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Jeremy Duff Aug 2012
A boy named Jake and a girl named Lexi had never met before.
They had a class together last year, but neither one knew it at the time.
They both walked into their Sophomore Drama class for the first time, scared and apprehensive.
Lexi there five minutes before the final bell and Jake, seconds before the final bell.

Jake entered the class and quickly took the only seat on the floor not occupied by an unfamiliar face.
They all introduced themselves, all 27 of them, mostly Sophomores with a few Freshman, Juniors, and a single Senior.It was then, when Lexi said "Hi, my name is Lexis Marilyn Manchester and I go by Lexi," that he first noticed her.
She was cute, shoulder length blonde hair, a floral shirt and jeans, although Jake didn't notice those things at the time. Only her dazzling pale blue eyes, and angelic voice.

The guy sitting next to her didn't say his name at first, even though it was his turn. She tapped his leg and motioned toward the center of the circle the class had made in the Drama Room. Room I7.
He said "How.. uh, my name is Jacob Turner. I don't have a middle name, but I go by Jake."
He was cute. He had short, yet unruly brown hair, a white shirt with the letters "LDTA" on them and nice fitting black jeans. The only thing she noticed about him however were his mysterious pale blue eyes, and for some reason, lack of middle name.

Jake didn't even care that the class had laughed at his lack of middle name. The only thing of importance to him was that when he looked over, the cute girl named Lexis Marilyn Manchester, who went by Lexi, was looking at him. He quickly looked away as did she.

The class went on and neither Jake nor Lexi, made an attempt to talk to the other although they did steal careful looks often. The bell finally rung. It was a seventh period class, so school was over.

On his way home Jake thought of nothing but Lexi, and driving.
He stopped at a sign, only blocks from home. The traffic rushed by. The car behind him did not see his car. They pushed him into the oncoming traffic just as a big SUV hybrid drove by. The driver slammed the breaks but still did not manage to avoid hitting the drivers side door of the small, blue, beat up, Toyota.

The doctors say he was killed on impact.

That's what the school told the small group of friends who were asked to attend a quick meeting regarding the accident. Lexi went.

She thought about him everyday for the yest of the school year.
Even some over summer.
He never faded.
She wouldn't let him for some reason.

He was killed on impact but he never faded.
Originally from the Ancient Greek word 'empatheia', derived from "en" & "pathos" ["in" & "suffering or passion"]. Here we find the root of empathy's definition. Empathy is in emotion, feelings evoked from the animal in our psyche, the purported soul. It is sensation born of mirror neurons, not necessary under our control.

The Empathion is the empathetic dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind through which emotions are created and thence expressed.
Empathos is the corporeal manifestation of said dimension, expressed through the medium of a body.

Alexithymos [without-words-for-emotion] is an unaccepted dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind comprised of irreconcilable notions, it is proportionate to our own limitations rather than lacking in "actual compatibility". If a noumenon cannot be processed by The Empathion then it is relegated to Alexithymia wherein we cannot accept the inability to understand/emotionally analyse it at present, given the current pretext.

Alexithymia was constructed from a-lexis & thumos  [without-speech & soul, seat of emotion, feeling and thought]. It is a failure to integrate mirror-neurons into our own gestalt of consciousness, possibly because one does not yet possess the schema required for integration.

The Entheon is the actual dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind which is as according to reality (if/when aligned correctly).
The Apotheon is the elevated dimension of the psyche, the part of the mind which judges objects and thereby separates them from reality.

The Empatheon is the emotio-judgemental intersection of the psyche, The part of the mind where emotion can be comprehended, reflected and resonated (rather than merely sourced, determined and asserted). As a faculty The Empathion is intersected by both The Entheon and The Apotheon. Things-in-themselves may move through The Empatheon but their movements correspond to a generative dimension which cannot be known by the human psyché.
Illuminated ones move through these dimensions silently.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
to pretend to be stupid is the ultimate form of entertainment... and believe me: it's playing the village idiot.

huh... i always imagined leaving traces of this life in the form of: cameo... footprints on the beach, the sea, and that old *******, the watchmaker.

