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"corporeal" poems
It was but was not god nor  goddess. It was but was not deva nor devi. It was but was not angel nor demon. It was but was not metaphysical being of any kind. It was but had not any name nor could it be named. It was but had not any  face nor likeness. It was but had not any body or corporeal state. It was but had not any form nor lack of form. It was but not incarnate nor disincarnate. It was but was not existent nor non-existent. It was but could be described in words in any way. It was but had not depth nor height nor breadth nor volume. It was  but could not be measured in any way. It was but had not materiality of any kind. It was but had not immateriality of any kind. It was but had not space nor lack  of space. It was but had not direction nor lack  of direction. It was but had not nothingness. It was  but had not somethingness. It was but had not anythingness. It was but had not beingness. It was but not Isness or non-Isness. It was but had not light nor dark. It was but had not wetness nor dryness. It was but was not nowhere. It was but was not nowhere. It was but was not somewhere. It was but was not anywhere. It was and then It manifested the nature of Its essence and became the universe and all that was in the universe. All that was incarnate and disincarnate. All that was physical and metaphysical. All that was existent and non-existent. And still It was. It manifested Itself in ignorance of Its own nature as the Isness of the Universe, in order to participate in the existence It had created from Its own essence,on an equal and fair level with humanity. It gave of its own essence by putting a small piece of its own essence--the individual Isness-which is equal and autonomous and individual and independent--into all human bodies,both female and male,at conception. And It made humans ignorant of their nature--the  individual Isness-- as It  made itself ignorant of Its own nature. And then It set humans and Itself the Riddle of the Existence that had come from Its manifestation of its nature as the universe and all that was in it. It posed these three questions to humanity and to Itself. 1--Who am I?. 2--Why am I here?. 3--When I knowhow I am then what is my purpose?. Who am I?. Like all humans,and for the sake of fairness, It manifested Itself  into ignorance of its own nature also. The Isness of the Universe set humans the task of realising their own nature--which is the individual Isness--as an equal individual autonomous and independent part of the essence of the Isness of the Universe,so that they could then show the Isness of the Universe Its own essence and then share existence together. The principle governing Its action in creating the universe and all it contains, especially humanity,was that before you can reach the heights of existence you must go through the depths of existence. Why am I here?. Obviously I am here to answer the first question. After answering the first question --which can only be done existentially and not intellectually-- there would then be the third question to be answered. The answer to the first question lies in regaining your existential nature--the individual Isness--as a small but equal,independent, individual,nameless,formless,genderless and non-physical Isness formed from the Isness of the Universe which is free from Mind and Conditioned Identity. The answer  does  NOT lie in amassing the false knowledge of all "religions" and "political systems  that the Mind and Conditioned Identity have created in order to mislead the individual Isness from realising ,existentially,its true nature. The Isness of the Universe  did not want a world of maniputed puppets,as the Mind/Conditioned Identity,does but in order to achieve fairness in solving the Riddle of Existence,it gave humanity these attributes and the ability to live out their opposites. Freedom of Will. Freedom of Choice. Freedom of speech. Freedom of Truthfulness. Freedom of Association. Freedom of  Debate. Freedom from Violence. Agreement to Disagree. www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
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Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
mannley-collins
The Isness of the Universe is an eternal process
It was but was not god nor  goddess. It was but was not deva nor devi. It was but was not angel nor demon. It was but was not metaphysical being of any kind. It was but had not any name nor could it be named. It was but had not any  face nor likeness. It was but had not any body or corporeal state. It was but had not any form nor lack of form. It was but not incarnate nor disincarnate. It was but was not existent nor non-existent. It was but could be described in words in any way. It was but had not depth nor height nor breadth nor volume. It was  but could not be measured in any way. It was but had not materiality of any kind. It was but had not immateriality of any kind. It was but had not space nor lack  of space. It was but had not direction nor lack  of direction. It was but had not nothingness. It was  but had not somethingness. It was but had not anythingness. It was but had not beingness. It was but not Isness or non-Isness. It was but had not light nor dark. It was but had not wetness nor dryness. It was but was not nowhere. It was but was not nowhere. It was but was not somewhere. It was but was not anywhere. It was and then It manifested the nature of Its essence and became the universe and all that was in the universe. All that was incarnate and disincarnate. All that was physical and metaphysical. All that was existent and non-existent. And still It was. It manifested Itself in ignorance of Its own nature as the Isness of the Universe, in order to participate in the existence It had created from Its own essence,on an equal and fair level with humanity. It gave of its own essence by putting a small piece of its own essence--the individual Isness-which is equal and autonomous and individual and independent--into all human bodies,both female and male,at conception. And It made humans ignorant of their nature--the  individual Isness-- as It  made itself ignorant of Its own nature. And then It set humans and Itself the Riddle of the Existence that had come from Its manifestation of its nature as the universe and all that was in it. It posed these three questions to humanity and to Itself. 