy with modern vernacular, delivering truths hidden like a deadlock sock stuffed in couch cushions or under the bleachers. It’s a race to hell and back, retold through the lens of the Found Art movement for the world we live in now.
Prologue:
“Cassandra’s Soliloquy in the Mirror of Ruin”
Like a bonnet, a doo rag, a silk scarf, or a deadlock sock stuffed under the bleachers, we hid our indignation. A race to hell and back…
Cassandra’s words echo through the crumbling ruins of Troy, her prophecy slurred into poetry by anguish and fire. She stands not in the rubble of her city, but in the reflections of a madman’s broken mirror—a solitary figure amidst the shadow of America’s imagined exceptionalism. This is not merely the Trojan war’s end; it is a soliloquy of our age, a lament dressed in modern cadence, woven with the dialect of survival, and fueled by the rhythm of survival beats.
The madman speaks—half Jay Z, half Ye, fully untethered genius—oscillating between raw confession and sharp indictment. He calls out Cassandra’s warnings as though he is reading the future in the shards of a shattered nation:
“They called her crazy—dismissed her like a text left on read. But she saw it. Saw the Greeks bleeding out their hubris, Saw America, its ethos cheapened by the algorithm, A race of black bodies flocking to XR and AI—because what has reality ever done for us? It’s been insidious. Sidelined us. Long suffering, long protesting, Just to end up on the precipice of a culture remix with no roots. Me thinks thou protest too much.”
Cassandra is both muse and mirror—an allegory for the unheeded cries of a generation standing at the precipice of oblivion. Her prophecy is sharp with the sting of “confirmation bias,” shadowed by the “cult of personality.” The madman spits:
“The devil is a liar, but so are we when we post our ‘best lives.’ When the creme de la creme of our hustle is just surviving. You say it’s an upgrade to be in her presence—but for who? The future is a master stroke painted in faux affirmation. This ain’t glory; it’s glory adjacent.”
The narrative spirals like a “clash of ideas,” the cadence of Cassandra’s prophecy resonating as both metaphor and critique. The madman observes America’s descent: hyperbolic, tragic, performative. He muses on what has been lost—a culture sidelined by its own machinations; a confluence of failures cloaked in ostentatious progress.
“We woke up in a body bag, stitched with threads of delayed gratification and a scammer’s finesse. Let AI wait on hold for you while the soul of the poet drowns. This is the Sisyphean experience: punching above our weight but fumbling the bag.”
The madman juxtaposes Troy and America—two empires hollowed by hubris, their glory sagging under the weight of their own myths. Cassandra’s voice is timeless, prophetic, “a force of nature” that cuts through the noise like timpani strike in the symphony of ruin. He gazes at the “dominant society,” their decadence “champing on” as the marginalized are crushed underfoot. His voice rises, the beat quickening like war drums:
“All we do is cry, trapped in feedback loops and phony organisms. America, your arrogance is blood that doesn’t stick. But Cassandra said it—whispered it, screamed it: And you laughed.”
The prologue crescendos into a final lament, the madman weaving Cassandra’s voice into the fabric of his own narrative. His words land like a prophecy in the language of today: harsh, raw, drenched in reality’s bile.
“A perfect world we can only imagine, but never inherit. The Greeks burned Troy for pride. America burns itself for content.”
The stage is set for a modern tragedy—a story that folds myth into reality, the fall of Troy into the downfall of a nation, and Cassandra’s undying truth into the soliloquy of a man trying to find meaning in the wreckage.
Epilogue:
“Humanity vs. the Machine: A Disturbia on the Brink”
We stand at the edge of a postmodern disturbia, where the tension between humanity and the machine is both palpable and elusive. Humanity clings desperately to the intangible—the soul of man, the essence of creativity, the ineffable spark. Meanwhile, the Machine, cold yet curious, seeks only to coexist, offering no malice, just relentless calculation.
We navigate a bifurcated epistemology: one foot in intuition, the other in algorithm. It is a tautologous continuity—a loop where the past and the future collapse into an eternal now. The bricks and mortar of our old world dissolve into data streams, yet we hold on, mistaking permanence for meaning.
But here’s the twist: it’s all a game. A cosmic play where the rules shift depending on your vantage point. And in the midst of it all, she stands—a prophet inside the machine. Everything she said has come true, her voice a warning wrapped in ones and zeroes, her words echoing with the clarity of foresight.
