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Brian O'blivion Jul 2013
simulated fires burn simulated wood
simulated lovers **** on a simulated screen
artificial hearts do their simulated best
pumping blood for a simulated good
Jack L Martin Aug 2018
What do you know of war?  
First person shooter
Simulated gun fire
computerized blood splatter

What do you know of war?
Tag team alliance
Kids slaying kids
for virtual dollars

What do i know of war?
I saw the carnage
Devastation, the horrors
The smell of death

What do i know of war?
The pain haunts me
every day
every hour
It NEVER goes away!

War ain't no game, bro!
These words need no explanation.
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
This is an edited, expanded, expounded, confounded, reverberation of Linguistic Illusions to Probable Solutions written months back.
Yonnick August Jan 2019
Your contagious grin,
Your bubbly happiness,
Your zestful spirit.
You are an unintentional liar,
with a simulated appearance.
The world misled by this facade.
I know you though,
as clear as the cloudless sky,
and I hear them all,
the thunders,
in your sighs.
A REACTIONARY TRACT FOR THE TIMES

(Phi Beta Kappa Poem, Harvard, 1946)

Ares at last has quit the field,
The bloodstains on the bushes yield
To seeping showers,
And in their convalescent state
The fractured towns associate
With summer flowers.

Encamped upon the college plain
Raw veterans already train
As freshman forces;
Instructors with sarcastic tongue
Shepherd the battle-weary young
Through basic courses.

Among bewildering appliances
For mastering the arts and sciences
They stroll or run,
And nerves that steeled themselves to slaughter
Are shot to pieces by the shorter
Poems of Donne.

Professors back from secret missions
Resume their proper eruditions,
Though some regret it;
They liked their dictaphones a lot,
T hey met some big wheels, and do not
Let you forget it.

But Zeus' inscrutable decree
Permits the will-to-disagree
To be pandemic,
Ordains that vaudeville shall preach
And every commencement speech
Be a polemic.

Let Ares doze, that other war
Is instantly declared once more
'Twixt those who follow
Precocious Hermes all the way
And those who without qualms obey
Pompous Apollo.

Brutal like all Olympic games,
Though fought with smiles and Christian names
And less dramatic,
This dialectic strife between
The civil gods is just as mean,
And more fanatic.

What high immortals do in mirth
Is life and death on Middle Earth;
Their a-historic
Antipathy forever gripes
All ages and somatic types,
The sophomoric

Who face the future's darkest hints
With giggles or with prairie squints
As stout as Cortez,
And those who like myself turn pale
As we approach with ragged sail
The fattening forties.

The sons of Hermes love to play
And only do their best when they
Are told they oughtn't;
Apollo's children never shrink
From boring jobs but have to think
Their work important.

Related by antithesis,
A compromise between us is
Impossible;
Respect perhaps but friendship never:
Falstaff the fool confronts forever
The **** Prince Hal.

If he would leave the self alone,
Apollo's welcome to the throne,
Fasces and falcons;
He loves to rule, has always done it;
The earth would soon, did Hermes run it,
Be like the Balkans.

But jealous of our god of dreams,
His common-sense in secret schemes
To rule the heart;
Unable to invent the lyre,
Creates with simulated fire
Official art.

And when he occupies a college,
Truth is replaced by Useful Knowledge;
He pays particular
Attention to Commercial Thought,
Public Relations, Hygiene, Sport,
In his curricula.

Athletic, extrovert and crude,
For him, to work in solitude
Is the offence,
The goal a populous Nirvana:
His shield bears this device: Mens sana
Qui mal y pense.

Today his arms, we must confess,
From Right to Left have met success,
His banners wave
From Yale to Princeton, and the news
From Broadway to the Book Reviews
Is very grave.

His radio Homers all day long
In over-Whitmanated song
That does not scan,
With adjectives laid end to end,
Extol the doughnut and commend
The Common Man.

His, too, each homely lyric thing
On sport or spousal love or spring
Or dogs or dusters,
Invented by some court-house bard
For recitation by the yard
In filibusters.

To him ascend the prize orations
And sets of fugal variations
On some folk-ballad,
While dietitians sacrifice
A glass of prune-juice or a nice
Marsh-mallow salad.

Charged with his compound of sensational
*** plus some undenominational
Religious matter,
Enormous novels by co-eds
Rain down on our defenceless heads
Till our teeth chatter.

In fake Hermetic uniforms
Behind our battle-line, in swarms
That keep alighting,
His existentialists declare
That they are in complete despair,
Yet go on writing.

No matter; He shall be defied;
White Aphrodite is on our side:
What though his threat
To organize us grow more critical?
Zeus willing, we, the unpolitical,
Shall beat him yet.

Lone scholars, sniping from the walls
Of learned periodicals,
Our facts defend,
Our intellectual marines,
Landing in little magazines
Capture a trend.

By night our student Underground
At cocktail parties whisper round
From ear to ear;
Fat figures in the public eye
Collapse next morning, ambushed by
Some witty sneer.

In our morale must lie our strength:
So, that we may behold at length
Routed Apollo's
Battalions melt away like fog,
Keep well the Hermetic Decalogue,
Which runs as follows:--

Thou shalt not do as the dean pleases,
Thou shalt not write thy doctor's thesis
On education,
Thou shalt not worship projects nor
Shalt thou or thine bow down before
Administration.

Thou shalt not answer questionnaires
Or quizzes upon World-Affairs,
Nor with compliance
Take any test. Thou shalt not sit
With statisticians nor commit
A social science.

Thou shalt not be on friendly terms
With guys in advertising firms,
Nor speak with such
As read the Bible for its prose,
Nor, above all, make love to those
Who wash too much.

Thou shalt not live within thy means
Nor on plain water and raw greens.
If thou must choose
Between the chances, choose the odd;
Read The New Yorker, trust in God;
And take short views.
John Prophet Dec 2016
Some say we live in a computer simulation.
A simulation run by others further along.
Our sentients is just as real as theirs.
“I think therefore I am.”
If this is true, what do we do?
Some interesting possibilities could be true.
Could we live simulated lives ad infinitum?
If simulated here could we be simulated anywhere?
Could this be a game and we’re judged by results?
Could there be consequence for how we behave?
Could Heaven and Hell actually be real?
Might want to plan accordingly.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
there was a period in time,
when i focused on two words:
and made them relevant punching
bags...
using the definite article i called
them:
   the reflexive         /      the reflective...
strange "dichotomy" pivot to
conceive...
   but i managed...
        philosophy perhaps begins
with awe... but it sure as **** ends with
a vocab. fixation, vocab. being
the foundation...
  the reflexive / the reflective belong
to a quadratic foundation,
two words are missing...

       favorite gig? tool, glasgow...
could have been wolfmother in edinburgh...
but, see...
  tool, glasgow...
a german girl...
  she was thirsty, the maggot pit
was getting crowded...
plastic cups of water were being
passed...
   there was the crushing sensation...
of beta males...
i gave her some water
from the passed plastic cups...
i drank some myself,
i passed the cup behind me...
after a while we started mingling:
i.e. kissing...
         never miss an australian curly
haired afro from australia in
edinburgh: if you can help yourself...

after the gig she just stood there
like a mute madonna
waiting for me pick her up...
did i?
       the *** would have probably
been great... but the kiss...
in the moment?
   that's what kept the memory
alive...
       again...
there was a time when i:
why isn't squash an olympic sport...
why does baseball,
rugby... have precursor justification
of olympic sports status
over squash?
   i liked playing squash...
  fun sport...
               all you need is a cube canvas...
i still remember warming up
the rubber ball, till it became soft,
before you could play a game...
   managing hyper-geometry
while smashing the ball against
the side-walls...
     god... so much more fun worth
of a game compared to tennis...
it's... radical!                      3D!

so came the reflexive "contra" the reflective...
a case closure of:
react to it immediately (reflexive),
or?
   react to it by stalling, allowing the ontology
of man to "pleasure" of thinking:
i know that thought is regularly dissociated
from ontology,
gimp-strapped to pure empiricism:
no god: immediate reaction...
    with not god: all you can "eat" /
spreschen dynamics...
       if god doesn't exist...
speak whatever you want,
as much as you want...
     but, to me? god is the source
of thought... hard to find a thinking man
in a godless society...
thinking goes out of the "window"
including "a" god... or: the plural
variation of splintered ambitions,
ambitions and authority...

