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264 · Jan 2019
CRADLE TO NOW
It started from smoking blunts in the back,
I can be duplicated, though never replicated, rendering me never to be fading,
straight from addiction into enlightenment intoxication,
started as a *******,
than I rose
to interact with royalty in the gypsy landscape
& developed a fellowship through it,
Now longer drinking liquor wishing meaning to come easier, thank my Muse that I'm still living, now I got live life in the way I was meant to, a paradoxical-muse, spitting game of a higher one. Read me some my poetry, roll me a Persian rug, rather by developing than be another boy with my hands out spitting out fallacy.  Stacked like a fantasy, out to ball to make contact, be back by lunchtime, finaly happy, trying to put some wisdom in my mind and answer anything calling, feeling good like I wanted too.
now everyone normal wants to put their hands on me,
I bathed in poetics,
passion is in my nature,
romanticism is too easy,
took the ideas of dreamingful life, applied them for my own,
I’m either nodding my head for someone to enter
or I’m walking away,
sometimes an experience means nothing, beside another poem to write.
The pain is deep, life is brief.
I can either be of value or just another.
Musings over the world is dreamed of though not everyone alike.
264 · Aug 2020
Untitled
poem:
words that haven't been said,
gaining new life,
but I'm wanting attention,
i am conspicuousness
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4Cwu9vIYAg&t=2s
263 · Jan 2018
LOVE
Fall in love with a real women, whose making
something of herself with her private intelligence,
Helping hand with her depth of character and
Ready-made beauty, trust me, they hold up
the sun and sky. When they smile, the stars
rise and ballet for them. The rest of this life’s
beauty will be shown, depending on their mood.
Everything else is pure mysticism, man unable
to understand. So, when you’re paying for the
love she gives, with your soul. One will be
Illuminati and the rest will be understood.
And trust me, real women have no-need of boys.
262 · Mar 2018
HONESTY
When the truth blows, it kills all the liars
in a explosive way, it dents history, as it
should. Left for all future eyes, as it reads
into the past. Potent and poetic, hopefully.
260 · May 2018
Flee
Sorrow belongs to people, being frantic in despairing
disappointment, belong to love being turned down, as
memory is recorded, immortal image of love. Flee from
me.
260 · Jan 2018
VOID
Oh poetry, I’ve separated Heaven and earth, in one thought.
Mysticism itself, no-need to be a institutionalization, for
I own my body as my soul becomes one. The ones in the
Shadows of dropped curtains, shape everything over this
earth as they rest in the betweens, some call it boid as
the catholics call it ‘purtogray.’ For me it is only a place
where the mind can enlightened. Awakened illuminati.
257 · Feb 2018
DREAMS AND PERFUME
Perhaps a butterfly making love with a flower,
the world’s soul, perfume for the world. Despite
it, I cannot rest properly, my dreams are too full
with life. Not even poetry can ease or calm, it
just enhances.
257 · Jul 2020
Untitled
to live first,
everything else is optional,
besides consequences
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQHfemAzABk&t=2s
255 · May 2020
you
you
lover thy,
no words can be
used in translation to describe
the emotions felt
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cn0IO10Fx7E&t=2205s
254 · Jul 2020
my poem
poetry,
records of my thoughts,
my emotions, its a personal history,
but not my everything
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAvhRAAusPg&t=263s
253 · May 2020
no more
My feelings are tremendously painful to experience, but they're real, as for now, it's a personal truth
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSkd4YG_jFg
253 · May 2018
ROMANCE & THOUGHTS
To place importance on beauty can be argued.
Oh to theromantics, ask them, they’ll reply in
poetics, ‘perhaps their character cannot tame
it all and it drips onto their flesh and if they’re
luck, they’ll imprint earth.’ To which, if you ask
me about the earth, it's soulless, neither siding
with good and evil. It’s up to people to do so.
People give God or the Devil power. A question
to who is at best at enticing. But for me, I shall
have my coffee and be content in love until death.
(knowledge variable)
251 · Jan 2018
LOVER
Lover, why I’m I afraid to die?
I belong to you. Knowing you,
a life worth living, because
I made something of myself.
In the process of it all. I had
become the man you’ve always
wanted and in you, a character
so exceedingly overwhelming
of true beauty, touching holiness,
you ended up saving me.
Smile for me now.
When it comes time to die,
I’ll render thoughts of you.
And take comfort and ease,
I’ll wait for you there, in other
kingdoms, where those brave
enough to go with their soulmate
in durations of horrifying true
and perfect love.
Than can people bloom.
Smile for me, again and again.
251 · Sep 2018
Myself
The collective is here to justify the individual, I don’t bother to resist,
too swept up in my own world, it’s something beautiful and something
free. When self-validation creeps in, all ego is lost, a wanting attention
is more and it’s a waste of time. Snatching hearts and marking marks.
Right now I have my mind made up. The wisdom belongs to me. To each
breathe in each new moment, I part from my own past, while it teaches
me, I drop into the present and I angst never over the future. My own
life undeniable, because I have to live it, when it comes to others, I’m
free. Secret is charming and I am to myself.
250 · Mar 2018
THOU SHALL
Laymen, I do not hate you, I just wish
not to be like you, rather die of passion
than boredom, blended with the rest.
I’m in too deep. Thou Shall not steal,
Thou Shall not squeal the secrets, Thou
Shall not ****, rub me the wrong way,
Laymen, I will, Thou Shall not cheat,
Thou Shall not born mystic, one has to
work for it. Civilization will not reach
perfection, until the last philosopher stone
has fallen on the last sinner. Be concerned
of not period of humanity, past, present
or future, always be focused on this current
life, the intensity and rawness of it all.
Laymen, it is fate, I wish not to be like you,
there is no other greater sin to any culture
than ignorance in action and trust me,
and it has not relation to economic poverty
when it comes to war.  
(knowledge variable)
250 · Apr 2018
Poet & Muse
There are points or moments, worth
not knowing why. The best muse, is
the muse I cannot have. I look to poets
who write better than thee.
249 · Oct 2018
ThySelf
THYSELF
By Darcy Prince

