Ends

The light turned foul
a spoiled shell of what had been
the smiles morphed to scowls
when the backs face
and sin awaits
your eyes wandering and hungering
for more more more
and aching for less
of the hollow drone
that you now know

I wish I could remember the way your bright enchanted my eyes
you, a flicking flame in the night
coursing your light through parted lips
and wrapping my chemistry about your fingers

you owned me, claimed me
insanity and vanity
paired to be tempestuous and free
until night smothered the source of the fire
and crumbling our heated desire
faltered into the ashes
coating our lungs despite
the bated breath and gritted teeth.
voices dissenting, corpses descending
gasping for air,
We come to an end.

Remember when you once shocked your moth into submission?
But now your waning brilliance
is a vestige of the past
fission occupies our distant minds
incessant luminescence searching for a sign of the sublime

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Clonic

"Clonic" as choreographed by Sylvana Tapia
Music composed by Clint Mansell, Performed by the Kronos Quartet
Performed by the Adelphi University Dance Majors and Minors at the Fall 2009 Dance Workshop.

"Break Away" by Sylvana Tapia

"Break Away" as performed for the Spring 2009 Dance Workshop at Adelphi University.
Music by Steve Reich.

Breakaway - a dance by Sylvana Tapia

First piece I choreographed at Adelphi University for Trebien's comp class, Spring 2009. We've come a long way since then, haha.


Entitled "Break Away"
Music by Steve Reich

" 'b'ane " by Sylvana Tapia

Choreography by Sylvana Tapia, performed by the Adelphi University Dance Majors and Minors at the Spring 2010 Dance Workshop

Music Composed by Kevin Volans, Performed by the Duke Quartet

Passing into His Mouth

The dense shadows of the poorly lit room dive into the vast creases of the man’s wrinkled skin as he lays confined to his bed. Only a thin strip of murky light is available to highlight his rumpled brows and clenched eyes, the tears that had hardened to form a crusty glue at the symphysis of his lash-less lids. The sheets, threadbare and irrevocably stained with a blotchy mixture of saliva, mucous, and vomit, infect the room with the sour odor of rotting milk. Unable to digest the rank stench of imminent death, the once ebullient plant on the windowsill curls inward and finally withers into a crispy heap of matter.

Stagnant particles of air laden with dust wander with listless desire into the faint beam of light, becoming visible just before disappearing into the shadow-world beyond or simply deciding to settle into the substantial creases of chaffed lips and agonized eyes. Shriveled skin cells, refined insect wings, pulverized bits of hair from both human and creature, specks of feces: suspended in air, riding the raspy flow of air into the brittle lungs of a dying man.

A hollow cough.

Eyelids peel open.

He chokes on his own saliva, bracing himself for another puddle of vomit on a carpet and bed sheet already burdened with enough filth. The dry retching ceases, but the heaving persists, congealing his heart into an object both frail and rigid, like once-flexible molten glass turned stiff, immobile, fragile. The air sacs of his lungs strain to absorb oxygen, but only succeed in crumbling under the weight of grime.

Hands grapple for life, unclipped nails digging into the threads of the mattress as his eyes widen to absorb the image of the last place he will ever inhabit. Sweat slides coolly and effortlessly down his brow and slinks beneath his eyelids. Suffocated by his lolling tongue and blinded by the stinging brine of sweat, he blinks furiously to focus on the approaching figure—an impossibly old being, decomposing to the bone. Its starry eyes remain intact, however, slicing through the shadows.

The figure’s rotting lips stretch kindly as the man’s body clenches one last time, leaving the toes splayed, the tongue curled toward the throat, the heart frozen, the eyes watching with awe as its mouth expands with the exploding force of the universe, taking him into soothing velvety shadows as he melts away.

Influened String of Thoughts

Whirly twirly, snow—or is it?—swept by unrelenting wind, swirling swirling—color?—engulfing and pulsating, emanating (color?), vanishing to that infinitesimal point in eternity—infinitiy—continuous, spiraling like the galaxy, with darkness growing, growing, growing…enveloping, deepening, swallowing the orbs of light, the UFOs, the crimson man with the skeletal grin, the dapper rabbit with the top hat, Spongebob, the twitchy swirls—I mean squirrels?—gangly mangled alien babies, Dora the Explorer, wandering sphinxes, limp horned unicorns, Michael Jackson, and…and…music—I am the walrus?—that is playing from the other dimension; all consumed by the universe, the darkness, the hole—black hole—that fails to be satiated and thirsts for me as it reaches its black hands for my disoriented body, spilling ink all over the psychedelic snow, ink which surges through the wildly dazzling colors radiating from water crystals in snow—ice—ice that captures light and strangles it to death, relinquished to the seeping ink, seeping nearer, nearer—I am the eggman?—distorting space and time, dematerializing matter, melting rock, splattering colored light, strobes of brilliance, arresting shadows—shadows that hint at the presence of leeches, spiders, snakes and vampires, faces hidden in the darkness, the glint of eyeballs, the purr of malice, the wink of sharp metal, the sepulchral demons burdened with gloom who are omnipresent, breathing thick fog onto the nape of my neck as the shivers course up and down my spine, up and down and up and down, an infinite cycle that refuses to surrender its grasp upon my muddled and lanky body; shiver shiver, shiver shiver—all which come complete with clacking teeth—clack clack clack clack crunch—and pain—the throb and tenderness of oral aches, the streaming, pooling blood from the shards of tooth that pierce and slice once pink and supple gum; inescapable, excruciating pain seizes mental faculties as silent screams, to no avail, attempt to penetrate the gelatinous air surrounding the looming, threatening Black and Cold before me, still spiraling its hands forward to greet the end of my existence as I spit out prickly jagged teeth that, upon indenting the crystalline snow with their weight, sprout legs and, bounding toward the obscure mass of undulating, somber night, explode like organic grenades into a spectrum of colors: cyans, crimsons, magentas, turquoises, oranges, and yellows, flashing with garish nuclear ferocity in the face—face?—of the Black and Cold, the heaving and surging semi-conscious energy-filled thing that is unmistakably swelling, rolling, rising and falling, beady ruby red almond spots originating to form acute night-slicing eyes, the lengthening of two extensions on either side to form tusks—long tusks, tusks of a walrus, arcing and jabbing towards me as I continue to shiver, shiver, shiver; clack, clack, clack; recoil, writhe, and thrash, untamed and unnatural as the snow bursts into color with every disturbance that my quivering body enacted upon it, colors mixing and melting together in air as exploding tooth grenades added to the spectacle, battling grave night with garish colored light—goo go g’joob!—but still spinning and spiraling, faster and faster, eternity visible in a single point of swimming incandescent light as white as it is colorful and colorful as it is white, eternity just ahead, reality dissipating, infinity arising, deepening, stretching, swallowing, and condensing into nothing.