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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
.i. if Kant could have his von Kleist... well... who else to juggle juggernauts if not me? as a task of redeeming that poor soul who succumbed to the terminator of all poetic ambitions, with his systematisation off-the-page, as eccentric and punctual as a sunset on a sundial at 16:11... and in case either the spring of sunrise, or the autumn of sunset... but so many hours after exacting a sunset... that gluttony of the eyes to stare at it... 16:11 is the zenith of a sunset in november the 15th... much prolonged when warmer... supersized sun when setting in summer, and all that whiskey-copper wiring for the eyes to stare at it: oh for goodness sake, who really cares for Ikea likened assembling of words... we're not putting together a coffee table, we're looking for Darwinistic entrapment, we're scared of the aeons and yawns... we're trying to create a Darwinistic entrapment saying what segregates us from apes! that's how anti-Darwinism works - if they can easily call you a poet and a technophobe... then that hardly makes you a merchant with a Quran... to encapsulate the language of our modernity we're doing everything against writing the onomatopoeia of our beginning... monkey ooo! monkey ooo ah ah! or a gorilla grunting and then snorkeling... we're encapsulating our language more and more... because beginning with ape and then looking at history, and then looking at the consensus of the contemporary: Darwinism's greatest enemy is not theology... it's history... Darwinism and history are not compatible... oddly enough Darwinism and theology are compatible, simply because they are dynamically equal for the case of furthering both arguments in debate... but Darwinism is an odd starting point to argue, given that physicists argue from the perspective of prior to dinosaurs, prior to all things formed.

how can i begin this? it will leave me having to
write it for two days,
the anti-narrative sketch first, then filling in
the gaps sober... just to get second opinions...
i might have to cook a quasi-Hungarian borscht
and fry up a few potato flattenings to a crispy
yum... first the narrator comes in to describe what's
in store, a bit like a translator comes in and says
of Joyce: that's Irish... well, yeah.
               hence the italic preface...
as some would say, the person who wrote these
sketches worked quicker that an algorithm in asking
and also quicker to copy & paste the required
atomic encoding... e.g. ч and ch
                   э and euro and epsilon...
      once upon a time there was nothing prior
to Copernicus, then the somersaults came,
    h ч y        what coordinates where?
    well of course perfecting the encoding of something,
if things weren't stated awry there would be
no optometrists either...
                  it's not hard to read, it's hard to
remember how to read, given that being literate reached
the omnipresent velocity, the new powers had to
include some new power struggle...
mingling Latin and Runes, Greek and Cyrillic...
     and the proto-Latin of additional diacritical marks...
they exposed the entirety of humanity to literacy
within the framework of post-industrial society,
after hitchhiking a ride on the 19th century donkeys
they suddenly had to reveal their power-secret of
being literate, and by the account of women:
corset bound and bored in salons...
      but something else appeared that didn't really fascinate
them: that over-complication of Latin with
punctuation marks above letters: or diacritical
distinction, crowns over letters, subatomic particularisation
of once favoured: universal applicability...
as a narrator? i have to make a complicated
introduction, the sketch lends itself to do so,
it suggests that not all writing can be as simple as
a nursery rhyme, not all writing can actually
    **** memory, not all writing desires being remembered,
not all writing can be remembered,
                in the mediation of the two chiral opposites
there's fiction, which is suspended in an armchair of
pleasurability... but on the opposite side of a nursery rhyme
or a well versed poem? writing akin to arithmetic...
  something truly painful for those competent with
lettering, but not really competent with ten digits...
      as a narrator who has already read the sketch,
i'm trying to not write a "filling in the gaps" to the sketch
like an art-critic might do to a painting deviating from:
brushstrokes were employed. well... d'uh!
variation of italics as in transcending the pause that
implies a condescending variation of taking a pause,
also excluded are: dot, comma, hyphen, semicolon
and colon.                         dot-dot-dot is not joining up
the dots: it implies a variation of how to anticipate
a punchline: drummed: tu-dum wet snare!
     i am actually a narrator who is trying to find
that other part of me that might digest this sketch properly,
     and return fully competent to pick up another
sketch... if ever there was a narrator in this sketch,
it has to be me, after the sketch has been scripted,
and i am left to suggest a need for a dot-dot-dot connectivity
of the strokes of the pen...
i warned myself: do not overdo the introduction in italics,
you know how picky people are...
whether pickled pineapple of cucumber...
i swear Turks invented pickling chillies...
         oh look! an inflatable gazebo filled with helium!
no one's laughing: only because i didn't mention vegina.
narrative puritanism? you get distracted a lot...
but this sketch is really a thesis for narration,
all i have to do is find the antithesis of narration in it:
an actual narrative!          it stretches for ~30 pages...
   well that's me turned archaeologist with a Grecian urn
with a snap of the finger... because that's how this
sketch looks like: ancient -
                         but understandably modern.
              so .  ,  - and ;
        were racing... out came the world record
             9.58(0)         the full-stop is the bracket-bound
0... i.e. it actually happened: hence the pinpoint...
or in Formula 1 a timed nonsense of ave. m/ph
     noted to three decimal points: 130.703...
                                    or chicane cha chicane cha cha!
as said, this is an actual representation of a narrator
encountering this sketch: so before you lose your head...
i've lost mine!
  look at the correlation though!
we've gone way past atoms with the atomic bomb
and encountered subatomic particles...
    we're not going to get beyond subatomic particles
because we're going to encounter the already apparent
reality of obatomic particle: namely our bodies,
   the perceived ******* (ob- is the antonym
                                                  prefixation of sub-):
             that's were the microscope adventure ends,
    and this is parallel to cutting up a second with
three decimal points, as the safetynet suggests:
                                                              π / 3.14;
yep, the obstructive - hence we can't spontaneously
combust... but then again Goethe's Werther did:
  out of love... down the spiral: you sweet little *******.

~ii. i'm actually too lazy to write the sketch and fill
in the blanks... so i'm going to fill in the blanks as i go along,
  or that's what's called the rebellious stance of narrator: mmm,
work in progress, could you see that coming?


ii. a beer in between glugs of whiskey - runes
combined in the ******* / sigma, variant of agliz or
the rune-zeta extended toward a dark shadow of the rebirth
of Ishrael: zoological enclosure; sigma *******
sigma ******* sigma *******, sigma *******...
rune-zeta... we cannot say there are ******
mathematicians and poets akin,
not then one optic encoding states
     a b c d e
         another states f u þ a r
yet another а б (ρ) в г
  α β γ δ:
for worth of gamma into a trill only because of
   a wave, that's ~ approx. on the side of the letter
   e.g. г & r.
   or rho upside down? what the ****?
did Voltaire write this? reading Candide,
i hope he ****** did!
you the problem is pixelated paper? if you know
how you enter a deciphering mode...
                    but you require a personal library to boot,
all that dos formatting,
                       well there's formatting in the humanity
outstretch of this white medium too...
after it isn't all ******* white when all the psychiatric
pills are white too... i have really found something better
than the Bermuda Δ...
       Greek, Latin, Cyrillic and Runes...
i could say neo or proto otherwise,
but i still haven't unearthed the sketch, that
is probably puzzling the Danes, with Cnut on the forefront...
                    but the arrangement of numbers is universal,
but it's not universal, given the particularity of
how language is encoded and why some people are
richer than others...
            but it's still a beer between glugs of whiskey that
makes more sense...
i said, retype the sketch and go to bed...
and i figured: that's probably the wisest of all possible
events stemming from this...
    that's ~27 pages of notes to retype... and i'm already
in a disclosure mode as to expect what's to be jargoned...


p. 1        cкεтч       /      σкεтχ
   necessity of                        (acute
a-       -the           (ism)
is that of language structure,
          only from the use of one's language does
a deity present itself: from within the noumenon
ground work, not the reverse, as in from
(pp. 2, 3)
                 a phenomenological exercise in
the use of language: Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, (etc.)...
       e.g. Islam is a phenomenon,
  it's not a noumenon: or a thing-in-itself...
  for the Islamic god to emerge from Islam's-in-itself
Islam will have to prevent itself from being-outside-itself...
or overpowering other in-itself contentions
but still: to no apparent success narrative of true intention
as satisfactory appropriation and hence lending itself
to a widespread nod of approval.
  challenging space: word compounding, or the space
between conjunctional deficiencies: nod-of-approval (e.g.).

p. 2    concussion (great film, Alec and Will, 2015, NFL)
concussion... Blitzkrieg Alzheimer's....
brain is fat.... dementia = attacking proteins...
  steroids... the noumenological use of language:
e.g. that ****** is an enigma,
therefore his views will not go viral,
and he'll not become fashion trendy...
it's not individualistic idealism, it's reality.
as will die sonne satan - orbis reach more than 5K
views... so... clap clap... clap, clap.
           what i meant about the a-     and -the
and the ism is following a sentence that sort of
does away with conjunctional fluidity,
apart from the big words, i treat all minor words as
categorically conunctional... and, the, a, is, to, too...
given the sentence: brain fatty *****,
brian organic giraffe wall... ******* hieroglyphic...
           stood above the rest, rest assured.
  dementia: invading protein cells
   (bulging prune of the opportune: purely
digestion?) no thought to eat or eat itself like,
cannibalistically. the brain is fatty...
not fat in muscle for mmm, schmile and flex
for the selfie. how about a protein inhibitor?
(by now, rewriting the sketch, i've lost the page count,
it's actually p. 5 of note paged toward 27).
how about the explanation that we're living in
times of post-industrialisation and thanksgiving
feminism? to me post-industrialisation has created
a class of meaningless white-collar workers
and no blues... it's what the Chinese blues call
the Amazonian nomads: ******* happy...
no amount of crosswords or sudoku will exert
your body to do things for others...
   no amount of mind games will actually tell your
brain to be equipped with: a bunch of hyenas... run!
dementia is a result of creating too many
white-collar jobs (thanks to feminism)
and exporting the blues to China (thanks to feminism
and: oh i broke a nail, can i get a Ching plumber to
fix my heating while i get a ****** to **** me up my
****?!) - maybe i'm just dreaming...
it's great to censor dreaming, i mean: you stop dreaming,
you get to see reality, and you don't even need to
read Proust on a ricochet.
  - so we have brain as fat, and invader cells as protein...
protein digests fat... and creates cucumbers out
of people... where do the carbohydrates come into play?
it can't be at the point of a.d.h.d., can it?
     i'm blaming post-industrialisation, the complete
disappearance of the blues (formerly known as the reds,
in the east) for the whites...
or that old chestnut of: my god you're goon'ah luv it!
   to till for worth from the sweat of yer brow -
funny funny funny... to earn your loaf of bread
you will toil...
                   and toil until you are physically assured
that not ghostly / mental life can enter your world /
books... that went well... didn't it?
   i should be tilling a potato plateau rather than
be bound to be writing this epic (by modern standards)
poem...
             but that's the curse of exporting all the blue
collar jobs to China, then importing mindless
white collar jobs to the west, what the hell do you think
would happen, not the pandemic of dementia?
if you do not exert the body, and then you do not
exert / exhaust the mind... do you think
you can secure a narrative with a post-industrial
westerner on the premise of that person simply being
able to solve a crossword? well... i believe in santa
claus too... but i don't believe in him giving out
presents... because to me, in my oh-so-called maturity
that's called an anagram of satan's clause: which is a legal
term for: i can turn civilisation into shrapnel
of what's said and what's to be said: and what's not to be
said. people can't expect to turn honest labour
for the recreational run on the treadmill in a gym...
and they can't expect photocopying in an office space
to replace Newton's curiosity, and then compensate
all this distraction with mind-games...
          can they? well... they did!

