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Sep 2015 · 589
Do you have the time?
Brooksimus Sep 2015
Do you have the time?
The shadows cast precisely
Although the sun does not shine
One Dimension pierces fiercely

Out of the depths of shade
Attacks and lashes burn to ashes
Sweep away alongside the blade
Under Earths dampest grasses

What becomes of the tenses
How will we know the effects
Our never existing or everlasting pseudosciences
Or vibrating aching senses

Trivial pursuit of happiness
When being lacks discernment
Run valiantly towards darkness
Battle dimensional resurgents
Aug 2012 · 1.0k
is this real life
Brooksimus Aug 2012
the presence
of futility
an enduring antipathy
or dimensions
of the unresolved
emotions
of past lines
of the traveled

senses are damaged
from short lived
over applied
civilized

series was foreseen
long after
the desolate
unveiled
a raw reconvene

noumenon narrow
absoluteness
destined at zero
Aug 2012 · 2.0k
Deliverance
Brooksimus Aug 2012
To see a dwindling tree in the forest
is not to know its bleakest
but to know its earnest

The decay is shown outwardly as despair
by means of deforested ensnare
Forlornness seems its welfare

Externally the forest is declared undeserved eternally
Beauty is unsecured directly
And hope comes seldomly

Whole,
is a forest,
alive as a unit
Spaciousness is created with the tree's covet
Restored are the longing of nutrients
in a sacrificed facet
Sep 2011 · 1.2k
Motion of the Exertion
Brooksimus Sep 2011
Green, blue, and red too
Waves electrifying me and you

Black scurries to blind
Rough, tough, hard to bluff
Never will leave behind

Seconds, minutes, and hours
Our mixture always devours
The almighty powers

Into the rhythmic hue
That is me and you
Sep 2011 · 1.7k
Courageous Dispositions
Brooksimus Sep 2011
Trembles commence beneath the exterior
An eruption blacker than a hollow wails superior

All light alienates,
Obscured by manifested immorality
Only spared by vast vitality

Virtuousness defended,
Intended to liberate slaved maliciousness

Autonomy of the anima was the consequence
A union through yielded yin and panged yang existence
Brooksimus Aug 2011
Like a treacherous jungle, the world shaped its self to resemble the untamable, unforgiveable, and unimaginable creature that pounced on every crest of supple, innocent victim’s souls only to be dragged miles through painful, elongated trenches, and then expended in its entirety to recommence restructure in all new patterns of mutilated destructed forms; completely rearranged and in search for the light to guide culpable souls into worthy positions with better conditions and purer intentions.

From the inception, slithering wildly the legendarily discreet elapid serpent anticipated the fierce panthera. What was thought as a tyro odyssey, was underrated, uncreated, and translated to total transformative, love abated, accommodative, grief impregnated, planes alternated, affirmative gamboling games.

As a barbarous being, all and every cutthroat, bloated, anecdote of overdrawn, theatric fervor entered this imprudent, illuminated, and aggregated thing to fill unanswerable questions and unexplainable connections by intersecting other frantic, energetic, idiosyncratic reoccurring addicts with realms of disintegrated, hardheaded, nerve racked dreams.

The exterior scaled, degenerated able soul entangled and sacrificed minded controlled logic against the mystic, enigmatic, acidic beast. Pushing forward in the battle of cosmic evolution, a mistake making, empathic fool, inflicted from predicated illusions of heart wrenching, exploding, brooding agape for aspired end resulted, expanded frontiers.

What the scrawny, deluded fool missed were the all purposeful and most numerable senses that embrace every now where infinity spirals out related creation in the ever expandable universe that all the scavengers, hoarders, trackers, hunters, carnivores, herbivores, and the water possessed serpent misuse every now and now and now and now and again to address the real issues that are eschewed, abused, and viewed as insignificant tools that could never resolve unbearable fights within things, beings, or feelings of desertedness.

Miscommunication is everywhere and nowhere. Uncontrollable senses are everything and nothing. A constant fight within and without means nothing. Nerves we suppress and addictions we abuse. All to fill a space that exists at uncontrollable rates and lighting speeds. What is strategic logic without perceived cognizance? This is constant tumultuous idleness, sacrificed thoughtlessness, crude awareness, and unmanageable apprehension only exploited to rationalize a beast with labels, feeble doubts, to dwindle realities, and to fuel the unpeaceful balance.

The brute, that the restless, powerless, and distrustless serpent inhabited welcomes the transformative living immortal beings into the now of the hare who weakens the logic to lessened and opened tempos of the lines, spaces, and levels of the all and great smash of vast, immense potentiality of authenticity.

— The End —