"anamnesis" poems
“RENDEZVOUS SONNET”
“The long day wanes the slow moon climbs,
My pale enclave inspires me to write,
That of our midnight love rendezvous,
As well as awful dreams of life’s hardships,
All can be forgotten of travesty’s that followed,
As I easily compare you to a light of stardust,
Traipse of her breaching my mind of that day,
Thinking of your prompt nobility fills my days.
My love for you is the dedicated anamnesis,
Our heated times of past frolics of seasons,
Our summertime on the immense sleepy hollows,
The sounding furrows for my purpose holds
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down,
The prudence labor loving procured slowly,
Whisking your rugged ways and thro's endings,
Subdued only to thro’s closure of laudability,
Ode to my rendezvous sonnet”
By Andrew Guzaldo 08/14/2018 ©
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
A figment of imagination
crawling through
night
day
and evening.
Frisking through meadows
of stiff hands
and painted numbers,
this concept so lightly known as time,
has lived to contrive the clockwork
behind the functioning world.
It doesn't stand still; for it plans
escapes as swiftly as radio-waves.
Melting clocks tick away
at the hourglass of our fate.
Grain by grain...
time escapes the void we call life
and deceases us through the midst of anamnesis
and ideation.
It is all in our minds.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 3:37 AM UTC
Thy eloquent beauty
shines through
end
s
Agape
Authentic
Anamnesis
Thy thirst for Knowledge
is
an ineffable well
yearning for rainbow crystals
formed in round drops of the purest waterfalls
We both share this Thin'
To our strings
Acquainted
_ _ _ _
_ _ _ _
My oldest friend
My blood kin(d)
''Eagle Feathers''
My silence speaks of Love. . .
so
Listen Tenderly to
Effervescent Spiritual
Winged~wisdom~Warrior
Within the s~Light(est) memory
our chests are risin'to
THE RHYTHM
breathin' proud prairie Airs
Poundin' as One
Ridin'
By my side
Gallopin' like the Wind
Be brave beloved brother
I'll cherish Thee eternally, as
Cherry Bears Berries
"Small Paws"
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Whispering winds, rustle weeping willows,
were the corpses, and sorrow lie.
Winding beaten roads,
broke from the artery of cluttered existence.
Landing me in what reality?
Rattling minds, in longing whoa
anamnesis, horror,love denied.
Skeletons emerge,
of the forgotten foes, and mystic secrets
the world sought not to see.
Clustered hoards galloping to their doom.
Essence ripped away, by cloven hoof.
Relevant ramble from a vagrant drunken stooge.
Whisk away by the dramatic exchange of a loon.
Echoing memories bombarding the senses.
Landing me in what reality?
Echoing voices carried through hallways
were sorrow, and corpses lie.
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC
I'm not sure who I am anymore
I have changed so much and so fast
You keep holding on to me
The old me, the person who I used to be
And the old memories we made together
I will admit that those recollections are unforgettable
They may be the reminiscences of the old me
But why should that stop us from making new memories?
New commemorations with the new me
I'm not the same kid from you memories
But I will always be who that little girl was
I may be older and wiser
But I still need you
And I still love you
So please don’t leave me
Now is the time that I need you immensely
I’m just not the same person I used to be
And I lost and have fallen between the cracks
I’m still here I’m just trying to discover who I am
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
for M.S.
The blinds drawn, she vacated her life;
Through grieving lips she exists within the future,
Half-alive in an unconscious tongue
That allows paragon hopes to thrive:
She was whole.
No--
Blotched out and blurred,
She became a lacuna,
A Platonic anamnesis;
Believed to have believed:
The conviction of faithful mourners,
Her expulsion from Honesty.
. . .
The haunt of our occasions--
Ghost of my reflection! --
Brown eyes never shone so bright.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
Anamnesis, acting as the neuroimaging in excessive dreamscapes, waves over the inner thoughts that constantly circumambient my mind.
When recollection occurs, it ideally captures endless flashback pictures like a camera's flash, as the infinitesimal moments spent lovably with you count on a perfect day like this particular one.
you completely mesmerize my recollective memories as i spent those sensual moments with you; to adore you as you adore me.
infinite physical kisses & cherry blossoms
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Sudden anamnesis.
