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"experiencer" poems
Many books you might have read.  But, did you ever read the reader?  Many songs you might have listened. But, did you ever listen to the listener?  Many places you might have explored. But, did you ever explore the explorer?  Many events you might have experienced.  But, did you ever experience the experiencer?  Many journeys you might have voyaged. But, did you ever voyage to the voyager? Many facts you might have known.  But, did you ever know the knower?
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Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 1:38 AM UTC
Know Thyself
Where does solitude end And the beauty of love begin? We must allow our emotions to permeate Our spiritual vestibule Before rapture dawns Like an empyreal gust Within, upon, and throughout us, Then our bliss will no longer be ephemeral, It will be everlasting. Someone on this existential expanse Loves you Beyond words, Beyond thoughts, beyond Time & space, With cosmic understanding; Like, age-old supernovae Radiating with stellar light Until their macrocosmic romance Waxes nebulous: —Dust to dust. You who are gleaning these words, Contemplate your immortal value As a living legacy That Burgeons & blossoms beyond the day Of your exodus from the Earthly Plane For the soul is a seed Radiating with the Eradia of Ages; Therefore, shine Until The Flora of Yore, Yggdrasil germinates within. Lamentation makes you more loving, Just, wise, and strong; Yes, embrace every moment That life brings For Providence safeguards you Within His Celestial ramparts. "But the path of the righteous is like the bright morning light That grows brighter and brighter until full daylight." (Proverbs 4: 18) (NWTSE) You have an undying will within you, You are a vessel of sanctity Intemerate & hallowed; Yes, you have been set apart For an ethereal crusade With no known beginning & An indeterminable end; Exhale, you are Life, Love, and Liberty, And a Spark of The Divine. It is true, that you are the experiencer of Your joys, your sufferings, Your exultation, and your woes, But you must ne' er forget That you are not alone; Therefore, walk forevermore In the Baptismal Rays of The Sun For you were borne with purpose, O, Warrior of Light.
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Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
Warrior Of Light (Originally penned on Wednesday, February 22nd, 2021)
Where does solitude end And the beauty of love begin? We must allow our emotions to permeate Our spiritual vestibule Before rapture dawns Like an empyreal gust Within, upon, and throughout us, Then our bliss will no longer be ephemeral, It will be everlasting. Someone on this existential expanse Loves you Beyond words, Beyond thoughts, beyond Time & space, With cosmic understanding; Like, age-old supernovae Radiating with stellar light Until their macrocosmic romance Waxes nebulous: —Dust to dust. You who are gleaning these words, Contemplate your immortal value As a living legacy That Burgeons & blossoms beyond the day Of your exodus from the Earthly Plane For the soul is a seed Radiating with the Eradia of Ages; Therefore, shine Until The Flora of Yore, Yggdrasil germinates within. Lamentation makes you more loving, Just, wise, and strong; Yes, embrace every moment That life brings For Providence safeguards you Within His Celestial ramparts. "But the path of the righteous is like the bright morning light That grows brighter and brighter until full daylight." (Proverbs 4: 18) (NWTSE) You have an undying will within you, You are a vessel of sanctity Intemerate & hallowed; Yes, you have been set apart For an ethereal crusade With no known beginning & An indeterminable end; Exhale, you are Life, Love, and Liberty, And a Spark of The Divine. It is true, that you are the experiencer of Your joys, your sufferings, Your exultation, and your woes, But you must ne' er forget That you are not alone; Therefore, walk forevermore In the Baptismal Rays of The Sun For you were borne with purpose, O, Warrior of Light.
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55
How do I speak of my love for you without any ludeness? Why are you such a ****** creature to me? There is no dimension which is not ****** to me, why? That you have never spoken about any theory? Or any event? Should you not just be detached from the world to me? Not concerned with the wider world, but with your own people? She concentrates on attracting others. She wants good money, a good job to get the things she wants. I try to find a way within to behold her desire, her beauty. Like there was a secret door that could make her step out of my body and into my room. Like my heart must subtly feel for her presence. I must make her my goddess to be worshipped in the land of beauty. To let my heart be swept up in her world of people. People talked about, people hated and loved. A world of opinions about people. So many people. I fear her beauty will one day fade. Not in ten years, or even twenty years perhaps. But later in life. I hope that by that time her world will grow beyond people, beyond drinking and fun. I hope she reflects on her life, and comes to great discoveries about herself. But she reminds me of the song "girls just want to have fun". I've never known how to be with that kind of girl except to drink, smoke, or do the drugs that they are doing. At that point I become an experiencer who thinks only of my reality. The other people, even her, would become secondary. I would seek the mysteries of reality and seek to explain them. To unravel what aspects of life are that could build a bridge to the mystery. Yes, she is a beauty to behold, a dear to interact with. But I feel my destiny of love lies elsewhere, not in ****** beauty, but in beauty of thought.
