"idealic" poems
Everyone is always
Saying
What a
Beutiful
Sunset
What a
Magnificent
Beutiful
Sight
But don't forget
That monsters can
Be beutiful
That war can
Be magnificent
And yet a sunset
It is still
Pretty
Pleasing
Romantic
Idealic
Such a soft sight
Such a little snippet of
Gentle
Kind
And it is
All those beutiful
Things
But it is also
Death
It is also
Darkness
A darkness on that light
For, why treat the
Herald
Of a
Tyrant
Like a
Queen
But
And yet
We make an exception
(The humans we are)
An exception for this
Beutiful
Magnificent sight
As it bleeds
As it cries
Tears of
Cloud
Just another
Casualtie
Of night
Pinks like watered
Blood
Oranges like
Funeral pieces
Such morbid
Similies
Such violent
Metaphors
For such a
Beutiful
Magnificent
Terrible
Sight.
Things
Cold
Dark
Lonely
Black
Dieing
Dieing
Dieing
Hope.
The final words
Of a poet
His
Rasping
Breaths
Hacking out
Words
Words like blood splattered flowers
What does he say in those
Final
Moments
What
Beutiful
Violent
Things?
The answer
Why, it just behind that
Dark
Dark
Horizon.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 4:41 PM UTC
Knowledge is mans neurosis to cover the pain of existence.
All knowledge is false because all pain is interpreted by the mind,
which is made of nothing.
Human beings as conductors of consciousness, interprete pain only as a mechanism to evolve toward a more idealic state.
We do not need God for that which we have, but for that which we lack
So God is That toward which we seek to Evolve.
Therefor God lives in us as our future selves. (In regard to quantum evolution)
Relinquishing resistence (inner) is conducive to the Highest Self or
Jesus the Christ
Yet do we understand Time.
Men percieving with keyhole eyes
remember Love sees not with the eyes but with the Mind
Free your jailed Mind
Hallelujah
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC