Writing

**Novel Excerpt**

I emerged from the stream fully-clothed, wet-clothed, plaid-clothed, mad-clothed, with the sound of the animal in my head. And in that very moment, in my very purified awakening—assuming I believe in such things as cleansing or God—I made my decision to follow it… or perhaps that decision was made for me.The voice, a murmur of crumbs, leading me into a chamber, pulling my arms and legs out from that peculiar body of water and into the unbeknownst wilderness. It was fate… or maybe karma. I could feel the beginning of new days. This was my destiny.

As I scrambled onto dry land in what appeared as forest terrain, I realized I had no idea where I was or how I ended up here. So I continued to follow that voice. It sounded mostly like gibberish, but, whatever it was, I seemed to understand the emotions it evoked. Sometimes the voice sounded like it was in the near distance, not too far off, and others, it felt directly inside my head… I noticed something trickling along my spine… it sounded like laughter. A terrible cackling choking on itself, then dividing and multiplying into a cacophony horde. Strangely, I felt the meaning of this—the intention—as if it were my own; interrogating me for my humanity and the entropy of my species. Beating its drum and embedding that chortle of derision; attesting its predilection for the end of the world and the beginning of a new order. And then the mind-images began. So lucid and demanding. So primitive. So… humanlike.

It was the first vision I had of the animal. It appeared to be some sort of ape. It was big and gray and powerful, though completely hairless, which was unusual. Its eyes, brown like topaz jewels, and almost human. Its posture also more resemblant to the primitive Homo sapien—more upright than slouched into itself. It looked as if it were either a product of evolution or devolution. And as I studied it and stared and wondered about its origin and why it was there in my head, it stared right back, just was watching me. Reading my thoughts. It was a time lapse.

All of this information was spilling in through this one source; through this magnificently kinetic being that has taken solace inside me. An animal spirit guiding me by sound and impulse. A force of gravity I had yet to meet outside of my mind. Perhaps he will present himself when the time is right. Though it never felt as if he were too far off… always just a step ahead…

Let me back up for a moment. Throughout my entire life, I’ve fantasized about the crumble of civilization and the rebirth of the indigenous culture, and that by an exemplary perception of ideological origins, conforming to a more animalistic standard and expectation of naturalization. Though not within the motive or aptitude of abolishing progress or technological advancement, but cohering all worlds to the principles of nature and spirit. I always believed She would eventually reformat Herself, no longer allowing the spoils of civilization to forge ahead unfettered… and I was right. Civilization was nothing more than a rash on Her human body, spreading fervently and destroying everything in its path. There was too much karmic adversity behind it, too many negative polarities, and the ongoing alteration extending beyond the principles and purity of organic life. It didn’t stand a chance. So there was a dark period, and the rise of the third war that took most the population with it. And those that survived beyond that transformative vacuum that claimed retribution, just on the fringe of the horizon, sat a new idea. One that imagined a world of people living on instinct—forging for survival out of necessity—in harmony and equanimity with Her, as if she were one of them. And them, among the beasts, in memory of those slain through the cavity of subjugation by the machine of the old world, had come to understand the parity of the universe through the simplicity of their own inherent will… and that in the will of all things. But there, in that same modality, held the other side of that coin; those that were pushed deeper into darkness; forced to the threshold limits of evolution. And the world had not yet homogenized these two repercussive factions of war. And there, in the separation between light and dark, sat the dire divide and birth of a new pendulum and its extreme schools: New World vs. New Order.

This divide happened generations ago. Before my time and before yours. And now these thoughts grow stronger, and relentless in their own defamation. And here, today, in this very moment, by the hand of some visionary animal—an animal deformity arose through its own inherent will and spoke an attire, I, one, could never imagine through my own wit:

“There is no need for a shift of paradigms, but an integration…” a smokescreen whisper arising in my head—“it shall make way for the evolution.”

Progression has floated downstream from the moment I emerged and was met with a bombast of hieroglyphs, hypothesis, laughter, and recollections of torn indigeneity. Though this was all beside me; I’m not crazy and I don’t usually have such lucid imaginations. And I can’t say for sure this is the truth—though I must find you and set this right.

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Geoffrey Bohm – Featured Artist

Reservoir Dog

he was first akin…
like an antique lamp
harnessed at the mouth
of some broken wheel
near the end of a long
desert saloon run.

he empties the cabinet
in blood, time and again;
and now—he just sits there,
in that wrinkled mask
cradling his
antiquated tutor
in a wash—;
if only his liver could
debate him.

a company man is
led along the pines
by a terrible flame…
his molten child and
unforgiving appetite for regret.

he just sits there, and sits
and sits and sits, at the
end of that bar
built for day hounds,
with his face to the
door like a silent
genie, drinking
virgin sweat and writing
simple and unimaginative
poems in his head—;
if only thoughts as those could
magnify:

the anticipation of the
saloon style doors
cracking and
barreling in
nature’s wild beast
and its
divergence against itself.
a vile repentance
trapping its
shield in ice…
there must be one
soul, at least, prepared
for completion.

little programmed fists
swinging and flailing
and causing those
unable to live to
live once again. there is
purpose in the march
of wilderness—; what
better option at living
could one choose?

the poise of his
stolid constraint, vertiginous.
never quite interested
in the run’s surrounding
squabble about
life’s incidental necessity—;
there was nothing more
difficult to digest.
though he kept at
the doors and held
a sheath to the future
like an
obtrusive rock
waiting for polish.
he held
his
breath…

and in that moment,
that one perfect
moment that felt
like a distant dream
belonging to
some other man,
stinging like a
wasp stuck in the
ear, he returns to
his place… a reservoir sits
at the end of
the road, praying
for its cup to be
lifted.

the wind blows
and the sun carries
on as if nothing
could affect it. the doors swing
like children.
a whistle whispers to
the faint sounds of tall grass
dancing in a field—
the distilling letter of a
slow dying
liturgy, and the wind
breathing heavily upon
its ghost.

both of these men
had their time.
their moment.
one great show
that made them forget
how to live the
rest of the moments ahead;
and to believe not to believe
that life is more than some phenomenal
discovery but rather
an unforgettable departure.

a time massively scarred
fills the
broken cup of paragon
with a fitful zest
to the future…
it might have been
a woman, a reverent
exaltation of God,
or perhaps,
it might have simply been
waiting
for
what’s next.

by LORIN DREXLER

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About the Artist

Geoffrey Bohm (via www.geoffreybohm.com)

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What is Gen Society?

Gen Society is an art space blog for visual art and creative writing collaborations, and other randomizations. Hosted by writer and musician, Lorin Drexler, this online venue is an expressive experience for those interested in the world of the arts. It is a literary journey through the hearts and minds of contemporary artists in practice and a reflection of those that have long passed.

If you’re an artist and would like to submit your work in consideration to collaborate with Gen Society, please click below: