#corridor
witnesses dark, in the narrow corridor
greedy, humanlike repeaters & like words
are diffusing all around
Dec 28, 2025
Dec 28, 2025 at 6:27 PM UTC
Never and now,
in the spirit of our times, instant
cognosis all fact checkable cataract close
squint to see, believe we've wired reality,
with gravity, and some chirality, really, actually
we found detective novels, those'll mostly soothe
Wikel's ghosts that got invited when we went all in.
Spirit and truth, as perceived accumulative, wall salt
in the mind of Christ alluded to by Paul in his advice,
let this mind be in you, as if letting is yours to do, as
if may were your will being letting time tell, wait, me?
all taming techniques are not as sudden, nor as cruel,
as storied horse choker spirit sharing suddenly, we
windwise breathe the same air, this is earthian air, we
breathe and receive… same worth, same use, same awe
while watching presunsets shade the sun and seem awesome
omm oh my brownies
in the oven alarm went off, will we think,
the smell might reify this bebeginning our ever we thought
once, the glimpse of the ox, who made the bull an ox, we oughta
known such things, when we took vows we were clearly told don't
don't do it, we even used the band and whooped up, don't do it
what ever it was you think you done, at this instance, is actually past…
the real crazy road that feels like the fingerprints of God, qwerty equipped
ready writers devoting their will to the telling of the whole truth, a complex,
shared at the edge of sleep for many early test cases downwind, mental effect
something early in the day, some ritual, set it straight, Jake, we were just deceived.
Dennis Mullen, and Little John, both in the spirit of a while in the spring and summer
and fall, when we all haunted the ashes
of Pandora's Box and got tested for resilience.
Winds of change, new global local language poetry,
what do we say when we mean we agree peace is where we make it
with fact checked wisdom, evidence, James 3:17, peaceably breathed, taken
time enough to live long enough to find haps pursuit unessential, grace taken
as the radio rearranged the military mind in totally ancient sacred ways, no lie,
warrior ethos, all teams make one up, from their fans and play by play, random,
common seasonal tussle for who brands the bull calves and who gelds them,
wouldbes and dobes dopes sheep, from goats, mules from ***** mated
to the kings precious stallion, yea, spirit goads, football minding bench pressing
on accounting day, idle words, redeemed with wasted time, are monad points,
poetic sparkles when a kid agrees, with a hearty amen, Youth Venture survivors,
pay enough attention to the Lance Wallnau Cyrus pitch that he thinks he knows,
enough to challenge my taken grace, and activate circuits putting phantom hair
prickling Goosebumpy… mental vestigial hair on end survival autonomous system
sss hiss systems, prepared mental image ever once, from any once, when time was
immaterial, yet we could, at will, by reading any given line as second time, know
just when to say it for maximum
gentle
whying, not pleading whying thinking we hear dead people,
and they are not lost, not Tom Wolfly lost, Tom Swiftly lost, ungrownup ever
except ever has been so far, today, as Jesus sees it, same today, yesterday ever
for as a cause indicating source prepositioning, from which sources,
try the spirits, does Proust leave you peacefully watching Cuyamaca Sunsets?
Some beauty displaces itself in how much earnest intention went into each letter,
some think easily at thirty words per minute in five letter machine keyed code,
some believed we all received the same codes, some think otherwise, today.
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 8:53 PM UTC
I set myself a reminder
For all the times that I err
So that I may always remember
That I am but a prisoner
Delusions are my prison cell
And questions are the key
Yet the gates seem endless
On the corridor to reality.
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 10:46 PM UTC
Along the corridors
Of oblivion
Footsteps are not heard
Voices are stifled
Presence, like an apparition
Seen through
Glares of the outside world
Creates an inferno
Only ashes, of your times
Even the clock’s hands
Are too hot to touch
Pushed into oblivion
Crushed by fate
Only you and yourself
Not one hand
To pull you toward the future
From the present
Odd predicament
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
There are the highs and lows.
High
When praise is the light
That glides you down
The corridors of life.
When you've been smoking
All night
Your in another world.
Low
You walk around unnoticed,
Scraps in the wind.
Peoples words pound the
Deepest walls of your self esteem.
High
Confidence.
Fire.
Ambitious.
Low
Depression.
Dark.
Pain.
But sometimes, there will come a time when you can't tell them apart.
Where the difference between high and low in like trying to figure out if you rather freeze to death or burn to death.
No matter which you choose, they're both lethal.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
*In an endless corridor of mirrors as clean as snow,
Me and my friends grasp each other with loose open arms and smile
As we dive into the mist of recognition and truce.*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
I am a spirit locked up inside a human skin,
Scaling each wall
And roaming each corridor
To find my way out.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC