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Robert Fox Nov 2013
Have you ever forgotten an appointment?

Or maybe a birthday that was full of dissapointment?

Imagine forgetting weeks?

Loseing days!

Can you comprehend the terrible ways?

The torment that ensues?

Now go one step further

Follow me a few steps more in ferver.

I dont want your sympathy.

I need you to comprehend

To simply understand

I lost ten years of my life, and i cant bring them back.

Still i forget, never do i know

If these words were mine

You all are to kind.

For kindness does nothing to help me find

The lost years or missing months

These sprinkled days filled with that ticking clock

Im talking about some serious memory loss
I.

In youth I have known one with whom the Earth
  In secret communing held—as he with it,
In daylight, and in beauty, from his birth:
  Whose fervid, flickering torch of life was lit
From the sun and stars, whence he had drawn forth
  A passionate light such for his spirit was fit—
And yet that spirit knew—not in the hour
  Of its own fervor—what had o’er it power.


II.

Perhaps it may be that my mind is wrought
  To a ferver by the moonbeam that hangs o’er,
But I will half believe that wild light fraught
  With more of sovereignty than ancient lore
Hath ever told—or is it of a thought
  The unembodied essence, and no more
That with a quickening spell doth o’er us pass
  As dew of the night-time, o’er the summer grass?


III.

Doth o’er us pass, when, as th’ expanding eye
  To the loved object—so the tear to the lid
Will start, which lately slept in apathy?
  And yet it need not be—(that object) hid
From us in life—but common—which doth lie
  Each hour before us—but then only bid
With a strange sound, as of a harp-string broken
  T’ awake us—’Tis a symbol and a token—


IV.

Of what in other worlds shall be—and given
  In beauty by our God, to those alone
Who otherwise would fall from life and Heaven
  Drawn by their heart’s passion, and that tone,
That high tone of the spirit which hath striven
  Though not with Faith—with godliness—whose throne
With desperate energy ‘t hath beaten down;
  Wearing its own deep feeling as a crown.
Lunatide Oct 2014
Scintillating atoms, a world all a glow
Energy in motion as it bustles too and fro.

A drum and beat all it's own, every living being just marching in perfect tone.

Electrical impulses and frequencies high and low.
  
A ferver of vibrations this earth that we know,

Time progresses onward, life ebbs and flows.

Energy neither created nor destroyed, only changing form.

Maybe life is  more a circular pattern than a linear path of time
Valerie Sep 2013
I think I was dreaming
Until I met you
I've been sleeping restlessly
All of this time

When you kissed my lips
I opened my eyes
And saw you in the daylight
That I had never seen before

I knew I was awake now
When you held my hand
Your skin was so warm
Nothing like in my dreams

You led me from fantasy
Straight into reality
Taking me on magnificent adventures
That I never could have imagined

When I saw your boyish grin
And realized I was the cause
I was completely taken aback
My voice strangled in my throat

You take the breath from my lungs
And you paint the smile on my lips
I wear my favorite shade of happy
Tickle me pink, just for you

Nowadays we dream together
But it's nothing like it was
Before you kissed my lips
And I opened my eyes

Our dreams our endless enchantment
Full of wonder and whimsy
We allow our imaginations
To run wild and free

With you and me
Our dreams are boundless
There are no fences to corrall
The mustangs of our Will's

Full speed ahead and *******
Galloping with ferver
Together we ride in open fields
The daylight a fresh perspective

My eyes were opened
Because of you
And I will never let them close
Not now, not again, not ever

The days I spent dreaming
Are a memory far behind
I remember what it was like
But I don't wish to go back

I wish to stay with you
Riding our mustangs
Letting our Will's be the reigns
Our eyes open, in daylight.
I think I like this one... Sometimes, I'm not sure. :)
JL Jan 2012
It was a private
"Christian" High School
I was fed a lot of bull
But I never let it get me down
I had afternoons with you

Remember math class, Anna?
Remember my fingers drifting up your skirt
Slipping on and off
Pressing on your favorite pressure point

