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"gateways" poems
I remember the history well: The soldiers and politicians emerged With briefcases and guns And celebrations on city nights. They scoured the mess Reviewed our history Saw the executions at dawn Then signed with secret policemen And decided something Had to be done. They scoured the mess Resurrected old blue-prints Of vicious times Tracked the shapes of sinking cities And learned at last That nothing can be avoided And so avoided everything. I remember the history well. 2 We emerged from our ******* mounds Discovered a view of the sky As the air danced in heat. Through the view of the city In flames, we rewound times Of executions at beaches. Salt streamed down our brows. Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections Monolithic accidents on hungry roads The infinite web of ethnic politics Power-dreams of fevered winds. The nation was a map stitched From the grabbing of future flesh And became a rush through Historical slime 3 We emerged on edge Of time future With bright fumes From burning towers. The fumes lit political rallies. We started a war Ended it And dreamed about our chance. Fat fish eat little fish Big ones arrange executions And armed robberies. Our ******* shapes us all. I remember the history well. The tiger’s snarl is bought In currencies of silence. Eggs grow large: A monstrous face is hatched. On the edge of time future I am a boy With running sores Of remember history Watching the stitches widen Waiting for the volcano’s laughter In the fevered winds Hearing the gnash Of those who will join us At the mighty gateways With new blue-prints With dew as seal And fire as constant And a trail through time past To us Who remember the history well. We weave words on red And sing on the edge of blue. And with our nerves primed We shall spin silk from ******* And frame time with our resolve. ________ Source: http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml
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On Edge of Time Future
I remember the history well: The soldiers and politicians emerged With briefcases and guns And celebrations on city nights. They scoured the mess Reviewed our history Saw the executions at dawn Then signed with secret policemen And decided something Had to be done. They scoured the mess Resurrected old blue-prints Of vicious times Tracked the shapes of sinking cities And learned at last That nothing can be avoided And so avoided everything. I remember the history well. 2 We emerged from our ******* mounds Discovered a view of the sky As the air danced in heat. Through the view of the city In flames, we rewound times Of executions at beaches. Salt streamed down our brows. Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections Monolithic accidents on hungry roads The infinite web of ethnic politics Power-dreams of fevered winds. The nation was a map stitched From the grabbing of future flesh And became a rush through Historical slime 3 We emerged on edge Of time future With bright fumes From burning towers. The fumes lit political rallies. We started a war Ended it And dreamed about our chance. Fat fish eat little fish Big ones arrange executions And armed robberies. Our ******* shapes us all. I remember the history well. The tiger’s snarl is bought In currencies of silence. Eggs grow large: A monstrous face is hatched. On the edge of time future I am a boy With running sores Of remember history Watching the stitches widen Waiting for the volcano’s laughter In the fevered winds Hearing the gnash Of those who will join us At the mighty gateways With new blue-prints With dew as seal And fire as constant And a trail through time past To us Who remember the history well. We weave words on red And sing on the edge of blue. And with our nerves primed We shall spin silk from ******* And frame time with our resolve. ________ Source: http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml
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76
Oh sleepless night why come tonight? Curiosity lead me astray Now sleepless night show me thine telescopic sight Oh sleepless night why torment me? Thou came at a strange time in life Sensuality cover of my sanity Oh sleepless night why hinder rest? Youthful travels delay gateways Yesterdays, break of day, spiritual decay Oh sleepless night how do you rest? Time passes yet you do not lay down Sleepless night show thine sunday best among the rest Envoi: Thine heart shalt rest no more, Find eternal peace by the shore.
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Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 5:39 AM UTC
Sleepless Night
A young girl growing up must always remember her inner child. Her inner child lies deep within waiting to come out and play help her shed her grown-up skin for a day. A woman needs to laugh find her playful self longing to come back into the playground. When times are challenging she must look deep within her inner child will always be there. Her inner child will always welcome her back to those magic gateways of childlike wonder sometimes forgotten. Her inner child can take her hand help her find her path when she is lost give her guidance along the way. Her inner child waits in dreams on all womanly highways the roads leading her back to herself. © 2014 Stacey Handler
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Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Inner Child (To my niece Luna)
Agung, Abang, Batur sacred volcanoes gateways to Gaia standing silent omnipresent dawn’s light your only adornment at your feet paddy fields emerald carpets across which you stride
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Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 2:30 PM UTC
Gateways to Gaia
Death is the act of becoming. Death is the act of birthing. Death is all that is, creation;;; And destruction. Death is love.   Death is hate. Death is neutrality. Death is chaos. Death is order. Death is truth. Death is real. Only death is real.   Death, death, death. Only death is real. Death is life. Death is gateways. Death is magick. Death is G-D. The Lord is life, Thus, The Lord is death.   Death is endlessness. Death is the spiral. Death is forever.   Spiral. Spiral.  Spiral. Death is deathless. Death is holy. Death is Shiva. Death is Allah Death is ******** Death is Om. Death is Jesus. Death is Roman Empires fallen. Death is the earth fallen. Death is trees fallen. Only death is real. Only The Lord is real. The Lord is death. Death. Death. Death. Only death is real. Life is illusion. A testing dream for death. Death is a gateway to Divinity. Only death is real.