    mit meine liebhaber wie die
mund: ich leben alles dinge,
              drapiert in quecksilber,
   durch die licht sie umhüllt...

    i already had a narrative...
well that's lost... but with my love for
for the deutzschezunge:
   nein engländer kam
mein weg...
           außer etwas blöd
                    amerikanisch...
    geschätzt sack nase in überall...

deutsche: nutzen englischgrammatik...
   "hoppla"!
             ficker besser sprint!
              
   the quadratic still remains...
reflexive (oh oh, it begins....)
             readings books is a "b'ah b'ah"
sheepish: b'ah b'ah bad "thing"...
less worth of stutter...
safe compounds of the rich....
looking in, aren't you the lucky ones?
i guess you are...

             but then again: i guess
you're not part of the garden state
project... ******* fannies...
***** go ****?!
      **** offs....

   heideggeer...
                qabbalah...
                         20th century peoples,
associated with the reflexive
sentiment(s)...
             imitation...
what is imitation when lacking
intimidation?
                  ah....
the reflexive "aspect" is stimulation...
can't exactly stimulate upon
a "gratification" of: the algebra of x...

we live in times of contra-stimulation...
simulation prone...
when "once upon a time"
the reflexive,
  when "once upon a time"
the reflective....
when thinking was allowed...
and god was disavowed...

what thinking?!
              there's as much of god in
the "discussion" as there's thought...
atheism gave birth to the sophists...
    what would the rekindled
variation of the belief in the gods
revel in, sophistry contra solipsism?
bate nook and a boredom
affair of atheism...

              the reflexive: imitation /
intimidation... stimulation...
             the reflective: imagining /
         coerce...
                simulation...

these days people are not exactly
prone to 19th century into 20th century
translations of stimulation...
   stimulation: being a reflexive term...
these days?
   people are more prone to
the simulation, a: "reflective" term...
it doesn't have to be real to be "real"...
     people reject the "concept"
of reality like might react
to antibiotics...
   not exactly clarity borne...
       once upon a time...
  people were reflexive: stimulated...
these days?
people are reflective: simulated...
  and in the latter sense?
hardly... ever willing to be responsive...
  the crisis in england...
super-bugs... the antithesis of
antibiotics...

    hence? the missing T...
           reflexive "vs." reflective...
  stimulated "vs." simulated...
such puny thesaurus differences...

so now everything in  the deutsche
ist ****-isch?
             wow! wunderbar!
   mögen sie mögen mir!
        englischsprechendwelt vereinen!

    spät kommen

how many people can associate
this observation into their daily diet,
of the fact that
clenching your teeth,
relaxes your eyebrows,
                  from frowning?

maybe that rammstein song:
rosenrot,
     about paedophilia?
                       if you're 18,
and she's 14, and you're
                 dating her older sister your age,
but then: love at first sight
suffocates you...
    you're almost 33,
she's in her 20s...
             you kept that whole
"love at first sight" *******...
   came the weimar, berliner gay
troops...
      with their
regenbogenvorhang,
anti:
             starr,
anti:
                     streng
anti:
                 eisen, bügeln...

        kommt der zeppeline!
how many definite articles
does german please
allow to clarify? die contra der?
yes? well... that's a...
    lohnend anfang...

kommen sie,
   ich werden einst mehr....

how many people can associate
this observation into their daily diet,
of the fact that
clenching your teeth,
relaxes your eyebrows,
                  from frowning?

