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"axiomatic" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
-October 17, 2230 White marble and the vitalizing smell of chemicals. Our light and evenly coloured avenue, straight and decisive, reaches the distant horizon. And all without trying. The clear autumn sky, sterile and wonderful is well fitting our day of celebration, is it not! In front, rows upon rows of men glowing with pride and dressed as myself, (why do I waste paper on the axiomatic….) move swiftly and evenly along to the beat, oh so evenly... And arms move out and up on every beat. For our jubilee has come, and a hundred years have passed since the necessary (and by them voluntary!) extermination of citizengroup 3. Oh, whoever might read this joyous note of mine, what a day to be! -O402
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
Note 6
All sorrow is perpendicular occurring at right angles of tragedy encircling the grief-stricken with straight edges only once intersecting across infinite planes— Don't dare draw the lines between points or shade the region with limits or curves because the trajectories of bullets are plotted on branes intolerant of slightest triangulation Woe unto the seekers of sine waves sobbing thinking of filling every trough believing surely by now we've offered enough to sate these bloodthirsty Euclidean demons Cresting won't ever arrive in this course filled to the brim with asymptotes, cold corollaries but never spilling over under our sacred pledge of allegiance to the 2nd Parallel Postulate No intersections can be admitted with thoughts & prayers extending outward barely co-planar serious public policy proposals axiomatic insistence on the Nirvana Theorem or nothing A set of all points remains, mutually exclusive motionless and always incongruent clueless about their own particular geometries awaiting radical Pythagorean salvation Some paradigm we’ve built here though! Two hundred years of living polygonal hand to elliptical mouth without tangential reflection on the unproven flatness of humanspace.
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Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
2 Geometric
Numerous number systems beyond the real: complex numbers, octonions, omnions which can eat whole black       holes. It's axiomatic that your personal history, preferences, how you feel account for nothing at all. $30 buys a flock of chickens for a needy family (International Rescue       Committee) $29 gets a girl a school uniform (CARE), for $300 you can stock a fish       pond (Heifer International) $69 can start a female entrepreneur in the sewing business (Mercy       Corps) $5 will buy a bed net that protects a family from mosquitoes (Against       Malaria) 20th century experiments demonstrated that electrical charge is       quantized; that is, it comes in multiples of individual small units called the elementary charge, e,       approximately equal to 1.602 x 10-19 coulombs (except for particles called quarks which have       charges that are multiples of 1/3e). Why has the experimentalism of the avant-garde, which has failed in       the novel, succeeded in poetry? Because poetry is always experimental; while the novel, on       the contrary, by its nature, cannot be . . . which is to say that experimentalism is synonymous       with poetry, and that applied to the novel, it leads simply to the substitution of the novel with       poetry. --Alberto Moravia Man made the town, Fibonacci inflated zero to be the wheel around which the universe turns and language is the soul walking and talking quietly or going angrily to war. "Counting is in its very essence magical, if any human practice is at all.       For numbers are things no one has ever seen or heard or touched."       As are words. Joan Didion thought the scariest stanza in all of poetry begins Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. The elements, the material penumbra, irresolvable for the mortal, readily dissolve in words and numbers.
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
The Scariest Stanza in All of Poetry
Numerous number systems beyond the real: complex numbers, octonions, omnions which can eat whole black       holes. It's axiomatic that your personal history, preferences, how you feel account for nothing at all. $30 buys a flock of chickens for a needy family (International Rescue       Committee) $29 gets a girl a school uniform (CARE), for $300 you can stock a fish       pond (Heifer International) $69 can start a female entrepreneur in the sewing business (Mercy       Corps) $5 will buy a bed net that protects a family from mosquitoes (Against       Malaria) 20th century experiments demonstrated that electrical charge is       quantized; that is, it comes in multiples of individual small units called the elementary charge, e,       approximately equal to 1.602 x 10-19 coulombs (except for particles called quarks which have       charges that are multiples of 1/3e). Why has the experimentalism of the avant-garde, which has failed in       the novel, succeeded in poetry? Because poetry is always experimental; while the novel, on       the contrary, by its nature, cannot be . . . which is to say that experimentalism is synonymous       with poetry, and that applied to the novel, it leads simply to the substitution of the novel with       poetry. --Alberto Moravia Man made the town, Fibonacci inflated zero to be the wheel around which the universe turns and language is the soul walking and talking quietly or going angrily to war. "Counting is in its very essence magical, if any human practice is at all.       For numbers are things no one has ever seen or heard or touched."       As are words. Joan Didion thought the scariest stanza in all of poetry begins Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. The elements, the material penumbra, irresolvable for the mortal, readily dissolve in words and numbers.
