#volition
"This place had a heartbeat in its day."
For some reasons i can't explain, a brutal way to ameliorate anxiety is positioning myself into another duty. Embodied by mobility, airport evokes thinking as much as hearkening — the highest stage of listening: only to listen. It grows as a form of sensory participation of a field without attaching any meaning to sounds and therefore allows the subject and object of this acoustic event to entangle. Those who can and do hearken hold an intensity that keeps them sensitive to the environment they entered and altered. Am i among them? At least i could let sounds penetrate through the body; it cures and splits all at once, incorporating debris of imagination, action, and aspiration.
Sounds do not disappear, only dissipate; so do voices. The line between volition and ideal no longer equivocal; I’m taking a chance, a fall, a shot. In dreams I hardly dream a figure who hasn't yet show up — perhaps becoming. And yet amorphous, heavy worries kept me awake. Again, i flowed with them — into billows that would otherwise engulf hope. What those worries eclipsed was memory, an anchor of sentience that fears going on fire. Experiences dissipate, lowing the volume, silent, but sometimes, it haunts anyway, earsplitting.
Later this Fall i’m getting to know every route in this county and tell thee where not to speed. As i split the road down the middle, gusty wind invades the turmoil, ever torn. I almost froze. In seconds the world seems so simple. Perturbation surrounds, and i don't know that i can take another fight. A timid grim, drowsiness incriminates me escaping into unmade blanket and unmatched timezone. Not having to make sense is such a luxury. And I really love the sense of unsettlement writing brings me; it exposes something I didn’t know I know. 5: 43 pm December 5, 2025. Islands District. 22 Celsius. 56% humidity. Right off the port. It feels more foggy than my August arrival but the exact moisture permeates. I still hold the thrill, you know? “Having no regrets is all that i really want.”
AWE Zone A. A2, 379. The distance of a few seats took me 364 days.
It is in the most unlikely situation that I understand the dynamics between me and the uncontrollable. Then the message it carries is: suppressing expectations on others might help but the expedient decision made by the self refuses any Plan B. And I won’t fan the heat into flames. Gigantic windows, sparsely populated seat, Nodi ***** and my RD Batch#1 DRAFT7.5. No one is wrong; 'tis the last substratum of lived experience. By the way, I skipped meal again, defying Prof.Maxine’s note but not another: stay hydrated.
The plane was taking off. Overweight and weightlessness, all-consuming.
Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 5:18 AM UTC
#
Nearly everything worthwhile
has some form of a risk attached to it,
and the things that we want most,
often come at the greatest cost.
The less the cost is to us,
and the greater guarantee of no risk..
the more palatable
and placating the result becomes.
A jewel such as you need not
embed itself into dirt
in order to try to feel comfortable,
secure..
asleep.
#
Dec 20, 2021
Dec 20, 2021 at 5:48 PM UTC
Acute to the place from where my regret will stem
It's 4:30 AM: my thoughts condemn
Anxiety floods my synapses
Regret is a dish best served deceived
With my own two ears, I heard the truth
But, I still had not believed
I speak from a place of squandered ambition
Of fecklessly feeble, and imprudent volition
I buried my treasure, and forgot where it was when I turned around
Indulging my sloth, my lust, and pride
My conscience was seemingly silent
Though many times, I should have died
I sold my costly soul at once, to buy a gin and tonic
Hello my name is Adam, and I'm a hopeless alcoholic
So, at 4:30 AM: my thoughts condemn
And, my tenuous will fell asleep already...
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 7:57 AM UTC
#
These rocks--
round, not suitable for skipping
centuries of rolling along
the stream's flow-- all
the edges ground smooth
in the most ancient of ways.
These ones making walking difficult--
when one rock doesn't fit well with others
it rolls
and shifts; not
wanting to find its place
with the other rocks, making
footing unsure-- unstable.
I see this one; there--
unconcerned with the fit.
It
has an edge or two--
still..
as of yet not ground smooth.
It stands out-- not
for the safety of step it can provide,
but for it's utter uniqueness--
a stone like no other;
with it's almost chosen-rough edges.
I want that one-- right there.
That one.
#
Dec 16, 2020
Dec 16, 2020 at 8:14 PM UTC
#the forming of substance 07
Stephan W
*Radiance.