*and i learned that from my father, he pretends he's stupid, he's not exactly the sharpest mind when it comes to acquiring a second tongue, but i was a child when i began, he wasn't, but i still had the audacity to retain my nativspreschen, which made me acquire more of the culture and levitate the language on a whim, well, it made me penetrate and immerse myself in jolly ol' england... then again, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses... he still has his prised possession... a mind as sharp as a guillotine when it comes to arithmetic; couldn't tell a jew apart from him; me? i like letters, lexis est infinitas... since no man has every used, all, the word, available to him.
Jacqe Booth Feb 2010
sick of your...

Every time you spit in my mouth
with your visceral vehemenence
i wonder to my wits end
Did you kiss your other lovers
with that poluted ***** mouth?
Does it make you feel bigger?
or more in control?
Does it tickle your fancy
to be taking your toll
On me and us and what could be ours.

Im sick of your words.

Your attitude
slung low on your hips
biting
deleteriously
loose from your tongue.
Tonight im not crying
just tired and perturbed
you're a tyrant to my self,
an echo disturbed.

I want to hate you for this
While i love you for the other,
but who am i to blend the boundaries of
love and hate?

and your love is the balm
you say?
that eases the pain,
keeps the demons
at bay.

I disbelieve you now
amidst this tendered rhyme,
spoiled stitch in time,
that is binding your lexis
to my tongue.

You're in my head.

and i dont like to savour
the rotted flavour
that is your shadow of doubt,
seeded so deeply in the terrain
of your self triggered drought.

Im sick of your words.
Diverseman2020 Oct 2009
Writing
In the hour of the after life
As the candle burns
Fingers are numb
Ink is dry
A feathered pen ruined
On ashless paper
Exposing uncombined thoughts
Of revision
How can this be?
The words I look upon
Carefully
A sentence so unfinished
Quenching  for more expressions
In which I cannot find
A performance in the house of tongues
From an encore of a lapping lexis
As the dead poet rise
To be saved
Brandon Sep 2011
I just had a religious experience
Everything that was everything decorated the skies
                   Life in all its glory and purpose
                         The sun shown in all too brilliant rays cascading sheets of pure light
Upon the animals, the faces, the millions of faces
         The earth
              Covered with mountains, canyons,
                            Gulfs streaming with storms
Oceans of life littering the spaces
            Between wolves howling and grizzlies catching salmon
                          Leaping from fast flowing rivers
                                       The trees and forests grow to such great heights
It’s beautiful
    Too beautiful for my vocabulary
          Lexis fail to describe in detail the pure extravagance of it all
                  The sun changed the hues of vast Eden
                        Spits of negatives and diluted colors
                                Welcoming all as one
                                   Tired eyes from beauty’s light
                                           Counterparts
                                                    ­             The dark so dark that it was hard to focus on
                                                              ­         Moving slowly like a monolithic sludge
Engulfing the light
                 Slowly
                            Till all was dark
                                 Till all was dark
And good and evil existed as one
Dylan D Nov 2010
Stubborn boy

Always treading mountains

Studying tables and configuring signals

Sending them deep into space

So far gone they will become black again

Reading slow

Maybe even more so

As capricorn’s last noise

Fills the air so clear

Purges the ocean of its madness

And the treasures buried deep below.

Stubborn boy

Will you not forgive yourself

And keep your lexis to you and God

For even now you

Cry a tear nobody will hear

Shake a violet ‘till the last petals whither

And fall to your feet.

Stubborn, stupid boy

And a rotten small thing

As it crushes you into a tiny

Uneven sphere of sadness and a grievance not so

Uncommon in funerals

And a marriage two fortnights awake



Alas a gift given is a gift taken away

A violet shaken is a flower unjustly undone

And a stubborn boy

Is a thing everyone will try to keep away from the darkness

But will not keep the darkness away from him.

Tried and true

You will suffer with the rest of them

It’s written here

In the oath you signed while your eyes

Still knew not the world

And your palms

Clean as a morning sky

Still brushed along the pavement /

Crafted globes.
Lauren E OBrien Nov 2011
Holy pages ripped from a sacred spine,
****** out your blood and spilled your wine.
Mopped it up with sanctified script,
Leaving divine lexis left to encrypt.

Hypocritical followers with justified wrongs,
Unjustified sinners to worship reverence songs,
An attempt to make it through without harm,
A set of prolongs left to disarm.