‘Thy mind is like a tree,
easy to letting go of dead leaves’

Ponder on the mystery, paradox of facet, unknown is my life, passion and drive, not for you, wrapped up in self-made ignorance, my own soul is content and my own meaning, it is thy cosmos, everything and muse. Not for you. It bleeds hate, than in ******* session, it breeds more, just to shatter your very essence. Respect to the Devil. Divine meeting before death. Let go, you’re not dangerous in the defeat. There is no morals, ethics, laws or rules that plucked me up, confine thy character in, my own thought is mosaic, dogma and the word, I’m unflinching, without a heartbeat, without a sound I slide down. Peer and peek into your soul with a ******* vest, trigger happy and I boom.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Killing-Philosophy-Reflection-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07F9QVCW4/ref=sr13?ie=UTF8&qid=1539149191&sr=8-3&keywords=darcy+prince
249 · Feb 2019
on death
What determines my character?

Like loss, it's more than letting go or peace in a gradual process. Our own mind has freedom, call it intelligence or imagination. We all know the truth & falsehood. But our self-realization is a combination of things, lead through experience. Slowly, we learn, call it truth, but it's a painful process of discovery or learning of our personal painful-regret. In not only what we did with our time. but to the time spent thinking about what we did, to those whom we loved too knowing we were only there for them. It's uncanny at times how we're thrown out of our normal life, coming to grips of what we wasted on, for most it offers time of self reflection. Regretting what we cared about, bounded upon on petty concerns or the things we thought we loved & it's not true. Troubling to the loss of time.