1--Who am I?. 2--Why am I here?. 3--When I knowhow I am then what is my purpose?. Who am I?. Like all humans,and for the sake of fairness, It manifested Itself  into ignorance of its own nature also. The Isness of the Universe set humans the task of realising their own nature--which is the individual Isness--as an equal individual autonomous and independent part of the essence of the Isness of the Universe,so that they could then show the Isness of the Universe Its own essence and then share existence together. The principle governing Its action in creating the universe and all it contains, especially humanity,was that before you can reach the heights of existence you must go through the depths of existence. Why am I here?. Obviously I am here to answer the first question. After answering the first question --which can only be done existentially and not intellectually-- there would then be the third question to be answered. The answer to the first question lies in regaining your existential nature--the individual Isness--as a small but equal,independent, individual,nameless,formless,genderless and non-physical Isness formed from the Isness of the Universe which is free from Mind and Conditioned Identity. The answer  does  NOT lie in amassing the false knowledge of all "religions" and "political systems  that the Mind and Conditioned Identity have created in order to mislead the individual Isness from realising ,existentially,its true nature. The Isness of the Universe  did not want a world of maniputed puppets,as the Mind/Conditioned Identity,does but in order to achieve fairness in solving the Riddle of Existence,it gave humanity these attributes and the ability to live out their opposites. Freedom of Will. Freedom of Choice. Freedom of speech. Freedom of Truthfulness. Freedom of Association. Freedom of  Debate. Freedom from Violence. Agreement to Disagree. www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
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66
Beyond a beginingless beginning. It was but was not any "god" or "goddess". It was but was not "deva" or "devi". It was but was not "angel" or "demon". It was but was not a metaphysical being of any kind. It was but had not any name nor could it be named. It was but had not any face nor likeness. It was but had not any body not corporeal form. It was but had not gender nor *** It was but was not incarnate or disincarnate. It was but was not existent nor non existent. It was but could not be described by any words in any way. It was but had not depth nor height nor breadth nor volume. It was but could not be measured in any way. It was but could not be imagined. It was but had not materiality of any kind. It was but had not immateriality in any way. It was but had not space nor lack of space. It was but had not direction nor lack of direction. It was but had not nothingness. It was but had not somethingness. It was but had not anythingness. It was but had not beingness. It was but had not light nor dark. It was but had not wetness or dryness. It was but was not nowhere. It was but had not somewhere. It was but had not anywhere. It was and then it manifested the nature of its essence and became the endless Universe and all that was in the Universe. All that was incarnate. All that was disincarnate. All that was physical and metaphysical. All that was existing and non existing. And still it was. It manifested itself in ignorance of its own nature as the Isness of the Universe,in order to participate in the existence it had created from its own nature on an equal and fair level with humanity. It gave of itself by incarnating a small piece of its own nature into all human bodies,both male and female ,equally but different,at conception and then it made them all ignorant of their beginings as it made itself ignorant of its own beginings. And then it set these Isness incarnated in human bodies the riddle of the existence that had arisen from its manifestation as the Universe and all that was in it. It posed these three questions to Humanity and itself. 1--What am I?. 2--Why am I here?. 3--When I know what I am then what is my purpose. The Isness of the Universe set each individual Isness incarnated in a human body the task of realising its own nature,which was a part of the nature of the Isness of the Universe, so that each individual Isness could then show the Isness of the Universe its own nature incarnated in a human body,female or male equally of any skin colour,dancing the dance of life,singing the song of life.. The principle governing our joint action on creating the Universe and all it contains,especially Humanity,was that before you can reach the heights of Existence you must  go through the depths of Existence. And oh boy are we going through the depths playing these Mind games?. www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
0
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
mannley-collins
The Isness of the Universe
Beyond a beginingless beginning. It was but was not any "god" or "goddess". It was but was not "deva" or "devi". It was but was not "angel" or "demon". It was but was not a metaphysical being of any kind. It was but had not any name nor could it be named. It was but had not any face nor likeness. It was but had not any body not corporeal form. It was but had not gender nor *** It was but was not incarnate or disincarnate. It was but was not existent nor non existent. It was but could not be described by any words in any way. It was but had not depth nor height nor breadth nor volume. It was but could not be measured in any way. It was but could not be imagined. It was but had not materiality of any kind. It was but had not immateriality in any way. It was but had not space nor lack of space. It was but had not direction nor lack of direction. It was but had not nothingness. It was but had not somethingness. It was but had not anythingness. It was but had not beingness. It was but had not light nor dark. It was but had not wetness or dryness. It was but was not nowhere. It was but had not somewhere. It was but had not anywhere. It was and then it manifested the nature of its essence and became the endless Universe and all that was in the Universe. All that was incarnate. All that was disincarnate. All that was physical and metaphysical. All that was existing and non existing. And still it was. It manifested itself in ignorance of its own nature as the Isness of the Universe,in order to participate in the existence it had created from its own nature on an equal and fair level with humanity. It gave of itself by incarnating a small piece of its own nature into all human bodies,both male and female ,equally but different,at conception and then it made them all ignorant of their beginings as it made itself ignorant of its own beginings. And then it set these Isness incarnated in human bodies the riddle of the existence that had arisen from its manifestation as the Universe and all that was in it. It posed these three questions to Humanity and itself. 