Oct 2014
Remembering a forgotten past, fast.
Memories flowing over each other in riveting technicolor.
Gushing forward, a flood of things not seen, not heard.
Populating a seamless void, yet a question has one cloyed.
How have these riveting delights burst into life?
Alleviating strife, dulling the sharp knife.
Pressure of an incongruous blade, striving to extort, to be paid.
Cutting deep, but wait, behold! A gate, and through it a luminous river of gold!
Flowing and changing an effervescent river, so avid a giver.
Presents presented in the present, limited to subjective perception, how pleasant.
But what isn't. These days brain makes the big plays, stifling the mythos, the old ways.
Some hold on to the secrets, some stay behind rather than get hit, or so they say.
Recollections running rampant, scant happiness ******* clad in an orange sun dress.
What a mess, this cluttered web of needlessly intricate excess.
Social pariahs claim possession of tired desires sired in the filthy minds of professional liars.
Majority vote totes a certain permanence broken only by explosions of unyielding opulence.
What springs from lips holds power untouchable to fingertips. Though remnants trickle through, as if taking sips from the trough of knowledge...perhaps once we knew.
Full exposure is supremely reprimanding, as to leave one no longer standing.
Not in the sense of senses deemed supreme, not in this bizarre dream, the way we place ourselves into these pseudo-sensical roles all day striving to derive meaning from the needle, not the hay teeming with nutrients to sustain life as we know it, pleasure and pain.
Vanity must run through our veins to think us able to ordain a solid truth from any plain, or that linear reality reigns.
Comfort is a salve and a vice, when offered one doesn't think twice, but blind acceptance won't negate price.
Contrary to popular belief, popular belief is a contrary beast that consumes the strong and exhumes the weak.
A contrite appetite, a gaping maw with teeth like pikes and satirical satyrs playing in the inimical reeds in which it breeds.
So goes an old saying, early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise, but does sage not grow as sage unless it is left out both day and night until old age?
What makes a thing sagacious, wisdom, growth? Spacious tracks are needed to cultivate both.
As to the memories of trees, what hides within our lives and within the breeze? Sometimes little is less and best. Lessons learned to our behest are not ignored, we just can't seem to find the door.
Within the confines of life's insistence, all beings act in accordance to their existence.
Memories flowing over each other in riveting technicolor.
Gushing forward, a flood of things not seen, not heard.
Populating a seamless void, yet a question has one cloyed.
How have these riveting delights burst into life?
Alleviating strife, dulling the sharp knife.
Pressure of an incongruous blade, striving to extort, to be paid.
Cutting deep, but wait, behold! A gate, and through it a luminous river of gold!
Flowing and changing an effervescent river, so avid a giver.
Presents presented in the present, limited to subjective perception, how pleasant.
But what isn't. These days brain makes the big plays, stifling the mythos, the old ways.
Some hold on to the secrets, some stay behind rather than get hit, or so they say.
Recollections running rampant, scant happiness ******* clad in an orange sun dress.
What a mess, this cluttered web of needlessly intricate excess.
Social pariahs claim possession of tired desires sired in the filthy minds of professional liars.
Majority vote totes a certain permanence broken only by explosions of unyielding opulence.
What springs from lips holds power untouchable to fingertips. Though remnants trickle through, as if taking sips from the trough of knowledge...perhaps once we knew.
Full exposure is supremely reprimanding, as to leave one no longer standing.
Not in the sense of senses deemed supreme, not in this bizarre dream, the way we place ourselves into these pseudo-sensical roles all day striving to derive meaning from the needle, not the hay teeming with nutrients to sustain life as we know it, pleasure and pain.
Vanity must run through our veins to think us able to ordain a solid truth from any plain, or that linear reality reigns.
Comfort is a salve and a vice, when offered one doesn't think twice, but blind acceptance won't negate price.
Contrary to popular belief, popular belief is a contrary beast that consumes the strong and exhumes the weak.
A contrite appetite, a gaping maw with teeth like pikes and satirical satyrs playing in the inimical reeds in which it breeds.
So goes an old saying, early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise, but does sage not grow as sage unless it is left out both day and night until old age?
What makes a thing sagacious, wisdom, growth? Spacious tracks are needed to cultivate both.
As to the memories of trees, what hides within our lives and within the breeze? Sometimes little is less and best. Lessons learned to our behest are not ignored, we just can't seem to find the door.
Within the confines of life's insistence, all beings act in accordance to their existence.