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
Only Death Is Real. (Death. Death. Om Death.)
Smudges in the sky Swirling across my fingers Gateways to heaven
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Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
Clouds
I want you to think positive today Speak up when you have something to say Stand up and let your voice be heard Whenever injustice knocks at your door Don’t be afraid to cry out for mercy Don’t be afraid to cry so the world may be at your knees Don’t be afraid to be vocal Whether foreign or local Don’t be afraid to challenge the stagnant system Whether by voice or by the written work Let our hearts beat as one with the Congo rhythm Sing out The great reggae legend philosophy Bob Marley One Love, One hearts lets get together and feel all right I and I is a woman of righteousness Everywhere me step Jah bless Me radical Every vagabond has to scatter as the power under which is dwell is internalized Out of me the almighty specialized and their wicked cult can’t suffice So open up your eyes Please do realize Take away the cobwebs, remove the mask of disguise And see I prophecy Paint away the graffiti of one’s mind Remove the zinc fences and card board boxes That tries to manipulate See God See the devil when he masquerades Realize his plan His advocates and be aware It’s a physical A spiritual warfare Soldiers Put on your armour Prepare for war Keep your mind open Keep it secure The gateways to your soul Protect it with spiritual intervention If you don’t Illusion Delusion Difficult situation Under the system’s manipulation Hold an herbal, spiritual meditation And revolutionized Modernized this ya mind Christena AV Williams Jamaican Radical poet, rap lyricist and Author Pearls among stones All rights Reserved.
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Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Revolutionary minds
I want you to think positive today Speak up when you have something to say Stand up and let your voice be heard Whenever injustice knocks at your door Don’t be afraid to cry out for mercy Don’t be afraid to cry so the world may be at your knees Don’t be afraid to be vocal Whether foreign or local Don’t be afraid to challenge the stagnant system Whether by voice or by the written work Let our hearts beat as one with the Congo rhythm Sing out The great reggae legend philosophy Bob Marley One Love, One hearts lets get together and feel all right I and I is a woman of righteousness Everywhere me step Jah bless Me radical Every vagabond has to scatter as the power under which is dwell is internalized Out of me the almighty specialized and their wicked cult can’t suffice So open up your eyes Please do realize Take away the cobwebs, remove the mask of disguise And see I prophecy Paint away the graffiti of one’s mind Remove the zinc fences and card board boxes That tries to manipulate See God See the devil when he masquerades Realize his plan His advocates and be aware It’s a physical A spiritual warfare Soldiers Put on your armour Prepare for war Keep your mind open Keep it secure The gateways to your soul Protect it with spiritual intervention If you don’t Illusion Delusion Difficult situation Under the system’s manipulation Hold an herbal, spiritual meditation And revolutionized Modernized this ya mind Christena AV Williams Jamaican Radical poet, rap lyricist and Author Pearls among stones All rights Reserved.
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51
To live is to research happiness and homes for the pleasure of ending. People, through illusions, can shape happy possibilities from speech and position. Don't write it out. A life more useful than tragic is original in a moment, can transcend as well as fall into mistakes and experiences. To get your body to lean as far forward over the insurmountable bubble as possible, Is to create magic that consists of gateways and actions -- the outcome of which can place a thinker with only few leaps stranger than your enemies. Always forgive. Magic sometimes longer than a pause between morality and naked minds influences the two ways a relapse synapse will run. The true temptation of safety can be carpeted by play dough and play grounds. It's better to not sustain interfering manufactors, to not pirate the lies a man historically risks on quality of thoughts, But instead depend the nature of your virture on exploration at the heart of echoes. Why should you quit? A human's greatest obstacle is finding the principles we don't discover with the jailer listening and men afraid to rock the boat. Give better than you dare have. Reset the age of the mind and give parallel truths at the point of sweeping tides. To understand the laws of popular drifting, compromise the art of part establishing, occupy an ambitious ideal; You will lose an elevation over not being, not remembering. Sometimes treading water becomes a nuisance, and you'll lose a choice in the dungeon. Don't abandon your force. Don't regret the pursuit of circumstances. Don't delude a reputation of bridges and evidence. Empathy is traveling the world for imagination and salvation. We are here for a spell; one equality shreds the ears ready to get you in trouble.
