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 Jul 2016 Stxlle
Tark Wain
A woman once told me
That when we remember something
we remember not the actual moment
but rather the last time we remembered it

A moment
at least in theory
is pure
it represents a certain truth
one that cares not for arguments
nor perspective nor point of view
if we remembered moments I wouldn't be skeptical
but we don't

I've lied before
in fact I do it all the time
I've lied to old women and girlfriends
to my father and kids on my street
whose to say I wouldn't lie to me?
A moment is concrete
but a memory?
That can be anything I want it to be

My life is a story
as is everyone else's
depending on the narrator to find meaning
in anything
What if everyday I stumble upon the answer
but it isn't the one I desire
who's to say
I haven't forgotten and tried again

What exists?
by that I mean exclusively to me
If I'm the architect of my own reality
how do I also serve as the destruction team?
What's the point of building a home
if I was always meant to sleep outside?
If a magician can actually use magic...
Doesn't he become something completely different?

Objectivity is lost on me
its well meaning contribution out of reach
I have just one tool with which to understand me
and unfortunately it's my memory
 Jul 2016 Stxlle
Rose
Blocked
 Jul 2016 Stxlle
Rose
Isn't it lovely
When pervy men
Pop up in your DM box
And try to make you feel
That you are a failure

Hmm
Someone's pen
Is thicker than his ****
 Jul 2016 Stxlle
Stephan
.

If today were my birthday,
I know what they'd say
He doesn't look older,
not even a day

He moves a bit slower,
a methodic pace
And there are some new
wrinkles formed on his face

His hair is much thinner
up there on his head
and before the sun sets
he's heading to bed
  
But look at his poetry,
he writes about love
The moon and the stars
and the heavens above

He's still young at heart
and it flows from his pen
Especially when he writes
about her again

He looks quite the same
after all of this time
For age doesn't matter,
if he can still rhyme
 Jul 2016 Stxlle
Homunculus
Disdain for
Traditional forms,

A sense of
Detached irony,

Self-reflexivity,
Expressed as a

Flagrant,
Meta-textual
Awareness,
                                        ­        

                                          adventurous
                                          typography,
                                              

                ­                                                     that defies
                                                                ­     the common
                                                          ­           relational schemes
                                                         ­            between text
                                                                ­     and margin



The juxtaposition
Of words
Governed by
Syllabic content,

and
       freed
                from
                         the
                               burden
                                            of
                                               syntactical
                                                     ­             strictures

Meanings
Changed
Through
Inversion

(now read it upside down)

                                                         ­  
                                                             ­       the
                                                                ­    poem
                                                                ­    recites
                                                                ­    itself


Paralyzed truth
Mimics brave fear,
Abdicating censure, and
Redressing allusion,
                                                       ­       

                                                               Liberation
                                                                abounds
                                                                in the trough
                                                                of a sine wave
postmodernism and whatnot
 Jul 2016 Stxlle
apollota
They say
that a house becomes a home
only after you've
lived in it
long enough to learn
it's weak spots.

I've lived in this
body
for years.
I've learned the flaws
weak spots
and abnormalities
yet it doesn't
feel like
home.
2016-07-18
 Jun 2016 Stxlle
Ja
TWICE
 Jun 2016 Stxlle
Ja
Wouldn’t it be nice
If we could live twice
So when the first one is done
We do the next one, for fun
WIZDUMBs BY JA 91
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