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Universal Thrum Sep 2013
Oh, But what does it all mean Hidalgo?
Are we to fly in the face of the North Wind forever?

My mind has gone blank at the question.
Stranger still, the story perceived in prescient anticipation of the exact mentioned query once expounded upon spanning millions of miles of eloquent esoteric linguini, wit and charm with a dash of philosophic consequence, to fool you (the eager) into belief.

What is belief Hidalgo, but the suspension of reality, for an adept deeper world of unseen truth?

Do we see reality at all my friend? It is already shaped by our perceptions, responds to our expectations, nay we have not a clue, perhaps the arcane texts written by the hobo scholars of old hold the answer, so yet we settle on the material and fixate it as the lone clear star in an otherwise dark and cloudy sky. Mysteries abound behind the cosmos. Even when we look, do we really see, or are we as an insect upon the written page, crawling over the plain meaning? Is our capacity to hear underwhelmed by our propensity to listen? All these senses must count for something, for God is in a blade of grass, is he not, felt by the trodden hoof of the foot.

You’re a clever mad man Hidalgo.

Ay, the penultimate creator, singing in a sea of song, shining in a wave of light, lost in a dance of fractals, we are all the same rascal, blind though we are to the portrait of man, always creating, same as my neighbor, weaving dreams into Technicolor realities to beam into a future unknown. Our descendants watching us as reality television, mocking our fallibility, or perhaps empathizing and learning through telescopes strong enough to win a foot race with the sun; flying around the bend of space time and back.

The birds of the island are calm today; think they favor a slumbering respite from the noonday heat?

Mayhaps we’ll take a stroll across the columnous muddy bed, risking grey clay mummified suffocation; I dreamt as such. Yesterday’s storms make the journey perilous. My own thoughts leak from the grandiose ether and compel me to genius, the condition of the interminably insane or divine.

My bare feet tread the good earth, the 3rd density, in a daily attempt to stay grounded, however my mind is always floating, receiving transmitted whispers. Sanctified secret musings of the muse. Scribbled poetry of another dimension, meaningless to the materially minded, yet wholesome for the moment. Like a thunderstorm whose power is plain, yet unheard and unseen as the forest falling with a tree. Where do the tree and the forest begin? Are they the same root? Like my thoughts from a universal mind, the zeitgeist of an all-encompassing mood, a social memory complex.

The sophists will claim you are dodging responsibility. These tangents serve only to feed your egoic mind, but put no food in your belly nor rent in another’s hand.

Ay, but its creation all the same.
A tirade of compulsions. The ringing of the hill grows, the natural chorus of bugly unison screaming its existence into the manifold, manifesting itself to the initiate.

For what are they asking, could it be peace?

Ha Ha! Those shrill like cries wound the ears of the prideful dog, but are contained in the silences of the infinite potential all the same.

A man may change one hundred lives in a day, and earn no material currency for his unasked effort. Therefore, who is trivial? I change the wind by simply being, its current flows over me and the endless blades alike.

Vibratory love, what is that feeling, the realest phenomena of all?

Bliss in its own awareness, reveling in self-revelation, actualization, the knowingness of the child who still sees the spirit existing in each of the physical realm’s shadows. The taste of the foul and pure passing without judgment to the innocent tongue. A simple being secure with the wisdom of the wise. Does the power come from you or the hill, inspiring motions, accounting on the page symbolically. Break it down further. Dissolve. ******* into nothingness.

What is cheating Hidalgo?

Is the ant called to my arm by its own volition, how did it find me here on this patch of earth formed into mound by ancestors buried below.

Opening up all channels now.

Death locks the door with life’s key.

Should I let him crawl over me repeatedly?

Ten words to speak before the coming of the night.

Creative Destruction
Awake from the trance
Guns and Bullets
Shoot from our hands
Teller of Tales
Faint whisperer
Of sordid man’s
Hallucinatory waking
Follow the Beam
Follow the beam
The world before this world
Secrets unseen
My best thoughts come
As I lie suspended awake in sleep
Before sleep
No troubles
The curse runs blood deep
He closes the book but still speaks in rhyme
The riddle draws madness
The tongue laps up the fire
Drawn from self same wells
Will and Desire
Pruning and Preening
Political Beasts are we
Lost in our notions
I find, I keep
Braggadocioc Players
Upon the Worldly stage
Every person has the story
Only what is real?
What is fate?
So I lift my hat
To another year born true
A quarter century passed
Play the tune


Am I awaken by words from another man’s sleep?
What is the source of the tetradactyl nature?
My hexagonal heap
Of flesh and bones
Earth and dust
Brought together again by unending sound vibrating ceaselessly
I sleep but am not rested
Eat but am never full
The piper plays among the sand
Whirling in the heart of the caged word
If I keep my eyes fixated on a point, in actuality my vision expands and visualizes all

Reputationally speaking,
I am an ant, with male pattern baldness
We forget to chuckle at life’s absurdities, just as we pass by flowers without engaging the fragrance.