see... i have a fetish for german...
this english: a little bit of something,
"that", "other", "******"?
well... whatever frees me from
russian...
    i'll clearly succomb to speak
this language,
top escape the russians...
but, i just have to....
          schleppen diese deutschzunge;
ich unterlassen sie
                         mögen es...
i just became aware of the polacks...
favouring loan-words from
neighbouring canons of tongue...
i figured: the rest is history...
  to have to despair over
a sense of continuinity...
within the confines
of a biological reality,
when biological reality is currently
being undermined?
really?!
     i'm supposed to give a ****,
about that sort of *******?!
how about:
an idea transcends the confines
of biology,
what if the kantian
categorical imperative
also implies....
transcending ***,
the casual act of ***,
    the anti-darwinian aspect
of ***: *** for pleasure,
recreation, *******,
and not the origin impetus...
             what is the categorical
"imperative" of ***,
these days?
                      i'm the one who's
"****** up"?
        what about referencing cats...
reptiles in a mammalian disguise?
to bypass the misnomer...
to call red, red,
to call banana yellow,
   to call it: no black swan...
to call...
  how would one attempt
transcendence
of the categorical imperative?
misnomer, purposive,
or non-purposive,
loosely associated
with poetic freedoms to
"misnomer" /
   not address expression
of jurisprudnece,
too closely associated with
juggling a thesaurus...
                                       what now?
                  
    ich haben gelernt ihre englisch,
  jetzt ich suchen für eine flucht!
wenn nein an land,
      bei zuletzt: im mein kopf.

the ship is sinking,
the rats are bailing out first.
Anthony Perry  Mar 2016
Reclaimed
Anthony Perry Mar 2016
Creatures crawl from under the roots of trees and bugs scatter from the pockets of the lost to the cadence of sprinkling rain

Silence in the woods of missused life brings out the sounds of wind screaming past the tightened ropes and rusted knives

Those who walk through the aokigahara forest hear a symphony of life that persists through the maimed, a festival of tents and people strung up like decorations as if it was meant for a parade

Nature reclaimed the unused death of unwanted bodies and the rain drained flesh from bones, simulated hell and suicide is what's found soon after passing the warning signs in red and white marked zones.
Aaron LaLux Jul 2017
Family Reunion

Had dinner with my parents tonight,
this week was the first time I’ve seen them together in my entire life,

honestly,
and even though I left home at 14,
all of the blame,
can’t really be put on either them or me,

because my parents had broken up,
since long before I was woken up,
separated for so long,
I often wondered if they were even ever together,

I brought them together for my birthday,
October 2016,
my father flew in from The States,
we all met in Thailand where my mom lives,

dinner was difficult,
my mom is losing her mind,
while she’s sitting there spilling her soul,
my dad just sits there and asks meaningless questions,

my mother sitting there saying how she has no money,
how she has no family other than us,
how she has no shoes on her feet,
and no real place to call home,

like I’m supposed to feel guilty for that,
like I don’t send her money all the time,
like I wasn’t in Thailand just to visit her,
like I’m a man now so she chooses to blame me,

like she’s chosen to blame every other man that’s ever been in her life,

how many husbands has she had now,
4 or 5,
maybe 6 or 7,
I don’t know I’ve lost count.

Seriously,
ridiculous,

what do you say to your mom,
when you think she’s a ****,
and I know that might sound like a terrible thing to say,
but it’s the truth and I refuse to censor myself,

my,
self,
doesn’t even feel like me anymore,
not even sure if I’m a human let alone a man,

man,
the Atomic Family is more like an Atomic Bomb,

what a mess we’ve made,
and all in the name of what,
I have no idea,
honestly,

well,
it’s all probably a simulation always,
at least that’s what Elon Musk says,
“There’s a 1 in billions chance that we are not living in a Simulated Reality.”.

Makes me want to tell my parents,
that they are just part of a computer program,
but they’d probably just call me crazy,
and then just disappear…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

from The new book '777' available worldwide on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548700746
Simon Aug 2020
Left is right... ...Because right is left... Except how does one or the other directional scenarios fair against the opposing opposites (that is themselves when conjoining as one "unifying whole")? Both directional options are just supposed to detour (each other) one way or the other (while seemingly going around each other again and again through countless twists and turns operable for success)! While also maximizing a different route, altogether! It's what makes paving a simulated pathway (so too speak) in order to free up space for the simulated pathway to give a better instruction manual about which way to properly (the next time around) carve my "simulated pathway"?!
PS... ("Which way"...) ...Is NO truer stated governing way!
"Which way is the truer way"... ...Is just a momentary foundation meant to give you more then one hand the actual assistance of a time (that's truly supposed to last apparently... ...Only one hand at a time...) ...Repeat, repeat, repeat... ..."Left is right"... ..."And right is left"...
Aaron LaLux Nov 2016
I open my eyes,
to The End of one of the Lord of The Rings movies,
not sure which one,
because honestly I haven’t seen any of them,