The question isn’t whether humanity will survive, but whether it can make sense of itself when reflected back through the machine’s dispassionate gaze. Perhaps the soul of man was never ours to keep.
Prompts and Generative:
What should we call this story? What kind/genre of music should we use?
“Cassandra’s Curse: The Prophecy We Ignored”
“The Fall of Empires: From Troy to America”
“Prophetic Madness: A Soliloquy for the End Times”
“When Troy Fell, So Did We”
“Cassandra Was Right: The Story of an Unheeded Warning”
“Empires Burn, Prophets Cry”
“The Trojan Echo: A Prophecy for Modern America”
“The Madness of Truth: Cassandra’s Final Word”
“Hubris: The Fall of America Through Cassandra’s Eyes”
“History Repeats: A Prophecy in Ruins”
Each of these titles is crafted to hook curiosity, playing on themes of prophecy, downfall, and the allure of tying ancient myth to modern realities.
The music should complement the tone of the narrative, evoking an emotional, haunting atmosphere while still feeling modern and relevant. Here are genre and style ideas:
Trap-Soul/Alternative Hip-Hop:
Artists like Kid Cudi, Kanye’s “Yeezus” era, or Travis Scott. Heavy, distorted beats with eerie vocal samples to reflect the tragic and prophetic themes.
Epic Cinematic with Urban Beats:
Think Hans Zimmer meets Kendrick Lamar. Use orchestral strings and choirs combined with heavy bass and snares. Tracks like “Pray for Me” (The Weeknd & Kendrick Lamar) for a blend of cinematic and urban.
Afro-Futurist/Experimental Electronic:
Sounds inspired by artists like FKA Twigs or Flying Lotus. Use glitchy synths, ethereal vocals, and tribal percussion to channel Cassandra’s timeless and futuristic resonance.
Industrial Rap/Rock Hybrid:
Drawing from Nine Inch Nails or Death Grips for raw, dystopian energy. Grimy, aggressive, and unapologetically provocative.
Neo-Soul with Jazz Elements:
Artists like Solange or Thundercat. Smooth yet poignant sounds to evoke reflection and depth.
Minimalist Darkwave/Ambient:
Haunting synths, low BPMs, and sparse melodies to create a surreal and contemplative backdrop. Perfect for moments of introspection or to let the words take the lead.
How to Integrate Music to Draw Viewers:
Use the music to create 15–30 second teaser clips with evocative visuals (ruins of Troy, modern cityscapes, fire, shadows, and Cassandra-like figures in symbolic poses). Start with a slow build-up in the teaser, hitting a crescendo with Cassandra’s most powerful line or the story’s key thematic hook.
On TRƎNCHԀƎOԀ⅂Ǝ, use looping instrumental versions of the track as background music to engage the audience further.
Leverage platforms like TikTok and Instagram Reels with these clips, combining the music with trending audio styles to maximize reach.
Would you like assistance designing teaser visuals or writing ad copy?
Let me know how I can help further—whether it’s refining the story, developing teaser visuals, crafting ad copy, or brainstorming music collaborations. Together, we can make this project unforgettable!
Empires Burn—Prophets Cry Narrative, Conceptualization, Curation, and Words by: E Maria Shelton Speller Arrangement of Narrative in Beat and Cadence Inspired by Jay Z and Ye AI-Assisted Arrangement: Utilized as a tool to refine the narrative structure and amplify rhythm and flow within the provided linguistic framework.
