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"engraves" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
Organic has touch, Metal outlasts. Organic has sound, Metal just echoes. Organic has cushion, For emotions within. Metal stays strong, Can take the toughest hits. Organic has taste, Depending what it ate. Metal vibrates, To try to imitate. Organic has colors, Metal has paint. Organic forgets, Metal just waits. Organic fades, Metal floats in gray. Organic needs air, To sustain health. But Metal stays, Right near our chests. Organic craves, As Metal engraves. Organic understands, Metal just learns. Organic has a name, Metal has a brand. But for some reason, Found more in our hands. Keep organic close, And to metal stand.
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Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
Organic Metal
corrupt me-- through judgement slicing through my naked flesh, and expensive machinery around my neck; remind me-- of every insecurity until it engraves into my conscience and scars blur hope the future brings. defeat me-- for I am small; vulnerable and a prisoner to those words stamped onto my arched neck with your shoe.
0
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
Society
They say time heal all wounds And though that may be true For the majority of scenarios It’s not an irrefutable fact For our childhood scratches May be a fleeting kind of pain Yet there are some scars that life Engraves deep within our soul Like a bullet whose trajectory Missed my heart by a few inches But hit a far more damaging target My very last bit of innocence Now, when I look into the mirror Every broken bone lost its meaning And the echoes of who I once was Are all that remains to be seen
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Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC
Scars
Black lake reflects a trail of ivory plumes, Cockatiel's alabaster tail of feathers. Such loveliness can only be the moon's, Which skinny-dips in lunar altogethers. Raccoons catch fish along the shore, Fastidious paws clutching their prizes. She paddles her canoe with silent oar, Observing nature's soft nocturne disguises. Silhouetted loons rock low upon the waves, Asleep till sunlight sets them to their songs. Her wake bisects the path the moon engraves, As wilderness whispers tranquilly she belongs. She'll stay the night foregoing comfort fire, Moonlight enough by which to pitch a tent. And come tomorrow should anyone inquire, No trace reveals her overnight encampment.
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Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 5:23 PM UTC
Unobtrusive Traveller
Why don't you just **** me Break a bone and thrill me Let go of the night Cut stones with your might Carve a face in the moon Remind the word of monsoon Tears of the rain Address of a name Hands of pain Strangles insane And you wonder again If you can take a leap of faith And the bed breaks From all the riding you do Staring into the mirrors Never could find you Gunpowder smells sweet Knives don't bleed And scars you keep To remind you to weep The clawed beast leaps And hurts you in the eye With his shiny paws He engraves a smile And now you smile No need for a mask Crystal ball shows the past With your life you're charged Soldiers march On the order of the king A nightingale sings Waiting for spring It's killed by the beast Winter it brings Deaf can see the pain Hands feel the sunrise Ocean drowns self Tears can cry Time talks to gravity Learn a few moves Disturbed and disfigured With every blue moon Frog yearns for a princess His story to complete But a scorpion waits A lizard competes Warmth of heart Coldness of eyes Princess strangled Ugly paid the price Snake catches a mice He's hungry no more Vulture eats the snake Natures a ***** Can you find the key Maybe there's no door Young yells existence Old sings the Lore A hollowed heart Left to suffer and die Erased of gods existence Angels never said goodbye Portrait of heaven Hangs on the walls of hell A part of my dream Where lucifer fell 'tis where Satan dwells And thirst never quells Walks inside his cave To hide inside his shell Walk around naked And show all of your scars This night is so dark Let's paint some stars A faded moonlight Brings alive our shadows A unicorn bleeds and dies Far away in the meadows Waiting for a ****** In need of a master with its last breath Beauty is monster
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Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
Beauty is monster
