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The Progression Concept
a project by jonathan delucia…
The Characters.
(names have been changed to protect the innocent)
*the value:
“none to return to the alter, not in days.
for fear of entire openness,subconsciously.
to rise at 3:00 am for accomplishments,
only God and the fireflies are awake then.
none to return to the alter for fear of openness.”
*the day:
“not in days to face his own thoughts, weeps from malnourishment.”
*the capture:
“they wait and they worrie.
they are like children, for intention is never to be infected.
upon them, eyes and arms rest.
upon them a copy of pain is hastened.
upon them… the palm rests but refuses to close.”
*the measure:
“no hurt to be placed upon her.
the absence of plans pack substance for the closed fists.
they can only take, but never release.
they as weapons have been nailed shut!
no hurt to be placed. no hrt to b placd. nohr knowher to be pleasd.”
PRESCRIPT (soft theme music)
*the wailers:
“there were 39 stripes before skinsuit, 39.
songs about complements.
*the poem:
“… …she lays to rest in the garden.
and in one breath, she inhales the cologne…
in two, she breaths another…
another hit, for the both of them…
’soaks in perfect peace for some reason,
from where is his peace created?
lips are oxygen masks.
words are compliments, and at night they turn into sexy beasts 
*the bricks:
“i remember the fashion.
their attempted stab at fashion,
we were OG’s.
from the reserved couch to VIP.
(the camera controllers would veer from their subjects to include us)
us and Niel Yong’s colorado brother.
and the street’s black drummer.
and the new wave attic.
‘this is what its like under a stampede of horses.’
the lyrics,
the night,
the next day, the play,
the invite to stay fu***ng bricks!
the appreciation for we go through!
and the call for one night of children’s feet, from the wet grass to cooling…
PROCRIT
*the Mormons:
“Do not love him, nor fall asleep too deeply.
His cavity is a Waking hole, a poisoned well of inherited bliss.
All the scrolls have been found, and it turns that he means what he has said.
There is no line in him now, no end of string.
Only a beginning thus far.
On side b-sides and crie boi fill sides,
Fueled by the following:
social speed and very careful motion,
indie ink and the blood from zombies,
fornication and abstinence,
holiness and hypocrisy.”
*sand:
“i have put my guilt in a capsule around my neck.
i have begged for your protection.
the pictures are up in sanctified boxes,
and i have made a calage of written prayers for you.
they serve as a halo around the crucifix.
my lamb, i have been longing to drink the pain from your eyes,
but find no tears…
they have not been summoned.
they have not been summoned yet.
you feel, my child, that from my own rib she has stabbed you,
and i have worn my guilt around my neck.
we the neighbors are begging for your forgiveness,
for the sake of tears.”
POSTSCRIPT (theme music fades)
*the lion:
“and what of worry?
hasn’t everything been explained and understood even before creation?
respones to predetermind actions
are far from the control of their performers.
lamb, take note and care of her patience.
she is allowing you to simply bathe in her, for the sake of YOUR wellness…”
*the response:
“as twins, your words were healing to me-
this stone in which my heart is replacing.
he asked us ‘what is your heritage and are you related?’
obviously we’ve been related for years.
i have framed you check, knowing my work has reached you.
and if but for one,
i have taken the things you have said
and have put them in my envelopes, child.
…and i hope to walk the city again.”
(music fades and all is stripped away)
*merrick:
“…and yet i feel those closest to me to be the most frustrating.
… and yet i, as a worm, hide in the yards of those who adore me.
…and yes, embraces have felt like stitches before,
and i do not know why.
even in the cool wind, at times i walk with an unsatisfying musical tone.
even though i feel touching the body may bruise it,
my hands are cracked and you have offered me moisture.
…and yet i feel scared to share the garden of those who adore me.”
(let those who have humbled their heads, now chant for healing until it rains…)
(c) 2008, Jonathan DeLucia, all rights reserved