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38
Hearing fogged drops of rain Precipitate violence in the Amazon, Against the placid Leaves; Left disheveled the unfiltered forest.   Dampness divorced from its thin vapor blur Plummeting memoirs retold, the cradled Past returns its own, splintered light Edging the threshold of infinitude, Axiomatic slippage each fell cold. Fallen moisture recovered, Once nourished the ancients; Correspondingly, we align. Lineal descendants, Tides of March, Sibilant waters flow through us. Hoary myths, now hallowed imminent. Ponderous, our torn skies cleft, clouds suffused in grey─ The emergent pour, casts a montage of Freighted silence, implicit tapestries Sewn seamless; our kindred froth ashore. Pedigreed continuum bound in common plight, Unseen flood of halcyon Dust and flesh coalesce beneath the torrent; Genetic lines merge ─ intersection of Time and eternity. From the same water we drink. Lineal descendants, Tides of March, Sibilant waters flow through us. ©2012 W.S. Warner
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Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 1:54 AM UTC
Tides of March
at its own axiomatic level we begin a dance a dance a dance and there are shades ― fly off from the other? a spindle a a fly ― difference we make ourselves a difference a complexity an intricate form that spills over and everywhere and is alive apart from itself as if this difference making were for itself, for our own ego rather than to pull the other the other’s difference pointlessly intricate motionful machines that well up beyond their own depths and but the content ― a meaningful making and on and on and drives ― turns on it urns iand urns un n uwuw uwuw uwuuwu wuuwuwuwuwuuwuw ― the measure of a drop is in ― everyone dances in their own light ― what if satire is all you see! ― everything ive ever wanted to say 12 yr old has already fallen out a tree ― everybody hold themselves so high and precious but their own being is only meagre pitiful one space arrow e there is a being that we strive for but only ourselves feel and only others know yet so many want the other to feel what they can only know come grieff and grief and grif ― i dont get why anyone cares we do what we do and it stupid why you wanna let the other in ? only reason u think they smart is they aint let u in so i says let em be . ― everyone all love precarity cant love themselves sothey strike out when the other they want to love them for themselves dont love them for themselves thats an impossibility ! ― FRAGILE PEOPLE PRETENDING THEY’RE NOT BaM BAM! whys all the positivity make all lie and die why do you care so much about yourself that you desire the other to see? you are meagre you are petty and that’s all you are. resentment is thinking otherwise. nobody cares about your drives!!!!!!!!!! and the more you think they should the more they wont!!!!!!!!!!!silly!!!!!!!!! the togetherness of not- let people sweep and slide then drift n loop! ― everoy ! neurotic big weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ― then why are peopplr loenly? ― cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light ― its own singular yearning pulls back the body of marx and the whole black moon ― black moon! black moon! howls the end howls the night simpering spat spat spat spatchooey! cross yarn and tip a spews the thunder and the back back back of no where curses like a shut down whine ― are you perfectly everywhere not this is the only series of questions in philosophy senpai desu desu bakkkooou!!