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Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
Ya dig?
To live is to research happiness and homes for the pleasure of ending. People, through illusions, can shape happy possibilities from speech and position. Don't write it out. A life more useful than tragic is original in a moment, can transcend as well as fall into mistakes and experiences. To get your body to lean as far forward over the insurmountable bubble as possible, Is to create magic that consists of gateways and actions -- the outcome of which can place a thinker with only few leaps stranger than your enemies. Always forgive. Magic sometimes longer than a pause between morality and naked minds influences the two ways a relapse synapse will run. The true temptation of safety can be carpeted by play dough and play grounds. It's better to not sustain interfering manufactors, to not pirate the lies a man historically risks on quality of thoughts, But instead depend the nature of your virture on exploration at the heart of echoes. Why should you quit? A human's greatest obstacle is finding the principles we don't discover with the jailer listening and men afraid to rock the boat. Give better than you dare have. Reset the age of the mind and give parallel truths at the point of sweeping tides. To understand the laws of popular drifting, compromise the art of part establishing, occupy an ambitious ideal; You will lose an elevation over not being, not remembering. Sometimes treading water becomes a nuisance, and you'll lose a choice in the dungeon. Don't abandon your force. Don't regret the pursuit of circumstances. Don't delude a reputation of bridges and evidence. Empathy is traveling the world for imagination and salvation. We are here for a spell; one equality shreds the ears ready to get you in trouble.
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46
Historically this history is my Thucydides, And when I need that leadership, where is my Pericles. Philosophies are just to please all my Aristocles, And when I need a lover, where are my Persephones. A thousand hordes with blazing swords descend to vanquish me, I sit and pray that this today's not my Thermopylae. The gateways hot, they say that's not the way it's meant to be, So Ill just float here in my boat in my Aeagean Sea
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Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 5:58 PM UTC
Olives
My heart's ablaze I'm so amazed cluttered in clichés in a daze I'm dismayed too many long driveways Life's fortes as we graze upon the gaze in a haze of haze trapped inside this maze our voices phase into the next of days Oh did we raise with utter rephrase glancing sideways into stairways how I hate your ways as much as I hate causeways too much decay along the edgeways inside the hallways roadways screenplays my heart strays on into Sundays and Tuesdays I hate the weekdays they're gateways into other days. © 2012 Christina Jackson
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Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
Words that rhyme with 'days'
One soul to awaken Two souls to make love Three souls officiate a family Five elements to keep in balance Eight gateways to filter through Thirteen to make it true Twenty-one to set in stone Thirty-four to seven the circuitry in I AM the will atones
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Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
A Pattern From Whence It Came
I just write it as it is spoken. A Divine Voice created matter, space, and time. God's wisdom is not speechless because you choose not to hear. A belief of senses, does that matter? I see it now Her and I Perfect in God sight Like male and female On the six day of creation Love is not known Just perfection Never mind The unsuspected Elohim said "not to eat" Of the tree of knowledge of good and evil A simple taste would open their eyes to a perspective that will change their minds What they believe now is only a soul desires of the gateways into their eyes.
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Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
So you see..
Following the path less taken Over all the low roads and Routes plummeting towards the craven Gateways of Hell takes the travelers Into enlightenment. Those who avoid Satan's Vengeance and forked whispers Emerge from the waters of the lake in Nature's womb veiled in holy layers Encompassing their soul. This ache in Society seeps into the bones of naysayers Slandering the purging powers of equal pardon.
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Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
Finding
Awaiting that moment, was it Meant to be, as two feathers Floated upon a last breath. White as if from heaven, landed Settled upon the left eye. Seeing, searching the mind of All the good that was done. Dark as night a feather as ominous As night itself fell upon the right. Seeing, searching the soul for All that tainted through life. Barbs did seed upon the flesh, and all that was known was now Learnt, nothing hidden all was seen from within. Each rachis did fill, leached from The body of what was drawn in, Soul, heart, mind now emptied in to each feather filled. The quill did drip, with all that Was taken, the feathers had fallen Earthbound each partaken upon the Gateways of the soul. What did it find within, as a drop Fell from each upon the lips, and A last word spoken from each. But only you will speak these words Once the feathers fall and see all Within. One white, one black which One will carry you, where will your Afterlife now begin.