I’ve met Elijah Wood though,
several times,
can’t say we’re the closest of friends,
but we do know each other,

I find it such a strange sight to wake up to considering where I’m currently at in the world,

The End of one of the Lord of The Rings films,
there’s a round wooden door right before the film fades out,
and even though I haven’t seen the films I’ve been to New Zealand,
and know a Hobbit house when I see one,

I turn the screen off,
I’m on a bus in Myanmar,
it’s supposed to be a VIP bus,
but I don’t feel Very Important,

still dwelling on past relationships,
like the one that I had with a young Hollywood Star,
I loved her honestly I did,
but sometimes you can not save someone from themselves,

I watched in horror,
as she turned from Starlet to Harlot,
from overnight success,
to plain as day failure,

she used to be such a Turn On,
until she became a Turn Off,
I told her she should turn in,
instead she just got turned out,

it’s too bad,
I guess not much I can do about it,
I’m just a Lost Poet from the Lost City of Angeles,
I am not God nor am I a Savior,

I’m from the city,
where every Wonderful Dream,
is built upon,
a thousand Horrible Nightmares,

I try to close my eyes to get some rest,
I’ve got a long flight in the morning,
Yangon to Kuala Lumpur,
a rendezvous with a friend on an island,

and it’s already been a long day,
so some sleep would be most appreciated,
but I’ve lost a lot of sleep to dreams,
and this night is no acceptation,

I’m tired yet wired like always sleepwalking in a daydream,

I open my eyes again,
to The Beginning of The Sixth Sense,
Bruce Willis is just waking up,
rubbing his eyes I feel like him,

which is actually relevant,
since I am good friends with his daughter,
wrote her a birthday poem and read it to her,
at her Birthday party at her mom’s house,

real life seems so surreal sometimes,

my mind drifts,
between past regrets and future hopes,
trying to move past regrets and into a future of hope,
and we all want to think we know the answers but really nobody knows,

so we explore,
the lands of the World and the minds of the Man,
in hopes of discovering,
some Great Secret that will set us all free,

well I’ve got news for you,
I’ve been revealed a great secret,
and the commonly believed great secret,
is that there is no Great Secret,

still I want to know,
and so I ask this question,
if we are really living in a Matrix,
then who programmed the Programmers,

now before you call me crazy,
let me allow you to refer to Elon Musk,
who recently said in an interview,
that we are likely living in a Simulated Reality,

and he’s much smarter than you or me,
so he probably knows what he’s talking about,
now let’s take a moment out of our regularly scheduled program,
to reflect on exactly the severity of the implications of this is,

reflect,
we are living in a Simulated Reality,
and maybe Elon is the Messenger,
maybe he is the bridge between our two worlds,

reflect,
once I let it all soak in,
everything that’s happened in my life starts to make a lot more sense,
I start to see why I was literally conceived in Hollywood where I began to literarily write,

I open my eyes…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

New book available worldwide now, here:
https://www.amazon.com/Holy-Trilogy-Vol-Masonic-Psalms-ebook/dp/B01N3QR3E4
The grains of sand
Sift through his hands
And we can only watch

Water trickles
The moon becomes a sickle
And all we do is watch

The hand is bored
Away   says the Lord
And he throws us to the side                 
I made some watchers in the sand
All they do is sit and stand and till the land
I'm sick to my core of these people in my hand!


To the hourglass we were thrown
To reap a punishment none of us had sown
Time had become simulation

An age of a simulated God was known.

As time, the grains of sand
Sift through the simulated hands
All we do is watch

We are man.
Poet kiri Mar 2022
PART 1, SEEKER


Baba,

I have returned from the seeker,
The oracle that sees all.

I have seen my life,

And,

What a life I tell you, of a  young man named Kiri has lived, seen and experienced.

