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Vi Aug 2022
Still more, in words

In experience

Confusing Familiarity with Comfort

Confusing Comfort with Peace

Reifying confusion, but not successfully

Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky


Seeing through, a single pinhole in a perfectly realistic backdrop

Pinholes everywhere, more than can be contained

Not containing

Torn all over

Dispelling everything

Stripping away the Stripping away

Trying to stand very still and very quite so I can feel, hear, sense

Perfect realism

Wanting to be convinced by rage

Agitation, but only conceptual

Feeling tight

Feeling rehearsed

Feeling like an imposter

Wanting to impress

Wanting to be convinced of Self, of Realness

Fortified by others knowing, or preferably- admiration

Like being constructed out of sets of other peoples' eyes

Like being made real by propagating in more minds, many more minds, specific minds. In countless beating and virtual hearts, likes, thumbs up

Not wanting to be forgotten, while alive, while dead

Taxed by maintenance and constant imminent collapse

Compassion, like collapsing into a safe lap


No pretense

Bare being

More naked than when unclothed

Total exposure

Outed, in the light of knowing

Self forgetting and glimpses of freedom

Trusting sighing

Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad

Feeling continuous

Feeling fragmented

Feeling like motion, like flow

Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering

Grasping at impermanence, visceral

Resting in the middle

Dancing down the tightrope

Knowing perfect poise, brief equilibrium

Reifying stability. Gone.

Everything is hysterically funny


But also, sometimes, just plain humorous

And absurd


Loving people

Grateful for people

Seeing beauty everywhere

Encountering this, intimate, me, indistinguishable being, but everywhere



Always coming back

Like an epic

Like a great love story

Like the last wring of that silk dress you weren't supposed to squeeze dry

Feeling like I shouldn't know what I know, like I couldn't. This must be illegal, cosmically illegal

Knowing the inside of my hand

Knowing teenage shame

Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small

Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong softness

Loving with understanding

Loving with teeth and nails

Music, lacerating

Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving

Becoming one single, concentrated point

Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. Like physically with my body.

Knowing I am not this voice

Or this writer

Or this narrator

Though I am also all that
I couldn't edit my previous Poem for some reason. There is therefore repetition here from "The Art of Selfing". I do not prefer it this way.
Vi Aug 2022
Sleep deprivation



Sense-making and maps of meaning

Revisiting memories


Staying away from scary corners of my mind

Deliberately going toward scariness

Not resisting

Yes resisting

Respecting resistance

Compulsive tv watching

Dropping or letting go over and over again



Forgetting and then remembering that it’s all happening on its own, noticing this, knowing this, realizing this

Realizing that realization comes and goes on its own

Being in love with everything


Playing with time and concepts

Craving emptiness



Ranking what "works" (i.e. sleep deprivation is effective), noticing that the metric of “effective” and "works" is = resulting in greater illusions of "forgetting" with a capital F

Loving everything

Being everything


Not really believing any of the stories or narratives


Being irresponsible

Getting off on self-loathing

Forcing intimacy

Compassion, large, whole, unrelenting, everywhere


Falling in love with a homeless person at a traffic stop

Being bored and sad and hopeless and desperate

Remembering inherent wholeness

Being stubborn

Getting out of the way always feels like dying

Loving dying

Loving mourning dying

Dramatizing dying

Wanting to be seen and loved



Craving intensity

Hating craving intensity

Knowing that nothing is a problem


Being impatient

Being very very patient

Feeling like I don’t belong in the world, like people and things and money and social media are alien, foreign and scary

Feeling like I am the world

Forgetting that knowing how to verbalize isn’t the same as knowing

Wanting knowing with words to be the same as Knowing

Wanting knowing to be a Real, solid thing


Mortal fear


Constant background anxiety

Hating this body

Not caring for this body

Being burdened by this body

Feeling trapped in a body

Feeling more trapped in a mind

Wanting knowing to resolve everything

Wanting to be saved

Thinking that I probably don’t need to be saved

Thinking or knowing(?) there’s nothing to be saved from

Knowing that I can’t be saved

Feeling open

Feeling vulnerable

Feeling exposed

Feeling bad

Feeling like I'm doing it wrong

Believing it all

Wanting to both believe it and have a choice about when, where, and to what extent I believe it

Not knowing where the edge is until I've fallen off

Feeling violated

Feeling like existence is non-consensual

Somehow trusting all of it, totally, exactly as it is

Watching the panicking

More crying

Being one

Being very very aware

Noticing and letting go of effort in one swift move

Compulsive clenching




Dying without the novelty

Being ok vey very briefly and for no apparent reason/because of no reason./?

