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About Costumes and Customs

Wear, wear whatever you dare,
Tho, the global locality has no morality...

Animals with human customs,
Humans with animal costumes
Form the world into a modest mode-

In which the smartest ones are silent
While the mass dress in rumbling drunkness,
In happy hues of the humbling violent,
Of the primitive ****-geniuses.

Does ****** equal with the human nature?
Which? Human as savage or creature?
Born or grown?
While sensations design human customs,
Is predestination more than a fake costume?

Does the world hold anything divine?
While we follow an immoral aurora-
Its warming colours in a frozen desert,
That implies no divine unseen scenes?

Questions are colorless, unseen but existing,
Alike to God's infinite fineness-
Probing our customs if they are probed.

Methink costumes as a colorful ocean,
Mesee customs as the change of the world.

We sink in the dying world's dying ocean.
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Soaring over the idyllic fields of poet's day dreams
an opening exposes some endless blue
the sun cast's his golden rod
and waits while humming his bright tune

Suddenly submerged
for his bait we had chewed
turbulence drops yellow bags
and white fog blinds our view

The sun is toying with us
letting the line out farther and farther
the old sun and the sky
a departure within a departure

Finally the sun pulls the line
screaming, we steady then ascend
are we going higher now?
better make amends
                                 via amens

Look all the fog is gone
this isn't the suns pole
the light is fleeing and
this cabinet grows so cold

The air thins into non existence
yet somehow we can breath
in these celestial waters
watch as the earth takes her leave

Reeling faster now
how these stars pass by
what's beyond the celestial sphere
this fisherman sure is spry

Finally a golden gleam approaches
splash through the pearly gates
into the net of heaven
pietistic fingers embrace

An omniscient voice speaks
and he tossed this metal heap away
who do I eat and who do I romance

It's going to be a long journey home.
Sam Nov 2016
To be omniscient,
all knowing.
Wished for over a long period of time,
desiring the unspeakable knowledge.
Clawing the insides, tearing up the mind,
due to the simple desire for truth.
Possibilities rounding the corner of every thought,
to be settled into a straight line of clarity.

To be innocent,
Wishing to go back,
desiring the knowledge be erased.
Cutting the outside, shattering the mind,
due to the impossible desire to reverse.
Possibilities never ending continuing around,
spiraling as if forced into clarity too soon.
Sarahi Nov 2015
I swim along the river

The current magnificent

Full of life


His momentum, petrifying

His water, pure yet clouded



I'm pulled along, fighting and resisting questions and distractions

The net comes

I stand still

The river moves past me

All around me, within me

Yet gone *forever
not my poem, a friends
Justin G Feb 2015
In the light
Shadows are prisoners
And prisoners we are to our shadows
But if shadows could speak
I think they'll say

I am no prisoner
I am a but a listener
I guide the light
and shape
the stars
I am detailed
craftily inked
I am what links
us all

In the darkness*
Our shadows are free
And we are free from our shadows
But if shadows could speak
I think they'll say

I am beyond free
I am everywhere
and omniscient
I shade what most
aren't aware of
I am the protector
The keeper
of all secrets
I am defined
by none*

But if shadows could speak
I wonder if anyone
will still feel lonesome?
Katie Biesiada Apr 2014
And my mind runs in circles
When there's nowhere else to go
Because the voices in my head
Are the only ones who know.

— The End —