Within the void are
the greatest mysteries of the universe,
as matter and anti-matter clash;
only to create a newfound energy..
un-owned, unaccountable, unconcerned--
the energy emerging from the clash negates itself
through mutual annihilation; leading to an increase
of space between what it is that is lit; and in
the accelerated rate of expansion of this space,
Illuminated/illuminating matter takes on the risk
of being removed from participatory perception,
or better said-- to a place beyond retrieve..
and so it is also-
within the void of space that exists within us;
the galaxy-within--
ever-swinging in polarity between the gravity-pull
of illuminating/illuminated substance,
and the ever-distancing properties of
an unowned, unlit space...
dark Energy-- a repulsive force,
attempting to quantify the space between
all that truly matters--
yes.. creating space,
and therefore more room
for it to engage into its ever-increasing
chaotic activity.. quantitatively participating in
its fine art of distraction, dilution
and extortion of time
through nothing other than the negation of matter,
and therefore, the negation of potentiality--
of substance, and so also
the transmission of light.. luminosity:
parts within the heart, lit up with
and by the infusion of our own spirits,
through the beautiful act of volition,
of which, the countless galaxies in the universe
exist as a type, given.. (what-if)...
if only to encourage us through amazing,
mesmerizing example--
surrounded, each.. by a circumference of support
of the dark matter of potentiality--
providing the gravity of containment,
solely in and through its belief in its own possibility,
giving way to its utter inability to deny itself to
what has become already lit,
becoming then.. not only a defining part of the galaxy,
but also a gravitational-formed hedge of protection
against the everpull-entropy of the repulsive force--
of all that is unaccountable-
in its velocity-based separation from volition.
And, so it is with the universe,
so, also.. the universe-within;
Having left its glass-globe sphere,
this spirit-centered cosmos
now unfolds, within skin.*
#
Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 9:46 PM UTC
#
And it was at that time.. in group..
when I realized that I had attained
enough healing, and could now enter
back into the normal every day, world
that I looked back at her..
she.. who I had struggled alongside in
the trenches with for over two years
now-- each of us struggling just to hold
on.. in a crazy, ****** up world, that
just did not care
Yet still, she struggled to hold on to
who she was-- her spirit, coming and
going at will, as she attempted to deal
with the depths of her trauma..
her beautiful blue eyes, turning to dull
grey in those Ichabod-like moments,
when there was nothing left,
but complete emptiness.
And as I announced that I was leaving
the group, she gasped.. I saw those
beautiful blues go grey-- her small
hands, reaching for me..
her once, cherub-like face, now ashen
and tear soaked, quietly pleading..
and it was at that moment, that I sat
back down-- putting back on once
again, death's skin.. all past dreams of
normalcy, fading away in to her grey..
the color, blue.. the most beautiful
thing I have ever seen..
#
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 1:58 PM UTC
#*... And the skin opened up into wide, cavernous cracks..
and there was a hissing sound-- a burning smell..
not unlike that of a calf-branding
on an everyday, working South Dakota cattle ranch--
The feathering smoke, curling around the ancient stubs
of that which is as of yet, de-horned.
And there was a raging scream--
yet, one almost as if harmononiously intertwined
with the guttural moans of a pleasure-chant:
that which is borne.. not of victimization,
but of deep, consensual agreement
And, against this kind of liaison between
flesh and death, all the power of love's ache
becomes a l m o s t as if nothing other
than a whisper...
almost.*
#
Jan 22, 2020
Jan 22, 2020 at 12:40 AM UTC
I am the flower of untouched perceptibility, the unique breed nobody could ever find in any imposing gardens. Do not chase to haunt me and the richness of my petals’ sap if you are not a holy breed of spirit as I might wither and get my seeds of knowledge scratched in your unjust volition. I am the pearl, the mermaid chain of blushing moon tides.
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC
*consciously, willfully, I wish it
quietly the Sunday, the sun day, drifts toward,
in its natural game, set, overmatched,
the foregone conclusion, nightfall diminishment
the water songfully swishes,
as the tide departs for places unknown, this then, now
the only natural authorized aural apparition,
the power boats renounce their normal noisy conditioning,
honoring their silenced, under-sail brethren,
as well as admitting their noises disfigure
the fast approaching majesty of the end of
our summer seasoning of humanity
consciously, willfully, I wish it
once again, lush is the quietude,^
now given up, surrendered and surceased to wonder,
how come I to write of these moments so oft,
thenever-ending quest to re-inscribe it on my sensibilities,
in vainglorious hopes that this stamping will last, be the last,
see me through the turgid frigidity of my Lucifer life,
come the fall, the winter, the early dark,
the daylight's brevity, the hurricane season of the mind,
that...need I say more?
consciously, willfully, I wish it
the particular white cloud formation of the moment at hand,
shall stay in place, be the capstone of my summer living vision,
become permanent part and parcel
of the sclera, the white of my eyes, and when
I will write, soon enough,
my vision white weeping clouded,
you will weep knowingly, sympathetically
consciously, willfully,
I wish for that as well*
8/27/17
6:35pm
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
*There are choices to make and* choices that make you
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC