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Justice lies in the interest of the forceful
And the wrath of means that are unlawful
A brutal curve during 1800's
African prison system was brought through
Guiltless spent time in cells
Consequence of the pass laws
No ground to stand
Observing the defeat over their land
No legacy to mend
With their bare fits and wits,
They had inheritance to shed  
Civilisation introduced to Afrikans
The ideology is a slow process
Resounding failures
frontal setbacks,
Bright darkness
Even today
You and I is a witness
Or you missed that ?

Now
Last of all comes the severe man,
About whom we have to wonder,
We abide as Slave citizen
He came through a form of a revered writing
Wearing a complexion of the slave master
Whence is he, or is he an enigma
or his coming is a paradox
Does he exist as a palindrome
in happiness or in misery?
In length or in depth
In fact,
There is,
however,
A list of grieving interrogations I have,
Which I should like to consider first.
Most of them are illegal,
Some of them are liberal
None of them are answered
Yet weakened in various degrees
By the strength of reason and law scenes.
I mean those which are awake when the
Reasoning powers are asleep,
Which get up and travel around without rights
Without any knowledge of self or state of belonging;
With a potential of conceivable accusations or crime,
However cruel or unnatural,
Of which,
In imagination,
They may not be guilty.


Very True, I declare;
But when a man’s pain beats drastically;
Conforming under a feast of sorrow
failure comes home to reside  
Just before fear of prosecutions goes to rest,
The solution is a systematic arrest
Which remains being the nature of the rest,
Invoked characteristics lays tests,
The visions which he has on his bed
Are least irregular and defective.
Which marvels out in sleep.
Arguing like a temperamental insubordinate,
That he who Is mistaken about the crime
Is a jailor in that he is mistaken?
Or that he who stumble in poverty or liberty
Is a poverty-stricken or libertarian at the time
he is misunderstood,
In respect of the error?
Give or take the era, he is lame
True, we say that the game
Is the fact is that neither the poverty-stricken nor any other
cause of life course and the skill ever made any sense
In so far as he is what his name implies;
Soiled with dirt and false diseases
until their skill fails them,
and then they cease to be
skilled ******,
smart drug traffickers,
artisans that paint with blood to be even
Not even the confused sage with no name
is present at the time when he is
what his name implies;
though he is commonly said to
misjudge,
misremember,
drift
To stray and roll until the truth slips up
out of bed and that’s never sad
While he stumble until he trips up
and I also adopted the unremarkable
mode of misunderstanding.
But to be perfectly accurate,
since you adore accuracy,
Would it be prudent to declare that the ruler,
In so far as there is a swayer, is not liable to error,
Or measuring the greatness of the dishonourable,
as far as that is the case,
Never commanded for the interest of the hopeless;
Should I rest my chase or less,
wake up read the book of those who offers little with no hope
Or else,
The area of imprisonment
would be minimized,
no chance to be analysed
and the subject is designed
to execute commands;
and therefore,
as I said at first and
now
repeat with me,
Justice lies in the interest of the forceful.
I can read you like a book,
A deep gaze in to your pretty brown eyes is all it took.
They're the windows to the soul after all
And yours left mine enthralled
That Much beauty in such little space?
You move irrespectively through the world at your own pace.
I'm sure you've heard it before but,
your smile brightens a room
You look my way again, I try not to loom.
If I could I would but I don't think I should.
Confess,
What would I have if I lost my dream?
What if my idea of you is all a want...
Yes that's it I don't love you.
Just the idea of you,
I'm content with that ...

Ha such a fallacy.
ryn May 2016
.

How do we mend wavering pedestals...
When the ground beneath is parched dry.
Stemming off loose foundations that time had weathered wry.

How do we mend broken gazes...
When watchful eyes which were meant to see,
are blinded by the onslaught of half-truths and fallacy.

How do we mend burnt bridges...
When we never look back to trace heavy missteps.
We fail to admit to consciously springing obvious traps.

How do I mend ailing hearts...
When familiar corridors seem warped to a bend.
When my own is struggling and perpetually on the mend.
Devon Clarke Jan 2014
So..

Ive been thinking about you a lot lately.
At this point in time, i should probably be studying *Mathematics

But instead, I'm looking to add us two together
Because it wouldn't be nearly as complicated as long division
To subtract all the zeroes in my life
Until its just you and I as a final product.
The only thing I really got out of calculus
Was that a great relationship could be our derivative.
I think the function for Y
This is happening is because
You have made
an X-ceptional difference
In my life;
Your beauty's limits are just imaginary numbers.

But -
I think I should review my English notes,
Because, I swear- We're just like Romeo and Juliet!
... minus the whole killing ourselves thing,
There aren't enough words in any dictionary
To completely envelop the feelings I have that make me so wary,
Now that you've torn down my walls, I hate being vulnerable,
You've gotten so close, so fast -
i can almost feel you hugging my soul.

Pero, uhh, donde esta mi libro de Espanol?
Porque
hay una mujer que domina mis sentidos con solo tocar mi piel,
y solo por un beso con ella soy feliz.

But in all seriousness.
The Chemistry we have is undeniable.
You take away all the oxygen in the room
When you get my blood boiling
And stomach toiling
when our eyes lock;
A limitless amount of reactions are unfolding
With you being my catalyst for my heart beating
Every time our hands are meeting.

Its now 5th period, Psychology,
When we kiss, its visualized neurology
Because my lips still tingle when you allow me
To go clinically crazy,
I'm only left to plead insanity
After our physiological fallacy.

Or maybe i should crack open my History textbook,
Because all I ever hear about
Is how Benjamin Franklin was a ****,
And that crazy chick from 300 stabbed her love affair,
Or, quite simply,
How nothing good ever lasts.
Well, I don't know why I'm even in school anymore,
Because I feel like you and I reversed millenniums
Of misguided relationships,
Because with finger locked,
We ran through Berlin Walls that said
High school romance was stupid,
And practically caused World War 3
When so many jealous lovers realized
That the only weapon of mass destruction
Is the undeniable army of two that we have become.
I'd say
We're a bit closer
To that old couple from The Notebook!
..wait..
they die too.

So the last bell has rung,
You made me late to every class,
But if my homework was just to love you,
**There'd be no doubt that I'd pass.
Overwhelmed Sep 2010
never a fantasy
but always an illusion

the immigrants from
foreign lands cannot
accept the fallacy

but

I, not born but raised
on the lands they
now strive for,
feel little specialness for
this o' so special
place
written at school.
False Poets Feb 2018
complexity bias

how you love to criticize my poems
as too long and overly complex

poor me, I’m no genius, don’t prosper by exploiting
unrecognized simplicities, rather deconstruct the
intricate complexities that I flatter myself are the me-sinews

Writing is a **** temptation -
we focus on the 10% that is complex and ignore the easy 90%

perhaps this once I will surrender my bare bones
put aside the rich, satisfying of cave diving, urban spelunking
word caressing tongue verbiage rich tapestry exploring -

give you the plane of plain where nestles my destiny: nesting near motionless where the couch is my kingdom and cold cereal is
easily digested and there are no consequences

I am a member of a discriminated-against minority
we have no charismatic leader, no marchers anywhere, and government programs say
hey you’re free white and twenty one plus, get the crap out of
our faces,  you useless piece of rhymes with **** and includes dirt, though I shower twice a day to keep myself occupied

25 years old, a high school dropout, of course I’m white,
my occupation is playing video games and making sure
my supply of opioids is adequate in these great United States
where I was born

there are fewer jobs than none that my application survives
a first glance discardation, and now my disability preempts
any demand to pretend there is gainful employment in store in
my future

this reductio ad absurdum is a technique to expose the fallacy,
ah what’s that you say no interest in hanging about,
on your way out, of course, of course,
we are the wrong flavor of downtrodden

my life is simple - simplistic in its a chaotic entropic way,
order slowly declines into disorder

my rituals are a fight against slip sliding down, falling off the
the Herzog continuums
and the poems are desperate hand holds to prevent my
going, gone under

so forgive me if I tax you without possessing not the
requisite taxing authority

you hone in on the obvious disparities and my contradictions

resenting my sending you this bill of extravagant length

compose with me and a mean will be located and to sleep I go,
perhaps to undress my dreams and explicate the wealthy multiples of complexity in the simplicity of a junkies life
softcomponent Nov 2013
the vein clasps mentor rr rr s
exposed to coke AND mentos
vehement contamination - - correction
facility of the soul - pull-off / pull-over
push-up - pedestrian, panicking, my
map marks nothing in the nested
rest-stop

CASTLE, CASTLE

*correction facility of the soul
Mike Essig Apr 2015
man
bench
sun

Facts are not
a life.