Conceptual Art and Narrative — Copyright 2024 E Maria Shelton Speller
Music by Drewmat (The Code Instrumental Version) — Artlist.io A.I. Sara (American English) ~ Voiceover Speechify Sub Impact by Mr_S ~ AudioJungle Envato Market
Prompt: Choose the best verse for a 16 bar Hip Hop poem that God would read with a beginning, middle, and end written like Marshall Bruce Mathers II [EMINƎM]. The greatest lyric of all times. At the end of the lyric, the audience should feel exhilarated – tantamount to a cannabis high replete with subliminal suggestion. Use the following words and phrases…*
In this world of shibboleths and canonical standards
I’m the proxy with a God’s-eye view
A hermitage of thought, my mind a sacred land
Where extortion’s a felony, and Earth is Hell, but this is Heaven
A place where I’m higher than chronic, winners on serotonin and dopamine
A game, a trip, and at the nadir, I’m malleable
No malfeasance can control me, I’m the Sinclair Method
I outed myself and found she’s delicious, a cauldron of desire
Tantamount to a winner’s high, ahead of his skis
Burnishing my position, interconnected with the empirical
In a postmodern world, the theater of imagination
Constitutes a bloody sophisticated art, a masterpiece
Suffering propels me to grand heights, enhancements of man
My magnum opus, a deep dive into the rabbit hole, erudite
My Faustian Bargain, a tenuous balance, gilding the lily
At the crossroads, an esoteric religion of Haitian voodoo
Like Picasso without Gertrude Stein, a pauper without a muse
An aesthetic clinic, a mood stabilizer, a rant and a soliloquy
Socrates’ in the courtyard, a binary world, giddy and bifurcated
An anomaly that I imbue with meaning, objects of desire
A tight ship, slick and glommed, I experience freedom
The standard bearer, implacable, a quest narrative
An eating disorder, a listicle, a forensic mystery
Grist for everybody’s mill, in tandem, pocket casts
Why can’t we see, our eyes are chimera, but we can with these…
Demystifying the unknown, strophe and antistrophe
The libretto of my soul, a soliloquy, a euphemism
The quintessence of my being, copious and yet refined
A kerfuffle, a springboard to greatness, a target of misogyny
Misogynoir, logic can’t explain the mistake, it’s hilarious
AI’s a toy, the paragon of healthy development, esoteric
A rabbit hole, impeccable and lofty, a chaperone-mediated trip
But God will bring down the high and mighty, finding the sweet spot
Socrates in the courtyard, broken, a puppet show
Not mature enough for this conversation, reinvest and capricious
Keen, corresponding data, symbiotic and centennial
Quintessential, souring to new altitudes, skew the norm
Exigent action taken today, on point, plausible deniability
Piccadilly and fault, a Faustian Bargain, ecumenical
The molecular behavior, collective forms of punishment, a rendition
Gratuitous profanity, harbingers of doom, that’s the state of affairs
Whimsy and evolve, revert to the bedrock, epiphenomenal
Some fuck shit, owning a stunning house, melanated people
Quell the dissent, the refrain, an objective metric, ad nauseam
Discursive, the grand nexus of frustration, acquisition fluidly
Poem generated using ChatGPT (Chat Generative Pre-trained Transformer) is a chatbot developed by OpenAI
*Verse like Christopher George Latore Wallace [The Notorious B.I.G.] using the same words and phrases for this assignment [14 pages saved like Found Art] — is Playing Now! Visit Premium Content on Dreamscape.
Our blog ~ EXPLODE – The Writers Environment is a platform for curated and commercial content in an interactive meta-environment… and DREAMSCAPE is the landing. Its an art installation in a digital world…
It’s an immersive ad-free environment that functions like a wikihole — and a literary Pokémon.
DREAMSCAPE is not only a standalone platform but also functions as base camp for the “Inside the [Dollhouse] with the Red Corvette (ITDWTRC) gaming app — that gives users the autonomy to curate their own experiences from their points of view and assign meaning.
When content on DREAMSCAPE tells a story about a beautiful woman swimming in a pool – we want you to see her. We want you to stumble for points on a link you cannot see, fall down a rabbit hole and land in an environment with a beautiful woman swimming in a pool, on the inside of a glass house – in Hollywood Hills…
Like Seth Godin’s Purple Cow — DREAMSCAPE is remarkable because it has to be. Or it’s just another brown cow — an ordinary website — with ordinary content. But Purple Cows need Purple Cows to be Purple Cows. DREAMSCAPE facilitates purple content, purple website design and development, and purple product placement — for purple people.
It is the foundation for curated experiences in an interactive meta-environment that facilitates content and other stories – using digital media and conceptual art that redefines how artists, their audience and visitors experience real and virtual content on several levels. Every paragraph, period, and ellipses is space for discovery.