A sound, a time.
A season, a rhyme.
Immersed in ghostly remembrance.
For a time I am neither here nor there.
In an instant my body aches,
Longing for a taste of a place my essence has been summoned to revisit.
At this exact moment I doubt my past-self.
Did I really live in that moment?
Did I inhale the air of life and exhale the desire of concurrent vanity?
No matter the answer, doubt forever remains.
Note to self:
Stop wishing time away.
Stay longer.
Breathe deeper.
Listen.
Devour the colors.
Echo Devine vibrations.
Bathe in the waters.
Existence without resistance.
Saturate.
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
Eyes swollen by a lust for change.
A hunger; a desire
To force myself back through the gapless barrier
Preclusively demarcating reminiscence from reality.
Why can’t my anamnesis be my actuality?
Even if it is verisimilitudinous,
Lie to Me!
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
for Malani
1.
The blinds drawn, she vacated her life.
Through grieving lips she survives our futures,
Being kept half-alive in an unconscious tongue
That allows a paragon of hope to thrive:
She was whole.
No—
Blotched out and blurred,
She became a lacuna,
A Platonic anamnesis.
"She is now in the company of angels":
The faithful mourners' conviction
And her integrity's fragmentation.
2.
Haunt of our occasions—
My musings' apparition!—
Brown eyes never shone so bright.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
Your faithful betrayal
Of love and all its colors
Your truthful denial
Of hurt and all the stumbles
Your fight against the world
Your fight for us
As you went against the world
Your fight for us
Lay in shambles
Just as your heart did
Just as my heart still does
I surrendered ere long
To this sweet misery
And sweeter despair belongs
To our story
Your ferocious cherishing
Of life and its ecstasy
Your eternal anamnesis
Of you and me
Your fight against the world
Your fight for us
As you went against the world
Your fight for us
May not have saved us
Neither our serendipity
Neither our inseperableness
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
Q.309 is the fire of existence pushing to action transforming the ideological Materia in revolutionary spirit.
SHE IS GODS **** AND MOUTH
Q.309 is the confirmation of the enlightening action above the primordial waters found in the structure and in the function of the eye.
BEYOND THE EGO BURNS INEFFABEL APHRODESIA
Q.309 is every union originating from dissimilar things with adulterous spirit.
Our anamnesis nullifies the liturgical and ritual tradition; the attitude in us pushing to the repetition of the ritualistic gesture intended as an offer and as a proof of the memory is amplified by the life itself.
CHAOS AS RITUAL
Q.309 is the radical conflict with the existing world and a new identity to be achieved through a process of identification with the will of the abyss that contains all: through this conflict you become a concupiscent being.
I PUSH HER **** THROUGH HER THROAT
Q.309 is the cult of the slough whose common thread is constituted by the constant sexualization of the human world and of the divine sphere, bringing them closer till the overlap.
A RESIPROCITY OF ******* IN MUTUAL EXCHANGE
Q.309 is the energetic foundation and dynamism typical of the devolutive systems.
HEAD ABOVE THE HEAVENS FEET BELOW THE HELLS
We turn our gaze to the underlying face of the Materia and we consolidate our desire in her; the concupiscence is our vis generandi through which our gnostic process of emanation is activated.
I AM EVERYWHERE WITHIN HER
The Flesh of God melts with the one who creates him.
[From MEQOM YAD/Assur #1]
Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
I'll think of you when it snows.
For a few years at least,
Who knows.
Maybe longer.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC
Breathing Seed If I was here
Sprouting acres If I was Worldly Deed If ISetting Tracers IfShouting Chords IClanging Mashing ExistedWitching Hour Would you be hereTidal Power Would you beMicrophonic Would youHibernating the meaning WouldSweeping away hopes The world standWhen faces light Stand on it's ownIn dawning moon Shoulders Eclipse tune Would the skyAnd anamnesis swoons Fall as pieces ofSupple tower Puzzles onto theRiddled hands Floor, anxietyOf lovers on frosted steam Swims currentsEmpire grounded down to wire Through theSpiral Staircase Myth that isRounds chambers Me and youOf mindful states And all ofStable gates Us we are lostRelease all fate In the earth
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
Let your shining beacon lead me to this foreign shore;
the sands are unfamiliar, but I know I've been here before.