Details.

old man
park bench
hot sun

Better,
but not enough.

An old man
on a green park bench
baking in the hot sun.

Closer,
but not the truth.

An old man,
still boyish,
sitting on a
green park bench
baking in the hot sun
remembering
that strange young girl
wearing
a paisley scarf,
red and blue silk,
standing like Venus
poised above
blue Aegean water
on the deck
of a white steamer,
her black hair flowing,
four decades past.

Closer still, yet missing...

An old man,
still boyish,
sitting on a
green park bench
baking in the hot sun
remembering
that strange young girl
wearing
a paisley scarf,
red and blue silk,
standing like Venus
poised above
blue Aegean water
on the deck
of a white steamer,
her black hair flowing,
four decades past.
He smiles,
considering
her hot breath,
her long sighs,
her silken thighs:
she lives again.

The poem at the confluence
of memory and imagination
engenders the stories
which render meaning.

Stories about stories;
all we can know of life,
yet enough.
-mce
Rickie Louis Sep 2011
Sometimes,
There are no lyrics for this song inside my head.
so it's best sometimes expressed in my own words,
instead,
of using others expressions, mine's as well,
so I'll place each word on these lines as my pens,
compelled,
to try to draw exactly what I want to show,
so please keep up and follow if you really wanna,
know,
or shake your head and smile, or simply just pretend.
imaginations greatest when you're only playing,
 friend,
is what you call yourself, in times that you need.
not exactly being one within your selfish,
 greed,
is what I'm seeing now as I begin to speak,
listen to me dearly now my hearts becoming,
 weak,
is what you call me now within my time of need,
friend is who I tried to be when your hearts who I,
 feed,
me full of ******* with your insincere concerns,
cause in the end I'll be here as this bridge you try to,
 burn,
it all away and stand there sifting thru the ash.
I tried to ***** the fire as you quickly stuck that,
match,
me with intentions and perhaps you just may see,
that life can be more meaningful without some,
 fallacy.
A fueling, flashing fulgent, furnace, fulgurous, frothy, fumes and feathery flakes,

I do not speak of waves of snow, hoary frost, or ice, a cold gelare or even frozen lakes!

Formidable, furrows, fructifying, functioning fruition to foremost fondly found a flaming,

I revel not in such destruction but choices for my naming!

For flowers flow fields forever, forswearing funneling fjords finitely, fire fray’s forests furthermost,

Instructing in the arts of language, for I am your gracious host!

Fakir formulates factious forms fading flummoxed into fury, a fugacious fusible and furtive fleeting feigning furiosity,

A deep ditch dug, tight as pug, wrapped blanket snub though not a flub, all perspicacity!

Finds frosty frore a frozen freezing faction for fusty flaming feasance,

Fomorian fantasy of formidable faggoting, facient up to fancying, fancying, furnaced flesh fluidity finds itself factitivity, facets for fabulists from the faint familiarity,

Relating cold to heat as such, requires but a human touch, apologize I do you see for all my clueless severity!

Fans of all the falconry, who fallow fields of family, falter for a fallacy, falling into infamy as forgone flame frontogenesis, fatigues a Faustian felony, for which fate finds is fastigiated foolery, febrile features featly and yet furiously, favonian fear of fellowship fiendishly, figures foal to fatherly, finally fiddle flinchingly, although not so too furtively;

I finagle in my filigree!
This contains nearly every word under 'F' in the dictionary. I would have used them all but I could not get a consistent story with all the words so I used the most possible. Wauhermes in Toto means, "The totality of thought about F."
The stereotype of the female type/ packing more than you give yourself credit for/
Spineless, backstabbing ******* in backless dresses fronting to impress dogs who are/
Barking at ******* that are easy to prey on/ hoping to get a good **** to sniff/
While your tail is out there waggin/ makin’ their tongues turn stiff/
There are many who live in that dog eat dog world/ And boy it can get pretty rough out there/ catch that innuendo?
You see, effing around is simple and it works like this; you F what you see/
Sometimes you find what you think to be ‘the one’ only to be deceived/
Because you believed what you saw and didn’t take the time to dig deep/
Next thing you know, your heart has been sunk in the pool of tears you weep/
You resort to a resolution to that’s easy to keep/ rectify to the erectified/
Yes, maybe some of this is harsh/ but if you cant handle the truth/
You wont know the difference between what’s right and wrong to do/
There’s a difference between a princess and a queen/
A princess who’s prince-less will settle for the frog/
While a queen knows how to stand on her own two feet/
Royalty is respected and they stand tough even when they’re rejected/
It’s hard to see something beautiful be used by a tool who’ll/
Only add her to the collection of his tool box/ then look for a new one/
But the reality of realism is/ reality can be pretty unreal sometimes/
And Miss Congeniality secretly believes the fallacy/ she wasn’t born to shine/
Selling herself at a price her mom would hate to see/
Giving out discounts because she can’t even count on herself/
The worst part is, it’s all manipulating her moral health/
And it’s demeaning her demeanor, being treated like Miss Demeanor/
But she didn’t mean for/ her life to turn to this/
She made three-left turns/ only to find the fourth right doesn’t exist/
Maybe a forthright person is all it takes to set her straight/
Boost her confidence/ make her feel great/ and tell her it’s never too late/
To find a new place to start over/ and get your mind in a better state/
That’s why this poem is called Tulip Teaser/ your own two lips are teasing you/
Impeding you from being you/ misleading you through your own garden/
But you’re better than that/ and there’s more to your garden than you think/
Just stick to your roots and let yourself grow to be the beautiful flower everyone likes to see/
A slam poem of mine off of my project I'm working on.
I can’t seem to catch hold of what’s next
I’m digging in year old treasure chests
to try and help me find a map
to adapt along society’s throng
the one I was born into and will die out of
All of the questions being asked in my college classes
pertain to inner opinions and oppositions
I guess I struggle with this because in philosophy
I learned self-love is the only superpower I have
and I don’t want to talk about finding the balance
between good and bad anymore
my apologies Socrates, you’re the opposite of a bore
but I’ve had enough of this question everything crap
that I cannot even appreciate how simple this class is
In English, I know writing will always be my salvation
but motivation, I lack in motivation
maybe I need my ritalin back
but that’s a question for December
that’s a question in whether I’m human enough
to get up off my ***
and ******* do something
but every time I try to “do” something
I feel like it’s *******.
Oh Haley, that’s just your depression talking!
and my self doubt and hypochondria and my eating disorder
that I’ve been teasing with for months
Recovery is a beautiful fallacy
and honesty is for pages and strangers
My apathy disgusts me and I’m stuck
between an insatiable thirst for the past
and appreciation for the luck I have
Big Virge Sep 2020
HEY... My Name AIN'T Jane... !!!

Big Virges' PERSONALITY...
Does NOT Embrace... CALAMITIES... !!!!!

YES Doris Had Her Day...
But Virge Is A Name...
Whose Character CAN Claim...

... The Type of...
Brain Thought Waves...
Worthy of... ANY STAGE... !!!

Because I Use Wordplay...
That's Smart And Edu-tains...
Due To My... PERSONALITY...
NOT Running From REALITY... !!!

So What's Yours Like... ?
Are You The Type...
Who... ALWAYS Smiles... ?

EVEN When Life...
Brings You TRIALS... ?!?

Like Those Now Known...
As... PAEDOPHILES... !?!?!?!

Whose Personality TRAITS...
Are... BEYOND A Disgrace... !!!

Personalities CHANGE...
From Person To Person...
And... Place to Place...

Some Now Seem LAME...
So Make A LOT of CLAIMS...
That... DON'T Hold Weight... !!!

Quite A FEW Now SWAY...
To... STRANGE Displays... !?!

From Road To STAGE...
And Of Course SCREENPLAYS...
NOW... INDICATE...
That Creative Personalities...
Are Quite Willing To Play...