Why don't you just **** me Break a bone and thrill me Let go of the night Cut stones with your might Carve a face in the moon Remind the word of monsoon Tears of the rain Address of a name Hands of pain Strangles insane And you wonder again If you can take a leap of faith And the bed breaks From all the riding you do Staring into the mirrors Never could find you Gunpowder smells sweet Knives don't bleed And scars you keep To remind you to weep The clawed beast leaps And hurts you in the eye With his shiny paws He engraves a smile And now you smile No need for a mask Crystal ball shows the past With your life you're charged Soldiers march On the order of the king A nightingale sings Waiting for spring It's killed by the beast Winter it brings Deaf can see the pain Hands feel the sunrise Ocean drowns self Tears can cry Time talks to gravity Learn a few moves Disturbed and disfigured With every blue moon Frog yearns for a princess His story to complete But a scorpion waits A lizard competes Warmth of heart Coldness of eyes Princess strangled Ugly paid the price Snake catches a mice He's hungry no more Vulture eats the snake Natures a ***** Can you find the key Maybe there's no door Young yells existence Old sings the Lore A hollowed heart Left to suffer and die Erased of gods existence Angels never said goodbye Portrait of heaven Hangs on the walls of hell A part of my dream Where lucifer fell 'tis where Satan dwells And thirst never quells Walks inside his cave To hide inside his shell Walk around naked And show all of your scars This night is so dark Let's paint some stars A faded moonlight Brings alive our shadows A unicorn bleeds and dies Far away in the meadows Waiting for a ****** In need of a master with its last breath Beauty is monster
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82
Your presence is crepuscular. In my  beating heart, I feel muscular When the twinkling starts. Your infinite laughs Absorb me like gravity. Each humorous blast Engraves the moons cavity. Your ostentatious sense Explodes like a super nova With every chance, But you're only my Casanova. Your spirited eccentricity Forces all into orbit Causing the weather to become dusty Taking my love from Mars to Jupiter. I admire you as the sun, Honoured to shine with your light. Even as far as Pluto, The sun would be bright.
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Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
Galactic Love
It's summer. The season of love. People search for love, But some people become heartbroken. Couples taking walks along the beach, Sitting on the sand, Staring at the lovely orange-pink sky, Looking at the sunset. Some people look for a summer fling, But as long as they had a great time, Not regretting it, The memory engraves into you. A few people go on holidays, Finding their one true love, But this summer love ends, When autumn finds its way to interrupt summer. No matter whether you're still a couple, If it was just a summer fling, Or you were left heartbroken, It was still a once in a lifetime opportunity to fine love.
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
Summer Love
a new poem (words, words, words but another drug), bolt upright, uplight, reattach yourself to the liquid of the music, soothe the irritation, slowdown the shaking hand, give god or his creatures, the nocturnes and sonatas, a chance to restore the pounding of the chest to a leveling equanimity to no avail, the sleep angels have fled from the forest fires in the chest, and the helicopters must quench with the commence of dropping clouds of wet words, when, when will I be released from a life that has no easements words, words, words but another drug, a habit that gives everything but a temporary state, every poem nothing but another her, another lady puncture in my restless body, another juncture, where all your choices are the way of error the high will last, shorter each one, but the track will exist for all the time, a token of human foolishness, the more is the inevitability of the ending, writ, drawn a little closer, and comes with a hand written spongy-apology begging for existing in his notes, motes, dust mites of titles, single verses, elegies, essays half written, passing thots claiming to want to be wannabes, this appears and it's a perfect ending there is no security in poetry, only the unresolvable man in his perfect certainty, never was, nevermore, n'ere will be never, and one poet walks a razor's edge, that is his three tenses struggling for mutual coexistence, one of a calming beauty, a dark glory, a perfect closing, choosing a final solution, a belief in relief, that simultaneously engraves, erases, and equates another new poem fissures to the surface, and the palpable is a magician's illusion, a trick, a feat of dismemberment, an excise of a piece, a drink, a Tennessee whiskey of him, an emission that never gains remission status, all this fakery, a new poem (words, words, words but another drug), excellent, worthless and self- effacing {|||} 3:48am-5:46am