Rest your head with the hillside now
Restless wanderer of fantastical dreams

Treading water silently until our legs melt
Just as the weary albatross cries its last song over the harbor or the butterfly ***** its freckled wings, so too will we see the setting of the sun and a coming of the new dawn. If the chalk works carved in the abandoned sidewalk are to be believed, so must we girdle ourselves for the coming tides and lift our spirits once more for the ebb and flow of circumstance. The bike rides in the gutter all the same, and the forgotten cemetery stone stands as testament to the age gone by.
tread Jun 2013
over-caffeinated like a maj-gician (the electricians of existence), Matilda sang her morning brew a lullaby as she convinced breakfast not to panic from the pain of the frying pan- "sit quietly, take the pain, feel the burn- SIZzle! soon you'll be a human being and begin your life as a synthetic deity free within the skin of metastasized consciousness."

soon the egg seized in pleasure; a masochistic joy overtook it as yoke splurged from within like ****** ***** during ******* when the gimp has forgotten the safety word, screaming

BANANA

NEW YORK

CODE ORANGE

  ! ! !

while the perpetrator continues to scream verses from the Bible and Leviticus 1:3; an audiotape of On Being and Nothingness sends chills down the dark-sides spine in a hyperreal realization of the role choice plays in evils mortality.

must we listen while we speak? does reciprocity die in egoic colonization of the African subcontinent of the mind? is this the beginning of an age of autism born within the confines of illuminated rectangles of permissible distance and social hell-frozen-over?

man, you weren't even paying attention.

*******.
inspired by JJ Hutton and Third Eye Candy.
Green Eyed Blues Apr 2017
The truth is the truth
Even if it's a lie
In misconception,
Lurking nearby,
Is a revelation
From which no one can hide
Universal Thrum Oct 2013
To ask you questions would be a sacred honor bestowed by the almighty King
In your presence my spirit rises like rainfall to be reunited with heavenly splendor
On this earthly plane, should our eyes ever again meet, gazes gliding into beloved depths,
pools of blue jungle oasis...lighting curiosity aflame with a way of cool delicacy,
a generous smile and grace

Oh, smite me now so that never again may I know another feeling than serendipitous bliss
Smite me again so that I may be twice smitten, and again and again -
Till every rule is broken and only we remain,
climbing every sensual step upward on the path into ecstatic delight,
Living as if born naked into a cold wind dancing...

This thing we are, creatures of tomorrow..
always hoping to seize the moment plainly emerging before us...as if in a dream...
awakened by the startling realization that reality is created by creators -
those brave souls willing to bleed to sing their song, to share a moment,
making the listener hear and understand -
those lovers of the trial coming through the fire with their hearts exploding,
confirming their existence as more than echoes in the night
The rest only watch as wishful children on a stream side bank,
following leaves swept away by the currents,
so too are our destinies like hidden springs
pushed forward by the force of our wills,
watched by these eyes of Man.

For you, whole egoic worlds shall crumble - come crashing,
magnetized by the Muse's universal command to Love and Be Loved
and in the debris of the old world shall come soaring a roaring pyre to light the velvet corridor to which a tired soul may recline,
easing into the wild nature of passion
with a carnal zest for climatic enlightenment.

Imagine a world ruled by passionate love
The focused heat injected into the heart,
striking the core of being with a burning coal,
defying the seemingly possible constraints of material nature, transforming into the world's most super symmetrical diamond, refracting God's pure light,
shining spectrum bending color into the mortal world,
an unanswerable riddle, the asking itself being the pleasure,
outrunning the crystallization of routine,
for ever-setting suns painting distant horizons,
as the sky welcomes our daily wonder.
I am not
the prettiest girl
or the sexiest

not the smartest
or most talented

but I am a unique
array assembled
of whozeewhatsits

(razor blade analogies
fluorescent petal lips
coloring book flips shifting
hues and lines in real time
intense passion pigments
softened by maniacal sillies
black glitter, tears, tongue, teeth
synaptic syntax screams
billowing belly cavern
sacred swallows swimming
serifs seeping thru sweat
into fluffiest warm cotton
pinksugar dewbloom)

that will render
equivalent yet opposing
inverted complementary
juxta pair of anglepants

exquisitely speechless
with sheer me-ness

hallow mirrors blinding
four egoic eyes igniting
incinerating the dim

and in that stillness
I will feel their them
and feel it feeling
my me

betwixt twisting
our empty brimming
with eternity

...

or maybe
that happened

already
claire Apr 2015
i. Allow yourself to be clichéd. Forgive yourself the comparison to phenomena like stars, tsunamis, volcanoes, and the end of the world.  There is no shame in depicting the galaxies you see in your irises or the seas crashing in your lungs. Don’t for a minute diminish your words because you’re afraid of seeming larger, lovelier, or grander than you really are. Keep writing huge. Keep writing splendorous.

ii. Destroy the anxiety gap between you and your work. Sit down and write whatever’s filling you in that moment. When stupidity comes, embrace it. When unoriginality comes, offers it your deepest welcome. When panic comes, give it a wink and keep dragging your pen across the page. There is no wrong, no right. There is only Something. Do not label the Something in such stark, dull terms as good or bad. If you must label it, label it burning, label it victorious, scarlet, howling, fresh, moving, disastrous, gleaming, but never reduce it to success or non-success. Who are you to determine these things? How can you take what streams out of you and cram it into a superficially constructed box? Would you degrade any other kind of natural release? Would you relegate blood flow or shouting or tears to a simple one-word title? This is your time to glow in full vulnerability, to fall head over heels for every blundering, beautiful thought within you, so build a bridge between you and the paper that will be strong enough to bear your weight. Then cross it.