I remember how when the teacher turned
You would whisper so wet and heavy in my ear
"Give me your jacket"
Pressing the heel of your white palm
Into my begging human lust
Sometimes
When it's dark outside and I am all alone
I might allow my mind to wander back to afternoon
Study dates with you

Pulling at your stockings with inhuman ferver
The woman-soaked groan in my ear
The tingling of your glow soaking into my boyhood
The slip of your breath
Brought me to the edge of finite pleasure
The bite of your teeth on my bottom lip
Before you make me quiver with your
Red
Velvet
Tongue
Your  mom pulled up in the drive way
I dashed
dressed
And got one more kiss
(Smothered in the taste of your sea)
"Don't forget your jacket"
I jumped the fence and began a steady pace to home
A long long way away
Imagine my surprise as I lit a ciggarette
And found in my jacket pocket: your *******
Juliet R May 2014
Sinto a necessidade de ter calor humano,
Por puro conforto,
De sentir o meu corpo absorto.
Necessidade tão intensa e imensa
Longe do que se pensa,
Longe de qualquer dano.

O vento ouve-me, benevolente,
O que vai na alma.
Das palavras que correm na mente,
Traz a minha outra metade na sua palma
Para a alegria tomar conta da calma.

Reparo no meu cabelo a voar,
Nos meus dedos a moldar
As linhas do horizonte.
E tento retratar, magicar e afeiçoar
A imagem que tenho de ti na fonte.

Aproximo-me em passo na calada
E os meus olhos aborvem cada camada
Que no meu ver emerge.
Tudo diverge
Pois apareceste tu.

O meu coração acelera
Calmo noutra era.
Num ápice lento
Num rápido murmúrio
Olho-te com um muito atento.

Procuro fugir do teu olhar,
Com o sangue a ferver,
Com a cara a escaldar
Cansada desta fuga por resolver:
É aqui que vou ficar.
Duncan Leugs May 2013
Amazing Mike was full of gifts
          that he would share all day.
But Average Joe would stay at home
          wasting himself away.

Amazing Mike and Average Joe
          were always best of friends.
But Joe was always searching for
          the means to an end.

One day came when Average Joe
          sick of life's displeasure
Took a razor from his drawer
          and slit his wrists with ferver.

Joe had asked "What am I?
          A break of unseen monster?
Or am I some strain of cancer?"
          He never got his answer.

Joe didn't wait for death of age
          counting his days as "few."
Average Joe, now sick with sleep
          and so he bid "adieu."

"Adieu to you Amazing Mike
          whose fortune ne'er rots.
Enjoy your life, the gifts for granted
          for life loved me not."
When reading this poem, attempt to keep in mind the rhythm of a nursery rhyme. I wrote this poem with the light-hearted progression of a nursery rhyme to contrast with the topic of the poem. Enjoy.
Eliza Fairchild Oct 2016
Golden hues cause my synapses to tingle,
memories burst and make me wriggle.

Am I alone in this electric feeling,
lost in a misguided myopic way of seeing?

Memories grow week as the days grow shorter,
no longer do the instill and nervous ferver.

My feelings can no longer bridge this gap,
my love is is dying out, drained of its sap.
S Smoothie Apr 2014
the blurts cut me more than ever.

ice and cold metal to my warm ferver

blurts of poisoned pain

they spatter me like paint on the floor

the colours change

but the pain moves the same.

flattend and spattered

pain on top of pain

blurt and blurt and blurt again.

hold that evil *******

swallow it down

I cant spread myself

any more than I am.
argus Feb 2015
Mind’s eye gone blind
Mind’s eye shoved in a cage
Cage called home
Cage built from within
Within
Within the unsettled urn
Urn of the pristine
Urn cast aside
Aside weathered/withered eyes
Aside sensation forgotten
Forgotten ferver
Forgotten despite old words
Words once known
Words wisdom had shown
Shown endearment
Shown patience
Patience to seek
Patience to speak
Speak only to find
Speak only to break the divide
Divide between us all
Divide will end in fall
Ellie Sutton Nov 2017
Veiled from the world the Queen did keep
A '*******' girl who cost her sleep
Though tethered down and kept from sight
Still she shone forth as purest light