I can recall the curves of this roof as if they were the ceiling to the heights of my own dreams,
with the layout of rooms teasing the deepest parts of my memory.
I've this thing for remembering details -
shapes and scents in particular.
Struck dumb in the shower as a long since past scene takes hold of me;
picking blueberries in the sun.
Playing on the swing set that still yet stands,
as if some ancient monument in a half-forsaken land.
We've both grown a bit rusty.
The chains creak from the strain of my weight,
but nothing ever truly gets forgotten:
I have before and always will belong in this place.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
“Raging waves of the sea foaming out shame,
Wandering stars above to which is reserved,
As my obscurity shall befall me perpetually,
I know not how to contain me in this macrocosm,
As a quavering adumbration quirks my hands,
The hard brisk hour of night falls upon me quickly,
The swishing foam of the sea sashes before me,
My first vision in all my nights will forever be of her,
The barren quays at eventide feathered varmint gather,
If I were to think with acrimony of this once realm,
Of foremost loves that has passed me through my life,
She has left me at the fringe of the sandy littoral,
As I have decided to leave my heart felt altruism,
It is my hour of adieu oh me the dissipated one,
Her coiffure her guise of such charm lips of lust,
I adored her all this love will never be restored,
A Poet’s words of love penned on tattered paper,
All the words of love and pain that many fear of,
Expressed in through the ink drafted on paper,
Poets die but their words anamnesis is perpetual”
By AG 05/29/2018 ©
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 4:35 PM UTC
"Unprepared I wondered into her burrow,
My endeavors were useless as her beauty,
Plod into my conscience,
Aghast at what in your beauty I might find,
I couldn’t resist in going and touching her near,
If she were to resist what would I do in interim,
The closer I had gotten the more she toiled my soul,
It is as if I had entered a dream and wit not to awake,
Than finally adjacent deliquesced in each other’s embrace,
Free from iniquity I gave myself deluded to her,
An archipelago had opened before with her tenderness.
No longer live in dark places as she has brightened all,
Illuminating my soul with each one of her embraces,
A heart once cold and cruor with such from melancholy,
My only assuagement bad anamnesis gone from mind
For she comes to me in a mystifying incognizant way”
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
“Once I did love her as everyone knew,
And the Elysium can adjure to such,
Globules of love still trickle in my soul,
And benevolence of pain fills my heart,
I loved her endlessly even of her cynically sense,
Sometimes hesitant and at other times resentful,
Loving her regardless of her ambitious benevolence,
As tears is infamously brief the brow of my cheek,
She was the shadow of darkness that hid from me,
Will a new love me with an obverse passionate fervor?
The globules of anamnesis drip from my heart and soul
Are these pieces of my soul that still cling to her?