1--What am I?. 2--Why am I here?. 3--When I know what I am then what is my purpose. The Isness of the Universe set each individual Isness incarnated in a human body the task of realising its own nature,which was a part of the nature of the Isness of the Universe, so that each individual Isness could then show the Isness of the Universe its own nature incarnated in a human body,female or male equally of any skin colour,dancing the dance of life,singing the song of life.. The principle governing our joint action on creating the Universe and all it contains,especially Humanity,was that before you can reach the heights of Existence you must  go through the depths of Existence. And oh boy are we going through the depths playing these Mind games?. www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
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46
sometimes she daydreams about life the way i do about death. it's ironic, i know: black and white aren't meant to be grey and the rumbling hum of expletives digging into mauve lips pass through like desaturated light to translucent statures. it makes everything seem sweeter than it looks. she thinks the ache feels lukewarm, just like those half-hearted smiles she gives out like presents on a holiday, and she may be right. pain is not cold, it covers your entire heart with microwaved fingers, leaving burn marks that leave chars and ashes. snaps the purple heartstrings and clumsily tries to mend it. (i love you because you're corporeal, she murmurs, you keep me sane) she's spider-webbed, sung gossamer and silk while her bar lines drip with ink. and she seems moonstruck—because of me she says and blooms throughout my epiphanies. fancies herself a ghost, a wisp, something ethereal that lingers on my lips like a kiss. and she lingers, oh she does. toppling from the skies and collapsing into my rib-cage, she stays, blushing rose-like and thriving. velvet and constellations of blood clots patter against her skin. it blooms like she blooms, a paint splattered canvas meant for all to see.
0
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:50 AM UTC
starstruckmadgirl
acrylic dreams
sometimes she daydreams about life the way i do about death. it's ironic, i know: black and white aren't meant to be grey and the rumbling hum of expletives digging into mauve lips pass through like desaturated light to translucent statures. it makes everything seem sweeter than it looks. she thinks the ache feels lukewarm, just like those half-hearted smiles she gives out like presents on a holiday, and she may be right. pain is not cold, it covers your entire heart with microwaved fingers, leaving burn marks that leave chars and ashes. snaps the purple heartstrings and clumsily tries to mend it. (i love you because you're corporeal, she murmurs, you keep me sane) she's spider-webbed, sung gossamer and silk while her bar lines drip with ink. and she seems moonstruck—because of me she says and blooms throughout my epiphanies. fancies herself a ghost, a wisp, something ethereal that lingers on my lips like a kiss. and she lingers, oh she does. toppling from the skies and collapsing into my rib-cage, she stays, blushing rose-like and thriving. velvet and constellations of blood clots patter against her skin. it blooms like she blooms, a paint splattered canvas meant for all to see.
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3
Souls search for corresponding measures with gossamer vines through ether Trapped in corporeal form often drifting between the learner and the teacher Passing the souls mate yet missing the eyes of fate’s tomorrow Spending years or a lifetime without a match in loss and sorrow Souls never lost or seen in a colored perfectionist spectacle Yet still touch the heart and mind even though vestigial We cannot find the split soul’s half with judgmental eyes And if all we see is material, we may never hear a soul’s cries For the one that makes us whole often wears a disguise We are lucky enough to peer into the same blue skies So when you find your souls match, you will know in an instant You will feel like the sun, or at the very least like you just kissed it! Walking you into a warmth that is rarely ever seen You feel as though you lay on clouds, or lost in a pleasant dream
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Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
Docstrange
Loves Unbreakable Bond
Souls search for corresponding measures with gossamer vines through ether Trapped in corporeal form often drifting between the learner and the teacher Passing the souls mate yet missing the eyes of fate’s tomorrow Spending years or a lifetime without a match in loss and sorrow Souls never lost or seen in a colored perfectionist spectacle Yet still touch the heart and mind even though vestigial We cannot find the split soul’s half with judgmental eyes And if all we see is material, we may never hear a soul’s cries For the one that makes us whole often wears a disguise We are lucky enough to peer into the same blue skies So when you find your souls match, you will know in an instant You will feel like the sun, or at the very least like you just kissed it! Walking you into a warmth that is rarely ever seen You feel as though you lay on clouds, or lost in a pleasant dream
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14
Swirling spiral of anti-matter Cascading down an endless ladder In non-corporeal states Spirits search for their soul mates One taste and we miss our goal And cling to a second-hand role One state that we all share Bittersweet and unaware Feed on life, consumed to death We devour the world with every breath Forged by chance, nurtured in deceit We glimpse the truth and quickly retreat Our description becomes indescribable Our delusions become undeniable You were once mine for a moment in time I embraced your accustomed wounds Used and abused, starving for love You shone like a Samhain Moon Yet love is alive, not a lie Not a manifestation of will Not a statue of god or paradise façade Nor some unholy devil’s deal I was once young with mind undone Chasing a somber moon Yet time has devoured Those dead flowers Upon that empty tomb