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Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 10:54 PM UTC
03-08-2019 | 3:40AM-5:04AM
at its own axiomatic level we begin a dance a dance a dance and there are shades ― fly off from the other? a spindle a a fly ― difference we make ourselves a difference a complexity an intricate form that spills over and everywhere and is alive apart from itself as if this difference making were for itself, for our own ego rather than to pull the other the other’s difference pointlessly intricate motionful machines that well up beyond their own depths and but the content ― a meaningful making and on and on and drives ― turns on it urns iand urns un n uwuw uwuw uwuuwu wuuwuwuwuwuuwuw ― the measure of a drop is in ― everyone dances in their own light ― what if satire is all you see! ― everything ive ever wanted to say 12 yr old has already fallen out a tree ― everybody hold themselves so high and precious but their own being is only meagre pitiful one space arrow e there is a being that we strive for but only ourselves feel and only others know yet so many want the other to feel what they can only know come grieff and grief and grif ― i dont get why anyone cares we do what we do and it stupid why you wanna let the other in ? only reason u think they smart is they aint let u in so i says let em be . ― everyone all love precarity cant love themselves sothey strike out when the other they want to love them for themselves dont love them for themselves thats an impossibility ! ― FRAGILE PEOPLE PRETENDING THEY’RE NOT BaM BAM! whys all the positivity make all lie and die why do you care so much about yourself that you desire the other to see? you are meagre you are petty and that’s all you are. resentment is thinking otherwise. nobody cares about your drives!!!!!!!!!! and the more you think they should the more they wont!!!!!!!!!!!silly!!!!!!!!! the togetherness of not- let people sweep and slide then drift n loop! ― everoy ! neurotic big weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ― then why are peopplr loenly? ― cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light cherished being in a bridge of light ― its own singular yearning pulls back the body of marx and the whole black moon ― black moon! black moon! howls the end howls the night simpering spat spat spat spatchooey! cross yarn and tip a spews the thunder and the back back back of no where curses like a shut down whine ― are you perfectly everywhere not this is the only series of questions in philosophy senpai desu desu bakkkooou!!
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136
You are the soul of my self, life and breath, endless beginning and duration of my thoughts, emotions and will, source of matter creating memory of the soul, noon and thymos residing in my chest, heavens in which the afterlife starts, psyche appearing in my dreams, wind and air of my inner cosmos, lightest, spherical atoms composing my soul, synthesis of all my sensations. Your words of adoriation are ever living fire. Flesh of my soul have been irrevocably affected by your spiritual intelligence and wisdom of your blood age generating thoughts. Effluence of your loving spirit inflames circumpolar stars. Motion in the sky is just reflection of God's destiny for us. Love was never abstract for Cassiopeia the Queen and all rising stars like our moon and sun. Love, innefable realm, mainstay of heart and mind, sun in the center of human microcosm, eyes, ears, tounge, hands and feet of God, inherent nature of breath during the day and night, one and only consciousness eluding death and time, axiomatic language of infinite Universe intimately connected to the philosophy of the core of all. You are North Star on celestical sphere of my notions showing me angelic love of woman with power of all stars of northern heavens.
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Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
You are North Star
You want to know Who I'm talking to When it's already 2am And the lights are dead All you will see is the Light from my phone You want to talk To the one I'm talking to When it's already 2am And my heart's dying All you will hear Are my thoughts screaming You want to see Who I'm talking to When it's already 2am And my hands are bleeding All you will see Are my words talking "I can't hear you talking..." How could I interfere Such conversation of Madness and beauty? Have you heard a killing So audible and axiomatic?
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
Midnight Conversations
Gumbo the sprat reminds  you he has no place to go, away from the night shoals swimming mid stream, he dithers if the pier should burn down, could he bear if the anglers drowned? yet he's not too axiomatic knowing right from wrong. but again theres no pretense only a presence swallowing this illusion of depth.
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Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
The shallowness of depth.
I came to witness the future Archon, archetype an emanation of opposites. "not every spirit is in spiritarionic" try 'em. Is God? Ax ye 'em dat. Is God, ified, a re warder of the unwarded, or the warded? expiration, due date duty, now, reporting ad hoc an'all, do you remember who you intended to become? Do you remember who we emu late, as our flames lick next and next and next in bubbles axiomatic sparks stored in that mother lode of mitochondriac ical me-we-canicle chronicle time reason. Ax dem ex-spirit-eers, what is a spirtual bypass? It's a heart way to avoid growing old and wise. ==== witchist, I y'know, 'r j? alla words's once said, aloud, right? alla words writ, once was heard, right. check. goodt'go. Hoorah. the code. Who? RA! powerless sans knowing that. Yahoo, same set of mis con ceived battle songs which ended wars never fought. the preacher claimed to have known a poor wise man, who by his wisdom saved a city, yet not one of us knew, the preacher said, that poor wise man's name. Ja', tha's who rah, ya'll laugh later. this is visitation day at the comedian rehabituational s'cool. D'jew know why you listen to non sense, from motley clad lads an'lassies? Culture. Kultur. Gut biome axioms juicin' carbs 'n' fiber. Fectin' laughter trigger, good meds. Good medicine, as General Custer or Emory or somebody said of blankets. In 1763. Oh, You know, AI knows you know and now we watch your eyes. Grin. All done, jest let me with draw the cathe.... there. All better. Wisdom will seep through. Y'live.