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 7:22 AM UTC
Two Feathers Fell Earthwards
The cloudy nightmares, Images of pasts, repressed Forever dying Their tombs are destroyed, Gateways to the collections Violently ***** Given a **** or Second thought to understand Tragic endeavors Numbness overcomes And overshadows, under Dark circumstances Sly, insidious, Uninspired, and flawless Miracles occur Alone in my world Stoicism has benefits No one else matters Dreaming, believing, Living, thinking, and feeling, But never kneeling Twelve, thirty-seven, Six-million ways to die, but One to stay alive
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Dec 2, 2009
Dec 2, 2009 at 11:24 AM UTC
The Stoic
If I ruled the world The air would be gray So each day We could sit and watch The colors blow away If I ruled the world The whole globe would be gay Happiness abundant In a joyous Kind of way If I ruled the world Races would be gateways To walk into the life Of another culture each day. If I ruled the world Boundaries would be no more I'd step on racism And knock down hatreds door
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Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
If I Ruled The World
The doors that light the heavens Are the gateways we do perceive As simple stars in a blank black sky But they are as portals to another life Another home, another love What we neglect, they protect And too well their job is done.
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Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 5:14 PM UTC
Doors
It feels more times than not My character is misconceived Wherein my affinity for emotion is Either ill received, or begs condescension Such vindictive decrees for Souls just as flawed as me The difference is Mine are the only flaws that I can see. Void of emotion? I prefer to think that I can Differentiate between A fleeting feel And what is real - What of the lack of social devotion? I am only at my best Around those who create from the heart I discard the rest, because I am the company I keep, And I've kept from the start. Over the top flattery? I beg to differ. You mistake the way I speak and the things I do For my romantic battery The thought of which makes me quiver - It says a little something about you, too. You fail to see That I can so naturally Draw emotion from the smallest of things Do you think it is through arrogance that I sing? A highly internalized being, who only creates things To feed an insatiable egotistical craving? Clearly the life that you lead Is just lacking fantasy, or a sense of meaning... I have met people who are metaphorical gateways, No, actual ley lines of human creativity. I wonder if their work would Make you question your brand Of Humanity.
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Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 10:44 PM UTC
Qualms of a Psychopathic Musician
The beginning of the end. A sandstorm made a huge 400 floor library sink beneath the sand. At times a tall tower can be seen sticking out of the sand. There are wolfs bringing information from across the land. The library overseen by a spirit of an owl. Many have tried to find the library but they threw in the towel. The library has a huge ancient observatory. A huge telescope looking at the stars tells a story. There are parts of the library that has been untouched for a century. There is an extremely huge card catalogue. It even owns books from ancient babylon. The library has various gateways. The bookshelves looks like endless hallways. There are parts that are inaccessible.  The libraries knowledge is unsurpassable. A huge staircase that is broken.  The timepiece on the wall is broken. A Lot of travellers got lost.  The library is filled with snow, sand, moss and the one room is filled with a forest. The library is full but it still has a lot of storage.
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Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 1:38 PM UTC
Library
Of distant dreams that call in the silence of dusk, Their resonance in tropic humidity Calling to me through the jacaranda and palm past the swirling spanish moss Their melodies resounding like bells in the lilac evening And the chorus of crickets that drifts out to a harvest moon sky O distant dreams that calm my sadness and wrap me in their warmth on passing ocean breezes, Meander through stirring branches of twilight forests to greet my Summer desolation, sweeping me to your fabled lands, beyond evening's gateways.
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
Of Distant Dreams
Flickerings of distant memories flutter past my psyche into nothing. Through an astral plain I drift. Over nonexistent lands my feet carry me, floating. She slinks away, the black cat, agile— “The dreamscape is a fragile thing,” she said. I'm following, changing, borrowing her shape but then the story fades, too vague and just like that it's vanished. Incomprehensible images wander as clouds through skies of colours unseen. I'm lost in an ocean of questions that pierce my ears as hooks through the fish's mouth but I cannot ask, for a white hot zipper seals my lips. A voice whispers, breath damp in my ear: “Watch, listen...” The ground opens beneath me and I plummet. Feeling cold against my skin I'm naked, vulnerable, fearful. This pit must be bottomless but I've landed, unscathed. Bathed in grasses soft as silk smelling of life and freedom I'm enveloped in relief, protection. My body moves, uncontrollable as reeds in a river yet still guided by a wind with no origin playing melodies of beauty immense and painful. Wonder fills me as the song ends, ominous and heavy the silence looms. Flowers die and the grasses wither as I'm pulled away, reluctant. Higher, higher I'm lifted into lucidity past ladders and staircases, tunnels and gateways closing before my eyes as nearer draws the moment I dread more than anything. Despite my persistence, I'm solid again. I'm myself, mundane and mourning: awake.