A brazen heart (to match her hair)
Beat in the breast of 'maiden fair'
She fuelled her lusts for life with love
Of country, and of God above

She sought no spouse to guide, for she
Was wise enough for her country
As fire and ferver burned within
Ne'er a fool charmed his way in

Her sister, on her ravaged throne
Felt only fire for her betrothed
Yet failed to birth a princely son
And ruled and died in fear, undone

And thus, Bess ruled as Princes do
Absolute, and mightily too
And whether truth, or rumour stark
Purity did become her mark

For she who held her own did learn
By passion, one could easily burn
And thus she led, her heart beholden
To England; and their reign was golden
Fun little one based on the perspective of Elizabeth I given in a book I recently read :)
Blue Orchid Oct 2018
'How to apply eye shadow' the title of the video said.  I looked at it with bewilderment, amazed at myself for finally resorting to this.  I was to dress well today. I was to look pretty for people so when they'd look at me,  they'd miss the dark circles that lined my eyes like a clingy lover.
I was to hide all the diprived part of my face from luck of proper supplement with foundation that resembled my skin.
I was to conceal the acne that started appearing a couple of weeks ago with a powder I didn't quite recognize. 
I was to decorate my eyes with eyeliner and mascara, my eyelashes curled way past their normal size, to hide how puffy they were from the night spent in tears.
I was to brush my eyebrows for they'd lose their shape each time I rubbed my eyes to  hold off the pending emotional storm.
I was too put blush on my sleep deprived face so i'd have an illusion of being lively.
Then i'd pick up the bright red lipstick and draw precise lines on my puffy lips,  making them glow with a ferver I never felt.
I would look at myself then, make up hiding every inch of the parts people would see and it would amaze me how even the well done mask could never truely hide the ache that shattered my soul. 
I start to walk out, then stop to look back at myself.
"You forgot something," I say then pick my smile up from the hidden place I keep it and plaster it on my face. 
"There you go."
S Smoothie Oct 2015
You do not see peace love,
only war.
Your blood is boiled
the heat escapes you
catching fire.
There are no words to cool your ferver.
Lost into the abyss of misdirection.
Pull as much as i can theres not enough rope.
enjoy the sweet addiction of unrest.
Swallow your bitter pills
I, am of nothing
but cool disinterest.
S Smoothie May 2014
found my God in your eyes

I found my purpose but your religon made no sense

I still suffer from disobedience

sinfully taking what i need

and ignoring all others

you filled my soul

and I can never pray enough

for your eyes to look upon me with ferver

keep your religion

i hang my hopes on the spiritual,

i want a connection

not a mandate of impossible laws

your designs fail me,

everyone a sin to confess,

i dont want your favour

i want your control.

to elvate above you and find your God in my eyes.
Tom Mar 2018
hauled up with a cavernous protector
far away from the dawn light
loss of distinction, morn and night
departed from those you love

casting a thought
to before you were a passenger
laid bare in this damp shelter
waiting for the walls to cave in

the days you took pleasure
in the meaningless endeavour
of the artificial existence
are replaced by days

so broken by monotony
and the plight of the many
so you sook a life most solitary
where your thoughts weigh heavy

each day you think of them
their optimism and naivety
as you draft another letter
destined for nowhere

as years take their toll
and the days feel like weeks
and your joints ache with growing ferver
you draft another letter
The hermit in this little tale is tired of the structure of everyday life, and has escaped to a place where he can live on his own terms.
Kilano Saddler Sep 2018
Katelyn has this intensity
I can only describe with her eyes
As they focus on mine

Almost feral
When rhythm pulsed, and she took
My palm in hers

Pulling me from seat to floor
As bodies rocked around us–
I thought it might be her eyeliner

Or the smoke drifting between us.
Maybe I was the focus, or the idea
Kept within alcoholic ferver,

While I was mid answer
To her question, held in the pause
Of her sway, of her strut, of her