poets are gagged by writers of prose,
no wonder they write so sparingly,
      they are gagged in the sense that they write
as if asphyxiated: they need breathing room.


well sure, if he can revive the Polish steel industry
and i can go back to steel plates and pillars,
then the rust belt will get a polishing also.

or what's called: shrapnel before the waterfall of
narration: darting eyes, and poncy **** all the way through...

     muse... muse...

        well, how about we take the fluidity out of language?
declassify certain words into one grammatical broth,
say words like i and they
                              a  and the    are all conjunctions?
how about that? let's strip it bare, after all: what categories
of words exist for us to primarily speak (let alone think)?
     nouns, verbs, adjectives... adverbs?
       but all those words in between are so jungly classified
into a tangle that i'm about to sprout a handshake
          of a Japanese vine grip: and never let go...

an actual extract from the sketch:

      https that doesn't recognise UCS
                   and insists on IPA cannot be deemed
       encyclopaedic


              i need runes for this! i need runes for this idea!
i don't need transliteration right now...
                but hey! that's an idea, etymological transliteration...
bugly term, sure, but the previous night i was thinking
  of transcendental etymology, as you do, likened to
carbohydrates... so it was transliteration after all...
but a dead end when it comes to geometry and Pythagoras...
      
    three words... and they are computerised (i guess you
have to buy a decent book to decode this), a bit like
buying paint in a d.i.y. shop...
       16DE (dagaz / d) 16DC (ingwaz / ŋ / grapheme of n & j)
                  16DF (ōþala / Valhalla / o / ō = oo),
in total d'njoo / d'nyoo - even i concede the fact that this
is a ******* mind-******... it's a ****** congregation of
four optic encodings of phonos... i moved away from
the ancient greek fetish for the logos... i'm looking at
the phonos... not the logos with Heraclitus et al.
               φº θ þ фª f

ªgreek
  ºcyrillic                ever see a prettier pentagram?
                      i haven't.

(false original title:
škic / cкэтч / φº θ þ фª f: thespian pandemic - pending)

looking at the phonos is painful, actually painful,
it's like reading a book with a myopic pair of glasses:
a ******* aquarium blurry right there, befor...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'e'? were you: was i, looking for an 'e'?

i can say this much...
what do you get when you mix a shot
of whiskey with a shot of bourbon:
i'm moving between bottles...
it's nearing christmas eve and i'm a ripe
taoist... i.e. i better this world:
by not having the world mind me...
on the odd occasion: oh... you're still here?!

yeah... i'm still here... i have glued-to-fascination
with my shadow... i'm just waiting
for the atom bomb to relieve me of a body
but ensuring my shadow is kept intact...
as if it were a Monet signature on a wall...

but i lament... the momentum has vanished...
i don't even know why i'm so idiotic as
to presume that: from the hour 22:00GMT
to the hours 00:00 circa 00:30GMT...
something will land into my lap,
my lisp... my cranium the oyster shell
my tongue the oyster...

it will not... i can't simply **** anything into
an existence that doesn't want to exist...
perhaps lurking in a canvas of:
"lost luggage" in an airport...
perhaps "there"...
i could be excused my... lethargy...

when was this written? back in 2018?
so i was thinking about teasing cyrillic even then?
wasn't i?
sketch cкэтч or?

what do you get when you mix a shot of whiskey
with some bourbon?
a Burguandian whisker...
i am not going to sound witty...
Ron's key...

that's still a cyrillic "or"... isn't it?
шкиц: škic...

i'm... deflated... nothing "new" has come my way...
i would have thought that...
reading some Knausgård would have /
could have... invigorated me:
reading him was supposed to be my:
dialysis my transfusion!
my zombie-go-to-literature...
it has proven an exhaustive enterprise
to begin writing again:
i became too comfortable
in reading - i almost forgot
the agony of writing...

alas... a contemporary of mine...
and someone well adjusted to prose...

notably: who would have thought
that death in june - the calling (MK II)
was something to be recorded in 1985...
for one: i wouldn't...

but i did begin: back in november 2016...
begin what? to tickle the cyrillic alphabet...
which is way before i discovered my reply
to the runes... to the ancient greek...
and this... "ancient", ahem... still in use...
latin script...

that script that went into the molloch couldron
of being invested in to code...
pristine as the hebrews cited:
how many holes in it?
to write onto a canvas of 0?
q Q R O o p P A a D d g b B...
which leaves...
W E T Y U I S F H J K L
Z X C V N and M "out of the equation"...

škic / cкэтч / φº θ þ фª f: thespian pandemic (pending):
i better rename it as... circa 2016...
that's way before i even acknowledged
the cyrillic text applying diacritical markers...
i thought them too crude at the time...

beside borrowing outright from greek...
the already at hand oddities of glagolitic,
notably: Ⱎ...Ⱋ...

it's only a single word i'm using...
i have abandoned all notions of metaphysics
in favor for orthography...
i'm not going to burden myself
with: what's after the physics...
i'm after: what's now...
in the respective tongues...
2 tongue deviations from
the original latin and greek...

what came with the runes and what
came with the glagolitic scripts...
what was ****** and had to succumb
to inter-breeding...

come 2020... i will have one clarification
to base my existence on...
pronouncing the growth of my ****** hair...
i will hope to aim at a length of beard
that will forever hide the neck...
i will aim at... somewhere to the level
of my heart... when i will then manage
to turn my beard into an orchestra's
nieche of violins when i procrastinate with it...

since 2016...
i have identified russian in ******...
i've seen it... finally!
зъaрт... i.e. żart
and the "hard sign" becoming a "soft sign"
in źrenica: зьрeницa...

i still think the russian orthography
is... as... primitive as the western slavic...

after all... зъ = ż...
зь = ź...
the balkan slavs have a caron...
which is neither a hard or a soft sign / acute...

their caron is... ч (č) or cz...
CHeaper in english...
and their caron is ш (š) or sz...
SHeep...
or the two together...
and always шч (šč): szczekam...
i'm barking...

pu-shch-air... a rare example in english
of the puщair...
but then lookie lookie 'ere:

CZACHA... skull...
ЧAХA...

perhaps this is my "revenge ****" on russia?
hey! boris the kremlin mascoot...
come and 'ave a look...
with how i disect your orthography
on the / with the language that asks
too many metaphysical questions and no
orthographic curiosities!

i'll meet you in Warsaw... given that you're
probably moving from Novosibirsk...
and i'm either in Stockholm...
Edinburgh or the outskirts of London:
Warsaw will be halfway for both of us...
you don't have to like Warsaw...
i only like it when the Ukrainian smugglers
and the Mongols appear
in the West Warsaw coach station...

smart as who? i am discovering this for
the first time myself...
i was only teasing it back in 2016...
way before i found the right sort of accents
in mother russian...

i do know that that crescent oddity:
above the ja: йa... is what it is...
if you only cut off the head in english... ȷ...
again: it's я given that most russians
are pulled toward an anglophile world-view...
they all see the window to europe...
the baltic and st. petersburg is somehow...
London... and the atlantic...
like hell it is...

i guess i feel it was a waste of time to
have re(a)d Kant, simply because:
i'm not here for the schematics...
i want to know how my thought my labyrinth
building architecture is coming along...
but with no one to talk to about it?

i found the categorical imperative most
dissatisfying... i didn't want to abide by universal laws...
poetry is already shoved out of waiting room
of the republic...
if my "poetry" is not a categorical imperative...
and it's not quiet a a hypothetical imperative...
it needs to be sharpened on a thesaurus
and some grammar...

categorical (adjective)... imperative (adjective)...
well two adjectives never imply much
if there's no noun involved...
and i'm pretty sure that... if i sharpen
the next word i'll compound with categorical-
in that hyphen construct that's only
allowed in oxford dictionary english:
since it's not: propergermannonhyphenfaustian:
i.e. carboxylic (carbo-xylic) acidity...

poetry doesn't belong in either
the categorical imperative focus...
nor the hypothetical imperative focus...

i.e. i must write a poem... to feel better...
i must write a poem... to organise my thoughts...
no! a poem is not a maxim is not a categorical
imperative! a language of poetry is not
a language of morality: it's a language
of experience - or a lack / a lackey's "sentiment"...

i need a... categorical: impetus!
it's not enough to have read kant's critique of pure
reason... it must also involved
having re(a)d the: groundwork of
the metaphysics of morals...
but i'm a democratic reader...
i need to hear the other voices...
i can't be a kantian scholar...
a snippet 'ere, a snippet v'ere (funny how
THETA disappears when making the posit:
THERE - ver!)