0
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 3:20 AM UTC
TravelerTim
SOMBER MOON
Swirling spiral of anti-matter Cascading down an endless ladder In non-corporeal states Spirits search for their soul mates One taste and we miss our goal And cling to a second-hand role One state that we all share Bittersweet and unaware Feed on life, consumed to death We devour the world with every breath Forged by chance, nurtured in deceit We glimpse the truth and quickly retreat Our description becomes indescribable Our delusions become undeniable You were once mine for a moment in time I embraced your accustomed wounds Used and abused, starving for love You shone like a Samhain Moon Yet love is alive, not a lie Not a manifestation of will Not a statue of god or paradise façade Nor some unholy devil’s deal I was once young with mind undone Chasing a somber moon Yet time has devoured Those dead flowers Upon that empty tomb
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27
Happenstance to the melancholic gives leave the sin of pride. Inbound reconnaissance tells not the bearer of influence. Squeamish at first: a foreshadowing of calamitous bonding. A space between the mark of corporeal and the ethereal; a stringent hiatus That which rattles the concrete foundation of morality is scarcely a malleable recourse. Regret stains the unfounded soul: an enigma of ephemeral perforations. A separation of the unmitigated humanities; misandry topples the writhing snake. Impact; a cleansing of the maker's flaws integrated solemnly. Complacency arrests the administration of the abhorred; unbridled is the autonomy of a guru.   Ambivalent giftedness burdens the reliant and haughty. A flick of the tongue brings forth the cinema mortem. Castaway: alone to wade in the sea of obscenities. A temporal causality allows no mourning to abscond. Negligence is not the enemy, but indulgent wrath. Hesitant: a stroke of qualia begets the end of a maiden.
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Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
dan-hess
The Horseless Jockey
Happenstance to the melancholic gives leave the sin of pride. Inbound reconnaissance tells not the bearer of influence. Squeamish at first: a foreshadowing of calamitous bonding. A space between the mark of corporeal and the ethereal; a stringent hiatus That which rattles the concrete foundation of morality is scarcely a malleable recourse. Regret stains the unfounded soul: an enigma of ephemeral perforations. A separation of the unmitigated humanities; misandry topples the writhing snake. Impact; a cleansing of the maker's flaws integrated solemnly. Complacency arrests the administration of the abhorred; unbridled is the autonomy of a guru.   Ambivalent giftedness burdens the reliant and haughty. A flick of the tongue brings forth the cinema mortem. Castaway: alone to wade in the sea of obscenities. A temporal causality allows no mourning to abscond. Negligence is not the enemy, but indulgent wrath. Hesitant: a stroke of qualia begets the end of a maiden.
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15
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
toreinss-pinwinkel-iii
Iconoclasm
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
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26
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky             Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                      Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                 Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
0
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
toreinss-pinwinkel-iii
Iconoclasm Epithet
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky             Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                      Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                 Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
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26
1634 Talk not to me of Summer Trees The foliage of the mind A Tabernacle is for Birds Of no corporeal kind And winds do go that way at noon To their Ethereal Homes Whose Bugles call the least of us To undepicted Realms
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4.4k
Emily Dickinson
Talk not to me of Summer Trees
1634 Talk not to me of Summer Trees The foliage of the mind A Tabernacle is for Birds Of no corporeal kind And winds do go that way at noon To their Ethereal Homes Whose Bugles call the least of us To undepicted Realms
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9
…uncertainty, my friend, I see uncertainty… there are dark times, though light comes first… let me see: there are happy moments and all things seem to fall in place and desires gain momentum and all things seem to come to fruition… one reaches out, and grasps at what is before and all round and yet things that seemed so corporeal, so physical, they melt and unravel like phantoms, like images in the fog… and I see uncertainty…a darkness moves over the screen, as say shadows over a stage… as shadows behind a puppet-show screen… and there are smiles, friend…there is laughter and joy and happiness… and days of merry-making, and ********** and fortune…. and uncertainty…there is an image of growth and then death… like growth in the fields and then night and completeness and brownness in the lands which were green the day before …uncertainty, I see…. …there is uncertainty… do you see it too? or is it brightness and radiance always and always that you see? it is like wading into a lake to reach those edible plants that grow a little towards the center still close enough to reach without a swim and one walks on firm land and one is nearly there; and then the mud and soil are soft and break below one and one falls and struggles in the water….a sudden fall... ...a sudden uncertainty… I see uncertainty, dear friend… but what do you see, dear friend…? …there is uncertainty… do you see it too? or is it brightness and radiance always and always that you see?