iii. Know who you are writing for. It should be yourself, not the one who holds your heart or the fire-faced figure in the park at dusk or people who make your soul twist. Write for brave, bruised you; wondering, powerful you. Always you.

iv. Rise above the need to match your creation to a preordained image in your mind. The two will never be the same and this is fine. Accept whatever you produce with tender detachment, then move forward. Remember that every literary icon has felt the same pounding dissatisfaction, and walked about tugging at their hair, frustrated and abashed. Remember they are no closer to divinity than you. Ultimately, we are all just shells through which a greater ocean sings, so let yours wail its melody as it likes.

v. Write without the tight egoic fist; write without a blueprint; write without fear. Write like it is your first day on earth and you are stunned with awe. Write like the caterpillar bursting from its cocoon, transformed, breathless. Write like that.
i've been washing myself
in John Baptiste's fury
more precipitation
of our seasons
saturated by the come'n'go
wait and see
the white swans before we die
crashing naked bodies
in a ***** L.A.
swimming pool
we succumbed
to their glamorous scartissues
carving our egoic existence
that time when you
soaked your hate in
the summer sun
died over and over
like a fish jelly scattered
on the hot sand
we still remembered
our mother's womb
the development of
the caterpillar
butterflies only lived
in our stomach
reproduced on rusted
trains towards
divergent universes
towards
the infinite self.
Rat-tat-tat rizza rap
Humble claps for the fab
Here's a grab, take a jab
I story essay, a sore T ese
... A time without food
Those who eat all day will not understand
A year without ***
Those who always fuel a *** romp will not understand
A life without money
The excessively wealthy will not understand because it's all been inherited and not earned

This way that, check a glance
There is a chance amass
Some things that used to happen will never happen because of time
Some things that used to happen will happen again because of rare chance
Be wise and quick to grab

A time without material things
The materialistically endowed will just not understand
A series of lifetimes in the Light, darkness they just will not understand
A man goes to prison for something he has not done, the one who always gets away with crimes will never know what it means to pay the price

When position is more important than responsibility, honour they will not understand
When killing the egoic mind frees the carefree, life after death they will not understand
When sibling rivalry takes precedence over mediating a family in shambles, peace they will never speak

When the bible is the only book they have ever read, the other side of the story they will never seek
When greatness is all you know and not that your fellow man can also be great, you will never get over yourself
When your dreams overwhelm you because they are too big, you shall remain an almost-been

When you don't know when it's time to hand over power to a worthy candidate, justice and transcendence will never be
Unaware that you are sinking into being a has-been
When political muscle is more important than empowering the subjects of that power, freedom will never sing
And souls forget who they are because they've been trapped in a dome
They are living baseless lives and don't know their way home
They will still call out the tyrannical colonisers by name and be ovlivious to the fact that it has been consistently Rome

A time in the shadows, but all they see and want is glow
A time in silence, but all they know is talking about things that change nothing for the better
This way that, who has the tag?
https://soundcloud.com/omentplays/this-way-that-song
Vernarth says: "ideal of our consciences, we will open the channels in Kímolos, before our subtle bodies, in which they will be opened to us, and how we parabolize, before this pretense of Saint John the Apostle, in the head of mediumship to reach the longitude wave to Hellenika. The interactive vibrational ones will go with the expression of deep reasoning, to pontificate the Mandylion with the Vas Auric, for the effect of the iconification of the idiomatic monologues, for such edges of  Saint Jude Thaddeus and Veronica, and for such an event facing alien forces before the Messiah, that they are like a coherent gadget before the intermittence variants. Channeling to the Cyclades, they will go from east to west wading the waters of the Aegean and Mediterranean, through the channel of the Universe-Duoverse, for inter-consciousness between the Hexagonal Primogeniture in Tsambika, and the triad of Etréstles, Kanti and the Archpriest in Hellenika , with high degrees of awareness of light and the conclaves between both homilies synchronous. Of great drowsiness before the Anemoi winds, they will go through near the voyages of the Trojan chthonic ships, and before the ominous chthonic divinities, for such deities in the Mediterranean substrate, identifying themselves more obviously with Anatolia, which from prehistory has continued to the site of Troy, in a cheesy plan to unite loyalists of Agamemnon, to defeat Hector, between farmland and agricultural revolutions and Akkadian worlds BC, in peripheral outposts, to influence the central regions of Greece and its maritime trade. Hydros influences, for the cycles of the solstice and nature, with those of life and survival after death that is at the center of the concerns that are not translated. In Crete, the supposed cult of great Gods was transformed during the II millennium BC. C. as new actors appear: various animals, plants, etcetera. Given consciousness, the light will be channeled, in the three courtyards of alabaster and between the cinnabar by bending the re-fertilization of the retro channels of the Cyclades, which go from Rhodes and Kímolos, for the discernment. Sometimes it is more gratifying to listen to what you want to hear and not to the real message, the egoic mind that does not come from serials of daunted egos ..., prays with signs of technological shamanism, intervening artificial intelligences, from egomaniacal administered consciences, being strident and iconoclastic for worlds of appearances and illusions. I Vernarth with our own Khaire…, in my mind I go towards the vessels that navigate the andurriales of the elusive identity, trapping it in the totemic animal stratum, in its tracking psychology, but seer of its present ego. Today I will use my Leonatus cap, to separate the anger from the large shadow that clouds my sadness, and from my own victimhood of reduced meekness, which spews violence, blaming it for a ruthless sort of depressive shame and exclusive of everyone's own fear for everything . I will blindfold my eyes against illnesses that will heal in three days, to straighten the ecstasy that grows thicker towards the guillotine, staying on Golgotha without Golgotha, I will create the framework of cinnabar for the pain of the skull, which trembles in my hands, until the Dream becomes vaporous with anger and harmless destruction before your egos, which throb rozagant towards the host entity and the scarified madness. Awakening my nuanced, subtle and anthropomorphic subconscious dreams, with sorrows that hurt my worst self-destructive amorousities before the new memorial, on the veil of Theoskepasti, with his science sheltering itself when yielding over the defeated springs and inaugurating new miraculous courses where I will surrender, full of sorry and more distant from the veil that does not act as a viewer.