Break, reach, pivot, and turn.
My hand rest upon her waist
Yet I felt her control,

Leading me from anxiety
To something a little less
Hesitant.
Mark May 2020
I)

Our precious months have none for charity,
Yet isolation; do by months donate
My waning form, for solidarity;
Absent of sickness, nearer distant fate.
My end seems meek and much less horrible,
Than if your eyes did scorn what time does crease
Upon my skin, less white adorable,
For yours of beauty stilled, mourn my decrease?
No! Worry not, for sweet your sweetheart's eye:
Abundant in immortal glory's stage,
When paired with you no longer I am I
But us! Now five years more, ten gone my age.

Yet that decrease fear covids added
much;
Corona's law: times two without your touch.

(II)

Law bid's my better self from me to part,
Across the sick laid world in viral war,
If wonder where's my best? Let check your heart;
Where all my vibrancy and ferver store,
Albeit are my eyes that make the artist,
And art is love when beauty forms the muse;
Is you that map my beauty true; sweet chartist!
But you had only mapped your own infuse.
When this abundance has your dearests seen;
True mind's deduction knows what bears without;
A kingdom ruled in vigil for a queen;
Steadfast a lesser king, still king devout.

My love - my best you have and best to know:
Pity my least, when most without your glow.

(III)

Oh lovely one, tho' time's unsavory,
Your privilege from it's change and creasing blade;
Deprives from time: decay's own slavery,
From your sweet youth that sweetest form has stayed.
What deity does guard your beauty's jewel?
Whom favored graces do continue more;
In time that sweeter mood will turn to cruel:
An infamy well known from those whom wore.
Ah! When that fearsome wand does show your wear,
Never me fooled; yes grey would hue your white
And happen all the while before my stare;
But love shan't change, nor day appear as night

Nor heart could grey nor love turn older stale'd.
If proved these false; mere proved my pulse had failed.

(IV)

I tend this lockdown'd day in unmade bed,
Then greet the icy morn with bitter brew
But drown in distant news of many dead;
I gasp for foreign lives I never knew.
How near to you! Thus near my sacred stone;
Beholder of my love what love there bears,
If comfort's found beneath your chested bone,
Is mine revealed; a love when all else tears.
Ah! Meager seems my loneliest of lines,
When other loves have costlier of loss,
For ours shall turn when 'rona's force resigns;
Back to our hearted bridge at lover's cross,

But thought the pain if you succumbed the worse
Does think my end by body, soul, in hearse!
i.
"Why didn't you make it clear, prove your self?"
Maybe Bertrand Russell, an ashiest, anyway.
Vapours of smoke.
Signs of the times,
asked for during old days
in search of living dreams
on discovery of reason sought,
thinking what, in truth, declared
did the mighty king of Nineveh see?

Not the wondrous rescue
and return to mission, after three days
attested to
by the business
of Christianity, testing hearers
of words, logical words, if this, then that,

hold, hold this thought, think imperative
faith in unseeable thinkable things,
only holds true the evidenced hope.
No if,
no sign but the Sign given Nineveh, the preaching
of Jonah, whose fish story was not mentioned ---

And what remedy remains for the sign seeker,
not the rising from the dead, or the monstors
from the depths of hope deferred…?

ISIS actually hammered the Assyrian Lion to dust,
yet we have video and can see the symbol's self
evinced in illiterate prisoners of holy interpretations,

in the spirit of the destroyer, hater of hateful things,
holy ordo of bulls over lions, elephants over ***'s assets.
Where no peace is, I say,
Isaiah says Peace, Peace is ai ah, aight

---------- channel enough water of life, chi
in essence, mistaken for brute force mastery,
spirit in a child, or a colt or a pup, or most carnivores,
tamable by reinforcement learning, habituation holdover
appetites control the will, as we all must learn, control
or be controlled, such are life's lessons, learned
time after time, as seasonal patterns reflect
cosmic realities, in terms of carnivorous
reasons for wars against Caine's kind,
tillers of trees and weeds and grasses,
beaters and rhetters of fibres,
twisters of threads and cords and ropes,

platers of hairs,
weavers of warm soft things…
fabricating knacks aquired taught,
re
fabricating first after all was lost, now
once more, we begin when nothing is known

true enough to **** for.

