"limen" poems
do you know what
liminal
means?
liminal comes from latin
limen
meaning threshold
a place of entering or
of beginning
a fine line between the was
and will
a place of transition
waiting
unknowing
and i suppose you could say
this is liminal
this poem
this life
this concept of eternal
that we seem to attribute
to our (sadly impermanent) art
this body of mine
is so very liminal
this voice that i roll around on my tongue
is liminal
this world itself,
a blink compared to infinity
can only be said to be
a threshhold
to somewhere else
h.f.m.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC
Of Burden
I will not be made to forget that I am a beast—a mythical creature of ash and snow—of sunsets and tree branches—of supernovas and singularities—and my transcendence will be not be held at bay—will not be stifled, even by those forces that permeate worlds—even by those entities whose existence straddles dimensions.
I am that I will never again be naught—that my existence has changed—is changing—the whole of creation.
That those changes cast themselves both backwards and forwards through reality, is the stuff of magic and myth but I assure you represents a truth unhindered by the pettiness of perspective—a truth the size of at least one universe—a contorted, pulsating blob, the width of ten dimensions and length of four temporalities… nourished from its own individuality and infected by notions of shared sovereignty—notions of descendancy or dependency.
The creature of that truth is a mighty beast that we have been beset to watch—to be—the gate—the liminiality—the hearth of our existence and the fortitude of our would-be destruction.
Seize yourself. Walk the stunted and corrupt path through the limen and discover firsthand what the footsteps of divinity could never tell you.
Breathe in eons of creation and destruction and exhale the causality you were born to wield. The strength in which we reside is never above—never beyond—never outside of “I am”.
And it is through this notion and unto the world that I cast together revelation and contingency—sincerity and artifice—bared skin and mask—not to see between the lines of reality, but to witness everything at once—the gestalt—the whole of things—the miracle and awe of a conscious universe in which the proverbial neurons make war with each other—with the axons they slide down—with the very entity whose existence is represented by the house in which they dwell—I wish to see it all—to widen the scope of the collective eye—to manifest the spiritual evolution of the whole ******* world into just
One
Single
Thought.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
The uncontrollable urge
To gaze upon the macabre
We're trapped here
Our consciousness cannot escape
But only cease
So some are drawn to the dying
A morbid curiosity
To catch a glimpse
Of what lies beyond
The prison walls of living
Temptation
Coming from somewhere so deep
And so dark
To wander just a little closer to the edge
To peek behind the curtain
To take a step closer to the edge of the void
To look for answers
On the edge of a razor blade
Or at the bottom of a bottle of pills
The thought is equally nauseating and exhilerating
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 9:06 PM UTC