Nor can I descent from despair from this I once loved,
Inescapable moments of life are as sure as leaves fall,
As clouds form before a storm and the sun sets in eve,
As glacial flowers have fallen upon my latent heart,
And from ethereal hopes to a crevice of vicissitudes,
By Andrew Guzaldo 06/25/2019 ©
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 1:32 PM UTC
floating on a sea of blood
born of our heart's sins
drifting slowly while faced apart
in boats of our own skins
like memories dropped on still waters,
we become cognizant of each other
by the echos of our waves
filled with but an anamnesis of us
this liquid plane;
landless space between,
our forms become intoxicated
as if they were soaked in gin
the taste transmuting
from pungency to bliss
churning tides of rumination,
hurricanes of emotional rot
eddied at our shores
from hair's end to finger's tip
soaked, we are
in the torrents of our yearning
waiting for the maelstrom of appetency
to catch us in remission
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 8:14 PM UTC
“We lovers are defined by things we share,
Lovers are better together then to be alone,
One does not own beauty it is conceived within,
In their dreams it is felt it can be obtained,
What can this be I say to the crux of this esoteric woman,
Alone in a dark nights rest all my thoughts of her,
Bedeviled by the lies of her hidden beneath,
I can no longer judge the veracity now her beauty dies,
The Calypso of death creeps upon me,
You are forlorn now with artistry of her deceit,
If a man think himself to be existent without the allure,
It will be the opulence of her beauty that will burn in his mind,
As the rosette has been plucked away from me,
I skirmish as thoughts of you grovel into my mind,
And as I repel to your touch or thought,
Aghast at of what loving you again I will find,
I prefer to melt in your arms in a chimera of thoughts,
I would be free from harm free from impairment,
As I once gave to you now I shall survive in,
Seduced in an anamnesis in a Garden of Bronze”
By A.G. (C) 03/2018
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC
“As I watch her words undulate off her tongue,
As words gyrate like raindrops upon my brow,
Our plight embrace shall never be severed,
We are driven fervently with passion as we gaze,
As we embrace in an avidity of passion,
With deep fervor engulfed with luminance,
Caressing soft silky innuendos of lasciviousness,
A gulp of cloying surrender of fiery passion,
Always be with me the in littoral of my anamnesis,
As Neptunian waves ripple along the shoreline,
Standing obscure vigilance on the shores anamnesis,
Even though we look as tides drift to our costal shore,
As the immenseness of the sea allures to its depth,
As does your soul allures me to the fervor abyssal,
You emerge as my vitality as the chimera of lust,
Now dissipated of your caresses have sealed my love,
With no contrition we ardently agog to embrace as one,
To be consumed with an Avidity of Passion”
By AG 4/18/2018 ©
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC
It's the thinking that hurts,
The cavity of x and y
Which drapes proclivity
In the way
My words work,
Almost Bro-
ken.
Slightly when spoken
From dorsum,
I welcome you
To the Stitches
Of other halves-
The part I dampen
More than antediluvian revoke
And- Anamnesis wrinkles,
Spitting essentia spirit
Until all I am is-
Eighty-six
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 2:59 PM UTC
I see and hear it all this dreary night. Sirens of many varieties under a sickly pale green moonlight. Police, ambulances, firefighters, hell, maybe even the army is involved. And all for such a little, insignificant, measly thing with no ramifications at all. Looking at the moon unbound by a window is far brighter but I float back inwards to see the gorgeous, yellow, orange and red flames licking my former room and what remains of my belongings. There is nothing left of me, but it was over quite quickly, so there is no need to complain. Some little ghoulish figure set a fire under my bed claiming it would finally warm me, then blamed it on me when the flames consumed both it and I. Nothing is better now than it was before, yesterday and the day that preceded or the day that came even before then, although the lord knows I can't even remember that far back. Nothing is better, as I was saying, because there is nothing to do, and nowhere to be, no one to see and nothing to look forward to. The heavens wouldn't take me, but hell rejected me too. It was a few minutes ago that I learned that those wise crazies from centuries ago, who had called the soul undying, were right, but anamnesis simply wouldn't come and I was not worthy of apotheosis.
So even what little I could hold in my hands, the sparks of warmth that I was given oh so rarely, had moistened and turned to drops of water, and I could not even join the fire and the cosmic jubilee. I looked upon my scorched abode once again and sighed. Or would have, had I lungs still, but it seems incorporeal beings have their limitations. No matter, limitations and disappointment were nothing new to me. I floated onward to lament and hope for another day where maybe, just maybe, some body would need a wandering, lonesome soul. Eventually, after hours became days and those days became weeks and those weeks became months and those months became years and those years became worthless to keep counting out to myself, floating turned into such a **** chore. Sitting was impossible, so that was out of the question, as well. And it simply wouldn't come. I eventually forgot what it even was that I was waiting for, and with nobody around, nothing would even remind me. Alas, existence can be tedious, but non-existence is just such a bore.
Oct 29, 2023
Oct 29, 2023 at 5:13 PM UTC
That absurd thrum,
The rhythm of all things
(beneath all life)
an ancient yearning bubbling up
(as could-be memory)
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 10:32 AM UTC