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Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 5:56 AM UTC
a new poem (words, words, words but another drug)
a new poem (words, words, words but another drug), bolt upright, uplight, reattach yourself to the liquid of the music, soothe the irritation, slowdown the shaking hand, give god or his creatures, the nocturnes and sonatas, a chance to restore the pounding of the chest to a leveling equanimity to no avail, the sleep angels have fled from the forest fires in the chest, and the helicopters must quench with the commence of dropping clouds of wet words, when, when will I be released from a life that has no easements words, words, words but another drug, a habit that gives everything but a temporary state, every poem nothing but another her, another lady puncture in my restless body, another juncture, where all your choices are the way of error the high will last, shorter each one, but the track will exist for all the time, a token of human foolishness, the more is the inevitability of the ending, writ, drawn a little closer, and comes with a hand written spongy-apology begging for existing in his notes, motes, dust mites of titles, single verses, elegies, essays half written, passing thots claiming to want to be wannabes, this appears and it's a perfect ending there is no security in poetry, only the unresolvable man in his perfect certainty, never was, nevermore, n'ere will be never, and one poet walks a razor's edge, that is his three tenses struggling for mutual coexistence, one of a calming beauty, a dark glory, a perfect closing, choosing a final solution, a belief in relief, that simultaneously engraves, erases, and equates another new poem fissures to the surface, and the palpable is a magician's illusion, a trick, a feat of dismemberment, an excise of a piece, a drink, a Tennessee whiskey of him, an emission that never gains remission status, all this fakery, a new poem (words, words, words but another drug), excellent, worthless and self- effacing {|||} 3:48am-5:46am
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39
The Drowsy dews Engraves your name Boldly amid the thorns of chilled~roses ■ So Twerk nobly And roll the blue pigeons In me for trophies ■ But then Let's marry together our lips But to share,a sweet reverend kiss And tune these red~roses blanch ■ Feel The stars move Roundabout my head And together let's hold the rainbow Splendour by sight ■ Toll My hands For every tender touch But then,fathom deeply all the blush in me ■ Wrangle Vanilla your arms around my neck And rouse me to fear But jocund,when I look into your eyes Yet,impregnate me with your celestial desires ■ Civility! You Make me wonder How you solemn calm my sighs Of which haste in pants ■ Indeed You are a sober tigeress Misspoke of your elegant prowl ■ But now Turn off the lights And loft me the ranks Of melting naked incense And let's depart with a serene~peace Beginners ©Historian E.Lexano historianelexano.wordpress.com Please kindly share
0
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:07 AM UTC
Beginners
Ice sleet and rain Oceania swift Ballerina Doesn't ever complain Sea shells swirls Turquiose pool lips subtle By sand count me Inn sea A message wine bottle Two souls million light years Star* fish wand of mermaids Newlywed beds happy lad A fan of tails what curls   OH! Oceania lips        It's a girl!!                       Cherubs shy and fickle    "OH! hiccups to tackle better    Wishng well weather do tell    Whether or not together" Rain drop eyes to lips stain Driftwood the sea ladies Hi! gents social events Sticks and stones wont break her baby cakes Words high lakes of birds On the wire smart phone Lips swim I-Tune him Internet surfer Mansions of mind drifter Oceania chapped lips The secret spy gulp Sailors wave they need help Nothing but blue skies OH! you got the tools By land our lips engraves the heart of rocks Oceania sea writing goods is how you hooked me Eyes of the sweet rebels the sea castle Once upon a fairytale "Robin Hoods" cobblestone streets Water adventurer blazng heats Lets ocean down the kiss of sweets Do you get my drift fishing buddies Words like buds weepiing willow Evergreen shadow swim further Don't start difting from Sea space red breast Robins   Lobster lovers say "Grace" Home by the sea place I miss Mother* and Father Holidays never swim away
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Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 5:54 AM UTC
OH! Oceania Lips
From clearest dark and silent night A bolt does flash of searing light. The thunderbolt engraves up high A newborn star into the sky. And as the healing rain falls down To feed the pursuit of the crown, At once it soothes our eternal grief: We are to strive but never to achieve.
