There have been so many millions of words wasted trying to relate the experience of Black Rock City. Here's a handful more....
No Light, No Sound, No Soul
Rushed to flight, wings unsteady and breathless
Falling through vapor and gas
Plunging forward, not down.
Drop, zig, zag, the thump of terra yells safety
Ride punctual, supplies easy
Rhythmic wading through white trash simplicity
On the road Home!
Ethereal sands, still beauty,
reservations for purple skies?
Intrigue rides shotgun
Quiet in the saddle, her demeanor poised to gallop.
Sunset and moon beckon us like twins,
They taunt of pleasure transmitted in light.
Pilgrims clock good speed,
but moment’s here risk transcendence missed.
Om, the line
Expect six hours and three becomes a gift
Talk shit, pass judgment, pine for dust
Predict the future, rewrite the past
Barcodes confirm we made the list.
In.
Safety, fur and sirens mark home.
Red and blue flashing marks fun, no…
not for them, road sodas crush hopes of
days that start at moon rise.
Their 2 PM bacon will have to wait.
Dreams clipped by a lack of patience,
Contrite conformity? Yes, even at the freak show.
Not our matter.
Postman patterns become our guide
No hope of savages being home,
Too much to taste and hear in here.
Amazed again, Bird in nest but idling.
Stepmommy awaits, rush to roll,
new skin and kicks to match.
So little to do and so much time
Strike that, reverse it, ticking hands tarry for no one.
Open playa.
Dust, sixteen bars and neon exposures
Late night means nothing, bass invades.
Sleep on injured reserve. Return? Unknown.
Night marches, day’s dream
And whiskers twitch as clocks fade.
Travel with beats or peddle? Stick with those of a feather.
Always a belly of content when flying.
Day’s dirt flirts with night
Everyday spin cycles lose meaning.
Smiles, skin, eyes and words,
utter freedom reeks of unspoken rules.
Pleasant constraints though.
No worries, mere steps reveal
lost wonder…digital moonshine.
Soundtracks don’t finish, they quit.
Self imposed timeouts echo past Burns.
Eleven, maybe seven
Months of life’s currency spent resisting the call.
Yet moments in Blackrock are sacred once revealed.
Weddings in Triumphs Shadow, thanks delivered.
Fire to cleanse the wounds,
Spirits wash away boundaries.
Here we sit, audience turned performer.
Dirty, clean inside, waiting for Dawn Patrol.