What about the advocates who push unworthy guilt,
Yet redefine corruption in the place their faith built?
What about those who are prosecuted for living their lives,
Put on trial for wine spilt, and other wine-like deprives?
Brandon Feb 2012
The silence between the abomination of your voice
Speaks it all, says it all
And it’s all been said before
By better minds and better tongues
In better ways than I could ever describe
I’ve heard the words that you spill so hazardly
From your dry rotted lips
Flapping and gumming opinions
Like your opinions are the only opinions that matter
You should go into politics
And spread your misinformation to the masses
Regurgitate all the those old aphorisms
Into new phrases and praises
Your mind spills uselessness
Coagulating on the floor like spilled milk
I don’t want to know what’s on your mind
I won’t want to listen to you butcher the air anymore
With the putrid smell of your lexis
Watching your scathing irritability rise and decay
Like your chopping on thick slices of grade A meat
I don’t want to know what it is that you see
I don’t want to hear you flail your jaw anymore
I want to be the one to be there when you bleed
I just want this to be over
Your conversation skills are lacking
And you should quit while you’re ahead
But then you would have never said a word
Never would have opened your mouth
And never would have had the chance to end up dead
People that talk to me at work are annoying...
My dog barked like crazy while i read this aloud...
She must think i'm annoying too....
Raphael Cheong Jan 2015
Regarding this sin that I do not speak about
Yet is silence a granted blessing?
Silence works both ways for us
Putting faith together
And breaking noise apart
For seventeen years I lived mum
But on the eighteenth one summer drum
Rang the sound of an epiphany
And jubilation came in voice singing
Love is still love after all

Regarding this sin that throws people off
Yet why is that so?
Why is it easier to look up for divinity
Than it is to look past differences
For difference is not sin
Are you bathed in flames for being
Different from your kin?

Regarding this sin some lives have been lost
And anonymity gives ****** a helping hand
But most flawed are those who pretend
To be a sheep in a lion’s den
To don the crown of power and speak
On the behalf of their conqueror
Yet no thorns to the head they suffered
And for them it is easier
To be vile than to pass vows
Funny how difference
Can be similar in so many ways

Regarding this sin are we not all human?
And conflations have been made about this
And poetry spun with lexis that runs
The course of skeletal rivers
Lungs that breathe in purple air
Eyes that tear at the sight of hatred
Lips that just want to be loved
And skin that warms at every touch
But senses do not prevail
Against the laws that trap these sinners
And heaven knows that schadenfreude has been attained
At their expense
For we omit them almost entirely
Till the moment they are drowning
But us quiet sobbing sinners
Shall exist in different ways

Regarding this sin what more is there to be said of it if we have run the course of debate but yet nothing ever changes?
Perhaps expositions such as these to start
We must be less afraid to speak
Less afraid to show the love we choose
But then again

Did we?

Regarding this sin you have so labelled
Are you fit to give us names?
All our dog-gone days are over
We were not the first to be made
And neither
Shall we be the first to be torn down
Running gets tiresome when you
Are constantly playing a game of hide
And seeking to be found
But patience is the toughest waiting game
And
With faith beyond reasonable doubt we know

Love is still love after all
Lukoje Jan 2016
On Time's ornate shelves
we will soon find ourselves.
Be it in a week or a decade,
each of us will eventually fade.
But our lexis and our prose,
kept in books stacked in rows,
black inked words on yellowed pages,
of our worth will be the gauges.
A not time night time.
And maybe.

Freedom exists.

Love.

Cans opened.

A blue door opens.

Lexis.

Let's us.

Record plump in Lexus.

Little he'll hurt.

A breath and my back performs over you.
Michael Briefs Aug 2017
The mazy pattern spins upon
The murky enclosure.
The process emerges as
Watery words written, interlaced,
Across the fleshy frame.
A fleeting impression of
Ephemeral inscriptions
Dancing and enticing my mind
To immersed submissions.
Anxious pulse slows,
Cooling blood flows
In sympathetic resonance;
My breath lilts, feathery,
And the room, lustrous, grows.

As light surfaces, giving
Clarity to the liquid lexis
That swirls around, I begin
To see the hypnotic signs,
Coaxing my soul
To a heady delirium!
But the ethos is pure alterity,
And the shapes start to change.
The fluent verses that encircled me --  
Messages of reassurance,
Poems of perpetual peace,
Prompting me to repose,
Calling me to release --
Now shift and bleed
Into a color-blur, so strange!