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Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 6:23 AM UTC
Idea
I don't understand the mechanics behind your forehead Often I believe that if I squint and crinkle the corners of my eyes I can send beams through the wrinkles of your demise that engraves itself above your confused brow. Sometimes I think that our creases look alike But then I squint again and notice the depth of mine They fold over one another and cover the other waves keeping them hidden under permanently engraved Yours are shallow with age and develop backwards the Ben Button of faces that with a whisper is always heard So as my cracks get deeper and my hair gets grayer You will get younger with maturity So as I squint and look for your machinary I realize it is covered and protected by your wise youth.
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Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 5:37 PM UTC
Squint
What is a poem but a maze of powerful words that only the poet can truly understand What is a poet but a man a pencil in his hand with every word he engraves upon her skin he is pulled further and further in lost he is no more left at the mercy of her soul forever adrift in his words her words her
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Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 8:00 PM UTC
a pass in which the matador keeps his feet and legs absolutely still while slowly swinging the open cape away from the charging bull
On the sofa. On the carpet. In the parking lot. Out back in the dirt. No one's looking, now. She's on her knees Heaving. Face red with disbelief. It's because they're all Dead But she's alive. It's because they get to live. Not her. She's laminated, Book-pressed to last, And it's death. Glossed pages, merely Slides in lantern light Without narration. Monday slips into Friday Without a sound Or impress of color. Yesterday was February And tomorrow drags Muddy footprints as it heads Into next year. It is not real. so pour yourself into your works build an immunity to it: What we can feel. The Dead don't bleed. The dead Don't bleed. The dead don't Bleed. At the bar without heed. Gulp down burning Mouthfuls of amnesiac need. The devil's in the music, As it creeps across the floor. But the Devil (with a gold star from Sunday school) Hasn’t got the power to hold a pin. And nails go through. And nails go through. And he's surprised Because they Do. Scratch it out in the back as a Quick bathroom rendezvous. She can rid her self of A gypsum heart and Rinse it down the drain. And he in the stall Kills his rebellion With sharp hands and sharper heart. Holding frenzied permanent ink. Every number he leaves, And all the faces he defaces, And every envy he engraves Blossoms in tune with, complements Her ecstatic criticisms against the stall. Now I lay me down to sleep It wasn't real enough to keep. She ended it in love, with loving leap.
0
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 3:01 PM UTC
Zero.
The retired vaudevillian engraves his love's epitaph while eating caramelized clusters The local sodomites huddle around and mourn outside the morgue Waiting for the body of their **** to be handed over They've given her body an overhaul She looks more alive than when she was living Hobnobbing with the well-to-do The retired vaudevillian comes to collect the body of his deceased wife He looks down at the sodomites For their outlandish appearance and choice of employment has resulted in mistrust "Oh my love, why couldn't you have been the driver instead of the passenger whose body was jettisoned into the air and smashed upon the asphalt?" "She could do ten thousand breast strokes, paint masterpieces with one brush stroke" The sodomites began to taunt the vaudevillian Calling him washed up He retorted back calling them toothless heathen ******   A mercenary was called to end the dispute outside of the morgue He killed half of the sodomites and tasered the vaudevillian The undertaker wheeled out the body bag on dolly But he lost control, and the body went careening down the hill into a cloudy bay The party of mourners grouped around the bay and watched the body float on to the afterlife She left behind her has-been husband and her **** ******* cohorts I bet she would have appreciated this little organized dime store wake
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Maude
Each line on your tiny palm Engraves a moment of life The sound of your first cry The cut from your first fight My dear, the wrinkles around your eyes Are not from the gain of age But from the years of smiling and laughter They'll continue to pile through even the last stage The whiteness of your hair Is not the lost of your beautiful youth It is the sky and heavens calling for you Your weightless body is nearing the truth Once you are gone, my dear I'll remember not your age, but our times Your smiles and wrinkles and supple skin Is all a marker of your climb Every step you took on this rotting Earth Kept it one second from being destroyed So when you can no longer walk and talk My dear, this heart will be just an empty void Longing for what once was
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Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
I'll Miss You
we witness things from our frame of minds but we can never foresee what transpires next, in view of the fact that life thoroughly shackles us and takes our souls to the fathomless world. people ought to seek for answers though most of the time, they go missing & empty handed and will forever remain a mystery unsolved. like events in our lives that manifests significantly engraves marks, stains, and wounds of the past, in a way our minds would never cease to forget. — g.c.