The Lives of Those Who SADLY...
Have Been Victims of TRAGEDIES... !!!

... REAL Life CRIMES...
Of Course... DRAMATISED... !!!

But You Shouldn't Be Surprised...
When CERTAIN Personalities...
.... Within YOUR LIFE....
Give You... CLEAR SIGNS...
That Things AREN'T Right...
... Inside Their Minds... !!!

Cos' They Choose To DENY...
Their... " Internal Fights "... !!!!

Personalities Resigned...
To... unBalANced Lives... !!!

But What About THOSE...
Whose Vibes Incline...
To Give Off WARMTH...
Just Like SUNSHINE... ?!?

These Are The Types...
... I TRY To FIND... !!!

Girls And Guys of ALL Skin Types...
Because My Personality...
Now Lives It's Life With PARITY...

Because It Is HUMANITY...
That Signifies My Mind And Personality...
Does NOT Embrace DIVIDES...
That Make Personalities... DIE... !!!

Because of Their SKIN TYPE... !!!

Or Things Some CHOOSE To Like...
That DON'T Encourage My Mind...
To STAND Right By Their Side... !!!!!

What I'm Saying Is RECOGNISE...
Personalities NEED To Find...
Those That Are ALIKE....
So Connections DON'T Cross Lines... !!!

You See As I Age...
I See How GREAT...
It Is To Meet... Personalities...
Who Choose To Feed...
OFF REALITY And SANITY... !!!!!

Because I DON'T Deal In Fantasies...
Or Talk That Is... PURE FALLACY... !!!

Personalities To Me...
NEED To Be MORE FREE... !!!

FREE Through SPEECH and ARTISTRY... !!!

And FREE of...... Personalities...
Who Work In Teams Who Seem To FEED...
OFF Economies Where HYPOCRISY...
Makes Them DEAL Like Fiends Who Kneel...
For A Daily Meal Where DEMONS STEAL...
Their SOULS...... For REAL...... !!!!!

Personalities Designed...
To... HURT Mankind... !?!

WHY... WHO KNOWS... ?!?

Personalities Flow And Sometimes Roll...
With Those Who CLONE To RETAIN CONTROL... !!!
And USE Them Like CERTAIN Folks DO... " **'s "... !!!

Or YES... Rent Boys... !!!
Personas' DEVOID of MORE Than CHOICE... !!!!!

So YES SOME Personalities...
Have Been FORMED By The TRAGEDIES...
DEFINED BY Their Life's RIDE... !!!

So I'm THANKFUL That Mine...
Has Had... BOTH Sides... !!!

GOOD And... BAD Times... !!!
And Has Brought Me SMILES...
And TEARS... Sometimes... !!!!

Personalities Inclined...
To PLAY The TOUGH Guy...
Are Those I CHOOSE...
To Now Walk By............................ !!!!!

Because Personalities...
Who'll ABUSE or ****** GLADLY...
Do NOT Leave People Happy... !!!!

My Vibe is MORE...
About STOPPING Wars... !!!
And... THAT's For SURE... !!!!!

And My Name AIN'T...
... " Milton Bradley "...

Attempting To TAKE...
BLOOD From My Veins...
... WITHOUT My OKAY... !?!

INDEED Could End Up BADLY... !!!

Life's... NOT A Game...
I Choose To FORSAKE...
Or To... Throw Away... !!!?!!!

So YES I Have TENACITY...
But Now Live Life... ORGANICALLY... !!!

So When It Comes To BIG VIRGE...
That's The Word I... PREFER...
To Which People DEFER...

To DEFINE My...

.... " Personality "....
So many in this world to navigate around, or with, it's best to try to, quickly get to know, what type you're dealing with.....
James Palmer Nov 2013
I could write a poem on how the storm outside
Assaults my window panes with pain intended.
The wind brings life to the inanimate accessories of trees
Previously dropped to the ground like cigarette butts.
And I could say how this weather suits my mood
As if even though I’m sitting here in a towel after my bath,
There is chaos inside my mind far greater than any weather occurrence.
But that would be insane.
As if the world outside, where the purpose of the sky is to designate the rain
Shares any likeness to the mood I am in.
Or the life I lead.
How full of myself, to believe the crashing I hear from battering rain
Could compare to the need I feel to explode out of my own skull.
No.
Not ever.
Me and Mother Nature share no maternal bond.
Even if she could depict what way the wind blows, depending on the state I’m in
How could she know?
When I am merely here, in my towel, upon my bed.
Expressing no wrath compared to that outside.
Believing that the storms I see from my bed
Rival the storms inside my head.
Ben Mar 2012
self-righteous souls
saved from the
everyday run
of the world
skulking throughout
the shadows
cast by the
most holy
fallacy
grasping at
the lost the
unknowing and
the ******
who don't accept
their beliefs as
irrefutable excuses
to be pretentious  
oh how far you will fall when brought                                               low from your exalted pedestal
down on your knees, covered                                                   in the wretched filth of the masses
that you had gazed down upon                                                       in all you hypocritical glory
everyone looks the same when                                                      your eyes have been gouged out
you bleed the same as everyone                                                  when your too-godly heart is removed
you liar, you snake,
you backstabbing ****,
hidden behind
accepting smiles
go forth and
be righteous!
go forth and
beat down the weak!
go forth and fill
the world with
your treacherous,
blasphemous rage!
pray for the
strength to fell
the wicked
non-believers
pray to keep
a closed mind
and to be
unwavering
in your silent
hate, mistrust, and
suspicion of all those
different from you
pray to keep your teeth sharp
to devour those deemed less holy than thou
and go to a fitful, dreamless sleep at night
confident in the knowledge that you are *saved
so i wrote this at church today, sitting there and looking around at all the *holy* people and feeling utterly disillusioned with all the backstabbing and false smiles, all the self-righteous feelings of superiority, and i remembered why i stopped going
Michelle Aug 2015
Pensive as I am, I thought of you today
Amongst the overgrown grass and the clouds of grey.
The heavens, they opened, perhaps pathetic fallacy
As I lay there saturated, already losing my sanity.
But I stayed in the showers and let nature embrace me
When all of a sudden a gold globe came to face me.
Warmer I felt, as down on me it shone
Almost as if to remind me to always be strong.
Mary McCray Apr 2015
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 16, 2015)

The fallacious belief that a person who has experienced success has a greater chance of further success in additional attempts.

The major award, a crest of Likes, the very nice email
you received from someone in South Dakota, the flatterer—
like a stack of very deceptive poker chips
leaning like the Tower of Pisa.

The universe should open up like show curtains
with three hundred and fifty new friends awaiting you
all dressed to the nines which could mean you’re moving up
in this world except you’re not because there’s no where to move.

It’s like walking across a cemetery. You go up and down,
up and down depending upon how the dead sink into the loam.
Harrison Ford’s still auditioning; Aaron Spelling never stopped pitching.
One minute you’re a rock star, the next minute your tour bus catches on fire.

Tomorrow you are always climbing out of
old hat, new and untested. Turns out
those are the same thing.
How lucky for you.
Today Lady Antebellum tour bus caught on fire.
CH Gorrie Oct 2012
"If you wake up this morning believing that saying
a few Latin words over your pancakes will turn them
into the body of Elvis Presley, you have lost your mind."

He has often asserted that the thing is absurd:
that someone who does not (whether out of hatred, indifference,
lack of conviction, or frankly *whatever
)
accept traditional dogmas
is still, for some reason, capable of wishing that they could.

I think he is right; I’ve heard a staunch atheist say “If only
I could, but I cannot.” So, this is why he aligns himself
as an anti-theist: he simply
was never properly convinced.
This position seems (at least to me) well-supported,

for anyone can quite readily (and easily)
accept what their father or their clergyman has said
(especially as a child, not knowing any better).
Thus, to be an atheist
one must have first acknowledged supernatural power

and then later, after a bit of thought, dismissed it. In light
of this, I propose a toast to the Real Skeptic,
the one who was never really convinced;
of it. The one who, when celebrating the Eucharist,
wondered why God wanted to be eaten,

who , when receiving Christ,
thought of the extreme certainty by which other faiths'
devotees (Islam, Heaven's Gate,
Mormonism, Bon,
Cargo Cults, Shinto, Falun Gong)

live and preach – some even delighted to die.
Thoughts like these always made me feel uneasy as a child
because how could I hope to keep my little mind
from accidentally discovering fallacy after fallacy? So, here is a toast
to the Unconvinced, who can’t possibly help but not believe.
The Precursor’s Psalms
Book Two
Chapters VI- X: Ragnarök

A sacred parcel to the soul who looks to ―raptured firmaments for their salvific benison. Se'lah.