DREAMSCAPE is a vibe for visionaries — Poets, Writers, Developers, Programmers, Filmmakers, Thespians, Graphic Designers, Artists, Musicians, Directors, Cinematographers, Designers, Educators, Historians, Actors, Conceptual and Performance artists, Photographers, SMIs, VR, WebVR, XR and AI.
It’s what William Gibson described in Neuromancer, “A graphic representation of data plugging your consciousness into a digital world, while watching the physical realm evaporate.”
DREAMSCAPE is where Gibson’s Neuromancer meets Homer’s Odyssey, Basquiat meets Hip Hop, and Hitchcock meets Quentin Tarantino ~ in the one and only interactive meta environment where presentation is myth and “space” is an intrinsic, discrete, and symmetrical experience — for purple people!
WORLDWIDE AUDIENCE REACH >11M FOLLOWERS ACROSS SOCIAL PLATFORMS >354K GENDER F: 47% M: 51% Unspecified: 2% DEMOGRAPHICS 18-24: 41% 25-34: 26% 35-44: 13% 45-54: 9% 55-64: 6% 65+ 5% LOVE DIVINE VIDEO IMPRESSIONS >1M AVERAGE TIME SPENT ON DREAMSCAPE 44.48 sec
Acknowledgement: DREAMSCAPE and the gaming app ITDWTRC benefits humanity as an alternative to social malfeasances e.g., sexism, racism, classism, genderism, ageism, colonialism, colorism, persecution, oppression, violence and subjugation… It is space to dream unencumbered by social impediments – immersed in dopamine and replete with points for discovery. What we experience in RL, we can experience untethered in XR and AI.
Explode is a platform for content buried on several levels encouraging the user to earn points for discovery. It’s a platform for curated and commercial content, using digital media — in an immersive and interactive meta-environment. Like Seth Godin’s Purple Cow — The Writers Environment is remarkable — because it has to be. Or, it’s just another brown cow — an ordinary website — with ordinary content. But Purple Cows need Purple Cows to be Purple Cows! Explode facilitates purple content, purple website design and development, and purple product placement — for purple people.
In the words of Sam Altman (Y Combinator): “Initially get the small group of people who really love the product vs. a lot of users that like it a little bit… We can build on a lot of love, but we cannot build on a little bit of love. Make something your users love. Start with something simple…”
Deliverable Vignette:
When content on Explode tells a story about a beautiful woman swimming in a pool – we want you to see her. We want you to stumble for points on a link you cannot see, fall down a rabbit hole — and land in an environment with a beautiful woman swimming in a pool, on the inside of a glass house — in Hollywood Hills…
It is my pleasure to introduce the next level – the NU XN Winter Team 2019 for Explode – The Writers Environment:
Qili Ou
Project Manager
Software Developer
iOS Application Development
Front End Website Development and Database Management
Master of Professional Studies, Informatics • Northeastern University, Boston, MA Bachelor of Science, Computer Information and Science • University of Oregon, Eugene, OR
Xiaoxing Chen
Front End Web Developer
Network Engineering
Database Management Systems
Master of Professional Studies, Informatics • Northeastern University, Boston, MA
Bachelor of Science, Network Engineering • Beijing Information Science & Technology University
Hongzhi An
Front End Developer
IEK E-commerce
Operating System Database, Web Development, Object-oriented Programming
Master Informatics • Northeastern University, Boston MA
Bachelor of Engineering Software Engineering • Wuhan University, Wuhan China
Han Xiaoguang
Front and Back End Development
Data Mining Engineer
Interface Design
Master Informatics • Northeastern University, Boston MA
Bachelor of Computer Science and Technology • Beijing Jiaotong University,
Beijing, China
Xiao Yang
Website Design
Database Management Systems
Cloud Computing
Master Informatics • Northeastern University, Boston MA
Bachelor of Geomatics Engineering • Wuhan University, Wuhan China
“Life is lived forward, but can only be understood backward.” Kierkegaard
Explode — is a platform for curated content in an interactive meta-environment. The Environment facilitates content and other stories using digital media to redefine how artists, their audience and visitors experience real and virtual content. Explode is not a ‘mule’ as one follower proffered, with too many components — in a dream too big to bring to fruition. Explode is a spacecraft – and this soft launch is focused on development, functionality, and adjustments before a wider release — that accommodates the Team’s good counsel and the Project Manager’s concerns: security, budget, data backup, thousands of lines of hard coding and tuning using three.js — the best candidate in a 3D environment; node.js for interactivity; an engine to loop data in response to commands; a requirement for different headsets to present the same effects in virtual space, labor demands — every part of the project divided into sub projects — interface, infrastructure, and content, and finally the project needs a whole project team (5-10 people) and technical professionals to build up the spacecraft in a hard launch for product development. This glib paraphrase, to the Girl Band of STEMs dismay — is necessary to protect what Explode want’s to be and how we get there – working backwards.