Wanting distraction

Respecting needing distraction

Getting out of the way of intelligent coping mechanisms

Villifying coping mechanisms

Understanding only in retrospect


Compassion, deep, like warm water

Compassion, hard, like being ****** vey very slowly


Life-giving torture

Never wanting to stop


Abundance like grace, like not deserving, like not needing to be deserving, like deserving is perverse language

Tasting everything

Endless kaleidoscopes of being and tasting and knowing

Non visual seeing

Clarity, brightness, nothing is a problem

Being alive

Being sososo tired

Wanting to rest, to die into void and nothing

Wanting to hibernate

Wanting to still

Dying to get off

Begging to get off

Finding the edge more thrilling than the center (because then the center can be anything at all?)

Loving all the previous versions of this being

Needing to hate, loathe, earlier renditions of this being

Hating repulsion

Trusting repulsion

Getting stuck because resisting repulsion

Knowing that there's no way out

Knowing that the way out that I'm seeking isn't a way out

Not wanting to do the work

Dancing around the center, constantly

Feeling dizzy with chaos, with knowledge of power

Feeling comfortable with mediocrity

Hating mediocrity

Waking up with jaw tension from the enormity of my own suppressed power

Telling stories about sensations

Relying on self-bullying methods I know don't work

Perfecting the art of pretending

Perfecting the art of self-deception

Wanting to make the stakes higher

Being overwhelmed by my own storytelling

Not wanting to give stories credibility by dispelling them

Naval gazing

Loving philosophy

Feeling dried up, tired, stagnant, disinterested, not engaged, not here.

Sleepwalking. Sleep writing. Sleep talking. Sleep caring

Not sleeping

Vivid dreaming

High weirdness

Questioning my sanity

Romanticizing insanity

Wanting to blur all boundaries

Wanting to smooth the edges of reality

Questioning reality

Destabilizing reality

Feeling destabilized

Feeling irresponsible


Feeling sick and tired

Feeling scared

Feeling hopeless

Wanting to reach out

Feeling like everything is inevitable

Feeling like suffering is inevitable

Recognizing kindness

Discerning well (properly? Clearly? Well.)

Fearful trusting

Thinking too much

Not wanting to love my dad as much as I do.

Chasing the intellectual high


No need for resolution

Feeling caught in existence

Feeling caught up. Like in a potato sack; I can explore the exact measure of my confinement, the sensorial elements, the scratchiness, the filtering light from the outside, the stagnation, the wanting to stretch.

I love this being.

This. It's not a problem.

Confusing familiarity with comfort

Confusing comfort with peace

Reifying confusion, but not really

Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky

Seeing through, like pinholes in a perfectly realistic backdrop

Dispelling everything

Stripping away the Stripping away

Trying to stand still and feel

Wanting to be convinced by rage

Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad

Feeling continuous

Feeling fragmented

Feeling like motion, like flow

Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering

Grasping at impermanence

Resting in the middle

Dancing down the tightrope

Knowing perfect poise, so so brief

Everything is hysterically funny


But also just plain humorous

And absurd

Loving people

Feeling grateful for people

Seeing beauty everywhere

Always coming back

Like an epic

Like a great love story

Like a violin solo in a forbidden song

Like the last wring of that silk dress you're not supposed to squeeze dry

Knowing the inside of my hand

Knowing teenage shame

Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow
hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small, nowhere to go

Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong soft body

Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving

Becoming one single, concentrated point

Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. With my body.