0
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 2:54 AM UTC
raj-arumugam
uncertainty
…uncertainty, my friend, I see uncertainty… there are dark times, though light comes first… let me see: there are happy moments and all things seem to fall in place and desires gain momentum and all things seem to come to fruition… one reaches out, and grasps at what is before and all round and yet things that seemed so corporeal, so physical, they melt and unravel like phantoms, like images in the fog… and I see uncertainty…a darkness moves over the screen, as say shadows over a stage… as shadows behind a puppet-show screen… and there are smiles, friend…there is laughter and joy and happiness… and days of merry-making, and ********** and fortune…. and uncertainty…there is an image of growth and then death… like growth in the fields and then night and completeness and brownness in the lands which were green the day before …uncertainty, I see…. …there is uncertainty… do you see it too? or is it brightness and radiance always and always that you see? it is like wading into a lake to reach those edible plants that grow a little towards the center still close enough to reach without a swim and one walks on firm land and one is nearly there; and then the mud and soil are soft and break below one and one falls and struggles in the water….a sudden fall... ...a sudden uncertainty… I see uncertainty, dear friend… but what do you see, dear friend…? …there is uncertainty… do you see it too? or is it brightness and radiance always and always that you see?
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43
Slough breaker Breathed deep for twenty years Below mortal planes And Corporeal fears A thousand weights You shook, and cracked the Earth Knocked clouds off their perch Rose brooding oath A triumph Violent languor Still and terror Violet stare Perfection As you slumbered The atmosphere turned And poison filled your earth Till coveted rebirth The tarnish Once bitter came to bloom Broke black dirt, severed truth From corruption
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Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
mitakiharashi
dust world
Slough breaker Breathed deep for twenty years Below mortal planes And Corporeal fears A thousand weights You shook, and cracked the Earth Knocked clouds off their perch Rose brooding oath A triumph Violent languor Still and terror Violet stare Perfection As you slumbered The atmosphere turned And poison filled your earth Till coveted rebirth The tarnish Once bitter came to bloom Broke black dirt, severed truth From corruption
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22
I provoke the wind in a dialect shared with him and him alone. He whispers assent, as assuaging liquid draughts glance my submissive frame. A desolate wanderer, incising the burdensome night. Accompanied by none corporeal, I prowl satin fields, illuminated by Luna and Saturn, her amber consort. ©Thomas Gabriel
0
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 10:59 AM UTC
thomas-gabriel-1
Luna.
I provoke the wind in a dialect shared with him and him alone. He whispers assent, as assuaging liquid draughts glance my submissive frame. A desolate wanderer, incising the burdensome night. Accompanied by none corporeal, I prowl satin fields, illuminated by Luna and Saturn, her amber consort. ©Thomas Gabriel
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13
709 Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather From Our Garret go White—Unto the White Creator— Than invest—Our Snow— Thought belong to Him who gave it— Then—to Him Who bear Its Corporeal illustration—Sell The Royal Air— In the Parcel—Be the Merchant Of the Heavenly Grace— But reduce no Human Spirit To Disgrace of Price—
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2.9k
Emily Dickinson
Publication—is the Auction
709 Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather From Our Garret go White—Unto the White Creator— Than invest—Our Snow— Thought belong to Him who gave it— Then—to Him Who bear Its Corporeal illustration—Sell The Royal Air— In the Parcel—Be the Merchant Of the Heavenly Grace— But reduce no Human Spirit To Disgrace of Price—
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17
*blistering day shuns a walk all flock to recycled air-con of malls few venture out* . . . 1. walk along a mountain path dislike snakes wear heavy ankle-boots rough route craggy stones grow tired 2. head on stone fall into drowsy slumber baking brains gathering aches 3. huge mountain appears espy a cut opening along the side a welcoming slit enter slowly step by step seems to brook entry to no more wonder what calls inside 4. distant drumming not afraid joy fills supreme reducing epicenter gentle hands touch and pull in negating every fear melting away bleak thoughts sink deeper into the earth down . . . down . . . down into cavities unknown follow secret canal away from here 5. sweetest eyes greet and kiss fall into soft furrows carried along canal of warmth close the eyes fall in heart with glowing ambience subtle humming felt beneath the soles sweetest honey-lake deeper . . . deeper . . . deeper sublime cocoon - always dreamt of what supreme bliss falls in lap of bearer 6. all cares washed away known memories seem to float off as a dinghy to a waterfall lost over that lip free fall free fall conscience takes a bobbing nap on waves which lull the senses into drifting buoy as conscious dips utter serenity spirit moves freely totally unencumbered / / [awareness - jolted - sudden - open as corporeal fetters take hold once more teeter into rude awakening rub eyes to verify faculties catapulting in greedy succession / / find a hessian bag on rock half-afraid to check inside seemingly empty lift the edge and peer inside / / the most silent rainbow of inner dreams long-forgotten wishes flow into being as rains come down] / / *no more fear.. again no more tension no answering to no deprivation no derision two pure doves hover quite high a pale-blue buoy ~ the only signs of hope blistering judgment dissolves beautiful buoy floating a way.... to marve cut of pure crystal away... on an endless ocean of calm* S T, 20 August 2013