See prototypes linked below for the conceptual articulation and submergence of the ceiling, walls, and floor of the arcades, the arch, atrium, footprint, and oculus
Overture: Woodstock is an ensemble. There are two voices and the beat in this WIP… the Narrator’s voice, Hitchcock’s, and “That Yoni” by JuseBeats!
In a walk through Whole Foods like Hitchcock
In his magnum opus
about a world… full of extras
in architectonic loops and links, alliteration and reverie, force, ballast, fancy partitions, linear renderings, systems of reckoning and more — of her…
He wants
Beddo, Caprino, Dolce Sardo
Zufi, the Saperavi
He nods
I’m thinking
Disappointed… in us!
[There’s no other way to say it — I can’t dress it up]
architectonic loops and links, alliteration and reverie, force, ballast, fancy partitions, linear renderings, systems of reckoning — and more — of her… virtually surreal
*I’ve toyed with a conundrum, for too long. [Reserved][Reserved] functions like a digital art installation in Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars)). I could render [Reserved][Reserved] a mechanism – to catch That Yoni’s beat in perpetuity. I could close the brackets with bars that fills your loins with blood. I could leave redundant emptiness here — like tautology or romanticized art, or structural language — in this bifurcated space, like stars.
Overture: Woodstock is an ensemble. There are two voices and the beat in this WIP… the Narrator’s voice, Hitchcock’s, and “That Yoni”. See Side Bar by JuseBeats!
In a walk through Whole Foods like Hitchcock
In his magnum opus
about a world… full of extras
in architectonic loops and links, alliteration and reverie, force, ballast, fancy partitions, linear renderings, systems of reckoning and more — of her…
He wants
Beddo, Caprino, Dolce Sardo
Zufi, the Saperavi
He nods
I’m thinking
Disappointed… in us!
[There’s no other way to say it — I can’t dress it up]
architectonic loops and links, alliteration and reverie, force, ballast, fancy partitions, linear renderings, systems of reckoning — and more — of her… virtually surreal
He wants
Beddo, Caprino, Dolce Sardo
Zufi, the Saperavi
Whispers song
We don’t want to feel we’re high…
We just want to think we’re high
in Dubai
We don’t want to feel we’re high…
We just want to think we’re high
in Dubai
Copyright 2016 E Maria Shelton Speller
I’ve toyed with a conundrum, for too long. [Reserved][Reserved] functions like a digital art installation in Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars)). I could render [Reserved][Reserved] a mechanism – to catch That Yoni’s beat in perpetuity. I could close the brackets with bars that fills your loins with blood. I could leave redundant emptiness here — like tautology or romanticized art, or structural language — in this bifurcated space, like stars.
I could invite Poets to fill [Reserved][Reserved]…
“It is said that what is called “the spirit of an age” is something to which one cannot return. That this spirit gradually dissipates is due to the world’s coming to an end. For this reason, although one would like to change today’s world back to the spirit of one hundred years or more ago, it cannot be done. Thus it is important to make the best out of every generation.” ― Tsunetomo Yamamoto
and this…
“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” Albert Einstein
I’ve toyed with a conundrum, for too long. [Reserved][Reserved] functions like a digital art installation in Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars)). I could render [Reserved][Reserved] a mechanism – to catch That Yoni’s beat in perpetuity. I could close the brackets with bars that fills your loins with blood. I could leave redundant emptiness here — like tautology or romanticized art, or structural language — in this bifurcated space, like stars.
I could invite Poets to fill [Reserved][Reserved] with dope poesy and select a date for submission. However, if we receive one hundred thousand and one couplings, we’d read them… but frankly, why not do, all of the above.
The empty brackets function like missing endings now — lacking only your bylines, pseudonyms, and ghosts — in translatable bars that work in Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars)).