In death or painful transitions, we'll look back & question what we were doing? For most, death is a thought of whats for the unknown, what’s on the other side, but for me, it’s a starkly reminder of the things we cannot experience in our liftetime, the people we want to meet, the people we wanna love, the cultures we want to go see. When in normality or that comfort of an environment we have grown to know, our emotions tend to tell us, death isn't coming and how we got some much time Ideals, when it’s normal, when we feel alright, our thinking ceases. Ideals are made to let us know who we can be, the pain of not putting effort into it will be far Superior to the daily pain of not doing so.

I’m not writing this in support of some doctrine, dogma, religion or philosophy.

The best ever compliment that I’ve ever received, is that I’m good enough

And the worst thing I could ever say to myself, don't ever change.

There’s politics, religion, culture. Things that people, families, communities, states, whoever had gone to war over. But no one ever protests ideas. With what we call truth & lies, there’s nothing to determine that besides our very emotional attachment. At the moment, I render that at the end of learning is absolutes, knowing the minds of gods, the daily lives of cultured masters and secrets of the common people, dead or alive.

Its ideas with a heartbeat and we attach ourselves to attainable actions when it’s exhausted, it’s either mundane or normal, comfortable or even useless, cause we don’t feel it.

This isn’t to make anyone feel bad or even to prove anyone wrong.

But there’s a price to pay when thinking for oneself. Hearing about the world being a totality of things, if one isn’t puzzled about it, life, society, civilization, culture or politics, it’s a possibility one is replica mind of another or it’s under total control. Is it better to work out consciously and critically one's own conception of the world and thus, in connection with the labours of one's own brain, choose one's sphere of activity, take an active part in the creation of the history of the world, be one's own guide, refusing to accept passively and supinely from outside the moulding of one' own personality? People hesitate. People tend not to think when the flow of life is normal. No one ever thinks about their external environment, whether it be peers, family, lovers or their spouse, not even the actions their dictate. What determines quality? It’s hard to come to grips when one’s internal life isn’t reflected in the external outside times of pain and suffering or feeling flat, when we’re starkly reminded of we’re doing the right thing or not?

It’s hard to let go of things that we care about, a community, a lover, a friend or even a daily routine such as coffee in the morning. All things come to an end and I think death is the harshness of reality. I say this stuff in order to think about one's character rather appeasing the external. Our very mind controls so much of it, often, if it feels good, we generally don’t think about it until those painful moments. None of what I’m saying is new, we can admire people on what they do, but despite who they are, example, we can admire someone creating an altruistic company but doing on an external command, like for wages or being a model employee. Fleeing ideas, forgetting what we’re doing. Often we do things in hopes of appeasing the outside or what we do will amount to contentment in the future.  I’m not supporting the self-doing something for the selfishness of self-interest, but to develop a character of balance where it’s fulfilling, having the essentials as the bonus is a contribution to reality.

In a way, I am supporting one to develop a personalized individual philosophy. Feeling and knowing can be two completely different things. The now is a letting go of not only the personal past that's lived but of the future one will never experience.