VI: The Paean of Lovelight (The Paean of Lovelit Life)

1 Every particle in the soil of my epidermis roves for its emanation,
Its musicality, vibrating in pulsing fuchsia shockwaves,
This melodic energy is the Paean of Lovelit Life.
2 It reverberates the remittance in reminiscence;
yes, the Circle of Life breathes through the conduit,
it peregrinates
The ephemerality, even, the eternity in all entity.
(For in us exist dichotomies)

3 In a moment of self-revelation
I know naught but the vagary of the self;
still, the pain remains,
In the benighted truth of epiphany;
4 Yes, even,
Upon the Visage of Creation
All existence groans in groping
For its Nirvanic Pulse, ―like a wraith.

5 Finding meaning in all that I am,
all that I see, all there will be, and all that is,
I understand the fallacy in knowing, the bane in consciousness:
6 In an instant, one must forget

Page | 1

all they have learned, all they feel, all they sense,
in the diminution of a moment
lest the soul relinquish that which does seamlessly transmit itself through
The Streams of Tempus Fugit.

VII: The Virescent Masquerade

1 Forsake all sorrows of the morrow, for
Beneath the Masquerader’s Virescently Butterfly-Winged Mask, there is a beckoning;
2 O, even amidst foible for which you long to be assoiled, excogitations do roil;
A tremulous heart: eventualities do saunter past, present,
future, and in communing you examine the finitude & the frailty
(Will their Exodus, my Exodus,
Come before I am ready?)
Of those in the Land of the Living.

VIII: Hierarchy of Sacrality

1 Wisdom
Is a cosmos,
2 Love,
―Invictus Dei,
3 Power,
The Cradle of Cosmogenesis,
4 Justizia,
Universal Scales through which Edicts of the Cosmogonist unfurl.

IX: Vagrant Story

1 Profundities lie in our vagrancies,
And in these there lie Faiths;
The faithful hunger for
―Virtue
For through these, we find a Savior.  

Page | 2

2 Our Deiform-Apotheosis is ordained by of the Arbiter of Fates,
3 He Is Our Nexus to Transcendence,
The Empyrean whom carnal perdition hast braved


X: Nelumbo Nucifera (Sacred Lotus)

1 ―O, Jah,
The Sovereign of Songbirds,
Sing in the Key of Elysium,
The Requiem of Our Swansong;
2 Beseech the Earthen Womb
Of the Terraqueous Mother
To conceive us anew that
We partake of an elemental legacy.

3 O, then
Might we re-alight,
Upon an aforetime wearied land,
―Nelumbo Nucifera: The Impregnable Sacred Lotus
4 Whose aegis’d petals through
Dusk, Dawn, Midday, Twilight, and Eve
Might effloresce
In the Aeonic Light of The Empyrean One.

(Se’lah).

Written on
Monday
May 20th, 2019

Page | 3
The Book of 1st John
Chapter 3,
Verses 18 -24

(Verse 18)

“Little children, we should love, not in word or with the tongue, but in deed and truth.”

(Verse 19)

“By this we will know that we originate with the truth, and we will assure our hearts before him”

(Verse 20)

“regarding whatever our hearts may condemn us in, because God is greater than our hearts and knows all things.”

(Verse 21)

“Beloved ones, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have freeness of speech toward God;”

(Verse 22)

“and whatever we ask we receive from him, because we are observing his commandments and doing what is pleasing in his eyes.”

(Verse 23)

“Indeed, this is his commandment: that we have faith in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he gave us a commandment.”

(Verse 24)

“Moreover, the one who observes his commandments remains in union with him, and he in union with such one. And by the spirit that he gave us, we know that he remains in union with us."

Page | 4

Hearken unto
the
Resplendent Sol,

The Twilight draweth nigh,
Whence erupts from Sundered skies
Arcadia
In
Aeonic Light

Let ye soul
Transcend
By
The Great Apothecary;
His Panacea of Healing Love.

Though
I am a Loveless
Blight, worn, of Earthly Denizens,
I bid you
Immortal heartsease.

Borne of the Father:
Who
forms
all
things.

Page | 5

Sired by the Son:
Who
Conceives
All
Truth.

Begotten by the Spirit:
That
Burgeons in
(our)
―dreams.

The Grand Creator's
Magnum Opera:
Loom
Within
All of us.


Excelsior Forevermore,


Sanders Maurice Foulke III.

Page | 6
Remember well, O breathless kiss
While melting oneness in your skin
Soulful eyes of passion’s abyss
Hold me close to the dream I'm in.

Trembling hard within our embrace
Fearlessness settled on your hips
Tenderness spread across your face
The Heaven found upon your lips.

The whispered comfort in your ear
So satisfied in binding trust
Broken down walls that brought us near
Two souls beyond two bodies' lust.

Ne’er more perfect did two unite
Released from tortured fallacy
Compassion roused to star the night
A night surpassing fantasy.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Margo Polo May 2014
When I  die
        (if my parents don't know)
        remember to weigh me judiciously with authorial intent.

Don't let my father go to the front
and tell everyone what a good daddy's girl I was
        how I loved fishing with him
        and wore my camo pants like a champ.
                                I was 2.
                                I didn't know better.

Don't let my mother's lip tremble
or let her say how much my writing made her cry
        how I spent my evenings worshiping textbooks
        and typing til 2 am for large red A's on my papers.
                                I was worshiping the body and mind of a guy
                                who never wanted me back.

Don't let my father see my body
        the tattoo next to my left hip bone
        the one I got my freshman year
                                because why the **** not.

Don't let my mother see my face
        the rings in my lip and nose and ears
        because they told me only ***** had those
                                and I wanted to see if they were right.

Don't let my father tell stories afterwards
        all my achievements and awards
        every 100% I ever gave.
                                He never told them to me.
                                He only has pride in the dead.

Don't let my mother tell stories afterwards
        because she'll get them right
        but tell them wrong.
                                She'll either laugh or cry halfway through
                                and I don't know which is worse.

Don't let my father sing the hymns
        or even say how much he loved hearing my voice.
                                I could never hear myself over him.

Don't let my mother lament that I never sang for her
        she knew why
                                she married him.

Don't let them tell you how I was a good Catholic girl
        who always went to mass
        and prayed the rosary on roadtrips
        and never ate meat on Fridays during Lent (not even on accident).
                                I stopped going to mass after freshman year
                                and never prayed while driving
                                and made it a point to eat as much meat
                                                            ­            as I possibly ******* could.

Don't let them tell you how I was a good sister
        how excited I was when she was born
        so helpful and caring.
                                She never fell off the bed when she was little.
                                I kicked her.

But especially don't let them trick you into thinking I was perfect.
        I do not want to be canonized by my parents
                who knew so little
                        and saw even less
                                because I hid myself away
                                        so they wouldn't be
                                                disappointed.

I­n fact,
don't let them come at all.
They'll be mourning the wrong girl.
intentional fallacy (n): in literary criticism, a fallacy involving assessment of a literary work based on the author's intended meaning rather than the actual response to the work
cd Apr 2015
It is said that insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results

Call me crazy because I will repeatedly repeat and never learn

Maybe I don't want to learn because I love the cycle of yes and no and mostly no

Even though it kills us both
We are insane because we know that it is wrong and that's the way it has to go
And yet we try, and don't try again and again
And the pen etches into the page the same stanzas

The monotony sounds like harmony
Because in our insanity we are happier and unhappier than we will ever be

I would rather die waiting for change than to be without your sweet disappointment

To relent and reclaim my sanity would be a tragedy because I would have to write new stanzas and my pen is too in love with our poetry, to welcome a new subject

For the sake of my pen (at risk of her heartbreak) I will reject the cry inside of me to run to reality

While the hurricane proves pathetic fallacy outside of our window
We breathe lunacy and embrace


Insanity
Kenna Sep 2016
I feel him hurting
me. Already.