0
Feb 25, 2021
Feb 25, 2021 at 12:31 AM UTC
Her again
How do I speak of my love for you without any ludeness? Why are you such a ****** creature to me? There is no dimension which is not ****** to me, why? That you have never spoken about any theory? Or any event? Should you not just be detached from the world to me? Not concerned with the wider world, but with your own people? She concentrates on attracting others. She wants good money, a good job to get the things she wants. I try to find a way within to behold her desire, her beauty. Like there was a secret door that could make her step out of my body and into my room. Like my heart must subtly feel for her presence. I must make her my goddess to be worshipped in the land of beauty. To let my heart be swept up in her world of people. People talked about, people hated and loved. A world of opinions about people. So many people. I fear her beauty will one day fade. Not in ten years, or even twenty years perhaps. But later in life. I hope that by that time her world will grow beyond people, beyond drinking and fun. I hope she reflects on her life, and comes to great discoveries about herself. But she reminds me of the song "girls just want to have fun". I've never known how to be with that kind of girl except to drink, smoke, or do the drugs that they are doing. At that point I become an experiencer who thinks only of my reality. The other people, even her, would become secondary. I would seek the mysteries of reality and seek to explain them. To unravel what aspects of life are that could build a bridge to the mystery. Yes, she is a beauty to behold, a dear to interact with. But I feel my destiny of love lies elsewhere, not in ****** beauty, but in beauty of thought.
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29
Sudden new pressure to make sense, you see, you know I say you make believe. Mystic realms realized in meditations, ancient tails of firebrands, embers glowing {Isaiah assisting intel…ai ahmen, ok} embers in the darkness, embers glowing like cigarettes across the stubble field, leading to a still dark pond tonight - this is a way - we pray, we listen - for morning pealing rooster, humming electricity and my thoughts, my resting peace perceived reception, acknowledging the idea that holds truth in bits in the perifity peripheral ambition, at ambits edge of civilized authority, unknown unknowns offering and making sacred known uses we used to know. On the side of knowledge not falsely so called, science branches into all we may think to ask if it were ever witnessed, face to face, first hand. Messaging face to face, suffered to be so. Angelos means messenger, bearer of information, holder of unknown knowns, becoming angelic. Guardians of knowledge, root, branch and seed. Get the message, make it plain, listening, where would one knock --I am the door --I am the truth hmmmm, so it is written, the message to the meek, to such minds as let this mind be earth bound thinking what would a god with no power not common to mankind, a true mortal experiencer, ask- think what would, not could or should, what would, the will that set the galaxies awhirl, do? If he were such as you, taken with all the learning available for such as you, who loved to know why, and how, and when and where, then and there, tell us, in the spirit realm, words live. Yes, itself, and No, in all its proofs, still reproving, living words redeemed and reused for proverbial instances, reproof is the way of life, Reproving you know that knowing was never outlawed. Not by any representative of wisdom. Subtler than any created thing, this shining thing, child's eye ignores the lecture, to watch a mote in a sunbeam, and remember that this long later. ------------------------------- Part two Minding my manners, make yourself comfortable, slow thinking takes each letter push the orders intention to stretch incredulity to the snapping point, chaos and chirality clap, fingers snap, slow think what possessed me to make me think {this does not end here}
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Jan 18, 2024
Jan 18, 2024 at 2:51 PM UTC
Old Age Express
Sudden new pressure to make sense, you see, you know I say you make believe. Mystic realms realized in meditations, ancient tails of firebrands, embers glowing {Isaiah assisting intel…ai ahmen, ok} embers in the darkness, embers glowing like cigarettes across the stubble field, leading to a still dark pond tonight - this is a way - we pray, we listen - for morning pealing rooster, humming electricity and my thoughts, my resting peace perceived reception, acknowledging the idea that holds truth in bits in the perifity peripheral ambition, at ambits edge of civilized authority, unknown unknowns offering and making sacred known uses we used to know. On the side of knowledge not falsely so called, science branches into all we may think to ask if