0
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:54 AM UTC
st64
buoy
*blistering day shuns a walk all flock to recycled air-con of malls few venture out* . . . 1. walk along a mountain path dislike snakes wear heavy ankle-boots rough route craggy stones grow tired 2. head on stone fall into drowsy slumber baking brains gathering aches 3. huge mountain appears espy a cut opening along the side a welcoming slit enter slowly step by step seems to brook entry to no more wonder what calls inside 4. distant drumming not afraid joy fills supreme reducing epicenter gentle hands touch and pull in negating every fear melting away bleak thoughts sink deeper into the earth down . . . down . . . down into cavities unknown follow secret canal away from here 5. sweetest eyes greet and kiss fall into soft furrows carried along canal of warmth close the eyes fall in heart with glowing ambience subtle humming felt beneath the soles sweetest honey-lake deeper . . . deeper . . . deeper sublime cocoon - always dreamt of what supreme bliss falls in lap of bearer 6. all cares washed away known memories seem to float off as a dinghy to a waterfall lost over that lip free fall free fall conscience takes a bobbing nap on waves which lull the senses into drifting buoy as conscious dips utter serenity spirit moves freely totally unencumbered / / [awareness - jolted - sudden - open as corporeal fetters take hold once more teeter into rude awakening rub eyes to verify faculties catapulting in greedy succession / / find a hessian bag on rock half-afraid to check inside seemingly empty lift the edge and peer inside / / the most silent rainbow of inner dreams long-forgotten wishes flow into being as rains come down] / / *no more fear.. again no more tension no answering to no deprivation no derision two pure doves hover quite high a pale-blue buoy ~ the only signs of hope blistering judgment dissolves beautiful buoy floating a way.... to marve cut of pure crystal away... on an endless ocean of calm* S T, 20 August 2013
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93
gold pours from your lips tracing the edges of my hips I count every star on your chest diamonds dance along your sides your broken french, silk wrapping me to you, tied us both together, tighter lapis irises look at me clear as the sunset sea your body whispers together we could form obsidium and hauyne our core is fire we'll be together again we had forgotten this feeling primal and both healing thunderstorms begin within me our meeting surely kismet certain as the rise of our moon a volcano becomes active I yearn to be with you soon
0
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
caduceus
Corporeal
gold pours from your lips tracing the edges of my hips I count every star on your chest diamonds dance along your sides your broken french, silk wrapping me to you, tied us both together, tighter lapis irises look at me clear as the sunset sea your body whispers together we could form obsidium and hauyne our core is fire we'll be together again we had forgotten this feeling primal and both healing thunderstorms begin within me our meeting surely kismet certain as the rise of our moon a volcano becomes active I yearn to be with you soon
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21
Arctic and Pure cups emptied of Western laziness gratis Sapphire tears and sparkling beams gathered from the fields shining Pez and elecution exercises Hey Miss, Tell me something a poem about everyplace no fooling, You're so serious and the serfs of the modern hovels are well behaved and none fleshen bodies heads full of squishy wishes consumme my amusement is like a panacea a corporeal healing Flying who-I-haven't-people someone down in my constant solar blaze, one who I devote all clear evidence all the right answers, fairness Ignorance always harms our potential reveal deaths inconsequence and void flying through tunnels creating opportunities for life.
0
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 7:22 AM UTC
senor-negativo
Positives
Arctic and Pure cups emptied of Western laziness gratis Sapphire tears and sparkling beams gathered from the fields shining Pez and elecution exercises Hey Miss, Tell me something a poem about everyplace no fooling, You're so serious and the serfs of the modern hovels are well behaved and none fleshen bodies heads full of squishy wishes consumme my amusement is like a panacea a corporeal healing Flying who-I-haven't-people someone down in my constant solar blaze, one who I devote all clear evidence all the right answers, fairness Ignorance always harms our potential reveal deaths inconsequence and void flying through tunnels creating opportunities for life.