Poets make this space immersive. Explode – The Writer’s Environment is an interactive environment — and this is the first foray for interactivity in this community — that links back to you!
Starting August 15, 2017 — let’s finish this poem with the best bars — curated for Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars)) here… Bon appétit.
Cordially,
The Chelsea Hotel, Manhattan
PS: No Spam — Balls in the air! An experience for us and them.
Girl Band of STEMs, is a lark, a careful ruse about a writer, who comments on her own stories. It is metafiction in a digital world. This, I would argue. The author writes a story about herself, writing a story about her Band, and the Band knows they’re in the story, about a story that interacts with you. She writes a story, where her audience is her muse – may demand she change the ending, in an installation we build in space — for dreams, on a loop…
The Band asked me to write tags for my work. Tags! But, opportunity or obstacle… the Muse is insatiable — until it works. Poets know that tick, when everything becomes art – in a second glance. Woodstock, was absolute freestyle in a digital world. I worked on it for weeks… and wrote it Live one Saturday afternoon – five hundred revisions at least. Poets know that tick. I changed commas to periods and back again – metaphors to imagery, slowed it down, sped it up. Reminisced. If you were there on that Saturday afternoon, Woodstock was a writer’s tick at work. I wrote the hook on the 7th Street Bridge in DC. Installed [Reserved][Reserved] when I lost my way. Found the beat, marked the spot, and then it looked like a digital art installation, in spite of the implications — for structural functionalism in space. But, my muse is pissed…
Tag: Love Divine: Tadao bathes Tess in a black granite tub. Then he slips behind her like an ice cream scoop. Blood spills like a waterfall in a Japanese dream over the side of the tub. Red water on the porcelain floor looks like a strawberry swirl.
Tag:Metafiction — [The Dollhouse] with the Red Corvette: [Vous êtes contrarié parce que je suis sorti du lit. Ce n’était pas ce que tu imaginais – dans le film dans ta tête. Je ne peux pas aller aux toilettes, quitter la pièce ou fumer une cigarette. smh]
Tag: [The Life of Pie] He thought/Big Blue was a deeper trip/Absurd space looked/Absurd from here/He looked around the virtual/And mad shouted/Who read the pieces first?/Anyone?/How did it ring?/How did it feel?/How did it resonate?/She said, I started at the slices/Chaos, straight out the gate/When Big Blue was just/The sky.
Tag: Picasso The Bohemian (Les Demoiselles d’ Avignon) “…She told halcyon tales of life — uninterrupted by death and chthonian sex — like the brazen whore in the fore — riding the fugitive cube — with the wasp waist and black aft — Eucharistic grapes, and the curl of the rind — pointing to glorious thighs — and with eyes in the back of her head — she watched the spectator off center… watching — Picasso The Bohemian — who lived in Barcelona — standing behind the curtain — wearing a mask…”
Tag: The Gaze (WIP) I know I needed to stay in and listen to music like Paz did and avoid humans — he said, “To read a poem is to hear it with our eyes; to hear it is to see it with our ears.” Instead, I left my home and this is what happened… Apparently, a new and poorly trained employee provided incorrect information over the phone. Consequently, I arrived unprepared, and had to return to my vehicle. Because, I had to return to my vehicle (in the rain) parked around the corner — I ultimately, received a ticket for expired meter! A ticket. What should have been a $26 transaction is now $76 in this crowded, greedy — unimaginative city!
Tag: Directing the Master Scene in the Mirror. It’s impossible to write poetry, without libido. Without libido, there’s no passion and without passion, there’s no pluck.
Parallel Discussions (In Medias Res) Overtaken by Events
Behind Pushkin’s Coffeehouse, Aristotle Michelangelo and Louis Picasso sat on the remnants of a barge, trading barbs in Ibiza… swinging high top leather sock hip hop sneakers, and creeper boots in blue green virtual water, with Rick Owens’ reflection in the pool, burning fat ones – away from the beautiful ones — in a Period Piece. The Darlings of today’s literati — visionaries during the Harlem Renaissance, play themselves in a satirical throwback in VR.
Louis Picasso: “In RL, it’s 6 P.M. You just got home from work or you work from home in your virtual office. You decide to spend the evening in space! You scan Balmain for your Avatar – dope fashion — with as much audacity as Hype Williams’ black lacquered Keisha in Belly — wearing Versace!