Duo time, Duo space, in one I get excited, in the other I retro project, in unreal worlds of epistemic and channeled images ignoring them, in free astrolabe when decrypting my Duoverse, between the Tsambika templets, with the decoded and mutated annelids in trisomy , in ancient trees of plain doors of the Bern Olive Trees. We look at what gratifies and weaves together what weaves the positioning of the approaching stars of the universe, like leaves in psalms, worthy of all-powerful serials, in redoubled humors on the encompassing intraterrestrial chthonic tridents, in tricks of intuition, before skewing my sword Xifos, as an original replica of a night's dream in Tel Gomel, full of alerts that make me laugh chew it in the middle of my mouth on the jerky and the strains of the bear, towards the counterweight of the message of light and lag of the high astral as a bear less. Bustard and angelic breath in withdrawal and in dissolution ... unfinished planet ..., now if I see you channeled and incarnate! Diva emotion, here I analyze my audacity and courage towards being fed up with my omniscient prosopon, such an omniscient telepathic. My soul lies, and my emotion also, because in this way I will treasure the courage of panic, by surrounding myself with the fears of carrying the universe that is resting on the underside of my back at a cost "
Harassment of psychological channeling, against the horns and sights of a peaceful energy confrontation, will make them in Rhodes and Kimolos channel with the stark human finitude of life and finite and non-eternal existence, ad portal with their Aspis Koilé. Unconscious they will continue halfway with their bouquets of flowers for Walekiria, without ever really taking the time to tell her, what time of eternity will make them more crowded for her and her reliquary poem, from deflagration in flame, to insidious break of commitment of fear by telling him that if they revive, they will be others, but if Hetairoi extra Hellenic towards the light of the incarnate vermilion ..., and in a state of loop as "Being of Light". Oh phantom phenomenon that does not scare me ..., rather it disenchants, clinging to my skins that die in the unexpected female muses in Gaia, with my burning and hypertensive ballast, still frequent in me ... As conjecture and presence of Greca life ..., having to promote the matter and atmosphere involved where the valuations, should be tempered in the pressure regulators and the contribution of biodiversity, of the species for the insular life and its chemical balance in the Aegean. The theorem will state in the image of Vas Auric, as sounds of homeostasis, in classrooms, properties of the intervened annelids are consistent, capable of keeping them in a certain internal and stable condition, compensating for the changes in the noise of the intervened patios, towards an environment through the regulated exchange of matter and energy with the outside towards your (metabolism), trying a form of dynamic balance with the sparkling properties of Cinnabar. As a self-regulating biosphere in the conditions of the planet to make its environment of physicality (especially temperature and atmospheric chemistry) more noble with the species that make up life in the compass of two islands unmanned by beings from Gaia, rather as an entropy in magnitude physics for a thermodynamic system in equilibrium, inhabited by intra-dynamic beings that nobly associate, for adaptations of worlds that are not born. It segregates them towards a departure, measuring them in numbers with Gold in their population, from high numbers in states of zero, compatible with the laws of external physicality, for the purposes of watchful guardians, if Gaia's engine is turned on, before this psychic and spiritual combustion?

The laws of this system of closed circuits and channeling will tend to maximize entropy, expiring inhibitory reactions, for the traces of oxygen and nitrogen from the worms, making an express signal of the levitant carbon dioxide, to carry it from Tsambika, in a sigh of two converged energies of Leviathan and Saint John the Apostle, for the clouds in mole of carbonate dioxide, battling over the surviving necromancers and their conditions of activity and reproduction, maintaining these habitable conditions for many and many, in classes that did not enjoy of the life-death-life cycle. Greece, as it will now look like a turbo generator and appropriate laws underlining the extensive fibers concerned, a mole of molecules, in said of equality, of said hypothesis of Vernarth as sub-mythology, rather resting on the growing ivy  to its setbacks, and strangling the signs of satiety of life with properties of open skylights, and properties in tune, with the severe penalties that hurt, even the tolling of the bells and their pain as the millennia pass! Fear, insecurity and frustration will not fit because in the cavity with them, they will cut the abenuz Diospyros, with its stamens usually in sixteen plus its hypogines or inserts at the base of the corolla; like those of female flowers, being greenish or being converted into staminodia. Diospyros with ovaries generally tetralocular, or with eight locules due to false divisions, will make us channel inseminating demigods, under the staff of sub-mythology with Zephian of Horcondising, before the vibrational migrations begin in Hellenika. Just as in this pact with silence and meditation and burning toxic flames, under vulnerable high frequency insolation ..., waking up in Gaia like a sleeping fairy, and invested with extra light shaman, with degrees of synergy and with the simple science of blizzard ... , with low puffs of air of bread and cinnabar burning in the first hosts of hummus, as the homily began.
Diospyros


The day we are born
We are at LOVE's shore
The LOVE within us
Is at shore

Nothing leaves LOVE's shore

It is the learnings
That is stuff in us
That we unknowingly absorb
That make our EGO BIG
To sail our thoughts
Deep outside at seas
While our good being still
Stands at the shore
At LOVE's shore

The thoughts have their
Own ways of intelligence

Thoughts reason out
Big tides and smaller tides
Big ebbs and smaller ebbs
And worries about plans
Of their journey to sail
Back to the shore

The shore...
They have not left at all
In the first place
The LOVE's shore...
That is already within them

It is just an illusion
Or call it a delusion of LIFE
That perceives and imagine things
That may not even exists

We seem to enjoy all these worries
Thanks to the horrid life we live
In pursue of materialistic success
That beats us black and blue with
Doubts, fears, prejudices
Judgments, mistrusts
suspicion and defiance

YOU are at shore
LOVE is at shore
BELOVED is at shore
LOVER is at shore
I am at shore
YOU are at shore
We all are at shore

What has drifted along with
Our EGOIC thought is:
- Our humanity
- Our trust
- Our belief
- Our faith
- Our LOVE

True LOVE will never
Dispose, remove or eliminate

True LOVE will give you FREEDOM
True LOVE will set you FREE, liberated...
To bear, give birth, create
To establish, uphold and build
The stronger bays for
Our Souls at the shore
To give and receive LOVE
At the LOVE's shore


Claire Collins Oct 2014
There is a hunger
Like a gun to yr head
Metal and cold
Empty yr clip
Personal *******
Egoic standup metaphysical *****
Pseudo spiritual people snakin in my garden
Workin gets harder
When you poet all the time
Clock you don't know what it looks like
A vague memory takes over me
At the corner on 15th and Rockford
I'm unheard and disturbed
No it's not ok
Know insanity like secondhand glove fit/spit atheists outta my mouth
Now you know what god Tastes like
Teeth know what gods about
Molar spell
Glamour silver
Share gardens worth of rent/have bent knees to cold Chicago concrete
Ask god
She's listening
With an open hand
Walk
Yr glistening sidewalk shine you concrete vision of glitter and litter
You performance piece about ennui
Sing
Sinner
Yr callouses
Don't ask how ok I am
We all got issues and I know you want a poem
But all I got is tissues and I didn't mean to make you cry
I jut wanted to remind you of the salt of life
The stuff dreams are made of
Homemade hair cloud spun
Wicked sister come whisper In my ear drum
Hum the chemical hymnals from our childhood
Don't hide your big tooth
Chew and chew and Chew
Purposefully at the great growing complacency
hada de mares Jan 2015
Sitting overwhelmed
In fear of my own mind
In fear of my silence
I could only see the truth
Fear is a wonderful state
Lingering on the surface
And when I face it
It walks away and laughs
From afar.

Painful body of mine
When did you become so tangible?
You are a limit
But also my best friend
I can bend you all that i want
And when i face the pain
It walks away and laughs
From afar

And you, inconvenient mind,
Your cooperation is erratic
But in between the moments
Of breath taking insights
And egoic annoyance,
You become silent , walk away
And laugh from afar

I sit here left with nothing
And in quiet peace, i awaken
The loving universe opens her arms
And hugs all that i am away
In purity i become everything
Consciousness, bliss,
perfection, Happiness
I am a child again.
I turn my back to suffering,
Walk away and laugh
From afar
Flesh, blood and bone nothing more nothing less
not a name, body pain or past
an organism void of idealisms
with blood rushing through of rivers vein
H2o is the flow of body rain
hearts turn to stone, programed drones
perched above in egoic thrones
break the trend and begin to mend
so all the lost men can transend
join the concousness, the state of aware
purely awakened
twisted vision upside down
occular nerves spin it around
weird to say the least
it kinda makes ya wonder
where the hell are my feets
I seem stuck to ground like some strange beast
a burdon a body an awkward cavity.
Melissa Rose May 2019
The path of the egoic mind will never bring happiness
5/11/19
******* magical
despite psychopaths
running the shitshow
egoic stoic will unfold
as origami hearts turn
etheric tissue paper
interdimensional winged
aglow in palm
Austin Sessoms Jun 2021
The sun wants to eat us all
The sun wants to eat us all
It would have happened quite some time ago
If the Earth wasn't quite so small
The sun wants to eat us all

It paralyzed my love, as
She stepped in view of the sun
I ran to save her, but I fell myself
Is my spirit strong enough
Is my spirit strong enough

I panicked at the thought that
You might lose your light
I was aware that my body was there but
Yours wasn't by my side
Yours wasn't by my side