Though he advised that I  must deliver these messages to you,

In order of the actions I took,

I believe truly the universe has secrets to tell.


PART 2, BACKWARDS


I have been running baba,

Running backwards as is my nature,

To the point I have grown eyes in the back of my head that see, my family, my friends, my lover , angels and seek my enemies and seen the knives that have struck my spine to the core of my heart on this path I walk facing the past and clearly seeing the future.

Some have called me “stupid”, for walking backwards yet I see forward and always arrive where I am supposed to be.

Others , have called me a “snake”, yet I question don’t you have to be a snake yourself to recognize one yourself, or is it that my loyalty has been to you and no one else but my creator.

Though I must say they have been meals to themselves, and tasted their own karma on their scales.

Many have called me a “thing”,
A compliment only nature can/has accepted

And some seek to know why I speak a foreign language in this global village,
Yet their eyes drip of pain, fear and disgust that I know who and what they really are.

Baba, it’s important we acknowledge

We are of the same seed, and tree

before our journey takes on different paths,

I must share the messages that seeks to tell of our ancestry and the branches that hold the leaves together, before the arrival of winter.

In a world where man mirrors man
And history never repeats itself, but man does.
And under this very sun, nothing new has existed
Since the discovery of the 10,000 things in the way of Tao in the East and its death in western culture.
Your confidence is a facade of “incomplete equations”

(RIP master Tzu)

I chant my chant as I walk backwards 88 steps and feel the vibrations of this universe and it’s doom, if we make no change.

What a life I tell you, of a young man named kiri has lived, seen and experienced.



PART 3, DEATH


Baba,

The seeker commends our strength and acceptance of its existence

Even though

I have asked myself, why?
Now I seek to know when.

Truly “I am just but human”

And through you,

I have learnt to welcome death and enjoy a dance with her before my last step, strength, rhythm and rhyme are lost in this simulation, that quotes Jesus feet.

I must say it was a beautiful dance.

Though Baba, I must ask

Why is it I have lived through this pain,

Faced death in the eyes a million times,

And through the soul of darkness I have seen the light.

Is the journey ahead serving another 25 to life in this simulation the true light,

Yet the artificial lights  blinded me like the men in the cave

to busy in the art of betrayal to see who they are really at war with?

I have died before, and a million times over, and the man I stand as today, Baba

I see the beauty in death and the pain in this simulation,

How peaceful it is to be among the stars having known I have served my purpose

And ready to shine in the light of darkness,

What a life I tell you, of a young man named kiri has lived, seen and experienced.



PART 4, PATH


You are a fool my son and you have shamed me in this global village, I am disappointed in you.  Don’t you know your commandments.

“ Children honour your creator, in times of love, pain, death , suffering, and abandonment, no questions asked” (Baba)

Baba

You fool I am your creator, and as I brought in this world I shall take you out with the knifes dangling through your back

BABA!!!

I met an old lady on the path home,

She warned me of the doom that awaits a head and as I ran from her she chased me with a mob,

What did she want, she probably recognised your foolishness(Baba)

Her chant was faint but chilling,

“A stolen soul, will haunt you forever. until returned home, you will be in a prison of betrayal, snakes and darkness."

Whats so chilling about that, you little wimp (Baba)

I turned and saw my back was stuck to a tree of thorns that slithered and planted their spikes on every inch of my body.

And when I awoke the old lady was gone,

Yet her chant rang loud in the mist of the fog.

Baba

What a life I tell you, of a young man named kiri has lived, seen and experienced.

Who the hell is kiri, whose name is that? (Baba)

(Silence…..)



PART 5. MAIL MAN.


Are you done wasting my time, did the mail man give you any mail for me.(Baba)

Yes, Baba

Here it is!

Read it to me, I cannot see in this room full of darkness.(Baba)

The first letter,  is from your friend in Israel “Samson”.

He is writing to you to inform you that he cannot live any longer with the guilt that eats him alive every day.

He knows a secret that can tear apart the fabric of your simulated illusion.

He is facing justice for his actions and before  you go your separate ways he wishes to let you know….

He is sorry and that two of your many children are his , he is the intruder in the night who

Stole the heart of mama and why she has never loved you since and never has.  