With cinched waists and jarred backs--
a trickle down my eye, carving out
my lips. My tongue. My spine. Your hands--
the rough carpenter of longing.
I crave to find your center--
the point of equilibrium where
two words meet and
love, and writhe and conquer.

All of me is
vulnerable and molten
and yours.

Yours is something different,
different from mine,
from his. His is more.
His is power. Is Glory.
Is light and strength
and Yours.

And what's more?
Is mine. Is our
breath. Our metronome
and the syncopated
rocking of your arms and the bed frame.
Just left
of center. Just right
on target.
Saint Jimmy May 2016
I write this thinking about the girl I love, stood out in the pouring rain.

A tear rolls down my cheek as I type away on my phone.
This pathetic fallacy makes me smile,
for the dreadful irony
Manas Madrecha Jun 2015
English Transliteration - Satya Sarvopari Sarvaat

Jhoot bolna aam ** gaya, par mahimaa satya ki kam naa aanknaa,
Bheetar ki naitiktaa ko, vivek-nayan se zaroor jhaank naa...

Man aur vani ki akhandta, vibhakt ** ne naa denaa,
Jhoot par avalambit **, swa-nistha khone naa denaa...

Kapat aacharan ko apnakar, aarthik sukh hi paaoge,
Sabal charitra banaa lo gar, toh nityaanand tak jaaoge...

Vani par jiske satya sadaa, vachan shakti siddh hogi,
Mukh se upji har shabdaavali, vaastav mein sanghatit hogi...

Abhisandhi ka gar karo prayog, jo logo ko sambhramit kare,
Toh unki nahi, tumhaari mithya, jo aatm ko hi dooshit kare...

Jab jab kanth kare dhwani, prajwalit ** satyajyoti se har baat,
Jhoot gaun samaksh uske, satya sarvopari sarvaat...

- - - - -

English Translation - Truth is above everything

Speaking lies have become common, but don't underestimate the significance of Truth,
Do peep into your inner morality through the eyes of conscience...

Do not let the integrity of Mind & Speech be dissected,
By adhering onto fallacy, do not let your self morale be lost...

By embracing fraudulent behavior, you will only get monetary pleasure,
But if you build a brawny (strong) Character, you will go till Eternal Happiness (Salvation) ...

The one who always has Truth on his Speech, the force of oration will become effectual,
Every vocabulary out from his mouth, will constitute into Reality...

If you do use deceit, for misapprehending the people,
Then the illusion is not theirs, but yours, for it pollutes your own self...

When ever the throat makes sound, let every talk be illuminated with the light of Truth,
Lie is inferior in front of it, Truth is above every thing...

- - - - -

Original Poem - सत्य सर्वोपरि सर्वात्

झूठ बोलना आम हो गया, पर महिमा सत्य की कम ना आंकना।
भीतर की नैतिकता को, विवेक-नयन से ज़रूर झांकना।।

मन और वाणी की अखंडता, विभक्त होने ना देना।
झूठ पर अवलंबित हो, स्वनिष्ठा खोने ना देना।।

कपट आचरण को अपनाकर, आर्थिक सुख ही पाओगे।
सबल चरित्र बना लो गर, तो नित्यानंद तक जाओगे।।

वाणी पर जिसके सत्य सदा, वचन-शक्ति सिद्ध होगी।
मुख से उपजी हर शब्दावली, वास्तव में संघटित होगी।।

अभिसंधि का गर करो प्रयोग, जो लोगो को संभ्रमित करे।
तो उनकी नहीं, तुम्हारी मिथ्या, जो आत्म को ही दूषित करे।।

जब जब कंठ करे ध्वनि, प्रज्वलित हो सत्यज्योति से बात।
झूठ गौण समक्ष उसके, सत्य सर्वोपरि सर्वात्।।

© Poem by Manas Madrecha
This poem was first published on the blog 'Simplifying Universe'
(http://www.simplifyinguniverse.blogspot.com) in May, 2015.
V Feb 2018
Beauty is a fallacy.
It makes sense to us,
but who has the right to
determine it?

The majority of the
Population perceives that
they are given that right,
for beauty has been twisted,
manipulated and barbed into
a wire that is toxic and
vehemently grotesque.

Beauty is subjective,
Its core isn’t objective.
We like to think it is,
but in reality, in notions,
in principles, and in practices
it is not

For beauty is determined by grace,
by elegance, and most importantly looks.

Beauty of thought and process
is highly disregarded.
It has become but a mere
illusion, barren in both
the intricacy of reality and truth.

Beauty is subjective, yet
it is determined by predispositions
and implicit standards that
originated many years ago,
yet these originated ideals
still reign supreme today.

Beauty is far more than
an outward façade,
For beauty is truth,
beauty is compassion,
beauty is knowledge
beauty is humility.
The waves undulated as if
they were the backs of 100 wriggling worms
The sky shed tears as if
a 1000 angels wept for the death of hope
black clouds roiled, sparking with fury
casting lightning down upon the mire
but below, upon the sea,
a miracle was set to transpire.

A boat rushed down and over the waves...
Back and forth,
a juggler's ball tossed and turned it appeared to be.
Yet, despite the malice,
and the seething spite of the sea,
the boat was safe
snug as can be.

And in this boat was a silent baby
his eyes stared out into the turmoil
he did not understand the frustrations of the elements
how they wished to smite him where he lay.
Despite the twisting of the boat
he did not roll, nor did water coat
his soft cheeks, his baby blanket
he passed on into sleep,
into dream he
went.

He awoke to battles raging about him
the crashing of thunder
was the desolation of a mountain
the world knew war for the first time
deaths in the billions, no pasture without crime.

He stood as a man
with bearded face
skin like the earth
armor embraced.
He realized he held a mighty weapon
it gleamed in his hands
power coursed through his veins
down to his soul
up to the heavens!
A beacon of light he seemed to be
but heir to destruction he truly was.
He did not know what power does
to the feint of heart
to the well-intentioned...
He struck the ground amidst the battle
the whole Earth shook, oh, the chattering teeth!
The mountains lumbered to form again
as if by the shovels of skyward giants!
The battle paused for the barest of moments
the awe was palpable
like a kingly feast
but the people's hearts hadn't forgotten the pain
their hate surged up, like volcanic bile
despite their peace present for a while
the massacres began again in earnest
perhaps more so than before his deed.
No one knew the power he wielded.

He still had hope, he could do something!
But what greater act was there than mending mountains?
His heart was up to good,
but his mind couldn't ground him.

"I must stop their wanton annihilation!"
He roared within himself,
"Are they not my people? Am I not their savior?"
He went to the most heated battle
struck the air with his weapon
and every person's foe was replaced by their loved ones.
The battle ceased in an instant.
Each person stared in utter disbelief.
By what power had this happened?
It was said that mountains climbed back into place,
but what could summon loved ones,
even from the grave!
The fighting ceased despite their hatred,
and the stories magnified in flavor.
Many who were hungry
for peace from the storm of violence
fed upon the hearts of those in doubt
they claimed they knew who stopped the battle
they hoped to mobilize a peace effort.
He gathered these hopeful souls
banded them together so their efforts became tenfold!
Soon enough, the stories crept across the lands
across the seas
and underground.
For once, hope had purchased ground,
but hate, when cloistered, beaten back, starved,
becomes ever more malevolent,
ever more conniving.

He did not call his people an army,
he called them the Samaritan Initiative.
They did not fight their war with weapons of battle,
they fought with hands that mend and bind,
they saved the sick and the dying,
they uplifted the oppressed and those denying.

As time passed, his efforts grew,
but someone used his deeds as currency,
mobilized the scandalous, the warmongering,
someone hated he who mended the broken...
Someone plotted his demise.

He led his Samaritans across the world
each place they touched was left whole again
and though war still did reign, rotting and true,
he did not tire to end the end.

A new beginning he hoped to create,
but whispers that he was a fraud began to sate
the ears of those whose purpose it is to doubt peace,
they sowed the malice back into the healing wounds
soon enough, his power began to abate,
therefore, rumors seemed to be true.