By doing so, you’ll learn a lot, of not only what one is doing with their time, but to our peers, family and lovers. It’s shocking to how much the external is here for only that. And it’s worse to know when one has to gradual learn how to self develop into self-validation.
247 · Nov 2019
extract - 22
Perhaps its in knowing that I want both love & the selling of soul. I want to live & forget past failures as any pain leaves, blending with the wind, going past to the distance, passing the horizon line. A breathe, a heartbeat, a smile & forget the rest. To what sequence of thoughts that are in play that leads to volunteer death of an individual?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mGWuwhsrcCc&t=987s
246 · Jul 2018
THOUGHTS ON THE DEVIL
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.
244 · Jun 2020
lusting in love
lust
& love,
I'm apart of
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXDBG2bPvpk&t=534s
243 · Jul 2018
POETRY READING
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
243 · Aug 2018
illumination
Gathering twilight as colors over the horizon turned into a radiant-alluring showcase, tempting a my entire being to stand still and gaze, opening eyelids as their pupils move side to side, to understand creation in one single moment and the meaning was not meant to be shown to anyone. A jolt of illumination changing the silhouette of moods and a personal awakening sparkled inside. Time slowed. Sounds amplified. As earth veiled itself in more than aesthetic beauty rather than holding a face of horror and shame. Until a figure move faintly from the horizon and I took stepped forward. The europhia gasped and I wanted to jump to Heaven. Meaning beated in my third eye and it’s something that I had searched for my entire life, it’s a different meaning. The figure flew and stood across from me from an arms length. And started to sing in romantic tenderness, a kind of rapture a romantic had personal yearned for. But the beauty should never had been meet because of sense of aiming for had lost its value and nothing could ever compare here on earth. She sung about love, philosophy, poetry and lovers. Ending the song calling every person foolish and lived an unbearable life in dim secret darkness. Earthly satisfaction left my inner life. She stopped singing and my eyes rendered back to some or normality and instantly saw of periods of humanity, including the resonance and the romanticism, it lost of it’s points and held a burning desire to burn all history books. I felt only her existence and held it close to my privately owned heart. To describe her, including her flesh that is true poetry is outside of any language is pointless to start. All I know it’s only a starting point of the perfect revolution that humanity had been looking for in experience on a global front since the start time and meet the centerpoint of it all. For now I cannot fall in love with anyone here on earth, for now it’s only for that other side, for everyone here is dull and local, in need of rebirth.
(please find me on YouTube: ‘Knowledge Variable’)
https://www.amazon.com.au/Killing-Philosophy-Reflection-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07F9QVCW4/ref=sr11?ie=UTF8&qid=1532482922&sr=8-1&keywords=darcy+prince
243 · May 2018
Life
Life is everything of a broken pieces
of connected beauty. Not only for poets,
awes, moan and lovers. There is no such
thing of a precise speech, not even in poetry,
plus, the power lays with the others.
Sigh.
242 · Mar 2019
untitled - 0
I maybe cliche, I maybe melodramatic,
attending to my intense emotions,
luminous & free, painful & curse like,
liberty I wanted, but its freedom
from myself to what I need.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEadD3s-5go
241 · Jan 2019
It happens
(I had sold my soul
& the price was cheap)