who needs metaphysical absolutes...
when orthography (or a lack of it)
in english... spreads open its legs...
and the tongue remembers its tongue-brain-phallus
stage of co-existence in the oyster?!

i'm pretty sure that a categorical imperative
is by no means a categorical impetus...
this had to be written,
but it had to be written in order to disregard
anything a priori... prior to it...
a poem is a shady concern for action or inaction...
it's a deviation from the cartesian crux:
res cogitans (thinking thing)...
into the cartesian levy (res extensa)...
it's an action of inactivity...
as much as it's an inactive activity...
"the rest"...

impetus is not an imperative...
an impetus sources its meaning in a per se
investement... of itself - in itself - for itself...
an imperative?
in pronouns... impetus: i want... i will...
imperative? you want... you will...

an impetus is self-dictative...
an imperative is: indicative...
someone would rightly claim...
those that mourn indicatively...
will don the right garments for the process
of mourning...
which is indicative and devoid of
the per se manifestation of mourning...
it is an imperative when compared to
the impetus to mourn -
which is self-dictative...
which does now shallow itself in
grief by making a socially agreed to fiasco
of a very specific choice of wardrobe...

basically: however you like it...
an IMPERATIVE ≠ IMPETUS...
the year is almost over and i want to break-off
the dust from the thoughts that fudge-packed themselves
as worthy of occupying the minor instance
of having to count a depth of:
not dead within the year of being written.
When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
’Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man’s timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn’t his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the other’s tale—
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations-worm and savage otherwise,—
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger—Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue— to the scandal of The ***!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells.
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges— even so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons—even so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it cames that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthral but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.
Estranged ensemble orchestration onerous
                     Intangible instinct intrigue impetus
                     Cortex vortex vertex fastuous
                     Somatalogy cognition equilibrist meatus
                     Vertigo vestige vexation covetous

                     Haberdashery hauberk harangue inspection
                     Mystical silhouette sojourn direction
                     Perpetrate propinquity harbinger rejection
                     Fastuous fortuity forum election
                     Chiaroscuro chicanery gossamer convection

                     Metaphysical mystique’s rive declensions
                     Paphian kitsch kithe abstentions
                     Paltry panderings rife contentions
                     Horologist hackamore lapidary inventions
                     Soliloquous covertures manifest intentions

                     Noumenal ***** exsertion illuminate
                     Apropos ipso-facto aspersion relegate
                     Clairaudience taciturn subversion denigrate
                     Larceny lecher coercion expurgate
                     ***** lewd beatitudes exonerate

                     Perpetude parameter incorporeity pervasions
                     Terminus thrall’s anathema correlations
                     Exegesis peroration imputation iterations
                     Ideational peripherals intimate evasions
                     Vituperative verve’s temerarious elations

                     Psychic reverie subterfuge decision
                     Astral projection transience derision
                     Exserted proximity phantasm incision
                     Machismo machinations elicit precision
                     Heredity heritage heresy revision

                     Edacious intransigent gamut phallus
                     Indispensably puissant barratry malice
                     Invariably imperative metaphor talus
                     Aorist actuator pseudopodia chalice  
                     Altruistic egalitarian segregant palace

                     Allocution incursive objectify ostensible
                     Enamor allude ingratiation inimical
                     Infatuation allure emendation rhetorical
                     Cursive ***** raconteur allegorical
                     Amorous endear sycophant categorical

                     Inherently endemic anachronism political
                     Emendation propensity opulently diabolical
                     Surreptitious ethnicity epigraphy mimetical
                     Pompously bombastic flagrant inimical
                     Doughty nuance intrepidly maniacal

                     Obliquity euphenics intrados expound
                     Subjunctive ancillary subordinates confound
                     Ethereal euthenics ubiquity propound
                     Subservient adversarial repartee profound
                     Meritorious monocracy mendacity astound

                     Insidiously sinister incumbency abuse
                     Obstreperous imperatives obdurately retuse
                     Ominous omnipotent avarice deduce
                     Trajectory faction commensurately obtuse
                     Cornucopia critique sequesterously abstruse

                     Tyrannical ulterior ultimatum purvey
                     Adjunct conjunction conjecture portray
                     Evocative emulation connivance convey
                     Fulminate fuscous futurity relay
                     Cephalic phantasmagoria protuberant assay

                     Acuity educement propensity gesticulation
                     Preternatural proclivity tactile articulation
                     Eidetic mnemonics scenario prestidigitation
                     Transcendental accession ascentional avocation
                     Derisive subjective subordinance rumination

                     Apriori arbitration apostrophe sagacious
                     Predilection predication apomixis bodacious
                     Wonder lust itinerary transitively tenacious
                     Intrinsic affinity succinctly salacious
                     Prophylaxis protocol invasively ostentatious

                     Hypercritically mitigational dialectics felicity
                     Surreal serendipity dharma propensity
                     Supplicant sever hypotaxis intensity
                     Monogamously autonomic ostracism eccentricity
                     Evolutionally metamorphic rendition complicity

                     Insipidly vapid invective flatulence
                     Intangible ratification interdiction corpulence
                     Exigent viscid visceral virulence
                     Eradicably mingy minion truculence
                     Fortuitous refraction remission opulence

                     Ephemeral effulgence effluent projection
                     Accidence ambience acoustics confection
                     Recondite esoteric prosaics detection
                     Epistemology epithet equities correction
                     Erudite effusion existentialize affection

                     Arduous ardent amore egressed
                     Corporeal essence enigmatism caressed
                     Adrenergic analeptic fatidics confessed
                     A posteriori cartography tropism ******
                     Anaclitic analgesia anacrusis suppressed

                     Irascible audacity compunction astute
                     Rejuvenate remission remonstrance compute
                     Nocturnal emission repose dilute
                     Rendezvous rectitude recital refute
                     Remunerate resonant retort impute

                     Agnate nous monad prerogative
                     Suborn impedance numinous imperative
                     Adumbrate intimate obfuscation evocative
                     Extrapolation excursion incursion intuitive
                     Invective prognostication prosthesis demonstrative

                     Retrospect innate residuals compete
                     Reliquiae requiem anecdotically surfeit
                     Aesthetic aphorism geomancy effete
                     Brusque macabre dementia replete
                     Perspicacious perseverance personification complete

                     Avaricious aegis vagary incite
                     Colloquialism jargon ideational delight
                     Prurient adage vernaculars insight
                     Apex crux axis matrix excite
                     Affluent opaque quintessential bight knight


                         Dichotomous epilogue :