So I pushed my arms
And legs to the limit
I was traveling at light speed
But couldn't do anything to
Bridge the galactical gap between us
I couldn't keep up with you
It’s like you travel at lightspeed too

We flickered off and on with the
Enormity and heat of the sun
Then her outline flared as the fire and air
Overcame everything she was and
We were muddled up in the sun

It was a fiery faceless sea
But there’s a part of you I recognized as me
That made incineration feel like ecstasy
You did away with my egoic truth
I was content to think I’d be consumed
                  
Until out of the miasma as two beams of light
We sped through outer space to what we left behind (as us)
Instead of the intensity of being one
We chose the selves we couldn't stand to lose
Not to the fear of our impending doom
Nhlekeleza Nov 2017
Some are there for the party, some are there for the part
In rumination a constant reverberating conscious dissertation
Without hesitation I have said that I love you off by heart but your ears are blind if your heart sees them not those darts

In retrospect I would inspect as I detect this heart's reflect
That you were nurtured some  kind of way, into a nature of some jaded doctrine
Taught to be an object and now a suspect of being a love ******
Many a things do they do the beautiful stones, treasures and shells
But it's all for nothing if the love language stays empty

A void to be never filled as wills are ill
Intentions are impure and stenched with all and every filth
I see the waves as the way you think of intimacy but lose the sight of what you feel within
Who you are to you and what you are to you
It goes back to how much emotion means and the steal of it, how it leaves you, the memory that becomes past
The moment that has passed
A flag of a could have and should have ship
Another X that will have them hex and you're on The Bewitched list again  except there won't be a show about you

The love pulse seems to be gone and silent, because when it comes and hits you; it's riveting, it's agony
Much like drowning or free falling on a very rocky surface without a parachute
It gives you a sense of urgency
It gives you a sense of urgency
It is not tomorrow, not yesterday, not then or when but now, always insistent at this very instant

The grooming then; what were the first words she told by grandmother, mother, sister or aunt - about men
The first words that modelled her becoming
The pictures that fragmented her imagination of personhood
The mantras that have built up as a Zeitgeist driving her gears of paradigms
The very itch in her egoic mind that longs for material satiation except it's never enough

Some are there for the party, some are there for the part
Some live and die for for the velocity of the transcendence of divinity
Some just keep up face
Keeping up face because the paste might replace a gaze of self-hate and inadequacy
You'll know where they stand and what they stand for by how they'll respond, what they'll say or won't say
To know what the love language is is to know what it's not
And our treasures who long to be crowned have been inculcated to calculate the degrees of lust and temporary gain, so nothing good lasts
And golden opportunities seem to just pass because nobody takes a glance at the true Romance Lingui Francua glass

They run for the telly and how flat the belly will look
But slow to write a message saying she's yearning and hungry for your love
So the love star starves and the children of tomorrow call this a fable
But see it's just jaded grooming
No impulse to give of oneself for a just cause, so how will they love wholeheartedly and the love dance rhythm adore?
Just another idyll for the abandoned book store that nobody takes a tour in anymore.
mzumentum/song/love-grooming
Universal Thrum Mar 2014
Show me the limit of love
Is it boundless as a cosmic sea of nothingness,
containing the void of all existence?
Show me an end to love
Does it penetrate all Being,
and I, a part of the whole am taken by its force like a speck of dust in the wind - blown

When the last finger slips the grip, trembling wet with exhaustion,
Will you still reach for me as my own heart reaches for you?

Even as my mind recoils at the thought
And reason rebels at the flawed logic contained within the futility of the last man standing
ambushed, surrounded, bloodied, brave, body quaking, vibrating with manic energy, eyes showering hot tears, posturing proudly, ripping a tattered shirt open exposing a naked chest to a thousand piercing arrows descending,
pounding the skin with a defiant fist in tired rage, unleashing a wild yell, swallowing life and death
He has reached the temple and tasted the wine
laid with gopis
smiled and grunted with monastic pleasure
laughed and welcomed the universe with wide open eyes

And yet, he is a fish tethered to an unbreakable line
pulling away from shore into the open ocean
endlessly swimming, dragging the weight of history
pulling and pulled
the line slacks
the fish desires the pull again
No matter, the proofs are on the chalkboard
unbalanced equations mixed with shifting solutions
dry lips gone beyond explanation
Indigo wild mixed with cinnamon and spent wicks
burnt sage, smoke filled rooms
cleansing the impure surrounding us
hands full of stones
quiet mysteries filled with fingers pointing to jupiter
mouths whistling to saturn
ink dripping under the weight of egoic worlds
squeezed as a juiced fruit
the essence becoming free as a bare foot on the earthen floor
Now, call forth the highest self and scream into the vastness of space,
LET IT GO,
the lower jaw slides forward channeling the full force of passion masking the upper mandible with unrelenting desperation to clean the spiritual house,
turn it over and reel out the dirt,
throw open the curtains and drench it all in sunlight
We are the manifestation of Destiny!
We are the descendants of Myths and Legends!
and no matter where we turn this fact is inescapable,
every corner commands us to seize the nectar and drink it down, uniting with the purpose to resonate
The ten ton weight stretching thin our souls must be released, sinking into the trenches of our past
as we bravely challenge the ravages of time and change and heartache incessant in this animal existence
Realizing infinite waters, diving deep!
Crashing through the moment
spinning, coming to the center of the universe,
it is my own perspective transcended