Still soaking up trouble, like rain in the dirt,
I’m blessed to anyone I get to know,
no-one can be called the Devil, I’ve peaked
behind the curtains, no-one else comes close,
when you’re someone special, you’re either
loved or hated, rarely in the middle.
Reality doesn’t wait for anyone, when you
see someone you love die in the mist,
I’ve been told there will days like this
& it’s silly to pretend, that one’s sins won’t
be accountable for, but we commit, repent
& continue, I guess it's the way things go,
& I knew my cousin was on junk, I blessed
to see twenty-four. Grew up, grew apart,
to our surprise, I got my than five years,
started with poetry & spreaded out with it.
Still people think I’ve got to act only for the block,
where they only see me in the poems I write,
with needles & bourbon, fooling around, like magic
I got up & got out, like I snap my fingers.
Since early days of life, we’ve been friends, now
I see the Devil in your grin, hatred in your eyes,
Satan in your lies, it’s like snakes in disguise.
So how come, you talk with bitter & spite?
It’s my fault for what you’ve done with your life?
We barely embrace, can’t even look at in my face.
It’s blasphemy in its actions, but sugar-sweetness
to its appearance. Most call it life, now I have a new
name for it. War. Wrestling for a softer moods towards
life. Development of character will not come any other
way, the duration of it, a luxury. And dying is the only
way to remove one’s past, whoever said the struggle
will stop today? Rare is the one makes the effort, holy
are the ones who turnover to a life called musings to
living souls as a result of their actions. But one on fire, the Heavens open and glare down over Earth. Do not
hold back, go into them when you see them.
238 · Sep 2020
Untitled
with fire in the heart,
fever in the
veins.
Everybody hurts
& no-one
owes me anything
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru-uyQHvTfY&t=157s
237 · Jul 2018
emotions now
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
232 · Feb 2018
musing
Writing poetry isn’t my repertoire muse,
romance is. Long, broad, stretching
Angel dust in deepening substance.
Something like mixing Nostalgia in with
memories, experiences present and
my yearnings to be better than yesterday
is parenting my future.
Romance, an addiction and my obsession.
231 · Mar 2018
PAIN
To surpass my own suffering, is to forgive
and let go. No-one to hold onto, no-one
to lean upon, as I cry, no-one there to hear
me calling, so I continue falling, until I
self-destruct and force myself to build up.
In the end, I’ll be alone, isolation in dying
Moments. There is no point in life, where
the suffering will stop. But it would be a
dull world, if I never experienced pain.
I’ll see you at the crossroads, if not, I’ll
see you when I pass death, sinner or saint.
231 · May 2020
thy
thy
Be absorbed by lust, afresh & anew.
lose in passion.
But do no wrong to others, they’ll have
nothing against you. Keep your secrets a secret,
hold no resentment, curse
them. If they do you wrong, confide in a Demon.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9FZWRjmVeMg&t=53s
230 · Feb 2018
EXTRACT THOUGHT
’ve always had a great need for greater solitude, like how the lungs needs air, that the heart beats and the poet needs love. It reminds me about myself, allowing myself to sit and feel my own emotions, to listen to my own thoughts, to see where regret and shame brews, take the corrective steps to correct, to see who I feel for, either as a lover or as a friend, allow myself to cry over people I knew that arent no-longer here and to appreciate those who make an effort to say hello to me. Most of it, the frustration with myself or with life, seems to be weakened after my isolating-solitude and something reminds me that it’s no so bad. We all have childlike nature inside, there is one thing stronger than tears that a child can’t hold back, it’s pure joy. At that very point, we cry at meeting our soulmate, it’s not because there’s an inherent sadness in either life. It’s because they’ve turned out far more superior than ourselves, producing beauty that any poet thought that only Angels could produce. And we’ve rendered by our soul to burst in tears, not at our painful past that it lead us to this point or that fact, anything we had worked for, had lost its value. It’s because we disregard our future and finally live in this present with the very person that the Heavens had personally created for us. And finally, to every love song, every poem, to those every smile, finally makes sense for the briefest of time. Than our attention, all of it, fully and stronger intentions than making it to Heaven, is passed onto our lover. The consummation of them, inside of us, won’t allow it. Until someone sees us, for who we really are, despite of own defects and faults, and our path to uplift and fulfill destiny is gained by their attention - is known. We are loved. Smile after crying, smile for me now, pictures of us immortalized in images.
230 · May 2018
Untitled Leading
Being alone is created from vast amounts of reasons,
quiet minds, quiet mouths, loud poetry and demanding
art. Prying eyes are constant from the outside. Peering
always. Never a helping hand. Not an expressive concern.
Working hard to endure, harder to be oneself. It’s easy to
be like everyone else. Poet continues to dream and lays
it out onto papers, blanket words, for dreaming about
the grandeur greatness, in art and in social forms, are
far more exciting than being one. For it’s sad how much
of life is filled with the mundane. Muddy and murky.
And how disappointing it is when one steps out, to be
something of themselves.
(knowledge variable)
229 · Mar 2018
streaming
The only problem with the self,
that is, there is so many various
ways that the perception works.
Eternity maybe longer than life,
arh and lucidity in the sense of
my Muse, acting as a Higher Power,
suspecting in yearning that isn’t
human. Poetry leaves only passages,
it’s like any other art. Lessons in
symbols. Not in a state of constant
dreaming. Individual fate. My
own future, being a parent - present,
melts in my hands now. I’m in
a constant state of illumination.
(knowledge variable)
229 · May 2018
STREAM - K
A life comes to a stop, dry and still air, manifest and illumination, I’m in freedom and in searching wonders that has a stream of meditation, laughing clowns and sadening circus performers.