I am not this voice

Or this writer

Or this narrator

Though I am also all that
Axxsh Sep 2020
interlocking Complex(cities)
a fortunate mixed complexion
comprising of liberating schemes.
the unnatural routine
followed by beings with hindered genes
i see them upload themselves in a virtual scene.
i look up to them, twice
binocular vision
remix the visuals with binaural beats
to keep me levitating
before breaking into a fragmented
they’ve preached their nuisance to me
i’ve definitely caught an anomaly
i’ve heard them fabricating speech into something humble and noble
i’ll wait till it’s my turn to be
i’ll spit radiation like Chernobyl
to obliterate the ever growing regime.
molecular regain
they speak up to my senses
to attain the consent of the
eternal and beyond
with an upright movement
momentum i gain
from forthcoming sonder
while wandering down to the streets
you’re listening to city dreams
lean back, chime in
with psychedelic scenes
peripheral context
sidetracked to prevent hindrance
from the beings that are of obscene nature
i’ve seen a lot of those
nurturing themselves
by ******* onto the future
still stuck up on the yet coming past
trying to get grips on the titular concept
there’s authority with the ones who kept it flowing
rugged strength no guffawing
headed straight to the delirious ends of the rope
always falling but never out of hope
the stream that quenches the guilt of those
showing up with guns just to pinch a loaf
exterior combats
come back to the present
im here to steal the philosopher’s stone
getting ****** just to soar
above the stratosphere
i went straight out of the blue sphere
where i got to see the blues that fill up the majority of the crust
****** back to my grounds
the velocity burned my rust
thats a leap higher than the nukes
you trust
get to my location
ask the Everest where im at
it’ll point up to me and i’ll wave back
but there’s a truth thats yet to be told
i held the meeting of gods that weren’t sold
nobody showed up
neither the young nor the old
except avowed fakes that claim to be woke
another rant....i've been trying not to force myself into writing anything...that just brings in a lot of unwanted and unnecessary's been a while since i last wrote a proper piece...but...that just goes on to say that im occupied and's good enough for now.
Kalliope Apr 2019
I fell so easily
Into your mold
What I thought would be warm
Is now so cold
I set the oven
To 300 hundred degrees
The only thing I feel now
Is your bitter freeze
You didn't follow the recipe
There is a maddening poverty of devices to communicate the way your love has infused my being.

Raging tempests and seismic calamities may briefly rock the earth, but they gather and dissipate quickly.

You occupy every corner of my consciousness no matter what else I do. Passing time only invigorates your place in my soul.

Great works of art may move and provoke, but the best of them are inspired by human passion and capture the source of their greatness only imperfectly.

Even the sun is less bright than the way I burn for you.

I love you. The words are too poor, but what they mean can no more be stated than measured or weighed. You are part of me.
Rob Sandman May 2017
My Mothers obsessed with fine wines fine clothes and ***'s(she loves the Garden)
and myself I'm obsessing over sticking powders up my nose(Sinus Troubles)
As we all look back, on a life of Achievement, Deceivment and Bereavement,
It's still hard to find the right words to say what I mean but...

Stay with me, on course, put the Dog Star to Port-
put the Black Dog behind(he and Satan can play hunt and find),
another way we should live, the attention I give...

To each detail is vast, my brain's swift, my tongue fast but...
Lately I find a vast gulf left behind-by the Daily News Grind of,
Poverty and Fear, deaths far away and here, its invading my Monkeysphere and...

So I shy away from news at 6-1 and their miserable fun, reportage from Ghouls,
self obsessed ******* and fools who fail to see they're the tools-that...

Keep us all depressed, hearts thumping in our chests,
"we're close to Annihilation"-
they scream with a weird Jubilation-I keep changing the station-as...

Each ululation of echoed deep fear reverberates in my ear, I say "**** IT,STAND CLEAR"
Then take an axe to these ropes that have ******* our hopes,
then the Ship starts to float, I cry gaily(steady now!)come on, get the Boat!

Throw your hat and your coat on the deck and lets dance as we float,
on a river serene, leave behind the old scene,
lets move in cadences stately,
switch places politely, keep smiling-
move lightly we swoop on like bird flight as we...

Move from River to Sea- got new places to be,
no time now for misery,
keep the tension on Sails as we weigh on the Scales of this vast deck-I say...

"**** it to heck", "there's the devil to pay, and not a pinch of pitch hot"-but the...

Rations are fine, we've crossed the international misery line so...
lets Dance, move your feet!-
you'll soon pick up the beat, it's melodic and sweet and we...

Really should check the Mast-
but the Quadrille is so fast that quite frankly I'm past...

New Captain I Sing as I toss the hat in the ring of fine poets,
(some are, but don't know it)
so come on take a chance, take over the dance,your turn at the wheel as we wheel and I feel...

*Somehow better, less gloom and less doom, move over make room!,as more folk board the ship,
and effortlessly trip into place and we move in a groove that's eternally mine,yours and Smooth.
Thanks to everybody at Hello Poetry for the inspiration, please join in the Dance!(Did a tiny spot of tidying up since I first posted this)
I'm sick of everything being so

Sick of repetitive
Sick of the space in between
Being filled with a sedative
What's left for remarks
Has lost all it's spark
And any chance to turn and dance
Now contemplated as a farce

No swimming in the let go
Too perplexed with the undertow
And a personal perpetual head hunt
That conceptually returns
Then comes and goes.
I scream. Can I stop carrying these Boulders?
It seems the second
I relax my shoulders
Is the very instant that my desolate Impending doom smolders

I test tracing lines to vent my crimes But the paper seems like a stranger
My last confidant left to respond
Was taunting this balled up anger

"It would have never happened
If you weren't distracted.
And paid a little attention
And gave a little practice.
Your talent has been squandered.
Your very soul grows cold
Like an overlaundered actress.
Maybe if you spent some time to write and rhyme you'd have something
To show for it
Maybe if you weren't a voodoo doll Filled with push pins
In that instant you wouldn't blow it.
Maybe if you had the patience
To plant that seed you could grow it.
And instead of extinguishing
The first sign of a spark or fire
You would just know it."