He grew restless when he was barred from homesteads
barred from cities,
even countries!
Somehow these echoes of forgotten civilization rose
only to defy him
and he smelled someone's stench in the air.
His weapon yearned for someone's death.
For once, it did not wish to mend, but break,
and he felt spiteful all the more.
All the adoration he had garnered
had blinded him from his true purpose.
He sought out the taint that spread its tendrils.
"Someone."
He said,
"Is ruining my... empire..."

One day, while regrowing a desolated forest with his weapon,
someone came to see him.
She smiled at him, marvelled at his work.
"Who are you?"
He wondered, suddenly charmed.
"Someone you know..."
She grinned.
He spent weeks distracted and curious about her,
what was her riddle all about
and why did he feel her in his heart?
She did not seem to threaten or scheme
in fact her presence was a dream
and he yearned after her like nothing he knew
his mission delayed
his plans askew.
Many around him questioned him saying,
"Who exactly is it with whom you're playing?"
He would blush,
"Oh, someone..."

One day,
she did not meet him at their lover's spot.
She did not appear for a week, then another.
His mind began to churn about the months.
Since when had he last sent forth his healers,
or mended cities and silenced weapons dealers?
He began to be suspicious of her
he could have summoned her with a flick of his weapon,
but he dared not discover if she really were foe,
for if he should break, what can he grow?

Eventually, she appeared again,
smiling broadly, like an old friend.
He then knew the anger that so many harbored...
Oh, the twisted things he felt by her abandon,
the sheer weight of his turmoil felt too much to bear....
So he ****** it upon her without any care.
His voice was louder than a church bell,
flashing out across the forest where they would meet.
She cried out in fear
she ran from him swift
he chased after with guilt he couldn't lift.
He found her weeping by a well
on his knees he apologized incessantly.
"How could there be darkness in you,
the mender?"
Her question struck him in all places tender.
Doubt crept into his addled mind.
His weapon's glow flickered
his conscience was blind.
Surely not now should he have such trouble?
Could it really be so simple to pop his bubble?
"I love you more than I can bear!
When you leave me,
I begin to tear."
She nodded and held him close to her.

Someone watched from shadows not far,
they saw his frailty,
like a door ajar...

The months passed and he went back to work
new cities to grow and malice to mend
people saw him more for the savior he was
even though the rumors of fallacy were abuzz.

A special time became the moment of his life worthy of note,
a marriage to the woman whose life he knew by rote.
They consummated in the night and in the day.
Time seemed to stretch on and shrink all at once.
His happiness was a thing of infectious charm,
but all that glittered soon became alarm.

Upon returning home from time spent mending the broken world,
he returned to find his home
covered in blood.
He knew whose blood coated the walls.
Bones, ground into paste, smothered pictured frames.
Flesh reduced to pulp covered the floor.
His mind fractured in no way subtle.
The light of his weapon winked out with no rebuttal.
He wept uncontrollably in fits of despair.
The world seemed cold, frozen over,
desolate of love or laughter.
"I can't bear to live."

Someone crept in through the doorway.
"It's a shame, isn't it?
No man is greater than any other,
yet no man is born equal.
No man lives without love,
but every man dies alone.
Maybe you can understand now,
why we deserve our own genocide...
Maybe now you'll let us fight to the death,
and have our peace that way!"

He looked up and,
despite the pure evil that stood before him,
he did not see that.
He saw someone lost,
someone abused,
someone desperate for truth,
any truth.
He saw someone fighting to love something,
anything.
He saw someone forgotten by loved ones
after committing acts that person was unable to avoid.
He saw a frightened being
lashing out at the world
in the hopes that the suffering would end.
He felt boundless compassion.

"I have no power left."
He said.
"No power to mend or bind.
No power worth your scorn."

"I'm going to **** you now."

"If I'm to die,
I hope my blood is enough for all who suffer."

"You're no messiah! You're just a lie we all want to believe!"

"If I was just a man...
I would have died when you killed her.
I would have hungered for torturous retribution.
But you have broken no one.
You're someone who needs to see your own suffering
out in the world
to justify the injustice dealt upon you.
But for every drop of effort you put into destroying her,
I wish you never experience my pain.
I wish to mend what drove you to break me,
so no one else may be harmed by you,
or anyone you inspire to deal death."

"No, I defeated you..."

"You tried..."

The weapon flickered.

"No, no, you can't feel love for me...
You don't have the *****."

"I have very big *****."

"You think you can love me?
After how I destroyed you!"

"If I could be destroyed,
I would already be dead!"

The weapon burst forth with light!

The killer realized they were someone foolish
Someone lost
Someone in need of healing.
For if "he" could not be broken,
surely there was hope.
If he could mend mountains
bring back loved ones and unite lost families
grow cities from the earth itself
grow forests from twigs
and deny a cold-hearted killer
the satisfaction
the honor
of seeing the fractures of a shattered soul
in blood-red, swollen, tearful eyes,
perhaps this man,
this one man,
could reveal what love is
to the killer's own famished soul.

He saw something shift in the eyes of that tortured someone.

That's when he realized...
That's when he understood.
He had the thirst for solving puzzles,
but humanity is not a machine,
it is a collection of gears
each just as vital as the whole,
for the whole does not exist without the worth
of every individual.
And to ignore an individual like this...
Someone who stood at the center of all the woe,
the evil,
and the tragedy in the world.
To ignore them would be to throw out the puzzle completely.

"May I mend you?"

Realizing they were someone facing an open door,
that person nodded.

He struck that person with his weapon.
Light flooded out as if by the sun itself.
Time seemed to stop.
People looked up in wonder of the light.
The very winds halted,
seas stilled,
nature perked up in unison.

When the light faded, he saw himself staring in a mirror.
The man in the mirror had blood-stained hands.

He stepped across the threshold and hugged himself.
His darkness hugged him back and the blood seemed to vanish.

"I forgive myself for killing her."

His darkness melted into a bulbous, gooey form and sank into him,
as if he were some kind of sponge,
leaving no trace of the darkness visibly.
He accepted within himself that he was capable of
unimaginable evil.
He accepted that he had control
and that he was responsible for the health and sickness
of the world.

Around him, the world began to shift.
In fact, it appeared to melt into liquid
and splash around him.
The liquid became clear, like the ocean.
It splashed and slid,
rocking him about.

Light flashed!

The baby awoke, curious about the world around him.
His boat had touched some distant shore.
Flecks of water spotted his cheeks and he laughed.

A couple crept up to the boat.
"I swear I heard a baby," a man said.
"You're crazy," a woman said, "Out here?"
The couple looked within the boat
and found the baby smiling at them with his
toothless, innocent smile.
The woman held a hand to her chest in awe.
She tenderly carried the baby out of the boat
and rocked it in her arms.
The baby laughed.
The man reached out.
"Not that hand!" The woman said, "You just cut yourself!"
"It's okay, no blood anymore, see?"
He pinched the baby's cheeks.
The baby touched his hand.
His **** healed in an instant!
"Woah!" The woman yelled.
Feeling for a scar where there were none,
the man stared in wonder at the child.
"Honey," he said, "This kid's got potential..."
This poem sort of came out of nowhere.
It does sit on the border between a poem and a story.
I've been fascinated by the Poetic Edda and the Iliad, how a poem could be hundreds of thousands of words long.

So here's my little poetic narrative.

Enjoy!