I’ve written poetry different from how I would speak in person and whenever I do speak, it’s different to thoughts that speak inside. All connected but sounding different. Sparked from isolated darkness and the devil's details. I Won't bother to explain, even if I did, you won’t understand

All poetry is a poor translation from one’s emotions.

Perhaps to the first step to an awakening, is to notice death is coming and that’s always coming for you

When I write, I always end up in a cold abyss, a freezing world, where I’m always alone, despite how many people that love my work.

There’s are infinite amount of paradoxes for us here, perhaps it’s not all for us, they’re just dream-like figures in the wild and unable to be touched. Guilt.

Love is a real killer, it utterly destroys everything you’ve worked towards and devalues everything outside that world between you and your soulmate, rendering it to decay, in dryness and whimpers. And if the love isn’t real. Don’t do it. It will only end up in heartbreak and striking you a certain bitterness, you’ll be unable to shift.

If a man takes on the world, to beat the world, to box it, to fight it, always place at least one grand on the world. The individual will always shiver and frail to the collective
227 · May 2018
THY - THY
Since I’ve seen her, tilting up, glancing
to the side, pearls and looking away,
Angel, I’ve seen nothing but her. Not
even one single poem or aesthetic moment.
Now my heart is softening for tender moments.
(Dear Mr. Ouija board, I want to know my
future, will it happen, or will more ******
happen? More ******? Will I die and come
back and be nothing. Dear Mr. Ouija board,
I want to know my future.)
knowledge variable
227 · Feb 2018
POEM COLLECTION - DD
Poetry, I have a life to live. Let me not
be swallowed in by you poetry, let not
my either, labyrinth, my mystique, or
my veil or parts of my character go in
to your fog poetry. There is more to life
than to lay down and read you poetry.
Regardless how raw or immense, or
how much I could benefit from. I have
a life to live. I just want to live. At
least as I live in solitude, you poetry
eases the pain I feel. I’ll give you that.
I’ll give you that poetry.
223 · May 2018
DEATH - XGA1
There are some that can smile in such glory, they lifted
the dead from their nuesa-sleeping. Breathing motivation
to live again. Bitter only in the time they missed out on.
Reciting poetry from the other side. As for the one who
can bring the dead alive, for I have not meet them. Just
dreamt about them.
220 · Sep 2019
i
i
'me'
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9FZWRjmVeMg&t=31s
220 · May 2018
UNTITLED - 2JJSSI
Oh how grey life can get, with the scent of death to stink
on, maybe it’s too much of a good thing. Like a village
missing it’s idiot, narrow and intense at the best of times.
And if a poem is hungry, it will be kissing anyone, strangers
or friends, just to comfort those private pains. It’s okay
to have a low tolerance for pain, at least the beauty of
small things get noticed. But the breathe of few, could
ever stir the insides up, motivating one to part everything
that had ever worked for
(knowledge variable)
220 · Mar 2018
Myself
The only argument one does well,
it’s with one’s other identities. Fighting
for different causes, it’s all apart of
one giant  fellowship. Maybe by
accident that reality is only inside one’s
mind. I just wanted to go into romance
and nothing else. I’m a poetic peasant.
My inner-world worth more to me,
than another would know, romance
should not be in the realm of any poem
or spilling out of a poet’s tears. All
romance, beauty and love should live
only in the realm of experience.
(knowledge variable)
218 · Apr 2018
HER
HER
I’ve seen it, now I belong to her, to no other now,
I’ve seen her whole and true beauty, threading
everything that's forever, I cannot deny my inner-world,
lover, we’re in our own world, like we should.
Smile for me now.
218 · Jan 2018
SWEET NECTAR
There’s a fountain of experience
in waiting reality, though it smirks.
It is in waiting to be lived. Life it
in a relentless form. Those
who do not drink from the fountain,
will die, thirsting after the bitterness