--------------------

ii.
Simple conversation,
making knowable a mystery hid,

between the lines, truly hiding hoped for
signs like unto those witnessed
in Nineveh, at the doing
of the logical, logos presented as fact,

repent or perish, no fish story needed,
the miracle is that the whole    
population did turn from sin,
- as it is writ it was done, indeed…
apparently… reconnecting to the way
and the truth and the life, by choice,
turning back to the global cosmic reality.
Awe.
As we agree touching anything…
seeing seems believed hormonally.
Apparition, as a reified image of a scene,
let us imagine using words alone, asking,

in hope of clarity, focus, point of preaching
single point attention pre paid, point made
look away from the legerdemain stream
of stories told to children, seriously since
ever there was a wizard learned in ritual
lost when the walls of the temple fell,

as witnessed by a professional watcher
seeing as from an NPC,
all the setting of this scene…

Here we be,
you and me,
I am thinking you exist, as yet
you may not, you know, my then,

when I choose to use my worth,
my treasure in this life, my ready
made mind making - up, up know,

you know? We declare, I do, so go

find the next lie you continue to hold
self-evidently true, by virtue of you

thinking it, filtered through all you
hold true by rule of laws, nature
and nature's god, empowering
time to carry our burdens,

letting go the unclean spirit,
the devouring demonstratives,

chicanery for entertainment, magic,
imagine that we all know what magic

is, or was in olden times, when men
called prophets and soothsayers
foretold according to the signs,

auspices, gut symbolic evidence, woe
or weal, go forth, and conquer,
take all that belongs to mind,

leave all that lingers in the brain
to run the works while we seek

true demonstratives, imperative
upon us, indeed, not word alone.

Seeing the whole accumulated known
universe infested as Josephus's
translator saw Jerusalem,

as the last temple fell… ask

is this that, or was that all command
decision from the power that denies
free will, as if you have no choice
to know, or remain unknowing,

innocently ignorant, never having
certainly set the angle's azimuth

at the level of the reader's witness
plain, across time and chance
through now in no time to then,

when the first scribe, wrote
the first rule, from memory.

Fear God and keep his imperatives.

Oh? Exoterica, meanings of things,
Thoth thoughts sought and found,
given Solomon by Sheba, we may say,

and you might agree, thinking we know.

We may believe we do, but believing
does not make what we believe true.

----------- The art in thinking I know
imagining, bringing to mind another's

reason for, cause of declaration, you know?

Seven ideas more twisted and tangled
than was the first fear of falling away
from present tense, now and then,

true, as seen
from an innocent by-stander,
POV witnessed
in the storied way, read, you see.
Ready, now, this is ever after that.



iii.
Thoughts on stores of knowns
to be remembered, as knowns shown,
on stone as images graven 3-d as seen
projected vision reflected in or on or from,
we, a we of you and me, at minimum,
we know a reason for the ag-agag

hesitation to keep breathing, in and out,
in time's long line of stored reasons for
by the agreement grouping pattern,
we
see, instances, occurences, accumulate
interruptedly, we have witnessed intial loss

of significance in ISIS, as a sound said since
ancient of days, only the redhat entities,
can be imagined to hold as appearing
clearly evincing any lie disputing true
declaratives, ala Aimee, This is that,

the mystical money making leading
into twistedness too tight to loose,
chosen wholeness, usnonothern,
select elect
we, the participants in this epic effort
to take away a veil, an artifice,
effectual ignorance imposed
supposed to focus the chi
cognate in any warring li-e
see, we coknow so many
mysterious reasons
for faith we hold true, in word,
indeed, in wisdom tested, twice,

nice and fine, infinite instances
of yes,
that exact thing, exactly re-enacting

iv.
- dingalingading

So, Mickey, how does it feel,
to be free, in the public domain,

whistle for a while,
think in tinkling musing, using
musical wills given patterns, remind

remember, becoming a knower of un-
known knowns one may know now, free,

BHATTACHARJEE , calls me, no lie,
at yon line end, I am called by my
Psychiatrist, attending to my
mental health, interrupting
my fantasy with tinkling chimes,
actually reminding me, my calendar
is written on wrong, BHATTACHARJEE
points out, to me,
I see, I said, yet
now… that can never matter, save
I use it poetically licentiously.