it were ever witnessed, face to face, first hand. Messaging face to face, suffered to be so. Angelos means messenger, bearer of information, holder of unknown knowns, becoming angelic. Guardians of knowledge, root, branch and seed. Get the message, make it plain, listening, where would one knock --I am the door --I am the truth hmmmm, so it is written, the message to the meek, to such minds as let this mind be earth bound thinking what would a god with no power not common to mankind, a true mortal experiencer, ask- think what would, not could or should, what would, the will that set the galaxies awhirl, do? If he were such as you, taken with all the learning available for such as you, who loved to know why, and how, and when and where, then and there, tell us, in the spirit realm, words live. Yes, itself, and No, in all its proofs, still reproving, living words redeemed and reused for proverbial instances, reproof is the way of life, Reproving you know that knowing was never outlawed. Not by any representative of wisdom. Subtler than any created thing, this shining thing, child's eye ignores the lecture, to watch a mote in a sunbeam, and remember that this long later. ------------------------------- Part two Minding my manners, make yourself comfortable, slow thinking takes each letter push the orders intention to stretch incredulity to the snapping point, chaos and chirality clap, fingers snap, slow think what possessed me to make me think {this does not end here}
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66
When you see, seer The perfection in it all, bang You’ve lost a point of view Then are you utterly alone Like the clown All around the three ring Circus-goers Laugh at the absurd thing Never suspecting how utterly profound. Is the life of a clown. How many bangs have birthed you then Imprisoned primordial bangs Bursting the unsuspecting cosmos What a long childhood you’ve had, While god watched From his bang, bang launch pad Millions of light years went by Bang, bang Billions of light tears he cried Eventually, bang you appear After A lustful specialty bang Sped spermful and hopeful To an ultimate conclusion Destinies union. You then, Orchestrating bang-bang moments of between Beautiful verdant in bloom bangs Hang from your spring and summer tree Of your budding truth Of your hopeful youth Time capsuled shutter flutter Contemplative baby bangs soothing The Epiphanius bang of instant recognition Bangs so soft They're hardly bangs at all Being more like a soft bubble bursting A quiescent sound Infinite in its stillness. Nothing to forgiveness Then came The bangs of the winter of your discontent Explosive in its silent rage Shattering the iron of its irony The rage in its engage The fury in its fleeing Blind-sighted by seeing Justified in its sage rage Follow the bang gang Puerile and untouched In its rarest invisible form Placated and felted Velvet experiencer Must touch. Must taste Must be seen Must be to be to be. Without the sacrificial lamb You stand Alone Neither prey nor predator Merely a spectator To a dictator. You’ve known all along And frown at the clown That was only trying to make you laugh.
0
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 6:43 PM UTC
Follow the Bang
When you see, seer The perfection in it all, bang You’ve lost a point of view Then are you utterly alone Like the clown All around the three ring Circus-goers Laugh at the absurd thing Never suspecting how utterly profound. Is the life of a clown. How many bangs have birthed you then Imprisoned primordial bangs Bursting the unsuspecting cosmos What a long childhood you’ve had, While god watched From his bang, bang launch pad Millions of light years went by Bang, bang Billions of light tears he cried Eventually, bang you appear After A lustful specialty bang Sped spermful and hopeful To an ultimate conclusion Destinies union. You then, Orchestrating bang-bang moments of between Beautiful verdant in bloom bangs Hang from your spring and summer tree Of your budding truth Of your hopeful youth Time capsuled shutter flutter Contemplative baby bangs soothing The Epiphanius bang of instant recognition Bangs so soft They're hardly bangs at all Being more like a soft bubble bursting A quiescent sound Infinite in its stillness. Nothing to forgiveness Then came The bangs of the winter of your discontent Explosive in its silent rage Shattering the iron of its irony The rage in its engage The fury in its fleeing Blind-sighted by seeing Justified in its sage rage Follow the bang gang Puerile and untouched In its rarest invisible form Placated and felted Velvet experiencer Must touch. Must taste Must be seen Must be to be to be. Without the sacrificial lamb You stand Alone Neither prey nor predator Merely a spectator To a dictator. You’ve known all along And frown at the clown That was only trying to make you laugh.
Continue reading...
66