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Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 3:42 PM UTC
Lament for a Dream
Hands that hold to speak quiver in this moonlight awaiting slipping moments peak to cry to the heart Trembling its darkened dawns dusting away at the pieces of myself that have been left to the wind. Emptied caskets fill the spaces of energetic flesh on my breast Gashed and still in this wippity whimperous moment. Do you hear me? Do you hear me when I make silent calls between two worlds, Do you hear my voice calling to you? Then gapes a girl curious to explore the world "I think I hear you" she says, all the while raising an ear to snippits. I, I just want to love you so, so deeply I want to cleanse you I want to make you shine with a radience like sunlight liquid dancing flickers on flowing river songs creek beds of bliss Do you hear me? Do you hear me? Do you, you , you, you, you hear me? I´m pleading to that smile hidden by mental chitter chatter hop off the train, empty off your platter of burdenous fruits release all of that matter Do you hear me? Hey darling, moon belly seastar dancer I see you I love you I am you Do you hear my long echoing cries for freedom? Do you hear my gentle sighs, gateways to divine skies Do you hear me? A drop of arms A rising breath an emptied teth "I hear you¨" she says, "I hear you, I hear you, I hear you!!" her voice roars on "I hear you, I am you" Wild ravonous wails I hear your nightingale calls, I hear the ups and downs as heartbeat falls, I hear rambling nectar rollin smoothly off our soul I hear a lovebirds sonnet roll Oh mother, oh Great on in Me in You in We, I hear you, I hear you, I hear you, I hear you and I´m ready to listen.
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Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
Listening
Hands that hold to speak quiver in this moonlight awaiting slipping moments peak to cry to the heart Trembling its darkened dawns dusting away at the pieces of myself that have been left to the wind. Emptied caskets fill the spaces of energetic flesh on my breast Gashed and still in this wippity whimperous moment. Do you hear me? Do you hear me when I make silent calls between two worlds, Do you hear my voice calling to you? Then gapes a girl curious to explore the world "I think I hear you" she says, all the while raising an ear to snippits. I, I just want to love you so, so deeply I want to cleanse you I want to make you shine with a radience like sunlight liquid dancing flickers on flowing river songs creek beds of bliss Do you hear me? Do you hear me? Do you, you , you, you, you hear me? I´m pleading to that smile hidden by mental chitter chatter hop off the train, empty off your platter of burdenous fruits release all of that matter Do you hear me? Hey darling, moon belly seastar dancer I see you I love you I am you Do you hear my long echoing cries for freedom? Do you hear my gentle sighs, gateways to divine skies Do you hear me? A drop of arms A rising breath an emptied teth "I hear you¨" she says, "I hear you, I hear you, I hear you!!" her voice roars on "I hear you, I am you" Wild ravonous wails I hear your nightingale calls, I hear the ups and downs as heartbeat falls, I hear rambling nectar rollin smoothly off our soul I hear a lovebirds sonnet roll Oh mother, oh Great on in Me in You in We, I hear you, I hear you, I hear you, I hear you and I´m ready to listen.
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62
. Thrown into an event, temptation wearing a smile, as you fall into the void behind my pale blue eyes, a willing traveller through gateways of adventure. And you stumble through to mystery, unknowable puzzles, a Pandora's box of imagery, bound and enslaved, to dream, reality, memory, bedecked with lucid hallucination. The intensely dark and hollow, the bright lights hot shine, all swirl in symbiosis, dazzling and confusing your view, assaulting your quiet feelings with butterflies and nausea. And you sink enthralled, appalled, intoxicated, as thoughts, desires, pictures, flash before your eyes unbidden, products of inertia from the depths of my mind. © Pagan Paul (02/07/18)
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Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC
All In The Mind
“d’ya see it yet?” “no, no, swing harder!” Tink tink TINK TINK “A hole! Hit there!” SLAM! Crumbling Falling through Landing soft on Nothing “Her head-” “There’s nothing in here!” Skeptic now Of their own minds “there should be An entire world in here!” Banging at their skulls “is that how ours are?” Picks through their own bones They look into empty worlds “anything in mine?” “nothing!” “yours, too!” Climbing from the shell Cracking others open “there must be A thought in one of them For us to live on” Splitting into white Finding only white Staring in dismay At all the wasted gateways
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Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 12:26 AM UTC
Gateway