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Matt Oct 2020
Temptation unravels like a flower abdicating her bulb
For to fair maidens, my life I’ve sold
Hold me and dawn your lips upon mine
And let you and me sail through Paris, down the river of her Seine

Warmth I know not, yet nathless I seek Apollo’s chariot mare
And to hunt ‘til dusk at us she stares
Lay here under the veil of twilight
Under the twilight, ‘til the sun lays forth her light, nay any brightness

Follow me down the Rhine, right, follow not to the river of Styx
Rise with me amongst Alps, like Frederick
When I call, will you find us a niche?
Or tell me Atlas has fell, and your thoughts have shattered to pieces?

Endeavor to find my ailing pen and fly to me on winged shoes
I juggle your court, the fastest fool
Woman, I thought you my medicine
But the turmoil you pave, leaves me a reluctant libertine

Here am I, waging a war wherein I will dutifully fail
But for thee, Cupid’s arrow I’d impale
Then in my failure I find discord
Oh how my war ails her, bind me in brass under the lunar cold

How could you forgive me? Wearied, hands I forged flames and scarred your heart
And left you hideously distraught
Should you, I’d build you a throne d’or
And father for us four children, each as innocent as a fleur

Cast me out like the dawn, for in my heart, the wind blows full of sand
Deep in there, your Trojan horse still stands
Down in the earth you will find my soul
You brought your wars-men to lay waste what could have been wonderful

Proud, are you?, for waving the air under my wings upon which I
Climbed to the Sun, in euphoric high
Now to the maze where I still devise
To face your wrath and wrestle your beasts to ensure our love survives

Tis a hopeless cause, I walk like the air on a stale summer day
And I’m dreaming of your sharp green eyes
And I remember your skin like silk
Woven by the Fates; “us,” I thought we were to be bred of the same ilk

Resign to Versailles and sit beneath the Sun King, his brightly “or”
Run to the valley, you did before
And in there find your poisoned lily
Your fallen stars unveil your sympathies; marked by your fleur-de-lis

Stand like a pillar of salt, lick your wounds, and try to quench your thirst
You were born with two snakes in your fists
And you fend off all men; lonesome blues
You deny yourself passion and love, but dress as if he seeks you

I drowned myself beneath a circle of stars, searching for answers
And came upon a ballet dancer
I asked her, “don’t dance in paraphrase”
“Let me see you at réveille, and peer on your inward gaze.”

Show yourself to me, self proclaimed Queen of many-a-mans envy
Your masquerade ***** hide your beauty
You speak endless lies, but show not a man
When you stay behind your dramatic masks, you’ll never know friends again

Throw out your doctrines that bind your immeasurable concerns
Turn off the things you think you have learned
And decide with your mind and your heart
Seek Saturn to announce your mysteries, now then, think like Descartes
“To Hell with Descartes!”
          Scream anxious knots in my back
Tangled like body and mind
Sarah Richardson Feb 2020
Here I am again.
Waking, moving, thinking, and speaking,
Loving, seeking, hoping, and dreaming.

How did I get here?
I thought one escapes in evening
Yet, tonight I am still here,
But as always I am sleeping.

Turn off the light
Pause the music of time,
And worlds unfold beneath my eyes.

I feel them as if they were pressing upon my skin.
I taste them as if they coated my tongue.
I see them as if they are inches ahead of me.
I know them as real and not,
But real, and not?

Then morning.

Here I am again.
Waking, moving, thinking, and speaking,
Loving, seeking, hoping and breathing.

I was there.
But where?
Not really here, nor there.
But somewhere.

Where I am now?
Here.
Again.
And again.
What is real?
‘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.
Tommy Randell Aug 2018
I dreamed a Life where living was nothing but Dreaming
I walked through mirrors room to room as my mirrored self
Walked by me his eyes downcast so as not to know his future
Or show me mine.

Going into town I strolled in and out of Shop Windows
Watching myself there across the street wondering on the meaning
Of all my other selves reflected and refracted
Swimming through light. Separate journeys but one destination.

Are we so many? Bounced window to window down the street
Do we rush ahead to a future which changes before we arrive?
Or lag behind to notice what we missed perhaps the first time?
What do we get up to elsewhere on our Time-line?

Later shaving I looked myself in the eye and tried to see
Thought of being in the mirror and separately trying to be me
Only to make myself smile only then to make myself wonder
Which of me smiled first..?
LGY May 2018
I grew weary of the world around me,
for it deceives me time and time again.
How do I know i'm not a prisoner,
out of desperation,
hallucinates he's at home,
cosy in bed, with
nice warm soup at the desk,
waiting for his master to devour it dead.
How do I know I'm not sleeping,
and this is a all a dream.
I could be a King,
under a spell casted by the devil,
fogging my vision from god.
I can't look back now,
and have to move forward,
discovering the truth,
a task too urgent to be discarded.
Braving through this nightmare,
kudos to those made it through.
Ruminating epoché,
‘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
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
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 the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The 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.
c Apr 2018
Darling,

I've left the stove on for you
The milk has curdled and lumped
The walls torn of their bark
The shower running hot

I've given all the photos up
To flame in warm embrace
I've brimmed the socks with holes for you,
I've smithered every plate

I've sprayed the garden poisonous
I've festered root & vein
I've grown a **** in every pith
And severed every end

For you, my love
I've scorched the house
And this I'd do again
For you, my love
I would commit
Each feared unearthly sin

I am the soldier
Steadfast, held
Against all element
For you I'd burn
And fall to sword
Infatuate in death

--
c
Playing around with dualism. Hoping to write a Brain to Body
SøułSurvivør Jun 2015
---

I think
therefore I AM

- Descartes -

---

I AM
therefore i

thank!

- soulsurvivor -
Descartes believed that if
you had doubt of your
existence you were living

I think if you believe in
the existence of
God
and that He's the reason you're here
you should thank Him!

:)

— The End —