Once recognizable,
The patterns now appear as
Iridescent waves of a gnosis, primordial.
The intuitive takes hold.

In this floating state of acceptance,
Those dreamy streams pull me to Elysium:  
Visions shimmer of verdant gardens unending,
Acoustics of astonishing life
Jabbering in response, ascending!
The proud Peacock stands,
The wild Quetzal soars!
Is this moment virtual? Is this identical?
I am drawn into a dreamland
Carried from my sentient core.

All will to resist dilutes to
Diffuse and opaque defection.
The eternal elements of existence
Intrude and disperse any mean ambition.

Breath. Sight. Vibration. Light.
Bathed in a serene sea my soul would chart.
Knowledge without thought.
Instinct without provocation.
Flight within the cavernous enclosure
Of my trembling heart.

I am in balance above the abyss,
I am a fixed crystal corpus.
The liquid lyrics of Supreme love
Are interlaced and have become
A spark of pristine existence.
Miraculous codes of new life branch forth
To a seminal universe of expression.

From that murky domain, the excellent
Utterance of my existence becomes clear.
The gospel of the soul’s translation sends its
Proclamation when the muse appears!
I am not sure if this one is quite finished yet, but here goes!
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
The mirror, consistent bystander, a defiled savior that returns
An arid eyeful of the misery masquerading in skin
The promises, unturned in the ragged nails
Of hands amongst the worn blades, desiccated with blood.
Night prefaced by sleep endeavors to hold a zephyr to never wake
Keeping a window parsed with misguiding lexis when solitary
Escapism writes itself on panes in palls of a routed exhale
The walls, sordidly stained with parody of preaching truths
Openhanded to the sheer erosion of missing self-misuse
And as the dawn reveals the path out redemption's door
The fetter of morning's mourning reminds its prisoner of its tethered grip.

©  2013
Geraldine Taylor Jun 2017
Pronunciate, predominate, preponderate, prevaricate,

Precipitate, pontificate, pomegranate, postulate –

Problem?

Do not attempt to look these words up!

That dictionary shouldn’t be w-i-d-e open like your mouth

Or can’t you handle multi-syllabic lexis?

I thought you were TOUGH, MIGHTY and STRONG

Yet lower,

Lower,

Down into the ground

A million thoughts lay scattered, here, there and everywhere

WAIT A MINUTE

I thought you were INVINCIBLE and POWERFUL

So HARD that you could DEFEAT anything that came your way

I THOUGHT YOU COULD RUN AND hide

Why, this room is as LOUD as s-i-l-e-n-c-e

I see that your friends aren’t with you now

What happened to your BIG mouth! Cat got your tongue?

But when your friends are around

Your tongue can’t resist a good workout

Up, down, t-w-i-r-l it a-r-o-u-n-d

I thought that Audacious was your middle name

Oh, here comes Georgia Giraffe.  Cat got your tongue again?

The old YOU jumps out and reveals itself

When YOU LOOK down AT PEOPLE

Those known as the vulnerable

So why is it that when people LOOK down AT YOU

You put on a mask?

Such an innocent and friendly face!

Scared now?  Met your match?

I thought that if you had a pound for every fight you had won

Every human alive would be penniless

Silly sausage!  Oh, sorry!  Offended?

Truth hurt?  Are you a victim?

Well, imagine what it feels like to be a victim!

Where the world is an e-v-e-r-l-a-s-t-i-n-g nightmare

Look here, look there, but there is no escape route

I-m-a-g-i-n-e what it feels like to want to t-u-r-n back the clocks

Where you can never see the shine

If it isn’t too much of a HARD task, then

Bully, OH bully



-Imagine-



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jupiter The Poet Aug 2020
If you should dissipate,
Please take me with you,
I vow to hereby love the void.
I pledge my alliance to the hopeless,
I offer my soul to nothing at all.
If you should dissipate,
Please take me with you,
Scatter shatter letters,
Leave me a trail of lost lexis,
If you dissipate,
Before you go,
Feed me a story,
For I feel hollow,
Plant me a garden,
Within the emptiness of my ribcage,
If you should dissipate,
Leave me your voice,
Cotton soft,
And although you have gone,
I still hear your sway.
If you should dissipate,
Leave me your legacy.

— The End —