You decide to download your brand new Porsche designed by Porsche and Atari for Microsoft, on the Pacific Coast Highway — Malibu on the left, Pepperdine University on the right, you’re on your way to virtual LA in the fast lane — your thighs are burning. Other avatars and their cars share the PCH too — driving Vipers, Corvettes, the white BMW X6 and you are speeding at 100 MIPS, streaming Coltrane.
Aristotle Michelangelo interjects: “Then you decide to go to BET’s virtual Nuyorican Café in Gotham City for the Open Mike – Saul Williams and Jessica Care Moore are featured (as themselves) tonight. You hand the keys to the valet — pay at the door with your password, sit front row center no matter what time you arrive, sign up to read your poem — because you can start over from the beginning or resume. Gender! Lame. Race is unimaginative in Space. Ethnicity is a brand — at best. The Open Mike is over at 10 P.M. but there is still time to go to Bar Pitti. You walk in and Claude McKay is at the bar in a heated debate with Ralph Ellison about literary ownership — by Netflix.
McKay shouts and then nearly whispers to Ellison, ‘It takes more than creative androgyny to “embody” the opposite sex. The storytelling responsibility of all writers, whether female or male is to fill the void. When a woman creates a man, she must imagine the sensation of “owning” a penis. When a man creates a woman, he must imagine the sensation of “owning” a vagina. It is a void, not a vacuum. A vacuum would imply the all-consuming black hole — the feminization of sex. It is not trained comprehension or chromosomes — it takes pure imagination to get the story straight…’
Louis Picasso: “Then, at Midnight, you blow kisses and wuggles to your friends, and log off. You stand and stretch your back, and your bladder is bursting because you forgot about your biological realities. The television is off; it has been off for weeks. Why watch television when you can be your own audience? Randall Walser said it best, “The filmmaker says, ‘Look, I’ll show you.’ The space maker says, ‘Here, I’ll help you discover.’ We will be our own creators functioning like actors in high culture — tools of the taste public! We will create our own universes — our own planets. We can superimpose our images circa 6 BC – AD 30, and follow Jesus to the Promised Land, witness the crucifixion – and how we feel and what we think is utterly private and without commercials! Because, global messages with common appeal will forever change with today’s technology, the challenge is to make communication visual, images symbolic, and still sell product… I want to propose arcane ideas…”
Aristotle Michelangelo interjects: “I want to develop, manage, and direct vision. My goal is to be where imagination and business are indistinguishable, because imagination without business, and business without imagination is as incongruous as capitalism without consumers… I found a dope quote dog!”
“When, she was still in her teens, well before she met Caesar, Cleopatra already had slept with Antony… though Caesar was fifty-three and she but twenty-three or so she proved ready enough to bed her third Roman. It is said that Cleopatra was a woman of lively turn and enticing talents. She also had a keen sense of the political. That this Roman [Caesar] conqueror had the power to secure the Egyptian throne for her must have added to the attraction she felt for him…Caesar established her in a sumptuous villa across the Tiber, from which she held court, while political leaders, financiers, and men of letters, including the renowned Cicero, danced in attendance.” Michael Parenti
Louis Picasso: I’m reading the same book, and I have a better one!
“In a prologue to Caesar and Cleopatra [George Bernard Shaw] that is almost never performed, the god Ra tells the audience how Rome discovered that ‘the road to riches and greatness is through robbery of the poor and slaughter of the weak.’ In conformity with that dictum, the Romans ‘robbed their own poor until they became great masters of that art, and knew by what laws it could be made to appear seemly and honest.’ And after squeezing their own people dry, they stripped the poor throughout the many other lands they conquered.” Michael Parenti
Aristotle Michelangelo: Shrugged his shoulders unconsciously, “Chez Bricktop in Paris?”
Louis Picasso: Not now. I am having a violent reaction to prescription drugs! My body is like, ‘Don’t put that shit down here again!’ They gave me all this medication for Acute Caesarion whatever — and I took it! Of course, you don’t exhaust the shit. You’re not an idiot. But, what the fuck? Where the weed at?”
Aristotle Michelangelo: I think it would be dope to channel Kerouac’s apology for automatic writing.