the past is a pack of hungry dogs forever nipping at my moving feet,
reminding the bitter cost of looking back
Axiana Jan 2015
I am no longer afraid of my own skin
I'll watch you uncover a soul that had been
Slowly unleashing these butterfly limbs
Singing emotions like a hundred sweet violins
Serenading every single invisible hint
Of the ascended master that was growing within
All this time I was more than your eyes could take
Layers upon layers of old energies, they'll fade
Let it change, arrange, let it rage for its own sake
Now I'd trade anything to witness the form that you'll take
As Gaia rises to higher and higher physical planes
Yes, I'll trade this egoic state for an emotional taste
Of the spirit that shifts into this form as of late
Beautiful, magical, powerful human beings make
For the home that will house all that we will create
You will discover and never a moment too late
The ancient illusion will break
A new reality has taken shape
Standing on Heaven, by oak trees and maple
Seeking truth in self as daylight burns purple
A stance of nothing taken for a joke
To mislead followers,
and throw responsibility to the fire

Standing on Heaven, in field of rich poverty
Blinking twice before looking straight
Past far beyond the structure of faces
and deep into the throes of spirit and death and time
where only the sky holds the key
to the door of knowledge and existence

Standing on Heaven, in an attempt to fly
Breaking bones on collapse from high
Coming down to feel the sullen ground,
***** from corporate greed and ignorance
Ah, just another day in Heaven's Hell
Where everyone is someone, forever and more
because humanity is immortal
viewed by the eyes of stature -
Man's egoic need to feel real.
The uniVerse Jul 2020
I’ve not been feeling too clever
I’m under the weather
head in the clouds
for crying out loud
a catchphrase of cliches
this purple haze
was man-made
not in China
from a ******
I tried to squeeze
into my genes
I guess my but
is too big
can you ever forgive?
- this interruption
the language corruption
just trying to do my best
been studying for life’s test
my final exam
gone ham
and turkey
I like to do it *****
feel the soil between my toes
plant my feet and watch me grow
I am a giant
of egoic proportions
my stoic abortions
killing ideas before they’re born
feel free to yawn
go take a break
I will be right back
for goodness sake
you need a nap
your poetry has become absurd
we used to hang on your every word
now this sloth has found a new tree
yet still, it’s a sin for me to sleep
maybe I should try gluttony
and see what else I can add to this cacophony
am I even still making sense?
- or do I need to be benched
I’ve taken more shots at goal
then I care to remember
still keep missing the hole
despite having a mentor
I meant her
she was my teacher
she taught me time waits for no man
yet here I am
still head in the clouds
she wouldn’t be proud
but then I’m not too clever
I’m just under the weather.
Originally Written July 8th, 2019
Jordan Jun 2013
In the naked frontier of past dissapointment I find myself teetering on the precipice of my future demise. Swollen bloodshot eyes heed the story of my emotional bodies thin disguise. Bloodied and battered, my mind is a war field. contemplative and scattered, I sink beneath these lead sheets. Gorgeous and comtempt, I am the egoic epitomy of my souls shallow content.
Corey Lundy Mar 2014
I have these moments when I am completely at peace with the world. I see people walking, trees always nodding but never sleeping, and know that everything - all life - is connected. We are all made from the same materials, and came from the same source. The crippling attraction I feel towards the my dream girl in the library is merely an inborn, natural force that exists in between all things, like subatomic particles within an atom. In these moments nothing is questioned, and everything is perfect.
Then the moment is over. It disappears just as fleetingly as it had arisen, and I’m back in reality. I am reminded of projects due, people to please, and chores to be done. In my heart I know that these things that dictate my life are, at their core, menial and insignificant, yet I go about life treating them as though they are of infinite importance. I dream of the day when I am able become one with the entireness that I sense during these moments of clarity; when I can bathe in the peaceful calm and not feel the weight of egoic distractions. But eternal peace will have to wait, for I have schoolwork to attend to.
the law is an asp
denying true will
there is only one path
thats yours to fulfil
be what you are
not what they tell
the only answer you owe
is to question your self
ethical quandry
is egoic suspense
wasting aeons of time
in this momentary existence
the daemon inside you
makes moral judgement
a surplus requirement
lest you hurt someone else
Derrick Jones Sep 2019
Thinking I see clearly
Comes at a price
I pay it dearly
Spraying windex on glass barriers
Trapped by this transparency
I run wildly through a labyrinth
A prison of my own creation
Crimson, I move with desperation
The direct path overlooked

You are complex and unpredictable
Yet I try to predict you anyway
I put a vision of you inside my maze
I see your actions through an egoic haze
I analyze and interpret in a naive craze
And as I forecast the coming phase
I finally see this labyrinth I must raze

Wisdom is knowing how much you cannot know
Freedom is acting with that knowledge
Truth is the value that sets you free
The only path toward reality

Go shatter the glass
Veer off the path that you created
That you never knew you hated
The false entrapments in your way
So you can finally seize the day

I will not put you in a prison
I will correct this twisted prism
Come join me in this mission
Let’s create a new shared vision
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at https://medium.com/words-ideas-thoughts
Thanks for reading!
Derrick Jones Aug 2020
Silver speckled specks sprinkle the night sky
Spectacular sparks
Spots of light, flying by