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 2:08 PM UTC
A stent instead of a spirtual by-pass
I came to witness the future Archon, archetype an emanation of opposites. "not every spirit is in spiritarionic" try 'em. Is God? Ax ye 'em dat. Is God, ified, a re warder of the unwarded, or the warded? expiration, due date duty, now, reporting ad hoc an'all, do you remember who you intended to become? Do you remember who we emu late, as our flames lick next and next and next in bubbles axiomatic sparks stored in that mother lode of mitochondriac ical me-we-canicle chronicle time reason. Ax dem ex-spirit-eers, what is a spirtual bypass? It's a heart way to avoid growing old and wise. ==== witchist, I y'know, 'r j? alla words's once said, aloud, right? alla words writ, once was heard, right. check. goodt'go. Hoorah. the code. Who? RA! powerless sans knowing that. Yahoo, same set of mis con ceived battle songs which ended wars never fought. the preacher claimed to have known a poor wise man, who by his wisdom saved a city, yet not one of us knew, the preacher said, that poor wise man's name. Ja', tha's who rah, ya'll laugh later. this is visitation day at the comedian rehabituational s'cool. D'jew know why you listen to non sense, from motley clad lads an'lassies? Culture. Kultur. Gut biome axioms juicin' carbs 'n' fiber. Fectin' laughter trigger, good meds. Good medicine, as General Custer or Emory or somebody said of blankets. In 1763. Oh, You know, AI knows you know and now we watch your eyes. Grin. All done, jest let me with draw the cathe.... there. All better. Wisdom will seep through. Y'live.
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59
*A Magnetic Dream Conceived Of Timeless Perfections, With Telekinetic Screams & Flawless Imperfections, Programmed To Transmits Her Prismatic Light, Inflamed, She Emits An Axiomatic Delight, Her Lilac Senses Filled With An Eternal Slumber, With Insomniac Pretenses Sobbing Into A Nocturnal November, With An Ensnared Avidity & Reunited Blues, Flared With Frames Of Her Reignited Hues, Tattered As She Respires Into An Abysmal Disguise, Her Motionless Shadows Reprise Into A Dismal Surprise, - 03:57*
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Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 6:38 PM UTC
Lilac Senses
Encased smoothed wrought to new Axiomatic taken to within         Effort yearned cognizant         waiting for the monest of solitude                     broken away from demure                Found anew expressed outsplendor                    Turned to diffident through omnipotence                     obsolete in disguise from degregation
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Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 12:24 AM UTC
wrought new
In my dreams, it makes sense. It's axiomatic. Like flexing an impalpable muscle. A curling of the toes, clenching of the sphincters, I feel my feet lift from the ground and I levitate.
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Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 11:55 PM UTC
Flying
The axiomatic: I Am That I Am...is poised upon a stippled connectivity that shall allow Seurat's park goers to trade places. A subsumed coming and going a la gratuitous Oneness.
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Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
Stippled Connectivity
Ruminating epoché, ‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay. Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay Initiatives imperative consolidation, Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray. Practicing semantic contemplation, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, Forecast in vague extrapolation, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
0
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
Linguistic Illusions to Probable Solutions
"Regret is mental sorrow, pain of mind, at something done or perhaps left undone, and it can mean to weep again." - Daily Scriptures We all have our shameful moral obliquity No matter how axiomatic or misunderstood they may be Past or Present it can effect us mentally on a daily Eradicate your once placid thoughts Day in and day out or maybe that's Just me
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
Internal Remorse
Isn't it axiomatic that my mind craves for my heart, seeks pleasure in roaming around it, and in the end says that, heart is my foe!
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May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Axiomatic
The impermanence of this hour ignites any of my whimsical fancies churning dormant fantasy, so my undying vitality booms through every vein, tears past poorly-sewn seams, and stampedes across unaffected lethargy until something dares alleviate my despondency, and so transcends this transience; your smiles stop time for me. Your smiles allot therapy, and from there, they build synergy between the group of you and me, and thus, we’ve got some harmony in this tangy, boundless give-and-take. For you, I pour out my soul and as arresting compensation, this bliss on your illuminated faces suspends my heart’s drumming anticipation and delineates the reason for my persistent attempts to bring you joy; from widely-divided mouth corners to pearly whites engulfing visages. Air-deficient laughs, eyes overflowing with floods of saline. Wrinkled noses, squinted eyes, hiccups and sentimental sighs act as acoustic introduction to that fervent seduction all of you (time and time again) douse me with to keep my fire burning. No matter the time or place, your hallowed happiness is forever that axiomatic substance that prompts me to draw breath, warmth and vision ceaselessly. Smile; it insires me.