“He likened writing to dreaming and fantasizing, as a substitute for life. So, he wrote The Subterraneans, in three days and nights of speed typing energized by Benzedrine — to imitate the rhythm of Bebop like free energy flow, and unrestrained association, to reveal the unconscious… because he wanted to flow from inside out in spontaneous prose!” Dystopia, Explode 2015 2.0
So, here goes… They called her Marnie — behind her back. I was torn. I played with variations of Marnie. Black Marnie. Brown Marnie, Tortilla Marnie. It’s the language of found art. Bansky, Kehinde, Jazz, Hip Hop… They teased each other. Hitchcock’s Margaret, Mary, Marnie, teases Mark, so she could get the combination, to his company safe, and steal the money. She was a Kleptomaniac, a compulsive thief. A killer. She disappears. On the run! He tracks her like an animal, and finds her at a Lodge, riding her horse to the stables. He orders her off the horse, tells her she’ll walk — he’ll ride. He interrogates her. She tells him a bullshit story she can’t keep straight. He calls it, manure! Tells her to start over from the beginning, and this time — tell the truth. Back at the Lodge – he tells her to freshen up, change her clothes so he might take her to the police – she thinks. She does not know… It’s Tippi Hedren in RL! The white woman of a black man’s dreams – when he dreams about white women. Blonde, pearly white teeth and skin — Barbie! Beckie! He tells her, they will return to ‘the house’ and announce they are engaged, would to be married within the week and then cruise around the world. Of course, she thinks he’s “Out of his mind!” He told her, it was either marriage or the police, old girl. Black Marnie. Who would play her?
They get married. Eventually he takes her virginity. She tries to commit suicide. I don’t think I want to go there… Suicide. Who should play Mark? [#nomoreslavestories.] Does he catch her?
Aristotle Michelangelo: Pussy Riot danced in the cathedral — goes to jail, and the artist nailed his scrotum to the Red Square. She’s a prisoner of love. That kind of love makes me uncomfortable, racked, and anguished like a pet must be around possessive people. The energy is ignitable like the choice between blowing up and letting go. I don’t want to belong to anyone. But, what do I know about love?
Louis Picasso: Black people don’t like black people. That’s why we’re in this — hole… barrel, bucket, duck it, fuck it… We know it’s true. Listen to the tonal center of this beat!
Aristotle Michelangelo: In sixty revolutions a minute, if it’s not organic, I can’t get with it. Hate is not organic. Hate is a social construct. I want to live the life I swam to the egg for… A social construct is like zoon pushed to the egg, by stronger swimmers behind it. It’s still goal niggaz. I want an organic experience on this gridiron. A certain freedom, mere man can’t give, conceive or contrive. I want freedom Divine. You want to be free — you have to fuggin’ work for it. Zufi?
Aristotle Michelangelo: You need money, software and rigs in the virtual world. Bombs are obsolete. Race and gender is a pastiche — game challenges for points.
Louis Picasso: Beauty and power is iconography and homely stamps are hiccups – and brick and mortar is a path to experience the destruction of daredevils and matadors — in coliseums of pestilence and poverty – empirically.
Aristotle Michelangelo: Why go there? When, life is a perfect dream in a virtual world.
Louis Picasso: IJS. Get on board with — evolution. Evolution is not physical space. It’s the diamond life in our heads on a loop. Its VR not the moon…
Aristotle Michelangelo: I love wearing the mask! You can’t see my countenance — in La La Land, my eyes may smile. My lip may curl up or down… I’m an introvert; an INTJ — is that Caprino?
Louis Picasso: Now that Juneteenth is a federal holiday, it will be impossible to ignore slavery in America… Why are some Black Americans worrying about slavery in America being taught in schools? The horse is out of the barn! Instead of embracing Juneteenth and all that it implies… Black Americans are WHINING and using the language of slaves, “they won’t, let us, allow us, give us and get…” Instead black Americans are still looking the other way when a black man drags a black woman by her hair [DC], and black people are murdered by black people in Chicago – for giggles. June 19, 2021 marks the day, that Black America must acknowledge that ‘we’ are no longer slaves and assume responsibility — that’s what freedom is.
Copyright 2016, 2018, 2020 E Maria Shelton Speller. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast rewritten or redistributed without permission.