A meteor shower

I stare up at the sight
Lying in a quiet field
The cities light far in the distance
Delighting in the darkness
A portal to another dimension often hidden
Paradoxically, a reality obscured by light
Away from the truth the light reveals
I now relish in the truth of the dark
The view of the night sky
A portal to the past
Yet also to the present

Back supported by the cool, firm earth
My visual field consumed
Filled with infinity
I soon realize
Here, now, in this moment
I have no head

Where my head should be
Is the night sky
Myriad stars and the endless space between

When juxtaposed to infinity
Actual, immeasurable infinity
Even my stubborn ego
Cannot keep up the fight
I dissolve into the night
And each gleaming point of light
Sometimes streaming across so bright
A glorious glint
On a short fated flight
Undertaken anyway
Without even a hint
Of spite


Each ephemeral illumination
Mirrors the spark of creation
The egoic conflagration
This meandering mentation
Of thought
Pure invention
Now caught
My attention
Now an ought
Instead of is

Rumination replaces reality
In between the stars and me
Not physical, still I cannot see
My attention follows helplessly

Infinity recedes
Thought impedes
Advice I do not heed
A voice I do not need

As suddenly as it began, it disappears
The thought vanished, my mind clears
Again I have no head
My bed is the earth
My view is infinite
Each star a blazing hearth
Billions giving birth to light across the galaxy
In this small piece that I can see
I peacefully float
In infinity
No self at all
No head to call my own
I make the world my home
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at https://medium.com/words-ideas-thoughts
Thanks for reading!
Robert L Jun 2018
Is the nature of egoic fecundity
a reflection of human profundity?

Or is it just that we are blessed
with ourselves to be obsessed.

And thus to give no further thought
to all the wrongs we have wrought.

In spite of all the things we’re taught,
Even though the sacred we have sought
No peace of mind have we bought.

And no true purchase have we yet found,
Upon the steps of higher ground.
Hollow though this promise sounds.

Perhaps as humans we’re bound to see
if there’s a chance that we might be
Better than we thought we’d be.


© Copyright 2018 Robert C. Leung
I walked it
to keep me from
walking back into
the slaughterhouse

read renewed obit daily
spattered on asphyxiating
pulmonary walls when
you moved on in
an attempt to replace
our magical rarity

maybe it was for
the exact same reason
you put the gun in
your lonely mouth

preferring suicide to waiting
for unsuspecting heart
to get massacred

again

choosing instead to stroll
hollow self-made planks
with egoic illusions
of control

I won’t

walk it again
I’m stronger now

though it will hurt if
you repeat the bore
boring stale pattern
into open skull

starting
to flower

it will be no
surprise

and I know I
will be OK
this time

look
I know I
terrify you

quake your bones at
thought of home foreclosed
U-Hauled, stooped alone affront
cold locked door

too bad
there’s no one else
who understands what that’s like
who’d hold your hand and dive inside
your diverting fractured ice in melt
saying silently, as I turn to pools

me.
*******.
too.
David Bojay Aug 2017
you have the people that appreciate too late
sometimes
(like me)
you have the ones that appreciate because of what they don't have
you have the ones that don't know what to do
you have the ones that wander inside their useful thoughts they don't know how to apply (but for what)

(i stole my soul back from the evil that once generated my actions)
i want my moments back

reflections to persevere

i want my mom to trust me again
but i can't seem to find bothersome in letting go of what I say
truth seems so close to me, but far from others
(because experiences are different)

i wonder if that girl I met knows her boyfriend begged me to tell her about him even though his mind is garbage

but i'm egoic for saying that, but it's the youthful truth that seduces my existence to fail universally

eating chicken, drinking water

please don't bother         (i need to make more sense)
Ryan Jul 2018
you remind me of

a shadow eternity. remember how we
sat in emergency. glass linoleum and plastic and surgery
rat in a cage escaping wordlessly. see: cat in a burglary
house of mirror manifold she matches me perfectly
satin curtain collective passé theatrical major
playing savior, overacting both as master and maker
your odds are infinitesimal die cast into favor
Snake eyes roll like my saliva gave the apple its flavor
our catch-you-later never manifested, painfully true
Graceland cemetery afternoon parading our youth
Zombie on repeat red cups of ***** and juice
stepping stones like dead roses on anonymous tombs
stop me if i'm stopping too soon. lost in your music
strumming loosely on guitar strings to soften the grooves
mountainside Montana rainstorm, clover and wheat
frozen peaks, molten beneath. we die so vultures can eat
open deeply, soul discrete. woven woefully neatly
we're strangers with our lovers from the moment we meet
throat bleeding, choke/breath please queen cobra release
taste that venom sink slowly float to total reprieve
under the knife, over the needle. call me Mopey Knievel
stunts include both waking up and going to sleep
eau de repeat. doomed to resurface, funeral dirt
rebelling intently against immediate purpose
albatross across me like a soldier of fortune
amassing omens hoping for the locusts to swarm
smoking by porchlight oil-painting a portrait
reminisce compulsively until we're reborn
manifold origami we are egoic reform
i'm sorry nobody warned you
but here we are
dm

— The End —