Mickey Mouse excuse, per use, in spirit,
in mind, exercise in more than one may
think, or ask, yet,
asking while accepting good enough
is enough to use,

making do, getting by on minimums,
most winters, remembering when we
were poor and made permanent refugees

For Jesus sake, then Allah's, the science
of the mind warring reasons for all wars,

money loved for money's sake, interesting
times, seasons measured, emperically,
as once was the writing only spoken,

dreamers dreamed, interpreters told,
children listened and imagined knowing

knowing growing beyond our fears,
through oral obligations required
for acceptability, remember
require order normalize
actualize eventuation

right now, we used
use to say, indeed, we think…

we know what group pledges,
oral recitations of golden rules,
and repetitionings for deliverance
do
due to oaths long made self evident,
We all swore, on our own life's pledge
of aliegiance to a Socratic republic form
of mental norm tyranny socially entertained,

aggregational wedomains accrue as we imagine,
herds of ruminants,
packs of canines,
prides of felines,
hordes of rodents,
flocks of flying scavengers

spirits, characters, powers that seem

and oceans and wind
and hard and soft
and flex and snap bo'
realization, at an insistent, knot, loosed
thread of all my reasoning remaining, why
should I imagine your reasoning drawing wrong
excuses for the uses words are put to, in real life.

Enchanted evenings,
entrancing commands taken to this point
imperitive
we've made up a mind, an awesome form
informative up to a point, instantiated from
as crossing over or under or through a rough
time
to come alive.



v.
-------------
The engined pens imaginable now,
since Mickey was animated and empowered
demonstrate the weapons of war in imagination,
are not invincible to pens as powered mind makers
we use to take an objective
position, while beguiled by the politics. used
to represent the glorified reification function
children used to make Velveteen Rabbits real,
as ways are made where no ways were,
rabbit trails through Jungleland,
fringes
on a red-haired Judaic kid,
at Disneyland, when it was imagined
by many
to be
at that moment
of American greatness, again

The Happiest Place in the World, which is small,
after all, who am I
to be heard
by the likes of you, first world tech users
of the freest reusable theories
of worth,
in the opensource public domain,
aggie testing 'tractor attention
pull of mindshare in the moment
measured priceless
in mental connection tension,
held for a thousand line test, hook

!Þorny issue, misperceived precept, clearly shown
evincing convincingly old monstorous enormities…
now, knowing where this is all going, those
are powerless meaningless metadata
in free will mindspacetimes
fabricated using ready readers ready to bet the worth

of the push to the pull, ag ag agree aggressively

loose dis-belief, use the kid inside, the pain, sorry,
there, there, that kid, you did call a ***, sorry,
I did not know your grandma had the tat.

Thank you for writing, but your reason for war
is still invalid in the Peaceful Kingdom, on Earth

as expected,
any day now, right, any day  

vi.
---------------
Recalcitrant inculcations,
kicking back at prideful goads,

go up, thou bald head, go up,
yes, there were such sayings,

seeing the smoke of evil deeds,
world witnessed, as all wars are now,
we need only wish to see, and see we do,
and when the algorithms insist testing we do
persists to show some interest, agging on,
test me more,

how much is the attention paid a thousand books,
were one to pay for it with social interaction,
participation in the great debates,

do old lies live, or do old patterns follow
seasonal guidelines in cosmic time.

Today, I watched a pine tree grow,
where I had stairs built between stones,
and I wondered how few folks have such scales.

Today, I watched a gopher clearing a hole,
where the old swing set holds a hammock,
and I wondered how many folks have such scales.