of lingering ignorance. Yielding
trends, laughing-face at history,
the normality of it-all. Tempting
and easy - isn’t it?
(In dedication to my brethren Bones,
writing poetry again, I’m free again.
The sun may rise in the east,
It sets in the west. Babylon don’t test.
Rough and ready, bourgeois bow
your head in shame. Militant and ready
us outlaws are.mysticism took over
my soul and now I’m force to ride,
hard to **** when I’m unloading my AK.
Guess I wasn’t tripping, when I saw
them for the second time rolling by.
I wish they’ll do it in my sleep.And it’s
time to be a ghost.)
216 · Feb 2019
Unknown
Poetic boys, don't let em catch you slipping, don’t get hurt, the depth of one’s love, the depth of wounds of later moments, it’s contraband, can’t feel anything, when will I learn?
The shame is coming, with eyes wide open, holding onto to dear life, I should of stayed calm, but I’ll run into self-destruction when in vulnerability, asking question to what's the matter?
When it gets real, I’ll sabotage, when I push away, I want to say sorry, but silence is the reply, wishing I could let people inside.
To when I see someone, with the heart of a soldier, with the brains to teach a whole nation, I want to lay until the sun rises, the essence of a muse, nothing else I pull into frame & display with such shame, than the totality of my own flaws & left lonely.
Whoever said the struggle will stop today,
mystics get shot everyday,
while they’ve got money for war, but can’t feed the poor.
I’m obsessed of satisfying with creative temperament to a dormant & quiet people, it feels that no one can accept both of my own duality. Straight from the start, speaking truth, even if its hate in return, spitting from dark, it’s poetic, after the show, one sits alone & ignored. Late nights, bright lights, lust & lies, loading in the limousine, with people’s hands hand but no-one is giving out, can I really blame people for trying to get what they can? I might lose my soul, but who knows what I’ll find? I’m blessed to know another, hoping in return I can do the same.
https://www.facebook.com/knowledgevariable/
216 · Jan 2018
ANASTASIA
Those who never act on desire
Restrained in their love
Holding your hand
Maybe it’s like,
Holding infinity in eternal love
And it’s a system I’m enslaved in
215 · Aug 2019
vent
Writing into poetry,
anything can be,
but as I look back on
past, it’s there
& never leaving.
To I wish not all of it,
not everyone there
was apart of it.
To I yearn to write
on love
& not vent.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmIHvuyMEJM&t=424s
214 · Mar 2018
I'm Dead
Do not weep, though in sweeping
dramatic features, in a concerto
fashion, veiled poetry, do not weep
for me. For I died and not to come
back to this earth, or this life. Nor
I’m I upset at this naturally great
act. I have gone into another Kingdom
213 · Jan 2018
BEAUTY
The thing about beauty, it has brought
me everything I thought I wanted.
Thinking it will bring me contentment.
(meaningful attention, deepening knowledge
gifts, conversation over the arts.)
How wrong I’ve been. Even though I
thought different. Muse, soothe me,
like roses, I’ve been drenched in thorns.
False-beauty believes in a image in
the mirror, the others don’t. Now that I'm
scared, I've formed another beauty,
a life lived.
212 · Aug 2018
Faith in Love
While poetry provides much beyond comfort
and secret sharing thoughts. Though in terms
of love, it seems like promise that can’t keep,
nor provide. Despite its authority on the subject
and experience. Still highly valued. And in a full
world of people, love can still be in one single
person missing you. Life can change in a instant,
perhaps for some, they cannot oblige because
of the internal. Which is why so many disbelief in
the love poetry conveys with such pride. Remain
for their natural life, avoiding and in despair, with
a slight touch of sour bitterness. While most live
and grow tired of the soulmate coming to save
them, than settle into a dullness normality and
learn how to be a partner.  
https://www.amazon.com.au/s/ref=nbsbnoss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=darcy+prince
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