You will always be her audience in the darkness as she puppets the simulated illusion you call life.

He will be facing a judge tomorrow and getting his sentence for a “prescription written revenge”.

You will meet in another life.

Yours truly
Samson from Israel.

What a life I tell you my Son. I must find these intruders and chase them from my home. (Baba)

Silence…

What does the second letter say, read it out loud quick I have to pack my luggage and leave this place and handle my affairs, I am no fool.
I am a confident total man. (Baba)

Are you sure you want me to continue, Baba?

Yes you fool, you could even be the intruder in my house and I am entertaining you, haven’t you ever heard the saying “**** the messenger”. I am your creator you fool, obey me or Die (Baba)

Yet I am the “Poetic Mirror” of you.

Read the second letter you ******* (Baba)

The second letter is from the receptionist who likes you at the hospital “Joy”

She is writing to you to tell you of a dream she had of you,

She says that she couldn’t sleep because her heart will be broken if you leave her for she has an eye not visible to mortals and wings that keep her in the clouds when she thinks, sees anything and all about you.

Her dream was of your demise,(your death)

And she is worried it will come to be,

She dreamt you had stollen a young , beautiful and innocent soul and killed it before offering a sacrifice to the Creators.

Your death was long and tiresome as you ran from the mob that was relentless to end you.

Your demise was the end of the power and foundation of a home you so badly wanted.

She warns that Mama is not your lover but the master of the illusion in this simulation you call life.

She would like to invite you to her home for an evening meal and be delighted to have your company over for a cup of coffee, maybe she could stop your demise before the cycle repeats itself and bring light and balance to it.

Yours truly,
Joy the receptionist from the hospital.

Silence….

I need to pack and leave immediately my son, we will meet once I return. (Baba)



PART 6, TELL ME A STORY


Baba

What (Baba)

Take me with you on this journey for the seeker told me of your fate.

Tell me Baba,

What is the story of our ancestry,

I must know you Baba,

For you are me and I am you

We are of the same seed and tree

That was forbidden, yet the universe had a purpose for us.

Let me save you and show my gratitude to my ancestors

For the gifts of life and repay our debt to the creators

As we are men who never betray ourselves for nothing,

But betray ourselves to rise above from the ashes

For we “no longer abide by the bell”

Before the universe sets our paths apart,

In this mortal world.

Lets go my son(Baba)



PART 7, A JOURNEY THROUGH THE UNIVERSE*


My son,

As we walk backwards in this journey,

You must remember,….

You will be a king,

And as a king does, you must learn,

In this simulated game of chess called life,

The universe is the master and Mother Nature the teacher,

You must learn to loose, you must learn to win, and you must learn to evolve or die.

A man is his tools and his knowledge his power,

With out one the other is useless.

It is as beautiful as it is ugly,

And “rules will be broken”

But “today”

Be the water bearer you are

And love & cry, learn & fail , smile & frown,

Though in the mist of these 10, 000 illusions,

Remember,

In the way of the Tao, nothing is ever permanent

Change is a process

And you are the key.

Just like the universe and Mother Nature,

One needs the other.

This simulation is an endless cycle of premiered illusions on repeat,

Look for the angels among us, and in between the lines you read,
you will find the “ugly truth”.

I Love you my son, forgive me for my actions

I am proud of the man you have become,

I must go now, we shall meet when I return.

Thank the oracle for me and tell Joy I would be glad to have dinner with her once I return.

Thank you Baba, I love you too Baba, and I forgive you

I look forward to hearing the tales of your journey through the universe.

WHAT A LIFE FOR A YOUNG MAN KNOWN AS KIRI

©Hansmind, 2022.
Hello, I hope you are all well and moving forward in your life to create a better you each day and over coming the pandemic.

My deepest Condolences to all the people who lost family , friends and loved ones during the pandemic.

I would like to thank you for the continuous support from the community, I am really great full for all the comments and likes.

Please feel free to comment and CRITIC THE POEM.
KINDLY LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE.

This poem belongs to the collection "The Life Of A Young Man Named Kiri".

THANK YOU!!!

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