Relatively complex life goes on
whether many notice, or only you.


vii.
Reasons used by or
imagined, in story, Cortez,
came from Cuba, Night of Sorrows,

Spanish Reconquista Minds for War,
Jesuitical ferver birthed already,
whither came the terror of wars reason

cannibalists, ritual abnormal geomancy

take the captives for sacred making,

meet the explosive force of knowing
how magic really functions in life,

explosive possibilities, any shred
of evidence, any knowledge lost,

comes to mind once more under
upright standing armies of guardians
called by justice to know the truth,
and defend against the hatred
sown and grown to righteous
use of hate, to spite the peace made.

Each season. From total war to total war,
as our mindspacetime presents itself,

as the end in urban centers draws near,
hear the prophets of doom, doubt not,

but believe the idea that believes
Donald's team is GOD's good side.

But peace passing the weight of destruction,
remains taken for free… peace of mind,
during games of holy terror, with nukes.

viii.
If we were to cease warring,
stop where we are, empty our prisons,
and distribute the national debt to the planet
as credit due to generational over payment,
-- when warriors learn the terms, winning
having
being done, indeed, first, merest gentle
touch of the individuating brush,
by which bards bid characters
appear as seen in vision,
here, where evidence emerges
feel *** heros are being called to arms,
for truth, or old reasons holy folk use for war,

Oy, the Reacher, Tom Cruise sized, on TV,
warning my god mocking spirit by assuring me
truth is not mocked, as we agree, God must be
truth or nothing ever is, and we know,
something happened,
e-motives hate
for peacemakers acting where no peace
was imaginable, while
in an orderly state of ego, epluralized.

The End of Everything happens every day,
each one bit of our whole wedom, has
one chance to wake, and be, doing your
bit in the skit, until tomorrow,
accepting no anxious thought
no sense of seriousness, no sense
of war being a functioning solution
to certainty that madness must be hated,
and gentleness despised…
hush the focal point in courage,
become the peace past next
hush a negative imperative,
magic, settled, taken
chance to smother
force of hatred
fanned, in frontal mirrors,
encrusted darkly using alchemy
of uses fruited knowings held close.

The game is played for money.
Life wins, when money becomes
significant of nothing, one way
or another,

breathe, or

call all peace gone,
and find a global mind, kind of like,

this one, deterrence spending reflective terror,
revenge, righteous vengeance, now is ours,
say the defenders
of the faith that war works.

Peace in one mind is just like peace in mine,
thinking breathe

ix.

Nay, stay thy will.
Warring creature pushing me,
making me grit my teeth and imagine,

at the core of all a man stands for, imagining
heros from prophecy and umph from many trials,
all to win the part, where the head of the snake,
is spoken of as did the messenger from perfection,

when resetting the whole idea we agree to be leaving
possible with the laws of physics and common sense,

full spectrum, standard bell curves among wordform
information entities used with muses to expand
bubbles of innocense and pockets of ignorance.

As the will of our wedom is done, on earth,
in the air we breathe and have our behavior in.
As wise as all serpentine forms.
Harmless as doves, in our right minds.
A companion prequel used as we yoost to imagine, using absinths

influence by Aldous Huxley The Perrenial Philosophy
acacia Mar 2020
Little angel bleeds dust, drinking
rasps of berries through the foresight of cauldrons; veritably so, It’s ******* seethes under a darkening lamp—bridged across the way of His seemingly tickled ferver: Little angel draws across the spined mountain, creaking forward and backward—roundabout the Little angel went, ways to go, days already spent, ways to go. Waves tracked behind her, aching for a touch—or did it? Little angel has no idea, not even for the world. Delusions were sewn into the fabric of reality, illusory silk that’s been stained with Symbols; flown through with a cry, tears shut and eye, ducts drifting apart: eyes rolling over yore to be nearest the benevolent rose. Oceans apart, drifting down through sleep; resting her head in the evening, Little angel is weak. Slow weeps dull the loud cries, dull noise while while red paint dries. Slow weeps dull the loud cries, dull noise while red paint dries.

— The End —