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Imagination for Sale 
25th-May-2006 11:20 pm

Imagination for sale




The scarlet rock... the scarlet virtue of imagination.

Rising as fire... fire accompanied by trombones.

Cursing, flowing as venom through one’s veins, as a virus infecting every particle of your body; a feeling of the ultimate ecstasy... as heaven must taste.

Inspiration with the measure of a teaspoon, a cup... or gallon..

The scarlet flotation, the scarlet navigation, a magna opus in scarlet colour.

As shivers running up and down your spine, as a fine brush stroke, the last note, the last word... the heart pounds heavily, escaping in scarlet colour.

A little thing, a cube of pleasure, a pill of damnation.

Your one little piece of inspiration, in a tiny golden box with rubies and emeralds, diamonds and sapphires.

The small squared illusion of magnificence, there for you to pick it up and suddenly, as rapid and shocking as a bang:



Madness flows... freely and happily, reigning your fertile mind, leading you to the most refined point; exhaustion and energy alike... a spinning world  of colours and textures, sounds and tastes, no more blankness, no more feeling of despair, its finally here:

the scarlet muse.


It only cost you a thousand dollars.

The muse sold itself in little tiny pieces of scarlet measure.

And you had been happy to pay them.. a scarlet square inside a golden Cartier cigarette case with a quartet of diamonds and pearls..

Did not cost you anything to go inside there, it was actually an odessy of pleasure.

The rapid and bewildering music, as to drive you insane, the pure white walls decorated with nothing, the shelves full of fantastic shiny things, of hard like-jewely sort of stuff, of soft like-silkish fabric, of angel like figurless bodies...

All a madness... sheer madness.. and yet... all to beautiful.


Was it just an optical illusion, or was it that the desire was truly that great that it converted itself to corporeal form, transformed in this that they called the candy shop?


And they called this master piece the sugar-coated scarlet pill.

Almost made by divine hand. Did god truly existed until then?

And there.. your piece, full of magnificent colour, vibrant composition, deep meaning, simplicity combined with complexity, shapeless angelic beings prowling in the canvas or screen, wings fluttering, sweet quite voices, beauty placed upon a hollow blank space, that ended up being the epitome of splendour.

Pick up the pen, dip the quill in ink, place it upon the shallow sheet of paper... there... words.. pure, loaded of conceptual phrases... perfect.

Oh, your hands and the keys... of the computer’s keyboard.. of the piano..

Sweet notes... harmonic, simple, slow, calmed, perfect again.


Dependence is the price...

For now.. it had only been a thousand dollars... but this is of limited lasting.

What will happen when the effect of the scarlet muse wares of?

Another thousand dollars out of the pockets of your italian frock-coat.

And then necessity, the reason of living is now scarlet...

And the thousand dollars: save in someone else’s pocket, who is growing wealthier and wealthier at the shortage of imagination and talent of others like yourself...

Yes... you know it be heart now.. lack of talent, my dear.

For this little scarlet saviour also creates the illusion of perfection, for you sustain that the filth you produce really is of value.


Poor little lost thing.. could not you just do the world a favour and to you too?

End it.. why drown even more in the absurdity of a scarlet lie?


Oh... the reason: to make wealthy the creator of the scarlet messiah.

I assure you, he’s quite wealthy by now, for he has this crew of youngsters with family fortunes behind them so grand that they have lived generations of only the interests...

But for your sanity and sake, feel happy, that new 50 million dollar-house of theirs in Boca Raton was bought of profits obtained of scarlet gurus and other candies.

Oh! You do not really want to know about the creators!... you do? Well maybe that will make you understand...

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