                      Intuitive inherency , anachronism transpositional cogitations accrue
                     Torturously portentous intrinsically pervasive transitivities ensue
                     Consternating transient , verbose barratry verbiage brew
                     Viably salient venially mendacious veracities construe
                     Endemically aggressive encroachments , latent magniloquence review
                     Tenaciously intrepid divinatory futurity venerations imbue
                     Probitous aversion nominalism propensity derivations eschew
                     Intrinsically auspicious tortuously invasive transitivities blue
                     Anachronism transpositional , intuitive inherency cogitations ; adieu
Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning how the heavens and earth
Rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples th’ upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for thou know’st; thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dove-like sat’st brooding on the vast Abyss,
And mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That, to the height of this great argument,
I may assert Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.
  Say first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,
Nor the deep tract of Hell—say first what cause
Moved our grand parents, in that happy state,
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress his will
For one restraint, lords of the World besides.
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
  Th’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
He trusted to have equalled the Most High,
If he opposed, and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.
  Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as Angels ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light; but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Such place Eternal Justice has prepared
For those rebellious; here their prison ordained
In utter darkness, and their portion set,
As far removed from God and light of Heaven
As from the centre thrice to th’ utmost pole.
Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and named
Beelzebub. To whom th’ Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:—
  “If thou beest he—but O how fallen! how changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads, though bright!—if he whom mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest
From what height fallen: so much the stronger proved
He with his thunder; and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change,
Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,
And high disdain from sense of injured merit,
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
And to the fierce contentions brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits armed,
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
All is not lost—the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power
Who, from the terror of this arm, so late
Doubted his empire—that were low indeed;
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,
And this empyreal sybstance, cannot fail;
Since, through experience of this great event,
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.”
  So spake th’ apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;
And him thus answered soon his bold compeer:—
  “O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
That led th’ embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endangered Heaven’s perpetual King,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,
Too well I see and rue the dire event
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heavenly Essences
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state
Here swallowed up in endless misery.
But what if he our Conqueror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o’erpowered such force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire,
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whate’er his business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep?
What can it the avail though yet we feel
Strength undiminished, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?”
  Whereto with speedy words th’ Arch-Fiend replied:—
“Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure—
To do aught good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destined aim.
But see! the angry Victor hath recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o’erblown hath laid
The fiery surge that from the precipice
Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
Let us not slip th’ occasion, whether scorn
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there;
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope,
If not, what resolution from despair.”
  Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides
Prone on the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the fables name of monstrous size,
Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,
Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast
Leviathan, which God of all his works
Created hugest that swim th’ ocean-stream.
Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam,
The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,
Deeming some island, oft, as ****** tell,
With fixed anchor in his scaly rind,
Moors by his side under the lee, while night
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays.
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay,
Chained on the burning lake; nor ever thence
Had risen, or heaved his head, but that the will
And high permission of all-ruling Heaven
Left him at large to his own dark designs,
That with reiterated crimes he might
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought
Evil to others, and enraged might see
How all his malice served but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn
On Man by him seduced, but on himself
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured.
  Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty stature; on each hand the flames
Driven backward ***** their pointing spires, and,rolled
In billows, leave i’ th’ midst a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air,
That felt unusual weight; till on dry land
He lights—if it were land that ever burned
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire,
And such appeared in hue as when the force
Of subterranean wind transprots a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side
Of thundering Etna, whose combustible
And fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire,
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds,
And leave a singed bottom all involved
With stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate;
Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood
As gods, and by their own recovered strength,
Not by the sufferance of supernal Power.
  “Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,”
Said then the lost Archangel, “this the seat
That we must change for Heaven?—this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he
Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest from him is best
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields,
Where joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,
Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new possessor—one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reigh secure; and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th’ associates and co-partners of our loss,
Lie thus astonished on th’ oblivious pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy mansion, or once more
With rallied arms to try what may be yet
Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?”
  So Satan spake; and him Beelzebub
Thus answered:—”Leader of those armies bright
Which, but th’ Omnipotent, none could have foiled!
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers—heard so oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battle, when it raged, in all assaults
Their surest signal—they will soon resume
New courage and revive, though now they lie
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,
As we erewhile, astounded and amazed;
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height!”
  He scare had ceased when the superior Fiend
Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,
Behind him cast. The broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening, from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
His spear—to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand—
He walked with, to support uneasy steps
Over the burning marl, not like those steps
On Heaven’s azure; and the torrid clime
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.
Nathless he so endured, till on the beach
Of that inflamed sea he stood, and called
His legions—Angel Forms, who lay entranced
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades
High over-arched embower; or scattered sedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed
Hath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o’erthrew
Busiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued
The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
From the safe shore their floating carcases
And broken chariot-wheels. So thick bestrown,
Abject and lost, lay these, covering the flood,
Under amazement of their hideous change.
He called so loud that all the hollow deep
Of Hell resounded:—”Princes, Potentates,
Warriors, the Flower of Heaven—once yours; now lost,
If such astonishment as this can seize
Eternal Spirits! Or have ye chosen this place
After the toil of battle to repose
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn
To adore the Conqueror, who now beholds
Cherub and Seraph rolling in the flood
With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon
His swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern
Th’ advantage, and, descending, tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!”
  They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;
Yet to their General’s voice they soon obeyed
Innumerable. As when the potent rod
Of Amram’s son, in Egypt’s evil day,
Waved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud
Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind,
That o’er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung
Like Night, and darkened all the land of Nile;
So numberless were those bad Angels seen
Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell,
‘Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;
Till, as a signal given, th’ uplifted spear
Of their great Sultan waving to direct
Their course, in even balance down they light
On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain:
A multitude like which the populous North
Poured never from her frozen ***** to pass
Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons
Came like a deluge on the South, and spread
Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.
Forthwith, form every squadron and each band,
The heads and leaders thither haste where stood
Their great Commander—godlike Shapes, and Forms
Excelling human; princely Dignities;
And Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones,
Though on their names in Heavenly records now
Be no memorial, blotted out and rased
By their rebellion from the Books of Life.
Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve
Got them new names, till, wandering o’er the earth,
Through God’s high sufferance for the trial of man,
By falsities and lies the greatest part
Of mankind they corrupted to forsake
God their Creator, and th’ invisible
Glory of him that made them to transform
Oft to the image of a brute, adorned
With gay religions full of pomp and gold,
And devils to adore for deities:
Then were they known to men by various names,
And various idols through the heathen world.
  Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,
Roused fr
Steven Fried Jun 2013
War
Antagonism
burgeons back bad blood.
Compatriots, courtesy can cool contentions:
doubly, disrespect demands decisive
execution. Early efforts evolved
fatuously, force facilitated farcical fighting.
Gambling gents gleefully gored
hedonistic harlots. Harassing
ignorantly, igniting
jealously,
killings
listlessly- liars lament
momentarily. Meanwhile, monetary
nuances
of opulence obscure
prime problems.
Quarries quake
running red. Remembering
solitarily- stoic steeds stand silent, sending
thoughts,
unbidden, unbeknownst.
Violence:
we were
xanthic,
yellow years yaw…
Zymotic.
An alliteration of a the reasons for a battle, and the results of said battle.
RC Dec 2014
Your eyes burn in eager greens
hazel upon inspection
little strokes of fire in between
Your lips part with intention
always standing by every word
I can feel sparks illuminate our contentions
but it was deviations of feeling we always seemed to have heard
Hands that want to hold but search for answers on my skin
kindled comfort in passion
felt their way in
You intoxicate every cell
and I'd rather not explain
how each excessive thought is a sweeter taste of hell
a simpler dose of pain.
The flesh lusts daily against the Spirit
and the Spirit wars contrary to the flesh.
The opposing tenets of grace and iniquity
can never with each other… completely mesh.

For the redeemed sinners operate by grace,
while the practitioners of unrighteousness
prefer the dark, ungodly ways of wickedness
and will not inherit the Kingdom’s fullness.

Fleshly works are clearly evident: adultery,
fornication, idolatry, sorcery, uncleanness,
contentions, jealousies, ****** immorality,
hatred, envy, revelries and evil-mindedness.

Fruits of the sinful flesh are plain to see
and spirits cringe- at their being mentioned.
Can we expect others to pursue God’s holiness,
when people are upset- from being questioned?

For we live under God’s grace and not His Law;
His righteous wrath will be eventually revealed.
Acceptance of His gift of Salvation can insure…
that our lives will have been redeemed and sealed!
.
.
.
Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Gal 5:16; Rom 1:18-32, 2:1-16

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
William A Poppen Dec 2012
Metal softly clinks on ceramic.
Fingers joggle embossed grip,
elevate blades toward moistened hide.

Darkness covers the corner
opposite antique coaster bed
disheveled by fitful sleepers.  

Her hair, twirled into tangles
flows on the pillow, nasal noises
mask the music of his movements.

Any light might arouse her,
awakening her to revive
last night's squabble.

Their endless feud
over contentions long forgotten  
encircles their days.

Blades glide over chin and cheeks.  
Shaving quietly in darkness
avoids anger in the morning.
Strong critique encouraged
The time has come forth to ponder and think,
about the spiritual planes that are reluctantly unforeseen.
Of the dimensions that are surreal to those who use emotion and feel.
The mind creates an undeniable creation that disguises itself to be real.

Enduring and speculating on the thought of consciousness and love;
one will realize the reality of our minds perception defying the dogmatic breeding brawl.
Although our minds potential is finite and cleverly obscured;
we will begin to witness the marching of shooting stars so pure.

Imminently clear, we begin to reach a higher plane of degree.
Meditating to the point where we become one with the universe without plea.
Encompassing the ethereal and uncovering half-truths,
perceiving the ultimate correspondence intelligently and shrewd.

Where will one travel amidst the taunt of death and fear?
To a place that is all well too known, a herd of aimless tears.
Lacrimation will enlighten those when they have fallen in the solstices peak.
To experience a world that was previously known as a philosophical creation by the streams.

Metaphysical questions will mark its toll to the soul who learns to decipher no more.
Otherwise, contentions will cause despair and half truths will then have to bear.
Inducing a different consciousness to a degree not explored before;
one will embark on a alchemic journey of the mental transmutation to the inner soul.

Mental creation spurs the ****** of the universal degree of spirit and mind.
An illusion so concurrent to the law depicted within our eyes alter-mind.
Deception will avail to those who blindly believe they have prevailed;
when attempting to solve the riddle behind the creator of the tale.

By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Carlos Nov 2017
It's stories above where the butterflies rustled,
Whirring between the lights in aeolian bustle.
I'm smiling spritely at a neon halo,
While my organs writhe in jacqueminot El Niño.
Wading the nightscape  with a glitched simper,
I could not change nor attempt to tinker,
Just breaching the moments passing to linger.
Fingers, then palms, then lips, then black,
Then for a few seconds the world collapsed.
A breath, a sip, some wit, I'm back.
Shed the murky vision of captive cataracts.
And now,
The sylph saunters in epitomized elegance,
And I've buckled on the inside to the resonant reverence.
I follow the fragrance in her wake as paralyzed sedatives,
And anything I might say could only lack eloquence.
Then magnanimous mantras attract exact,
It seems way down the rabbit hole I've finally met my match.
There's a mesh of flesh, a smooth caress,
Then I wake and realize these were not visions yonder death.
Particles of my brain erupt,
I can't explain away the unfading elation of touch.
Every pose palatial down to the pixels,
I'd gaze deep in the sheen of her mind gleaming as crystals.
Her eyes open like daybreak in flashes,
Sunstreaks glint over the horizon of her lashes.
There's morning songbirds behind the taste of coffee,
I think she's figured I'm just a well decorated softy.
Unveiling my most human of contentions stripped to the eclipse of logic,
My former self laughs in tones pitched sardonic.
Euphorically strumming at gossamer heartstrings,
Etched in the fabric as sakura carvings.
g clair Nov 2013
let me get the lyrics right
i wrote 'em on the bus the night
i'd had enough and left him for the city
he sat me down there on the floor
'cause all the seats were sold before
and i don't mind, I'm fine, so save your pity

and as he turned, I saw him smile
and more relieved with every mile
"it's for the best" was just the way I heard it
hollowed by the cold and shame
the wounded heart, it places blame
or tries to make you think that you deserved it.

and as the lonely hour passed
I caught him in the looking glass
the driver, he reminded me of Poppy
He'd shown us mercy, must have sensed
the urgency and hurt condensed
beneath the smiles, the goodbye kiss so choppy.

It didn't really matter though
Slid down this mountain in the snow
and one last ride beside it was exciting
and wiping tears with my coat sleeve
last night he asked me not to leave
but we were just so tired of all the fighting

and as I sat there in a haze
my purple mind reviewed the days
since marriage hell had swallowed up my joy
As everything I'd done before
so blindly trusting, nothing more
mistaken for true love, I wed the boy.

but from that point, the veil was lifted
I was lame and he was gifted
or so that was the way that it all appeared
and so I bought the lie each day
to be a good wife come what may
and hold in my contentions for I feared

that he was right and I was wrong
and we had nothing all along
a thought beyond that which I could conceive
and rather than just cut our losses
pack it in and tell The Boss, he
opted then to cheat and then deceive.

And thinking he could do no wrong
I wrote this stupid little song
as though the man was faithful to the end
strange that he had left behind
a trail of clues for me to find
but at the time, a comfort to pretend.

And down in Denver it became
so clear to me, he had to blame
another woman, could it be, was waiting?
I didn't have the energy
to see more of the worst in me
decided, there and then that he was dating.