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Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 11:25 PM UTC
catastrophe
HEAVENLY LOVE True passion is what you are You set the stage for all to see, Your love is full of power, You have touched my heart from the very start, You put your breath of life into my lungs, You showed me the way to walk in your glories love, the earth has many sand upon the land where you had once stood; your words are strong yet soft and sweet easy for my soul to be at easy; your love means everything to me my King, my tears are at your feet; my heart cries with joy in mind, you are one of a kind; you are the light that shines in my eyes, I can hear the Devin song of all times in an ancient rhyme; while the angels fly around in the heavens with your love and passion in their hearts, their wings have your names engraves upon them; death I know will be soon swallowed up by love; many will fall into the darkness; But, that is an old song that everyone on earth knows, The harps are playing; Angels are sing songs that no one is yet to master But the Holy one that sets on his heavenly throne. Poetic Judy Emery © 2017 The Queen of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
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Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
HEAVENLY LOVE
My sandpaper sigh Engraves a line Into the rust of your tongue I could've been someone To you Would have painted the skies blue Baby blue If you knew Baby blue Edging closer You swing my way I've got no chance And nothing to say But stay Here for a while Baby blue But if only You could see My shadow crossing your path It won't be the last Baby blue
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Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
Baby Blue
As a paddle breaks the glass like glare Beneath the pine sweet hull, A breeze shakes gently through the trees and leaves behind a lull. The shoreline brims with glistening green As the sun pounds out its beat, And reflects a drop of golden light, As trembling ripples meet. As peaceful as a memory Of sweetened days and love, A cloud with hidden meaning stirs the blue above. Remember, yes remember This day that when it leaves Engraves the magic images Upon the soul that grieves.
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Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 11:23 AM UTC
Remember
She is an artist. Her canvas is reality and her paintbrush is her words. The possibilities are endless, her life is her creation. She is everything, everywhere, constantly. The better version of everyone, including herself. Eager to impress, she creates art with her ability to believe and fabricate. From nothing she can become anyone she chooses. She draws herself onto places, engraves her name into books and songs, paints her face in other people’s memories, cuts her name into other people’s tongues. She is an artist and her art is truly unbelievable.
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 6:22 AM UTC
The artist
Ruminating epoché, ‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay. Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay Initiatives imperative consolidation, Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray. Practicing semantic contemplation, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, Forecast in vague extrapolation, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
0
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
Linguistic Illusions to Probable Solutions
~ of her are countless stories told, ancient face angelic; some think she a seductive mistress, while some see none, but lunar cold. but others find her gaze majestic; never sleeping, memories keeping, always watching, ever seeking... as the world below unfolds. eyes that never turn aside, her tidal draw, that ne’er subsides; and flows within, her mother's pride; for even when we see her not, unbroken gaze, men's deeds engraves; of ev'ry tribe, the fateful scribe; she the keeper of this race! ~ post script. *since childhood i have found the moon to be entrancing... both beautiful and mysterious. surely i am not alone in conjuring mystical theories and fantasied metaphors for our lovely lady above!* as the ever watchful eye in the heavens above, do you, like me, wonder if just maybe it is she who metes out justice, who deals man's swift reward?  and what if, just maybe, those who to our eye, seem to escape the consequence of their actions, who seem to skate along unscathed... what if their consequences are simply too great to unveil in this realm, and instead, she, the fateful, faithful scribe has rendered and reserved for them in the next, their recompense and just reward?  i shudder to think of it! ~
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Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
fateful scribe