In poetry a source of comfort, relieving angst, a character unveiling over time, moving forward, I become more of myself, without a lover of soul intimate gestures, it's not an exchange of not enough love, poetry and I, inputting with one another.
Embellishing inner worlds, I search for what not is said in poetry by living life. Infinite paradox. A relationship with the matrix. A depth of reality and taking away myth. Daydreaming philosophy in solitude that doesn’t starve who breathes out embers for earth.
Still I think there is a love that poets rave about true and existing. To what I saw in experience, nothing of like in the dark of married people. For what substance they lack, is their souls involved. Despite the words they state in public. They converse opposite when eyes are turned away.
Smile for me now.
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There is strange comfort in knowing that
no matter what happens today,
the Sun will rise again tomorrow.
The freedom of the open road is seductive,
serendipitous and absolutely liberating.
At some point, you just gotta forgive the past,
your happiness hinges on it
Explore the experience, original and intelligently
Then Push Beyond

(I thought I had friends,
But when I die,
I see no-one there.
I’m hell-bound
Over being held down.)

I saw mankind going through life in a childlike manner
I saw saw them toiling, saw them suffering, and
becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed
to me to be entirely unworthy of this price, for money,
for little pleasures, for being slightly honoured
it’s something brought on themselves

There is no more alluring scene to attend to, than to make love with
who you love. Passings of the heart in actions. Exchanging parts of
the soul. Denying loneliness in this existence. Forgetting Death’s own
landscape. **** holiness, smoking ancient dogma, saturating poetry
with poetic images. Obscure now. On purpose, turned away from
everyday life. Orbiting words, to begin the process of expressing love.
It’s only done in actions, muted silence, or speaking in passionate
words. Life without thee, a life like everybody else. Dull, local, boring
and aimless, as insecurity to fit in heightens. Lover, as we continue to
live, we are, a paradox to this haunting world, muscling up to mocking
time. As peace drops and stays within us, I’m not longer afraid to live,
because of you, I am no longer afraid to die. I belong to you.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Killing-Philosophy-Reflection-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07F9QVCW4/ref=sr12?ie=UTF8&qid=1531092503&sr=8-2&keywords=darcy+prince

When it comes to fear and the Devil,
I fear more of the people who fear the Devil,
than the Devil himself. They come in many forms,
they’re more of a plague than the sinful. Whether
it’s church, the poor streets of commoners, government
building, banks, peers and family or in literature.
The sinners just want financial profit. Those
fearing the Devil want you to conform to their
ideology. I often wonder on the Devil’s greatest
trick. Whether it’s in atheism or sin industry.
To me, it’s providing not only permission for self made
higher powers, but the freedom to choose between
higher powers. But I laugh when I read into other dogma,
there is no other religious teachings stronger on self responsibility
than there is in Satanism. Stupidity is their first sin.

The poet who reads philosophy often thinks about truth and freedom living together,
                   values and love,
                                            different people in poetics. A world. A dim light in this vast landscape of the cosmos. Birthing little in the grand scheme of things.
Knowledge is boundless and freedom is limitless. I would rather see the matrix punch on with the paradox.
                   Without demons, I would have no need for Angels.
                   If had my love in forever, my muse would die in whimpers.
                   If it wasn’t for another, there would be no philosophy.
Truth with belief, freedom is limited.
To live in freedom is to have one’s own truth constantly changing. A neurotic romantic who knows how to love will always be without. To the contrast people holding love will never be good enough to their lover, for those who believe other, are in for a disappointing death.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Killing-Philosophy-Reflection-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07F9QVCW4/ref=sr12?ie=UTF8&qid=1531092503&sr=8-2&keywords=darcy+prince

Finding love is to find unfamiliar beauty, noble and true,
pure in the eyesight, throughout duration before death,
a beauty that demands indulgence and conquers one’s
personal soul, their total being, consumed in every
pocket of essence. Stronger than the Devil. Oh lover,
I’m being torn apart beyond violent sobs in the corner
alone. In genius ways, it's like I’m being applied to evil
for when I’m cursed to be not around you. I vowed to
never write poetry again, if you accepted my hand.
Until then, I’m sure you’ll enjoy master of this world.
As the Devil runs riot and commits himself to his
own death, no longer able to rule earth.