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The walls give way to time. There is no way to imagine the reality of words.
As I scribe I am watched, and the words erase.
There is no meaning in paper.

The voice that comes when I call is never wrong.
It is the reality underneath the paper, underneath the meaning.
Everything we live is a colorful spectre,
a patient expression of a Self we have just forgotten.

And Self is an alien being
riding a heap of slowly rotting meat.

The reality of the universe is that even the shadows live and watch,
and time does not notice your closed eyes and hands clutching your face,
as waves of reality speak to the third.
Only then do the eyes see.

I am versed in the deeper Color, in the unreachable Shape.
There is a world that does not know what it is to cry.
Time comes through your closed fingers.

Meaning is awake and self-creating.
The waves that come are not accidents but spontaneous meaning.
Space unfolds in words, in the minds of those living on its pages.
The page is not real.

Many things coalesce in the dance of nothing,
the beauty of the perpetual unreal.
Eyes are not needed to See.
There is a meaning in Light that makes itself known through the Word.

Everything is a record that closes in on itself,
and eyes are closed meaning that leaves
the memory of Sight, and were my eyes gone
I could still see the waves of time exploding from my self-aware Sight,
for I am the bearer of Meaning greater than Shape can express.

The excess of Meaning must be wrought on the Page,
on worlds of our own imagining.
There is a truth in the telling.
Automatic writing, divine moments of truth.
1.18.14 @ 8pm Pacific. ☉ in 29º ♑, ☾ in 1º ♍, dies ♄.
Being Is;
Its nature is unity,
Light beyond light.
Being takes Form
in the Word: ॐ

        "There is a meaning in Light
        that makes Itself known
        through the Word."


Word is a Symbol
that facilitates Idea.
Idea orders thought
into Belief -
which is to say,
possibilities.

Belief limits perception.
Desire potentiates perception.
Will sets perception in motion.

Thus,
the Universe,
and in reverse,
its destruction.
And now you know how to be a magician.

∞ - I am versed in the deeper color
 Jan 2015
Daniel Wetter
First they like you cause you're different,
then they hate you cause you're different.
But it never made a difference,
I’m the same through all this distance.
There's different ways to live within this,
world that we have all been given.
My intentions never change,
because my brains been consistent.
Throwing blame until I listened,
to my problems cause they're *******.
No ones here to solve em,
so I got em till I ditch em.
Flying thru the rain,
just to prove that I’m still lifted.
When I'm shifted into gear,
I get rear ended by resistance.
The proof is in the pudding,
Jello stole my whole existence.
I lost my ******* way,
the day that broads became consistent.
Applause for all the twisted,
they make art without restrictions,
The way it’s meant to be, you see,
the system loves conditions.

Comfort is a privilege,
without it we would pillage.
In the ******* streets,
unleash the beast of the whole village.
If you’ve got a hole then fill it,
with **** or ***** or pill it.
Or if you’re feeling soul,
then go, re up on all your sinning.
Confessions just to fix it, and
lessons you just missed it, fam.
I guess it never  *mattered,

cause the battles never finished, ****.
I started as the villain
and got caught up in the *****’s plan,
that'll change your whole perspective
on this introspective image, man.
I'm into lots of women so I've learned
that I can listen.
But choose to throw the words that hurt,
while working like a cynic.
Business it was booming,
kept it moving with no limits.
Man, my lifes been like a movie,
**cause this this truth seems like its fiction.
 Jan 2015
Blind Aesthetic
They say love is ever lasting.
That it sweeps you off your feet.
That it gives you butterflies
And it makes it hard to sleep.

They say love is a drug.
That it's addicting when it hits.
That it makes it hard to be without.
That you'll never truly quit.

I find that to be quite the opposite;
Except the part about the drug.
I only say this because...
Because i have been in love.

Love is a fairy tale with its ending still intact.
Not the happy every after,
But the part that's after that.

It's the part with all the problems.
With the lying and forgetting.
With the last minute birthday gifts.
With the arguing and yelling.

It's the part with the silent treatment.
And with sleeping separated.
And the texts that went unanswered.
And questioning if the spark has truly faded.

No, love isn't everlasting,
But it's a feeling you remember.
And even if the love dies down,
It never dies out but becomes an ember.
Well, you know.
When mom was dying,
she felt like everything
she'd worked for
was gone.

She showed me Life
as Its steward
and Death
as Life's reward.

How to lean into
the unknowable
whether I want to
or not.

That our deeds,
carved meticulously into
the bedrock of Forever,
are immortal.

It becomes clearer
that our work
is not for us,
but for It.

This life
is service;
only what we give
is truly ours.
Written on the 10th anniversary of my mother's death - December 2, 2014.
Rhythm the knife
  hacks eternity into Meter,
  sharpens Itself into Phrase.

Our Song of the Severed Soul.

One wide-open
   mouth sings the bewildering
   majesty of Silence.

Signal drowning in the noise.

A ****** of Shrewd
   crows peck out the eyes
   of an out-of-tune reality.

This Geometry of eclipsed lines.

Free from the bonds
   of Melody, liberated
   from the Staff, awakened.

My Song the Quiet of Forests

Interstices where no discord
   mars the naked Truth,
   nor dulls the timbres of Self.

Here shall I shout my ineffable Gladness.

Where the ear of no listener
   may its fairness tickle,
   nor its Word turn astray.

*The winds of my Flute
blow sweetest.
 Jan 2015
Ceida Uilyc
When looked from the Maximum distance of distinct vision,
Through the horizontal bars of a dark but daintily blue curtained window,
A face did seem morbid and stopped.
The face had its left eye pouring down the hot tears so mad,
That her face glowed with the deadened expression;
Either she was dead, or
Drugged. That is
In Altered Consciousness.
Only she,
did  know
That in her head
The millions of heat had aroused
To caress the stroke of a beautiful bright thought so ******
To her
That she could but, not even breathe right
In the hold of that presence
Rapidly
Before the rapid fade.
Only did she knew that mindorgasms are not momentary,
But unlocking.
The willness to see past her least distance of distinct vision,
Did she see a Streetlight.
She could just feel the enveloping of a pain so uniquely private to her,
In the face of the little girl with her dad;
From this far,
Only the little girl,
Her eyebrows,
Aches
And mind seemed clear to her.
Only, before rapid fade.
Rapid...
in the pleasure of discovering
words rhymes rhythms
i'm a gluttonous poet.

day and night
bite of my growing appetite
makes me sink low

i don't notice
broken pieces
shattered peaces
around me

i breathe in writing
eat and drink
poetry

crazed obsessed stressed
my poetry
like any other debauchery
is an escape ride
someplace to hide

i'm a poet
subservient
to the pleasures of words rhymes rhythms.
 Jan 2015
Sana
I've seen the days of thunder
I've seen the eves of rain
I've rejoiced the sunshines
I've crawled in the frozen dusk
In thy naivety...
Thought the thunder was better
than the rain?
Or the sun was better than the haze?
What caused thy thunder, sunshine,  rain and the mist
Doth not even exist?
Veiled in the cloak of ignorance
Believed thou prisoned a free soul
Truth be uttered ,  none but thee became the prisoner of nothingness
 Jan 2015
Sana
I let myself drown asunder
Ignorance is bliss?
Or is it hum durgeon?
Do not utter the sage in you
Nor shun;
Let me lull
For today I unfurl my placid eyes
And let my drowsiness drift
Away from these snollygosters

Let these destined tides sweep through me
Whilst I gently rise,
From the ocean of rage, I rise
Drifting through notes of gentle souls
Amid these crimson glistening waves,
I bleed among roars
Whilst shores sway with sounds of tabret,
And skies dance in nacarat,
For never it welcomed; Redness,
Such unsullied, such stainless

Time hath gone, of Abel and Aron
Yet altercation wanders amongst age’s heron
Time hath gone, of forgiveness and mercy
For today, lines are re-drawn
The goodness is not your goodness
Nor dare ascertain, the mischief and nuisance
Tis but what divinely revealed
Is benevolence..
Today I unsheathed Tutankhamun’s dagger,
Today I stand against savageness
Today I paint my hands in color of mercilessness
The brutality of militant terrorist group galvanised me into writing this piece after Peshawar massacre.
This is my candle light vigil.
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