DEW
Breethyr Nov 2020
When i tell people about how i saw beyond reason, they tell me i'm not making any sense. Ironically, that's exactly the point. Something beyond reason can't make sense, logically, but it doesn't mean there isn't anything beyond logic.
We as people often act defying logic, although, arguably, the logic we live by is relative, and that leads to certain logical conclusions. What i am more interested in is, if all the relative points of logic can be seen as parts of objective, or even universal logic, then can i map it's boundaries? The answer is no. For the reason that if you can't see beyond a certain point you can't tell what's behind it. Say i stumble upon the logical end of my thought - it seemingly ends at a certain point, but what is beyond - i cannot know, that's why i can not tell if it's the logical end of it is relative to me or objective. But that is a logical mistake on my part. It's the relatively logical way to think, but objectively it's doomed for failure. For the same reason why we can't find the edge of our universe - not just because we don't see beyond the visible space region, but because it is impossible to reach such an edge in three dimensional space.
Allow me to logically explain why, on example of a two-dimensional space. Imagine yourself in a jar with water, you are swimming on the surface. The boundaries of the jar is your observable, or for better word - reachable universe. But the jar is not the entire universe, beyond the jar there is enormous amount of water. Whether it exists on a three-dimensional sphere or simply goes forever is irrelevant - you will never swim to the edge regardless. But if you were to be able to jump up from the surface of water then you would have understood that the true edge of this universe was actually vertical and you've just escaped through it into a new 3-dimensional one that is an extension of the two-dimensional one you previously were floating in. Now how do you then escape this 3-dimensional one you found yourself in? You know the answer, you jump into the 4th dimension - the logically only true edge of it.
Whether you can do it or not is irrelevant, what matters is what it tells us about logic - the exactly same thing - you can't reach the end of logic by simply looking around for it's borders, you have to fundamentally defy logic and go beyond it from the start.
Before we attempt that i have to lay down some things i kept secret from you until now. Why do i even chase the logical end? The answer is - i don't, i chase the fundamental understanding of the universe. "Whoah - hold up there" you might say, "what a perverse charlatan you are with your irrational methods, leave the universe to scientists!" And i will tell you - you are completely right. I don't understand anything a physicist or astronomer does when they examine what they can about the universe, but i believe, even though objectivity is not a matter of belief, to have a full understanding one can't study things from one aspect. Logic is the counterpart to fact, it is due to logic that facts exist the way they do, and it is due to facts available to us that we have the relative understanding of logic that we have today. Logic is the interpretation of the universe. And to reach a logical limit, in a sense, would be similar to reaching the limit of the universe. I can't jump into the fourth dimension of space, but i still i want to gain the fundamental understanding. I am desperate. That's why i will not stop until i have found it.
I have to derail from logic, and to do so i first need to deconstruct it. Construct is the foundation logic. By tying things into constructs, logic allows for interpretation of facts. Take for example the three dimensional space. It's construct is simple - it is existing in a three-axis fashion. There is left-right, forward-backward, up-down. Very simple, yet if need be it allows for great complexity, which can always be traced down to it's construct - three axis. To go beyond logic's very basic construct would be reaching my goal, but it is too early for that, as i can't yet pin-point what that is; i can do it for the relative space that i operate in, since with logic i interpret it, but to break down the very thing i interpret the world with is a completely different task.
Let's return to constructs. As i have realized, they are the foundation of logic. But further than that, they allow for existence of concepts. Now, beyond being a pretty word, a concept is something that we can logically interpret - understand, deconstruct or construct. Now not to play this game of terms any further, for the sake of logical simplicity i have decided that there are two types of concepts (and nothing further) - relative and objective. Relative concepts are understood in connection to other ones, while objective ones don't need the presence of others to still be ready for interpretation. The truth is, no one operates in objective constructs, because for that you would have to be outside of logic and universe, know it completely and wholly, only then would you truly be able to tell what constructs are objective. Even though relative to us, some concepts seem objective, for example - evolution, we describe it as the process of continuous adaptation. Seems very objective, right? But to proclaim such a thing is a fallacy - as even though it may be connected to our entire relative field of logic, we cannot tell whether is a fundamental property of all layers of the universe beyond our own. Another example - the concept of process. Well, time flows and with it something changes. Very objective. But time is relative to our perception of reality, there may not even be "time" at all and all there is is the way we experience the universe. What if we experienced time backwards? What if we experienced all time available to us at once? What if we did not experience time at all and stayed in a single "time-frame"? Is the concept of process still valid then? As such, all concepts available to us lie in the relative region of logic, and as far as we can understand, they don't stretch beyond it at least objectively.
Now that i have decided upon the features of logic, i need to derail. I don't know where to start so i will attempt to deconstruct a concept, and hopefully i will reach a logical failure - that will indicate to me that i have reached the limit to which i can deconstruct the concept, unless of course i have failed to stay true to logic, which seems contradictory, but really it isn't, as duality is the nature of the universe - even in logic.
If i have to "derail" then i will go with the concept of "a train". The one that travels on rails. What is a train? Is it a machine powered by fuel that goes on rails to transport someone or something, and usually consists of many connected wagons? Yes, but a lot of that is formalities, as how exactly a train works isn't a fundamental part of it's concept. The human idea of train can easily be seen in how we use the word alternatively - "train of thought". Fundamentally, it's something that travels to (hopefully)_a destination (but this train is doomed to fail). As such, i have discovered that "train" is only one of the faces for the fundamental concept of "transportation". Transportation is so fundamental to not just our existence but all life on Earth; because of this the invention of train by humankind was inevitable.
Let us transport somewhere. Conceptually, transportation means continuous movement of object by another. I want to go from point A to point B and i transport myself: i put myself in a cart and the cart takes me there. I want to transport a can of soda from the store to my fridge: i transport it there by carrying it in my hand.
I have realized that transport is a bad word for all of this, since it is not yet the most fundamental concept. What an oversight by me! Let's quickly fix this by proclaiming that more fundamental than transportation is movement. That truly is a great concept, as it is very fundamental, so please replace the word "transportation" for the word "movement" in the previous examples i'd described.
Movement is the primordial concept. I have arrived to such conclusion by thinking for an entire minute. If the construct of our perceivable reality is the three-axis, then by adding the concept of time and cause-effect into the mix, movement inevitably appears. Actually i have messed up with the terminology, so i will clean up the mess: construct of perceivable space is three-axis, but the fundamental construct of our relative reality also consists of time and cause-effect. In such a formation, movement is the primordial construct of this relative reality, as it is the most fundamental act. If you didn't know, non-movement is impossible in our reality due to the principle of relativity: even if you stay in place - from many perspectives you are in fact moving.
How does movement occur?.. What does it describe?.. A process of me moving from one point to another in a certain period of time? But what if it can also be reversed and describe me as moving in time in a certain length of space? Yes, it should, absolutely. Because from a detached perspective, it's the same thing. For me to move a certain distance, a certain amount of time has to pass; when a certain amount of time passes, i inevitably move a certain distance. I can't move to a certain distance without passing through a certain amount of time. I can't pass through a certain amount of time without moving some distance. In fact, i have an idea, i will move through time just because i decided to, and for that to happen i only need to go over a certain distance, or i may not even need to go, as i move through space all the time anyway. I still can only experience the time in one direction which is dictated by the cause-effect first being cause then effect in my relative perception of reality, but all it takes for me to go backwards is to turn around the cause-effect axis the same way i would turn around in the spacial three-dimensional axis'es. Everything would be exactly the same, just going backwards, and would make perfect sense once you apply a different logical interpretation strategy (with the effect being prior to cause).
Now i turn on the cause-effect axis in such a way that to my right is the cause and to my left is the effect. Time is at a standstill. I can't tell for sure but either i experience just one time-frame or all of them at once, but time no longer plays a part in my perception of reality, in fact now i see that to my right is the past and to my left is the future - it's frames like the one in which i currently am but slightly alternated, only if connected in a sequence they combine into time, but standalone they are like three-dimensional pictures.
I have experienced the world in a way i never had yet, but it still makes complete sense. I need to start removing parts of the logical construct. As i still witness past to the right and future to the left i decide that i can also see the alternative pasts and futures - all of those that intersect the one frame i currently inhabit. Why did i even decide i can do that? Because quantum mechanics told me i can, since according to their principles, universe is both deterministic and random - all effects occur from all possible causes and thus form infinite amount of timeline forks - all of which happen but a single observer feels like he only experiences one.
So i am an observer who turned perpendicularly around the cause-effect axis and decided that he can see what other observers he interconnected with experienced and will experience - them being technically other versions of me that cross paths in this frame. Now, when i say i've decided, you must understand, that even though factually none of this is possible, logically it is, just as much as you don't need to actually perform an action to sort of experience it - when you play a video-game or imagine things. Now, back to my experience of this ultra-reality, it is not very comprehensible, as it is similar to having not just one vision but 3 powered by infinity. I can't take it all in, but all my counterpart versions did come to this time-frame too, after-all. Which means that right here and now there's infinite amount of me, and all-together we can comprehend this mess of infinite pictures, one by one. This is definitely some sort of super-consciousness, made possible by all of us observers realizing that we interconnected from divergent paths in this one frame, which in turn was made possible from us rotating on the cause-effect axis. This is as close as it comes for me experiencing something truly divine. Not factually possible, yet logically experienceable.
Now i have seen it all - the entirety of my personal observable universe - or to be more factually correct - the entirety of my relatively available logic. Being only one of those infinite converging observers, i can't really tell you exactly what it consists of, but if you follow me in my previous steps you will understand it without me having to explain it.
Now only just one thing remains to finally derail - as i see everywhere i could ever see, and still wish to see what i could never see. Just like from that two-dimensional water i jumped into the three-dimensional air above it, i have to jump from whatever this thing i currently am experiencing to somewhere beyond it.
And i actually do so. In a way. I can't see **** here. Or at least, i can't figure out what i see, it makes no sense, it is beyond logic, beyond comprehension. Not even the infinite amount of my brethren can figure it out, it is on a completely different plane of existence, or maybe it even is unexistance, i can't know. It's completely quiet, even though maybe it is actually loud, just that the sound doesn't make any sense to me, so it's the same as if i don't hear anything. I just stare into it which is both nothing and so much everything to me that i almost drown in it. It pretty much ***** my thoughtful entirety into it much like a black-hole, it can't really do it but all my thoughts are attracted to it. It is to me like a great void that probably has lots of stuff inside but i can't possibly ever reach it, so to me it's a void. A void beyond logic, the delirious nonsense itself. I cannot reach it.
I get back from it to my plane of existence and turn around into the normal position on cause-effect axis of my relative reality. I really did it, i found that edge, that border. It's such a strange insight unlike anything else i have ever experienced in my head. I both know and don't know so much more about the universe - i experienced that black hole in my head, the end of the line for the train of logic, that drowns out into the vast void of complete irrationality relative to me. Now i know where and how to find it, and while it's not of any use to me, it brings me both despair and solace.
And did You find your end of the line?
Not a poem but a small personal philosophical absurd "treatise".
...Sunrise and a new day
indebted life of
a scapegoat
Dancing into the tune
with a rattlesnake
behind the black curtains
Shotgun to the head
and a barrel to drink
Dazed
under a worn out tuxedo
there's no room to share
the Truth
Gatecrash before the night
seals the gate
Blame is
under the torn wings
upon my shoulder
Funny they're not of my own
but I wonder
why the burden brings
a haunted
slumber...
Mek
08.12.09
Mohamed Nasir Nov 2017
At times can be seen melting together
One into the other like a loving couple
At times drifting as a lonely wanderer
The clouds are there to imitate people