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27
I looked in the mirror today, i don't do it often unless I'm putting on makeup, But i actually looked, My room was dim and the time hit 4am, I had the bright idea of looking, I wish i didnt, My face wasn't my own, You could see the pain, The eye bags weighing heavy all the tears left uncried, I wasn't myself anymore, I was barely a corporeal form of myself, The shadow of you haunting behind me, Its the only time i see you now, In the darkness of my room, With no where to hide
0
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 7:49 AM UTC
bailey_esme-14
Mirror Image
I looked in the mirror today, i don't do it often unless I'm putting on makeup, But i actually looked, My room was dim and the time hit 4am, I had the bright idea of looking, I wish i didnt, My face wasn't my own, You could see the pain, The eye bags weighing heavy all the tears left uncried, I wasn't myself anymore, I was barely a corporeal form of myself, The shadow of you haunting behind me, Its the only time i see you now, In the darkness of my room, With no where to hide
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15
we are nothing but corporeal beings tangible, earthly, and most of all, perishable we are passengers riding in our own trains in a seemingly perpetual motion but we are doomed by our expiry which could already be looming in the distance it might already be standing by the door ready to bury us beneath our tombstones we get reminded by our impermanence only when death himself shows at our doors when we are already beneath our tombstones emblazoned with our own epitaphs we fade into dust, and become one with oblivion but all is not lost, you can still see me looming there in the blooming flower fields, in the open skies out in the ocean, the wilderness i fly with the birds, flow with the breeze and swim with the fishes beneath the sea in all your searching, you won't find me but i am here, now one with the earth
0
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
highwind
memento mori
we are nothing but corporeal beings tangible, earthly, and most of all, perishable we are passengers riding in our own trains in a seemingly perpetual motion but we are doomed by our expiry which could already be looming in the distance it might already be standing by the door ready to bury us beneath our tombstones we get reminded by our impermanence only when death himself shows at our doors when we are already beneath our tombstones emblazoned with our own epitaphs we fade into dust, and become one with oblivion but all is not lost, you can still see me looming there in the blooming flower fields, in the open skies out in the ocean, the wilderness i fly with the birds, flow with the breeze and swim with the fishes beneath the sea in all your searching, you won't find me but i am here, now one with the earth
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20
bury me living for i am in a world of dead where the zombified stumble around looking for meaning maybe it'll make more sense six feet under and down the river styx tie me to a raft and let me drift far, from this meaningless charade known as life
0
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 1:11 PM UTC
manx-kronos-pragna
Corporeal Incapacitation
bury me living for i am in a world of dead where the zombified stumble around looking for meaning maybe it'll make more sense six feet under and down the river styx tie me to a raft and let me drift far, from this meaningless charade known as life
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11
Strangely timed like a midnight rose but this baby's breath breathes life vibrant, visceral, vivacious a requirement in this environment for corporeal sustenance maintaining and sustaining subsequent substances and for which no substitute exists. nor should one. for if this is that without which anguish persists permeating the vastness clearly packing voidish absence reminding that reciprocity not animosity makes connectivity the activity then why bother with formality? or try to deny reality? Grateful nostrils more easily discern Scents that sting and scents that burn Aided by proximity to incense intense senses lives sweeten with flowers' presence sweet airs and flowery essence but there's hesitance in this instance careful to engage or allow mental enrapture one must gauge potential fracture for roses have thorns And I fear morning glory's scorn despite wonders of its consumption born that of which misgivings warn. But know this Golden lotus: Let us lattice. Let us, lotus, Don't pass thus.
0
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 4:40 PM UTC
tvleasco
Desert Flower
Strangely timed like a midnight rose but this baby's breath breathes life vibrant, visceral, vivacious a requirement in this environment for corporeal sustenance maintaining and sustaining subsequent substances and for which no substitute exists. nor should one. for if this is that without which anguish persists permeating the vastness clearly packing voidish absence reminding that reciprocity not animosity makes connectivity the activity then why bother with formality? or try to deny reality? Grateful nostrils more easily discern Scents that sting and scents that burn Aided by proximity to incense intense senses lives sweeten with flowers' presence sweet airs and flowery essence but there's hesitance in this instance careful to engage or allow mental enrapture one must gauge potential fracture for roses have thorns And I fear morning glory's scorn despite wonders of its consumption born that of which misgivings warn. But know this Golden lotus: Let us lattice. Let us, lotus, Don't pass thus.
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35
Rain is refreshing in a strange, backward way. It shocks you out of a deep, prolific lapse of participation in reality and reminds you that you’re still here. You’re still corporeal, tangible, you can feel and you can decide. But rain is still rain. It can be cold and unpleasant to be faced with, or it can be warm and welcoming. Beconing you forth to splash and smile in the reality you forgot still applied to you.     I left behind the idea of full, around the clock consciousness during my last frigid thunderstorm. I realized, during a session already dedicated to realizations, how exhausting it was trying to live my reality to its current extent. How frustrating and soul-crushing it is to have the ambition you truly believed in and planned to embark upon, forgone by the limits of a situation you have no control over. I kept a small jar of ideas and plans in the very back corner of my closet. They were safe, they couldn’t be taken out back and shot nor could they be taunted and destroyed from the inside out. When I was cornered in my intruded closet, when I was taken by the collar and shaken for my truth, they were found. Both above-mentioned circumstances played out shortly but in the opposite order. That’s when it began to rain.     I decided on an alternative: selective awareness. I keep myself alive only feeling and participating when the rain is tepid and pleasant. When I feel the temperature beginning to drop, I fall back asleep, floating through lull and lash, until the sun comes to change the course of my simulation. For days, all I will see is fog. I’m lost and isolated, but that lack of direction comes with an onset of contentedness. There is no one who can see me wandering through a deluded course I have set for myself. I don’t know where I’m walking, I don’t know what’s in front of me, so the warm rain will give me a pleasant surprise as it melts away the fog and gives me hope for sustainable warmth.     The cloudiness that lingers in my head, even when I’m experiencing kindness and sensitivity, reminds me that my effort to make my reality more livable is as viable as staying completely shrouded in fog until I wander off the edge of a cliff. Eventually, as I age out of my simulation, I’ll have skin thick enough to withstand the hailstorm I’ll be forced to reckon with. Resilience is necessary, but hope exists. I often forget it does while I’m wondering, but serenity and light remind me that fog isn’t all I’ve devolved into. Rain will come, and so will spring.