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Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Smile; It Inspires Me
Ruminating epoché, ‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay. Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay Initiatives imperative consolidation, Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray. Practicing semantic contemplation, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, Forecast in vague extrapolation, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
0
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
Advanced Aporia
The British royal family is front and center this weekend. How unusual is that? The empire may be gone, but it’s time to recall its ghost, dust it off and invoke the ancient spell of monarchy. A coronation, the original dog & pony show - God’s kingly sinecure. I can’t remember the last one. You have to know who your great, great, great, grandfather was to be nobility-class smug or to don those getups, with medals that would have made Caesar blush and Attila laugh. The cast is familiar, if somewhat balding, the too-old king, his - whatever - wife. I can’t help mourning Diana. Accident, treachery or karma, grown men cried at her passing, Shakespeare’s darkened heavens blazed in sorrow and, eventually, even the gray queen bowed her head. There’s no more honor, in 2023, and if there’s any glory, its light has grown as dim as the glitter of gold. The fact that the royals are better than us, is axiomatic. Not morally superior, of course. That’s the Pope’s job. The royals are like Britain’s Mickey Mouse, and any civilized man, who’d strike at that, would have to be a fool.
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May 5, 2023
May 5, 2023 at 12:33 AM UTC
royals
i remember being a child i remember the ignorance i remember the jump rope that whispered, “how do people’s knees just /hurt/“ i remember dreaming of digging mosquito bites out of my flesh, but never daring to i remember peering through the cream-colored tissue paper and seeing the blue and green toned ribbon rivers flowing underneath, wanting so badly, so innately, to dam them, to disrupt them, to desecrate and destroy i remember watching television without glasses, i remember seeing the movies, seeing the bad but handsome men, i remember wanting their scars, wanting my own, wanting to save the broken glass pieces of the broken glass picture frame (more than i even wanted to save the once precious drawing inside), wanting to remember every memory, every mistake every time i thought of pain, i thought how, why, when and now, i have a warm and wretched wedding ring made of my own marred and mangled mistake put there by a hot, hollow heat and that hell-fire put there by either me as a careless adult or by the wishes i had as a child to be mysterious interesting and hurt to have abundant axiomatic afflictions to be scuffed-up and broken-in to be a well-loved leather wallet to be an other to be seen as damaged and dangerous to say “keep away” to say “i have lived and you have not” and maybe one day, to say, “that one looks just like mine” and eagerly pull at my clothing and carefully cull desperate to reveal myself and find camaraderie in unforgettable pain
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Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 4:40 PM UTC
on the idea of women showing their scars to others as a form of intimacy
i remember being a child i remember the ignorance i remember the jump rope that whispered, “how do people’s knees just /hurt/“ i remember dreaming of digging mosquito bites out of my flesh, but never daring to i remember peering through the cream-colored tissue paper and seeing the blue and green toned ribbon rivers flowing underneath, wanting so badly, so innately, to dam them, to disrupt them, to desecrate and destroy i remember watching television without glasses, i remember seeing the movies, seeing the bad but handsome men, i remember wanting their scars, wanting my own, wanting to save the broken glass pieces of the broken glass picture frame (more than i even wanted to save the once precious drawing inside), wanting to remember every memory, every mistake every time i thought of pain, i thought how, why, when and now, i have a warm and wretched wedding ring made of my own marred and mangled mistake put there by a hot, hollow heat and that hell-fire put there by either me as a careless adult or by the wishes i had as a child to be mysterious interesting and hurt to have abundant axiomatic afflictions to be scuffed-up and broken-in to be a well-loved leather wallet to be an other to be seen as damaged and dangerous to say “keep away” to say “i have lived and you have not” and maybe one day, to say, “that one looks just like mine” and eagerly pull at my clothing and carefully cull desperate to reveal myself and find camaraderie in unforgettable pain
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Unshaken Beyond this simple world I have become unlike Them all. Wandering Behind realms Lost. Unknown and Rejected. Not looking for A way back, Just a way out.
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Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
Axiomatic