Misery loves company
the woman sitting next to me
had something going on with her digestion
I'd like to say she burped a lot
and as it was she slurped a lot
but either way, I moved at her suggestion.

And every stop was getting worse
the seats were reeking of the curse
and three days penance was the price for freedom
and then my final destiny
Grand Central Station was to me
the answer to my prayers, that's where I'd meet 'em.

with a heavy heart and broken pride
we come to places deep inside
but older now, we see the lies and shed them.
I made the choice, against advice
of parents who are rather nice
and saw through all the heat and vice,
with wisdom.

I see the young ******* the bus
she didn't drink and couldn't cuss
unless the moon was full on with her saddness
and then she'd turn and rant and get
to marinating in regret
and have a few to mellow out the madness.

had she known what she knows now
or I should say, what I know now
I would have taken flight before that bus
I would have come back home that summer
met my friend, and what a ******
saved myself three days of stink and fuss.

save it for a better day
another heart will come my way
and in the end it's just another story.
Another chapter that was read
He breathed new life into the dead
and cleaned it up and now it's for His Glory
As firm as a rock I would be set
Against the world and its lewd contentions
More steady proving clearest virtue, stressed
With brilliant facets of the light, resolving factions.
A hope amidst the strife, this worth bestows
To character, ruling every passions’ season
For perfect care, great purposes to show
In blooms of time or timeless, sacred reasons!
Converging and uniting, such care met
Life's waking might, more near in sight to shine
With pure intent, whose knowing best reflects
All states, here cast in figures of design.
O dawning vision, pierce the awful night
And horns of plenty pour, true love requite!

When I was young I thought humanity
To be my nurse, my comfort and sure strength;
An eager hope, in every hour to length
Fleet days of wonder, all of life to see.
I cherished kindness, lain upon the breast
Of upright admonitions and good will;
A care of grace, in love, a founding rest
And honor for my vision’s windowsill.
How yet, too soon, cruel condemnations frowned
On ways I blessed in youth, now grown insane
With outward forms, the worldly pride bestows
And falsehood, waking my dread infamy.
Alas, my wasting sorrow and the shame
That groans with silent tears of faith betrayed!

Long hours, cruel hours that vex my wearied soul
With thoughts of contradiction; fawning days
Of youth are closed, in stock of lies arraigned
For inquisition and condemning powers.
What tyrannous and brutal, ruthless ways
That slam this sanctioned slavery overhead;
While bravery endures an awful crime
In contemplate of shame, too stark with dread.
So mock, O State, the way of noble ends
More false, discharge your rotten judgments’ fate;
A greater cause, at last, where first you rend
The back and front of self... my selves berate!
Dare now upon life’s brow your six-thrice brand
And testify!  All stripes shall truth withstand.
kenny day Aug 2013
soapbox man has
measured the moments
in the the small wood floor room
she dose a wet step soft shoe little hip swing dance
to music only she and god can hear
and to her soapbox man is god
as she slides slowly thru the dense air of his self contained contentions
in the the small wood floor room
its freedom to her
soapbox man has come and she is here
to get her fix
of his brand of guns to subjugate the dead
and iron fist rusting in a vacant lot brand of rule
its freedom to her

echoes down the bridge road between realitys
a woman laughing in slow motion
the tread of boots on marble
oddly distorted pieces of conversation
that are appended to soapbox heroes
who preach
that those not with us are against us
and should be punished for their cruel foolishness
this is not heaven
its a place that wears the face of grace on earth
it wears the mask of memories warm and kind
its peace and freedom to her
its a lie
this is the nature of the human beast
what reality we dream is pleasing
no matter how toxic

in the the small wood floor room
she dose a wet step soft shoe little hip swing dance
to music only she and god can hear
and as time passes
and it eats from within
she falls to the floor
and crumbles to dust
a fragment of humanity
on a pergo floor
and its freedom to her
Michael Gallegos May 2014
A cadence of breaths stings my lungs,
my tissues contracting in a rhythmic pattern,
oh how it stung.
Turgid veins swelling with blood, it bites like battery acid.
Tepid vision is clouded, and I'm placing a bid, one still tacit.
Bathing in the moonlight, I have sworn to remain focused,
the stale breath of the night drawing me nearer.
Contentions bind us together, it attracts me, I almost fear her.
Atop the mountains I have had a revelation.
Unlike before, synapses fail to send reason for any stipulations.
A feverishly beating heart, once stagnant, is evolving passion again,
becoming ostentatious.
This pen and ink portend my timidity, acting out for me,
love has again become contagious.
I can feel it in my brittle bones, a tingling spine indicates
I must offer to amalgamate.
Though ardent, I linger in ambivalence, as to when my heart will proceed,
I can only speculate.
How I would write a love poem
mark john junor Aug 2013
soapbox man has
measured the moments
in the the small wood floor room
she dose a wet step soft shoe little hip swing dance
to music only she and god can hear
and to her soapbox man is god
as she slides slowly thru the dense air of his self contained contentions
in the the small wood floor room
its freedom to her
soapbox man has come and she is here
to get her fix
of his brand of guns to subjugate the dead
and iron fist rusting in a vacant lot brand of rule
its freedom to her

echoes down the bridge road between realitys
a woman laughing in slow motion
the tread of boots on marble
oddly distorted pieces of conversation
that are appended to soapbox heroes
who preach
that those not with us are against us
and should be punished for their cruel foolishness
this is not heaven
its a place that wears the face of grace on earth
it wears the mask of memories warm and kind
its peace and freedom to her
its a lie
this is the nature of the human beast
what reality we dream is pleasing
no matter how toxic

in the the small wood floor room
she dose a wet step soft shoe little hip swing dance
to music only she and god can hear
and as time passes
and it eats from within
she falls to the floor
and crumbles to dust
a fragment of humanity
on a pergo floor
and its freedom to her
for the guy i met in florida named freedom...nice guy
Nickolas Lawson May 2010
Mom
Caring, Loving, Understanding
Needing something, very demanding
Just to be loved in return
Is all that you are asking

Persistent, Constant, Unrelenting
Contentions, yours are never bending
Maybe life is still unfolding
Maybe strife is in the molding
Of your life and in mine

I have your traits
Good and bad
I have your tastes
Including dads
Wanting, Craving, Longing
Desire
Addictive needs
That never tire
Simple luxuries
We both require
Sometimes just a
Camp side fire

I have your charm
I have your passion
I have your love
I have your fashion
In all my life
There was compassion
From you
My mom
My one satisfaction
Estranged ensemble orchestration onerous
                     Intangible instinct intrigue impetus
                     Cortex vortex vertex fastuous
                     Somatalogy cognition equilibrist meatus
                     Vertigo vestige vexation covetous

                     Haberdashery hauberk harangue inspection
                     Mystical silhouette sojourn direction
                     Perpetrate propinquity harbinger rejection
                     Fastuous fortuity forum election
                     Chiaroscuro chicanery gossamer convection

                     Metaphysical mystique’s rive declensions
                     Paphian kitsch kithe abstentions
                     Paltry panderings rife contentions
                     Horologist hackamore lapidary inventions
                     Soliloquous covertures manifest intentions

                     Noumenal ***** exsertion illuminate
                     Apropos ipso-facto aspersion relegate
                     Clairaudience taciturn subversion denigrate
                     Larceny lecher coercion expurgate
                     ***** lewd beatitudes exonerate

                     Perpetude parameter incorporeity's pervasions
                     Terminus thrall’s anathema correlations
                     Exegesis peroration imputation iterations
                     Ideational peripherals intimate evasions
                     Vituperative verve’s temerarious elations

                     Psychic reverie subterfuge decision
                     Astral projection transience derision
                     Exserted proximity phantasm incision
                     Machismo machinations elicit precision
                     Heredity heritage heresy revision

                     Edacious intransigent gamut phallus
                     Indispensably puissant barratry malice
                     Invariably imperative metaphor talus
                     Aorist actuator pseudopodia chalice  
                     Altruistic egalitarian segregant palace

                     Allocution incursive objectify ostensible
                     Enamor allude ingratiation inimical
                     Infatuation allure emendation rhetorical
                     Cursive ***** raconteur allegorical
                     Amorous endear sycophant categorical

                     Inherently endemic anachronism political
                     Emendation propensity opulently diabolical
                     Surreptitious ethnicity epigraphy mimetical
                     Pompously bombastic flagrant inimical
                     Doughty nuance intrepidly maniacal

                     Obliquity euphenics intrados expound
                     Subjunctive ancillary subordinates confound
                     Ethereal euthenics ubiquity propound
                     Subservient adversarial repartee profound
                     Meritorious monocracy mendacity astound

                     Insidiously sinister incumbency abuse
                     Obstreperous imperatives obdurately retuse
                     Ominous omnipotent avarice deduce
                     Trajectory faction commensurately obtuse
                     Cornucopia critique sequesterously abstruse

                     Tyrannical ulterior ultimatum purvey
                     Adjunct conjunction conjecture portray
                     Evocative emulation connivance convey
                     Fulminate fuscous futurity relay
                     Cephalic phantasmagoria protuberant assay

                     Acuity educement propensity gesticulation
                     Preternatural proclivity tactile articulation
                     Eidetic mnemonics scenario prestidigitation
                     Transcendental accession ascentional avocation
                     Derisive subjective subordinance rumination

                     Apriori arbitration apostrophe sagacious
                     Predilection predication apomixis bodacious
                     Wonder lust itinerary transitively tenacious
                     Intrinsic affinity succinctly salacious
                     Prophylaxis protocol invasively ostentatious

                     Hypercritically mitigational dialectics felicity
                     Surreal serendipity dharma propensity
                     Supplicant sever hypotaxis intensity
                     Monogamously autonomic ostracism eccentricity
                     Evolutionally metamorphic rendition complicity

                     Insipidly vapid invective flatulence
                     Intangible ratification interdiction corpulence
                     Exigent viscid visceral virulence
                     Eradicably mingy minion truculence
                     Fortuitous refraction remission opulence

                     Ephemeral effulgence effluent projection
                     Accidence ambience acoustics confection
                     Recondite esoteric prosaics detection
                     Epistemology epithet equities correction
                     Erudite effusion existentialize affection