It's like being caught in an interview Between the lie you tell yourself
And the distant truth
And the web you weave
Has too many deviations
And you grow confused
You grow tired and old
And feel just as abused

Then a simulated head rush it seems
With two strokes of the pens brush
Can softly whisper sweet things
While your cheeks turn to red blush
Then comes back around
To bite you like a viper
When you realize you grew Complacent and despise to
Naturally get hyper
The life you could have then
Gradually escapes the vice
Of your fingers
And here's the final zinger
That kind of sentiment will linger

The hallowed out version of you Stepping in to be the ringer
When all you ever feel is to reveal That you're actually a singer
That you actually have more talent Than most in your little finger
If you could just stop getting caught up In what was brought up,
What he said she said
And all those things
That make you malinger

So wake me up when it's all over
Get me off this roller coaster
Take me away to that sweet place Where I was younger
A time when I was funny and bold
And filled with hunger
Let me ******* dreams
With not a wasted moment
Teach me to fill this space
Even while I make a small dent
This poem is dedicated to Eric Adams
Partially Revised 19 Aug 21
MOTV Aug 2016
I lost my mind in desire
An empire owned by lust from higher

Beings falling down to themselves
Bewitched and hexed
But how?

Through the musical

From ancient times
Flow wasting

The lot o them many minds
I'm wasted but the day is fine

Time wasted
Vomiting out my mind

The mirror
In the mirror
My eyes are so red
Spinning out the world

The mirror
In the mirror

I spew out puke now
Spit like a cobra
As I spin around

Door opens how
Do I barely miss

And I do hiss!
Then vanish.
Cause I am higher than a dragon
Soaring through hazy skies
Falling back down
To Earth

Mouth dry
Sitting asking why
Do I need?

Is this really "addiction"?
Or a ****** in need

To see wounds
Making myself bleed

Then into the Earth, I recede.
Only to be a myth, a dream.

A Devil walking so obscene.
Emanuel Jul 2016
How many times
Must I open my heart to find
It locked from the other side?
How many times must I open my heart
To be met by lies?
How many times must I cry
Before I realize I'm wasting My?
No, my heart stays open for days
And it will stay this way
I'm not a slave to likes or wage
**** the blind stay out of my way
I have people to save, I say
My words are for those who listen
Whether I like you or not we can have a sit-in
We are all children of love, none ungifted
******* if you say that by my skin, creed, or *** I deserve no longer to get lifted
Get a ******* grip kid
Whether you're 20 or old and forgotten you're spoiled rotten
Your only salvation is to be honest
Stop lying to impress those most lost
It's your sacred life that be the cost
What a price to pay for mindless talk
But fear not
For if your intent be love you cannot be lost
Wake up, if you forgot
Stay strong, if you have not
I love both sides
The wanderers and the lost
MOTV Sep 2015
To become enlightened.
Blameless like the Son and Job.
To become intoxicated when doing right.
To become uplifting and filled with might.

One must first control himself and his mind. Move without movement and overnight.
Holy ghost please control me from inside.

Take my mind take my mind!!!

and do what is right!

What is right?

They look at me
and think
is alright.

Looking at the date and time.

Looking to the light.
Which seems skewed by blight.

To take flight.
In the name of light.
Oh.. Um..
I think thats right.
I lost another fight.
But what is right?
When the light seems to dim.
And it's just harder and harder to get in.

Fallen like prey, swiftless daze.
Lost in my eternal maze.
Constant haze then just praise
To the sexualle life in all man.
Women and children fall corrupted to that hand.

Mind chained more than 100 days.
Rude awakening
next i am contemplating what the future holds for those of us who are waiting.

Toothless and ruthless masters debating.
Taking over control of the minds of those who have made it.

Tantrum like blabber...meaning ranting with clattered words.

Just to be heard.
Just to be heard.

And while the masses watch your madness you must learn and observe.
Sporadic poetry.
Never really feeling like a true writer.
Only rhyming when I have failed.
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