It can't move on a journey on its own
Without energy clouds are immovable
It'll stay motionless if not wind blown
Prodding to be productive like people

Some are peacocks parading with flair
Of damsels bosoms as white as marble
Putting air pompous what do I care
Show fame without shame like people

Arms ready for war it's getting warm
They gather warring forces for battle
They march whip up a thunderstorm
Rainclouds hungry for war like people

Clouds can be big cloud can be small
Can be rich prosperous can be poor
Like people accumulate only to lose all
To earn and loss and earn once more

They orbit the earth decorated the sky
Unaware of mortal affairs just rumble
Prone to fallacy or vanity as you and I
Can't help noticed clouds are like people
Matty D May 2013
Outside in the cold dark
The first snow begins to fall,
Another sign of Winter’s mark.

Starting slowly, gathering speed
As the crescent moon rises
The dark-white storm will not recede.

Silently
Falling
Single-file
Ensuring
The descent
Is worthwhile.

Wave after cold wave
The onslaught of these sub-zero flakes
Sends warmth to the grave.

Or, rather, it is the lack of love,
That warmth, which causes snow
To fall so great from up above.

Then the gusty winds rush in
Launching the powder with a howling whine,
Cutting through coats, right to the skin.

Hours later, as the falling stops
And the wind dies down
Snow sloughs off in audible plops.

Off rooftops, trees
And fences, too,
A radiant white hue.

Woe is the day
When that fallen snow melts
Turning January into May.

For despite all the signs
Of new beginnings, my soul
Remains dark while all else shines.

And I wish, with the snow,
The memories of her would melt away
Along with
The pain she caused
So long ago.

Such a shame
Something so beautiful
Plays such a dangerous game.
March 14, 2010
(c) MDC
Wk kortas Mar 2018
Know this—I am well acquainted with the wolf,
Well versed in his ways, his demeanor,
His dispassionate relentlessness,
His pitiless focus on hunt and hunted,
His workaday disdain of pity.
There are those who would laud the mythical Spartan lad
Who hid the wolf beneath his cloak,
Affecting some gallant stoicism
As the beast consumed him without restraint,
But I say to you that is a mere romantic fallacy,
A wanton failure to apprehend the true moral.
I have learned that there is no accommodation,
No covenant to be reached with the wolf,
And any attempt to do so is merely to invite destruction,
And so I choose to engage him openly, without reservation,
Rolling tail-over-teacup in the streets,
Attempting to hold his jaws open with bare hands
While those who find such battle unseemly and uncouth
Jeer and hoot from porch and portico.
No matter, for I will continue to meet the cur on my terms,
For staid suffering in the hopes
Of reaching some accord with the beast
Is the not the act of the noble sage:
It is the mock heroics of the coward,
The sad acquiescence of the simpering fool.
Lisa Benson Jun 2017
this is irrational. in mathematics, the human reasoning - there will always be some sort of radical fallacy shoved into the equation. you. you sir, are what i call irrational. i can't lie when i say that i'm quite fond over how tall you stand, like a mountain. like a king. you don't rule the valleys and praries of your people, but you've found power along capalliries and veins. this box jutting irregularly in my chest is what you rule. i could construct motes and bridges and stone castle walls to keep you from getting in, but i can't deny i've always wanted to be a queen. your queen. i've never wanted so badly to rule your world. to take the throne and call you mine.
it's june 2017 and i wrote this in march of 2015. wowie!
Djs Aug 2013
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.

abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious

betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal

captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless

damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading

eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess

faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally

garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify

hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss

idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated

jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile

keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge

laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious

madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic

naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous

oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only

pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively

raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless

saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady

taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical

unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy

vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious

waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking

if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.

*-djs
GHOSTiePOST Oct 2015
There's a smile I can't forget
Affinity when we met
And a stomach full of butterflies I secretly kept
She’s got that good girl resemblance
And bad girl grin
I swear her eyes yell sin
It’s only for the sake of appearance
After all it’s just skin
Talking in absolutes
But abstracts give them less to persecute
I’d take your place as tribute
Cause I think what we have could be absolute

I've got that good guy look
And bad boy desire
Don’t mistake me as a compulsive liar
I just know every play in the book
Playing this game is like playing with fire
I still have the taste from your lips
Be careful not to sink ships
So I’ll move down to your hips
I still haven’t forgotten those lips
God forbid we take another hit
But I went and ran my mouth
Now there’s blood in the water

Pull me up
Pull me out
My lungs are filling now
I can’t breathe, I can’t sit still
I’ve had enough of the thrill
You’re flirting with heresy
And it’s turning us into fallacy
I’ll take those words back
Cause you’re still everything she lacks

Caught you signing seance seance
Praying He’s gonna save us save us
And now we’re dancing with the dead
Always tied down to that bed
You may as well be dead
Jade Lima May 2015
You said you'd break my heart.
I didn't believe you, and now it's tearing me apart.
Not a day goes by where i don't wish i could change our fate.
I pushed you away and didn't realize i locked the gate.
And if i'm being honest you were the first i truly loved.
My life is deteriorating and i fear that soon i'll be watching over this world from above.
They warned me that you would ruin me, only to let me rot.
I was blind to how invincible you made me feel, so i never gave it a second thought.
You told me that nothing happens by chance.
I just ache to hold your hand.
Why am i so infatuated with our history?
But that devilish miracle is still a mystery.
Although you're not here i'm still mesmerized by your gleaming eyes.
Worried that you forever severed our ties.
I know i should just forget this and move on.
But i can't bring myself to erase you, even though you're gone.
(I'm an idiot..)

— The End —