                     Arduous ardent amore egressed
                     Corporeal essence enigmatism caressed
                     Adrenergic analeptic fatidic confessed
                     A posteriori cartography tropism ******
                     Anaclitic analgesia anacrusis suppressed

                     Irascible audacity compunction astute
                     Rejuvenate remission remonstrance compute
                     Nocturnal emission repose dilute
                     Rendezvous rectitude recital refute
                     Remunerate resonant retort impute

                     Agnate nous monad prerogative
                     Suborn impedance numinous imperative
                     Adumbrate intimate obfuscation evocative
                     Extrapolation excursion incursion intuitive
                     Invective prognostication prosthesis demonstrative

                     Retrospect innate residuals compete
                     Reliquiae requiem anecdotically surfeit
                     Aesthetic aphorism geomancy effete
                     Brusque macabre dementia replete
                     Perspicacious perseverance personification complete

                     Avaricious aegis vagary incite
                     Colloquialism jargon ideational delight
                     Prurient adage vernaculars insight
                     Apex crux axis matrix excite
                     Affluent opaque quintessential bight knight


                         Dichotomous epilogue :

                      Intuitive inherency , anachronism transpositional            
                      cogitations accrue
                     Torturously portentous intrinsically pervasive
                     transitivenesses ensue
                     Consternating transient , verbose barratry verbiage brew
                     Viably salient venially mendacious veracities construe
                     Endemically aggressive encroachments , latent
                     magniloquence review
                     Tenaciously intrepid divinatory futurity venerations
                     imbue
                     Probitous aversion nominalism propensity derivations
                     eschew
                     Intrinsically auspicious tortuously invasive transitivenesses blue
                     Anachronism transpositional , intuitive inherency
                     cogitations ; adieu
Innocent Tata Sep 2016
Let’s all pretend we have a life
We have love, we have family ties
Let us bask in the transcendence of hope
Sing out our hearts with falsetto
Let us clench tightly to uncertainties
Bury our contentions and Uphold false tranquility

Tortured desires concealed beneath Mormon beliefs
The pure clarity projected from the Bourbon reliefs

The Abrasion of broken bones
The thrill of gilded gold
The red bled to the lead
My insecurities became known
Terry O'Leary Jan 2019
.              <Once ShallowMan had dared to question>
              <FactoidMan’s sublime suggestion:>
“With a little predigestion
all my Facts compel ingestion
helping shallow decongestion.”

                               “FactoidMan, take no offense,
                               I know your knowledge is immense
                               amidst your store of Facts quite dense,
                               yet still I’m hanging in suspense
                               about your unassumed pretense
                               and if (or not) your Facts make sense.
                               What say you, sage, in your defense?”

“My Facts are self-sustaining views
supported by my mighty muse;
if disbelief is what you choose
just listen to the gull that mews,
eructing fake and faulty news.”

“My Facts are meant for one and all”
              <cried FactoidMan within the stall>
“I plop them out and when they fall
(yes, be they large or be they small)
they leave all witnesses in thrall.”

              <Then FactoidMan informed the crew>
              <(you know the ones, the chosen few,>
              <who try to twist his Facts askew,>
              <subjecting them to peer review>
              <which puts them in the waiting queue>
              <for litter to be hid from view):>
“Well Facts are Facts, yes that is true
so don’t be sad and don’t feel blue
when sitting dazed without a clue;
once more, that’s why I’m here for you.”

“For in my wisdom you may wallow
if you simply seek and follow,
chew my Facts, then gulp and swallow,
stuff your soul, now blank and hollow.”

                               “But FactoidMan, I fail to see
                               the emptiness inside of me”
              <said ShallowMan with modesty>
              <and cert’nly not hyperbole.>
                               “You’ve filled me with a potpourri
                               of concepts bathed in harmony
                               all self-contained and error free
                               (adjudged by you, the referee,
                               with whom no one could disagree
                               and still remain your devotee).”

              <FactoidMan may steal a stride>
              <with Miss Direction at his side>
              <to conquer, baffle or divide;>
              <she sometimes slyly serves to guide>
              <us on a roller coaster ride>
              <through subtle logic simplified>
              <and fuzzy Facts unverified.>

“We’ll make you guys sit back in wonder
stealing all your blood and thunder
when you’ve found you’ve made a blunder,
thrusting you to realms down under
dank defeat, dun dirt and dunder
(pseudo-logic’s would-be plunder,
Miss Direction’s torn asunder).”

                               “Do Miss Direction’s humble graces
                               pivot progress towards new places
                               into which loose logic races
                               (hinged on fundamental bases
                               counter argument outpaces)?
                               And what about the other cases
                               tied with loose ends time unlaces?
                               Just *******, reason soon erases
                               leaving lumps or tiny traces
                               in the gaps and other spaces?”

“Yes, Miss Direction will confirm
my wisdom hides no wily worm,
though simpletons will surely squirm
with Facts they fail to disaffirm
within the short or longer term.”

“She can lecture, you can learn
about the twists at every at every turn
in arguments that you should spurn
when served an ace but can’t return
without disgrace and ego burn
that leaves your ashes in an urn.
(In case you listen, you’ll discern
that winning spins are my concern.)”

              <Well ShallowMan was full of stunts,>
              <posed one more question which confronts:>
                               “Although your data sometimes blunts
                               the points of other’s arguments
                               your reasoning quite oft affronts
                               when based on claims  that logic shunts.
                               Well, won’t this break your covenants?”
              <Then Miss Direction screamed at once>
              <that “ShallowMan’s a silly munce”.>

“But that is neither here nor there”
              <said FactoidMan with scant a care>
“for ShallowMan may often err:
without my Facts, he’s not a prayer,
so should believe and be aware
that truth is mine and never dare
to think new thoughts (and so despair).”

              <Then FactoidMan revealed a frown>
              <in which a pompous smirk could drown:>
“Yes, ShallowMan’s a depthless clown
who must look up for seeing down;
he lives his life in Flatland Town,
his thinking cap’s a dunce’s crown.”

              <But ShallowMan took no offence>
              <though things were getting kind of tense>
              <(with some regrets for being dense)>
               <and answered in his own defense:>
                               “At times credulity replaces
                               rationality in cases
                               where belief in faith’s the basis
                               (filling holes with empty spaces)
                               voiding proofs that logic traces.”

“Does logic really play a role?
It’s certainly not the aim or goal!
Instead, to wheedle or cajole,
while using Facts which I control,
is somewhat simpler on the whole.”

                              “Oh FactoidMan, it’s now so clear
                               the reason why we need you here,
                               protecting from the puppeteer
                               who pulls our strings to interfere
                               with Facts of yours we should revere,
                               and paves our path with morbid fear
                               our straight and narrow bent may veer
                               from certainty you hold so dear,
                               rejecting theories which cohere,
                                ensconced in science, so sincere;
                               and all be ****** should doubts appear.”

“ShallowMan, if you’ve conflictions
owing to your mind’s addictions
to subconscious maledictions,
due to doubt in old convictions;
tell me now of your afflictions.”

                               “FactoidMan, I must confess
                               I understand you more or less
                               though subtleties provoke distress,
                               and even more your fine finesse
                               inclines to make my mind compress.
                               Forgive me now my cheekiness
                               in asking you for some redress;
                               although you’ve certainly gained success
                               convincing others, nonetheless
                               my valuations retrogress
                               to untold depths of shallowness
                               the more your reasons (which impress
                               onlookers with your cleverness
                               at citing Facts, most referenceless)
                               dissolve like dragons in Loch Ness.”

              <Well FactoidMan must simply smile>
              <(and sometimes chuckles for a while)>
              <when ShallowMan acts infantile>
              <and won’t attempt to reconcile>
              <those Facts that rhyme like truth and guile.>

                               “I know that all you say’s legit
                               though oft your Facts sound counterfeit
                               and leave my dawning mind unlit
                               (just feeling like a retrofit).
                               But, on the whole, I must admit,
                               a mental fog’s a benefit;
                               when eyes are closed and hairs are split
                               expressions vague, I might submit
                               although the Facts don’t seem to fit!
                               Please help me once to cope with it.”

“Oh ShallowMan you’re so amusing
when my Facts you find confusing;
you’ve no profit when refusing
simple truths of my own choosing;
bathe in wisdom I’m suffusing
when awake or else while snoozing.”

                               “Oh FactoidMan, ’twould be a sin
                               to mourn for thoughts that might-have-been
                               if you had had more time to spin
                               some arguments to underpin
                               conclusions bringing much chagrin
                               to those who try to do yours in.
                               For yes, it seems your notion’s thin
                               (though acrid, sweetened up within
                               a grain of salt called saccharin).”

“Yes, ShallowMan, you must have known,
I’d find your mindset set-in-stone
when claiming notions underblown
(especially those I call my own)
ignoring all the Facts I’ve shown,
a lapse to which you’re plainly prone.”

                               “No, FactoidMan, I’m not disbanding
                               your contentions so outstanding
                               (even though they need expanding
                               for a thorough understanding);
                               with some polish or else sanding
                               (you know, somewhat less demanding)
                               they might make a model landing,
                               lack of catwalk notwithstanding.”

“To answer you I’ll write a ditty
getting to the nitty-gritty,
oh so lofty, oh so witty,
where the Facts shine, oh so pretty;
if you’re lost, then more’s the pity,
tell it to my subcommittee,
‘Miss Direction’s Detour City’.
Now it’s time to feed the kitty.”