0
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
acarroll
coming out
Rain is refreshing in a strange, backward way. It shocks you out of a deep, prolific lapse of participation in reality and reminds you that you’re still here. You’re still corporeal, tangible, you can feel and you can decide. But rain is still rain. It can be cold and unpleasant to be faced with, or it can be warm and welcoming. Beconing you forth to splash and smile in the reality you forgot still applied to you.     I left behind the idea of full, around the clock consciousness during my last frigid thunderstorm. I realized, during a session already dedicated to realizations, how exhausting it was trying to live my reality to its current extent. How frustrating and soul-crushing it is to have the ambition you truly believed in and planned to embark upon, forgone by the limits of a situation you have no control over. I kept a small jar of ideas and plans in the very back corner of my closet. They were safe, they couldn’t be taken out back and shot nor could they be taunted and destroyed from the inside out. When I was cornered in my intruded closet, when I was taken by the collar and shaken for my truth, they were found. Both above-mentioned circumstances played out shortly but in the opposite order. That’s when it began to rain.     I decided on an alternative: selective awareness. I keep myself alive only feeling and participating when the rain is tepid and pleasant. When I feel the temperature beginning to drop, I fall back asleep, floating through lull and lash, until the sun comes to change the course of my simulation. For days, all I will see is fog. I’m lost and isolated, but that lack of direction comes with an onset of contentedness. There is no one who can see me wandering through a deluded course I have set for myself. I don’t know where I’m walking, I don’t know what’s in front of me, so the warm rain will give me a pleasant surprise as it melts away the fog and gives me hope for sustainable warmth.     The cloudiness that lingers in my head, even when I’m experiencing kindness and sensitivity, reminds me that my effort to make my reality more livable is as viable as staying completely shrouded in fog until I wander off the edge of a cliff. Eventually, as I age out of my simulation, I’ll have skin thick enough to withstand the hailstorm I’ll be forced to reckon with. Resilience is necessary, but hope exists. I often forget it does while I’m wondering, but serenity and light remind me that fog isn’t all I’ve devolved into. Rain will come, and so will spring.
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4
1399 Perhaps they do not go so far As we who stay, suppose— Perhaps come closer, for the lapse Of their corporeal clothes— It may be know so certainly How short we have to fear That comprehension antedates And estimates us there—
0
2.2k
Emily Dickinson
Perhaps they do not go so far
1399 Perhaps they do not go so far As we who stay, suppose— Perhaps come closer, for the lapse Of their corporeal clothes— It may be know so certainly How short we have to fear That comprehension antedates And estimates us there—
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9
The words come flowing out when the blood is boiling under. That is when vengeance comes to rescue your soul longing to fulfill our thirst . I just want to strike him with my rage and want to literally burn him into ashes just so that I can roll into those, deathlike corporeal ruins leaving soul frenziedly lust of mine to satiate . I want to hold some of his powdery residual remains as the rest just scatters by ; staring at my ascendancy. Till then let another par of anger pile up and get that load off with my bare hands , bathing in the pleasant sight of his blood stains . My vendatta would be eternally be lasting even in afterlife . After all it is a fight of a soul to get his righteous stand someday and may that be by , A DEATH OF THE OTHER ONE
0
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
Theindianconservative07
~¤Cravings for his Eternal Silence¤~
The words come flowing out when the blood is boiling under. That is when vengeance comes to rescue your soul longing to fulfill our thirst . I just want to strike him with my rage and want to literally burn him into ashes just so that I can roll into those, deathlike corporeal ruins leaving soul frenziedly lust of mine to satiate . I want to hold some of his powdery residual remains as the rest just scatters by ; staring at my ascendancy. Till then let another par of anger pile up and get that load off with my bare hands , bathing in the pleasant sight of his blood stains . My vendatta would be eternally be lasting even in afterlife . After all it is a fight of a soul to get his righteous stand someday and may that be by , A DEATH OF THE OTHER ONE
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23
Thoughts, ideas and words Have always been corporeal objects in my life - Things, with weight and volume. If you could see them, stacked precariously one atop another Pile after pile and stack after stack, threatening to bury me alive, when the balance is destroyed someday when I try to remove the wrong item at the wrong time - Well, If you saw them like that - The way I see them – You would, no doubt call me a hoarder, A hoarder of ideas, thoughts and words, Living safely in my own little world Surrounded by the waste products Of an over active mind, Unwilling to part with even the most useless thought - Secure that someday they will all fit together into in a grand poem That will free me at last.
0
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 11:04 AM UTC
joe-thompson
Hoarding
Thoughts, ideas and words Have always been corporeal objects in my life - Things, with weight and volume. If you could see them, stacked precariously one atop another Pile after pile and stack after stack, threatening to bury me alive, when the balance is destroyed someday when I try to remove the wrong item at the wrong time - Well, If you saw them like that - The way I see them – You would, no doubt call me a hoarder, A hoarder of ideas, thoughts and words, Living safely in my own little world Surrounded by the waste products Of an over active mind, Unwilling to part with even the most useless thought - Secure that someday they will all fit together into in a grand poem That will free me at last.
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17