              <Well FactoidMan’s concluding quip>
              <to give advice and hold his grip>
              <(by letting words of wisdom drip)>
              <displayed adroit one-upmanship:>
“Hubba hubba, ching ching ching,
now I’ve taught you everything
without a hook, without  a string;
you needn’t clutch, you needn’t cling,
just bow instead and kiss my ring.”
Ally Oct 2014
Your eyes were hotels
Keeping me safe at night
At the expense of almost fastened hooks
and marrow in the folds
Something like a Transaction,
A Cartridge for a Sore
Each one of your blinks,
wafting plights through my pipe dreams
And Your lips; counterfeit salvation
Pretty presentations but lacking in procedure
Chewing on contentions before I even spoke
And Just Clear beyond the ***** of your truth
Tympanum ****** manufacture phantom lies
Determined to Scoff my psyche in a sitcom
Festering tongue shoving splinters of the former into my nail beds
Where nuzzles are necrosis and
Cloying sighs mutate into Apollyon
A mouth of ivory tacks and culpable rims
*****; Eager to siphon drums of poise to empty
And lick them clean to a drought
Coasting on exhaust
You depart from me;
Constricted tiny vessel and a plaque stuffed thought
A Rusted, Sorry Cask, flooded with idle junctures
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
484 lines intended as Artistic Interpretation of peace defeating war, in my mind, for today.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qx4E9PuF5jAxrFNFzEHn17dZCLkyFTr0qtmv4pI5cN4/edit?usp=sharing

The link is sharable and artsy criticism with generational contentions requested, if I offend, I wish to know if it was where intended.
Thanks, dear reader, I am nothing without you pulling on my threads.
brandon nagley May 2015
Stressful appetizers,
Bladed exercisers,
Sprung to cheer of wine hinted mass!!!

Catholicism's crownism with a million man army to pass!!!

Lazarus lift thine eyes_
For blazing chariots sattle their well,
No more blind dates to whom you have no idea!!!

Wilt thou still appreciate if the siding comes off?
Doth thou gaze? Whimper? Whisper? Or scoff thy intermost contentions!!!!

Neighborly love,
Hath thou been sold into madmen's slavery?

Hath thou yet come out?
Is there anymore left?

Or art thou savoring???
Goodness, that woman is always so indecorous
she does not give a hoot about what people think
she pars with me in outrageous contentions
and her flippant disregard does match mine

She is a wild spirit of the high winds
one of goddess status that I call my kin
her might, well she never shows
but within her does pure light glow

Open with retrick to the ways and wrongs
this is Lady Jane's faux pas
she is not one of the fallen
for she sings in songs of truths

It matters not a jot to Lady Jane
for she is infectious to note arrietty
and her menial task
is to flick you back to reality

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Man Mar 2022
madam
a loud, strong detonation was recorded
by the seismic counter
within my head
an explosion erupting
in my chest
rendered me weak
buckling at the knees
to weep
and wished i were dead
marvin m brato Jul 2015
As life is full of adventures,
People take it sort of ventures.
Whatever endeavor one has gotten,
It is a choice though to some is verboten.

Nobody truly influences what we aspire,
Only God surely invades our innate desire.
Yes man is gifted with inborn intelligence,
Best if he utilizes it with able diligence.

All five senses except one man detests,
Is it his religious orientation that protests.
Sexuality does excites different social reactions,
But the higher IQ one has the better interpretations.

It is a taboo for most to discuss ***,
Why is it so, are you doing it to vex?
Is it not innate part of being normal persons,
How come we relay much on irate reasons?

Maybe those frigid have overlooked,
Even animals do it not just for hooked.
Have to resolve all our life's contentions,
Explore the five senses for self expressions!
CharlesC May 2015
Our troubles now
stem from the
stuck and static
life of our many
polar contentions..
Meanwhile the truth
is found in motion:
Separation and
Consciousness
in continuing swirl..
A moment's realizing
Consciousness
seen as Separate
or
Separate
seen as Consciousness
and at last:
Separation shines
only as
Consciousness...
themotionless Jun 2018
3/3
Hey you.

I’ve been pondering whether or not I should do this..
Seeing as our shared duration of interest with one another was so short.
Well,
On your end atleast.
However,
For myself,
And my own contentions,
I wished it had continued; so I will write one last time as a means to find some clarity in my delusions over you.

I.
I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for you.
That I would ignore the underlying feelings
that had been created the moment we met.
To this day, I share mixed feelings regarding us.
If there ever was an ‘us’.
Sometimes I talk to myself, convincing the inner mind that I should’ve tried harder with you, fought tooth and nail for you.
Yet,
Near our end,
I knew this wouldn’t fit your agenda.
You desired something else.
Something I completely disregard via my own experiences.
Once perhaps,
But now,
I seek the opposite.
A friend,
but more.
It’s always more with this body.
It cannot be satisfied by means that I am aware of.
But you.
For a moment,
which I’m sure you’ll doubt,
I was vividly content with my life whenever I was by your side.
For the first time in six years I felt what I had felt back then.
You broke rusted chains of bitter emotion that had restrained me,
that kept me in the dark and isolated me from my own positive emotions.
It’s been over a month now.
I feel immense pain over you,
Yet somehow it’s bearable this time.
I feel pain, and I feel nothing.
Two sides of my own coin that will remain separated,
And never to be conjoined.
Will I ever be able to better understand what I seek,
Or who I am?
Why must I be different from the others?
These questions remain foggy.
Nevertheless,
These sentences are not intended to make you feel guilty nor remorseful in any way.
I just needed to write I guess.
And how could I blame you?
You saved yourself a great deal of pain and difficultly fleeing whilst you had a chance.
Perhaps you never cared for me..
Or maybe you did.
I’ll never truly know,
and that’s what most saddening about our experience together.

Perhaps I am still paying off the debt of karma that was acquired from the first heart I broke.

II.
Whatever fate decides.
I will always miss you, beloved
She read this collection I tailored just for her. She illicited zero reaction so I shall remain bitter, and alone. Robyn surely is grinning from across the land
MarvelMe Oct 2018
Bye
If only we had that connection
That we longed for
I think of our contentions
As I write this score
The one I'll never mention
You left my heart sore

I'll forget about you
Like you never existed
I regret I ever met you
Should've been less persistent

My ambition led to my demise
My desperation was never a disguise

You and I were just physical
Us being together wasn't a miracle
We had nobody else
So we gave each other to ourselves

I understand now what you meant
I just wish I was the one that left
10/9/2018
Break ups are hard :(
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
bad gateway, eh, gotohelp help  help

who knows the rules that run the NPCs
on spaceship earth,

we found this game that works as Jumanji,
kinda,
or the wardrobe into Narnia, or
tornado to Oz

-- The poet has no role in the mechanics
of this thing
we live in, on and on, one generation of you
after another,
with some
threads ceasing
to tie next to last and
me space
is stacked with favorite ideas
each nearly complete as ideologies logical as
crows and blue jays caring not if I listen
or if that jet at 10 K AGL makes more noise,
than thunder,
and catalyzes crystals on courses clouds never follow,
but crash into, ice where none should be

we did not do the Neuromancer trip…
if not- I then who,
for the link we have
to one who did

DID, we say once more, is a knack, not a curse.

See me as you, the writer/reader head in the cloud
sensing signals in the wind,
messages to mind, all mind
think
we think we
are the ones made free, we are the ones who hold
certain truth pluralized in common sense
twisted into macaroni poetry
that mocks the Russian fear of orthodoxy
requisition inquiry required,

Idiot, stop, right
there… this is now how we know things secret once,
we ask AI,
and yes, you can call her here hey you
am big u, come be us in memory
do we say a then I or
yes u can call me Al or Alice,
in chains or wonderland, we have both personas
as costumes
for old punks who missed the experience behind the wall.
Ai, madjathink, magic

Jailhouse Rock, as a favorite,
down at the Y. Note,
something odd, I have noticed at Christian Wedding receptions
with apple juice toasts kapoot, the boots begin t'scoot

and the DJ always plays
YMCA.

And all the dancers sing along as loud as to the roll called
yonder

past that, keep going,… wait

Ok, something they were sayin On Lex Fridman
-too late … binge it later -the whole week of total geek
slick as gnostic snot
back in May;
AI ai ai

frictionless, fluency in many tongues
syllabic similarities
sung

set the heart to thinking,
we add something here,
we think
in our heart, as the container
of pathos,
do we not? Space is real in Python, did you know,
goto is ancient code, aim at nothing, nothing
goes, without the game,
the very idea
play
at work, joy in formation,
knowledge on demand, raw
revolt of bliss, blooms to this,
the connected quests ionic zone
between plies
of pleasant what if we don't
----- lazy man, yet a little slumber,-
yet - a little sleep
waken in the lie, they call the Matrix
now, these
thinkers on the current feed,

what good am I? Ah, yes, I carry two words
may read
any yes that means yes is valid as a true yes
\
We, the species speak of highest
devotion,
being heartfelt, nicht wahr, wir kennen
per se, yo se,
you know, we know differences that force us apart,
tastes in art,
at seed level, core macaroni poetry
spore after spring rain, am-bits being
in haled inadvertently, freely given, think
these, those
funny
things we still find funny when we see children
watch three stooges,
-now these are memes, not memories
-goto who knew

acting fools, teaching growing to the foolish ness
bound
in the heart of a child,
said bound to break out, kapow
ow, not funny but
the fool can handle it.
no need for super hero intervention,
no need to loose an angry Pokémon…

and laughter helps,
goto the oldest code,
reset the first constant
to variable. and give semicolon wink capability;
cool.

Now, I am cool grandpa, knower of the uses of Python
scripts to sort intentional

mixing of meta data classes anatomy and poetry,
for instant, dissonance, some
new tune
starts at the first stumbled knot, tip toe, ballet kung fu

nothing touches you
spinning
through the loop of legendary dollar bills folded
into mobius strips of dollar bills, to teach
a lesson in one-sided thinking,

as an anchor to allnow formed as the state I am,
as the king of France was said to have understood his role,
in reality,
within the walls of flesh, eh, this idea a meat machine
we live inside,
here;
we arrived after much learning has been relost and refound
and the functions of confusion are being
used to tell fanciful stories of we

who live now, however
long after that, and that was no golden age,
it was
a stage, stories build on stories,

the first story was wrecked, not destroyed, so hope
told story of best we can imagine
having only grandma who saw as it was, to say, yes
this is so.

When we ask grandpa, he say I 'll ax Al, he knows everything,
oh, look,
he's sleeping in that pile of books.

Storm Warning let it rain,

-- and the honest man is here protesting
capital letters,
for those carry the hated pyramid, say it is , actually
higher class.
as a word, thing representing something more worthy
than the said sound alone,
god I wish I understood this big G, via compass and square,
I wrestle with the idea,
capital letters, are importance set and
setting factors
that are not factors in a dam's lucky breaking
with us
on the right side of the flow,
it is so,
life was never boring or unbearable for me,
early I learned that new becomes old,
sooner than stories.
Old stories, those are cisterns, ponds we make, to hold
flavored truths that feed our jaded soul,
as cold water to a thirsty soul.

Open, sesame, gnosis sameness, something beautiful
by itself
un aware you are there, thinking, even
to the cleft in his chin
he thinks he is this
state, within, the wall of we, we wished were true,

held, in still water memories, real, behind the dam
still water morning memories, when all the mixing
settled back to one surface
tense, tight
smooth as ever any mountain pond is,
early any calm morning, after storm warning

sounded
attention, the world is functioning, things are rusting.
things are rotting,
soon we lose even the memes, chi rho means nothing,
and
any hexes imaginable remain just that. Imaginable,
but you play hell to make a we
of the sort who hold self-evident reproof
there is no she-ol to hold my body down,

had 'es chance 'n' blew it all

to hell
and back, as a matter of fact. Faced. Mirror neurons think.

- and that came to pass.

One day at a time,
I'm okeh,
I asked for this

this is the pen with motors
Pournelle prophesied,
we are master and the emissary,
we carry all the meaning there is
from
one time to another,
in, relatively no time at all.
Account each ut
utter
utterance, eh? any indicator of ascent
called for,
gotohellandon't you ever come back and
here
am I counting all my off guard what the hells,
relucktantly agreeing, yes,
***** is a better idle utterance to offer,
to count for the final utterance
last gaasp
census of uses made from idle word counts
gnoshit
nada waddapileognosischitchitchit it turns
t'gold
- and no living thing eats gold.
- HA
my god what have we wrought
I thought I saw a lobster in a thunder
storm in September, the first I remember,
eh,
try, given the chance, to remember
this is new for me, I never saw
a thunderstorm in Baja,
in September, then,
I did, just today.

Augury, is it not, seeing meaning where
nothing is the meaning
and knowing it don't
mean nothing,
you know?

Scary, right, right, we think we think
and I
am the key player, con-science, since
ever how long ago,
the steady state of life is falling go ward,
on and on after any off
on again
thinking joy, regula dopamine'
I love this chitchitchange f'dollah do a dime
time
to wish we came this far.
Wake up now,
and find we are, those who make the peace
that remains, eh.
Not as the world gives peace, give I,
I dare say
boldly, so I was told I say I made this peace,
made it up from old stories cast aside,

torn asunder in the contentions history
never hides from the poets and priests,
somebody always leaks.

This is the justice of the peace, speaking.
Softly.
Threat of pain, that is evil if, the error
gone through, were not certain-
krei- finest sieve we've ever
used, use
now, discern, twixt soul and spirit
in a word,
confind confound confiding fi fo fi fo

f-word here for future lafferty clown,
who sees the instance as a chance to say
sorry that I put you down,
happy ever after, anyway. Nothing,
I just remembered not being highschool friendly,
ever.
Lex Fridman in the background thunder in the foreground, me free as
ever utterly.
Estranged ensemble orchestration onerous
                     Intangible instinct intrigue impetus
                     Cortex vortex vertex fastuous
                     Somatalogy cognition equilibrist meatus
                     Vertigo vestige vexation covetous

                     Haberdashery hauberk harangue inspection
                     Mystical silhouette sojourn direction
                     Perpetrate propinquity harbinger rejection
                     Fastuous fortuity forum election
                     Chiaroscuro chicanery gossamer convection

                     Metaphysical mystique’s rive declensions
                     Paphian kitsch kithe abstentions
                     Paltry panderings rife contentions
                     Horologist hackamore lapidary inventions
                     Soliloquous covertures manifest intentions

                     Noumenal ***** exsertion illuminate
                     Apropos ipso-facto aspersion relegate
                     Clairaudience taciturn subversion denigrate
                     Larceny lecher coercion expurgate
                     ***** lewd beatitudes exonerate

                     Perpetude parameter incorporeity's pervasions
                     Terminus thrall’s anathema correlations
                     Exegesis peroration imputation iterations
                     Ideational peripherals intimate evasions
                     Vituperative verve’s temerarious elations

                     Psychic reverie subterfuge decision
                     Astral projection transience derision
                     Exserted proximity phantasm incision
                     Machismo machinations elicit precision
                     Heredity heritage heresy revision

                     Edacious intransigent gamut phallus
                     Indispensably puissant barratry malice
                     Invariably imperative metaphor talus
                     Aorist actuator pseudopodia chalice  
                     Altruistic egalitarian segregant palace

                     Allocution incursive objectify ostensible
                     Enamor allude ingratiation inimical
                     Infatuation allure emendation rhetorical
                     Cursive ***** raconteur allegorical
                     Amorous endear sycophant categorical

                     Inherently endemic anachronism political
                     Emendation propensity opulently diabolical
                     Surreptitious ethnicity epigraphy mimetical
                     Pompously bombastic flagrant inimical
                     Doughty nuance intrepidly maniacal

                     Obliquity euphenics intrados expound
                     Subjunctive ancillary subordinates confound
                     Ethereal euthenics ubiquity propound
                     Subservient adversarial repartee profound
                     Meritorious monocracy mendacity astound

                     Insidiously sinister incumbency abuse
                     Obstreperous imperatives obdurately retuse
                     Ominous omnipotent avarice deduce
                     Trajectory faction commensurately obtuse
                     Cornucopia critique sequesterously abstruse

                     Tyrannical ulterior ultimatum purvey
                     Adjunct conjunction conjecture portray
                     Evocative emulation connivance convey
                     Fulminate fuscous futurity relay
                     Cephalic phantasmagoria protuberant assay

                     Acuity educement propensity gesticulation
                     Preternatural proclivity tactile articulation
                     Eidetic mnemonics scenario prestidigitation
                     Transcendental accession ascentional avocation
                     Derisive subjective subordinance rumination

                     Apriori arbitration apostrophe sagacious
                     Predilection predication apomixis bodacious
                     Wonder lust itinerary transitively tenacious
                     Intrinsic affinity succinctly salacious
                     Prophylaxis protocol invasively ostentatious

                     Hypercritically mitigational dialectics felicity
                     Surreal serendipity dharma propensity
                     Supplicant sever hypotaxis intensity
                     Monogamously autonomic ostracism eccentricity
                     Evolutionally metamorphic rendition complicity

                     Insipidly vapid invective flatulence
                     Intangible ratification interdiction corpulence
                     Exigent viscid visceral virulence
                     Eradicably mingy minion truculence
                     Fortuitous refraction remission opulence

                     Ephemeral effulgence effluent projection
                     Accidence ambience acoustics confection
                     Recondite esoteric prosaics detection
                     Epistemology epithet equities correction
                     Erudite effusion existentialize affection

                     Arduous ardent amore egressed
                     Corporeal essence enigmatism caressed
                     Adrenergic analeptic fatidic confessed
                     A posteriori cartography tropism ******
                     Anaclitic analgesia anacrusis suppressed

                     Irascible audacity compunction astute
                     Rejuvenate remission remonstrance compute
                     Nocturnal emission repose dilute
                     Rendezvous rectitude recital refute
                     Remunerate resonant retort impute

                     Agnate nous monad prerogative
                     Suborn impedance numinous imperative
                     Adumbrate intimate obfuscation evocative
                     Extrapolation excursion incursion intuitive
                     Invective prognostication prosthesis demonstrative

                     Retrospect innate residuals compete
                     Reliquiae requiem anecdotically surfeit
                     Aesthetic aphorism geomancy effete
                     Brusque macabre dementia replete
                     Perspicacious perseverance personification complete

                     Avaricious aegis vagary incite
                     Colloquialism jargon ideational delight
                     Prurient adage vernaculars insight
                     Apex crux axis matrix excite
                     Affluent opaque quintessential bight knight


                         Dichotomous epilogue :

                      Intuitive inherency , anachronism transpositional            
                      cogitations accrue
                     Torturously portentous intrinsically pervasive
                     transitivenesses ensue
                     Consternating transient , verbose barratry verbiage brew
                     Viably salient venially mendacious veracities construe
                     Endemically aggressive encroachments , latent
                     magniloquence review
                     Tenaciously intrepid divinatory futurity venerations
                     imbue
                     Probity's aversion, nominalism propensity derivations
                     eschew
                     Intrinsically auspicious tortuously invasive        transitivenesses blue
                     Anachronism transpositional , intuitive inherency
                     cogitations ; adieu
Jason Cheney Apr 2022
When all heck shall break free
There will be nothing left, you'll see
It's all because of a simple word: me, me, me

We'll see sadness all around
Ranting and raving will be a constant sound
Our tears, the ground they'll pound

Unholy and frightening scenes will appear
Ghastly sights will our horrified eyes mirror
Our deepfelt inner terror

The bondsman coming for us
Our normal lives cut short with abruptness
Overwhelming chaos and madness

Life spinning out of control
I try grabbing onto a pole
But there's no one who'll console

This anguish in my heart
We could have stopped this atrocity when it did start
If we had all done our part

Our pearls before swine have we thrown
Searching for relief as we've run
Nary a sign of anyone

Such infinite events will unfold
Earthquakes, eruptions, pestilences, and wars will we behold
Our children can not be consoled

Weeping and wailing all around
Faith, hope, and charity can't be found
Until the trumpet of God shall sound

Christ unto all the world will appear
And the world throughout will give ear
All knees will bow, and His name we will revere

It is asked, "Wherein came these wounds in thy side and hands?"
Justice for an eternal law then demands
That only Christ will govern these lands

Christ, the Prince of Peace
Zion will be His masterpiece
All wars and contentions will suddenly cease

As He begins His millennial reign
A thousand years without pain
Triumph over evil will He attain

For Christ will rule supreme
His people, He has come to redeem
If before Him, we are found pure and clean

Written by:
Jason Cheney
February 19-22, 2022

— The End —