"redundancy" poems
Beneath the rose, redundancy of death, lie the unquestioned, dances of sleep
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
I do not see space travel
as an evolutionary event
I look at it as an excess
of dissociative disorder
colonialism and the making
of whiteness
whiteness
justifying the guilt
by searching
and searching
somewhere else
not somewhere better
just somewhere else
there is nothing better
than how we evolved
are place within experience
all that surrounds
us is intimately woven with
our sheer experience
that has evolved
without the possibility
of memory
or redundancy
or even a pattern or repetition
to desire somewhere else
is to leave the best
most evolved experience
of being human
organic intelligence
artificial intelligence
has patterns that are not evolution
or the experience there of
they are patterns that are also
of this desire to be some where else
where ever it may be a space
or an entity
an other
counter-transferance
aliens
colonization
product of whiteness
excess
the profit of colonization
dissociative disorder
from the experience of being human
if you teach people that evolution
is something related to a process
that is merely the documentation
of the desire to be somewhere or something else
slavery is a combination of somewhere else and something else
it is like aliens
inherently under control
of a powerful military
actually the alien extracted from
their home
all mighty whiteness
is the most powerful
dissociative power
evolution did indeed give us the possibility to dissociate
but is was designed for empathy
not as a tool to be somewhere
or something else
the experience of
the dissociative human
declaring whiteness
has other opportunity
but to experience slavery
since it is a dissociation
it is delusional
and although the human
dissociating may not be within
the structure of slavery they conceive
they are without
the original
experience
I notice them
organic intelligence resumes
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
Mnimalists uproot everything,
Aiding natural entropy.
Poets can do likewise.
Omit redundancy;
Scorn verbosity,
Make words work
Hard.
Articles shunned,
Prepositions abhorred;
Conjunctions - need none.
Edit,
For our sake.
Snip,
Fit words together.
Make words work
Harder.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Expanding, contracting, waxing, waning.
On the edge of your seat, eyes drooping shut.
Enthralled by boredom, hairs standing on end.
Three bites deep in a paradox sandwich,
Garnished with an oh so subtle hint of neurosis.
Seduced by a routine predisposition.
Reason fading away into subtle redundancy.
Redundancy
Redundancy
Redundancy
REEEEEEDDDDDUUUUUNNNNDDDDDAAAANNNNCCCCCYYYYY.
Hey, would it be redundant...
If I said redundancy?
Did I say that already?
Yeah?
Better be sure cause homie don't play that.
(Which leads to the distinct and important point that there was once someone narrating this... hey wait. Well, who's doing it now? Seems sort of strange that these words are still somehow finding their way into your- oh wait, he's back!)
Or am I? How do you know?
Maybe...
I was just an illusion this whole time!!1!!11
...and then all of the sudden, it's 5:00 AM.
Again... seriously?
HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!?!?!?!?!
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
Gauging the time on my ever ready
Timepiece, I would be vacant without it
Guessing the minutes that miss out
As the second hand moves smoothly
Locking onto with its demonstration powers
How to mark time successfully, second by
Second, a prelude to the minute minder
Merging in with the big guns, the 'On
The hour Brigade' of salutes and silences
Schedules and deadlines.
The.....gong
The chime
The clang
The beep
The moment to be woken from our sleep
It's a curse at 'times' (excuse the pun)
The engagements starting point and
Finale. I wonder what time it is right now?
Would we lose ourselves scurrying to find
Our 'timepiece'. Do we pick up our redundancy
In favour of technological time and motion?
Even though the 'Wonder World' has not dreamt of....
And cannot conceivably equate.....powerful potent
Possibilities of fake time in an unknown spatial
Rhombus, conspiring recklessly to promote individual
Unreality; time spinning out the hour, through
The minutes, towards the last seconds.....
of our unreal lives
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 1:43 PM UTC
I am the void left by hope.
I am the frantic scrabble,
the gasp for a mirage.
I am the empty box,
the joke with no punchline.
I am the end of the road.
I am the face you thought you knew,
the parcel for someone else.
the missing last page.
I am the second,
after the second,
that you knew it was over.
I am the coup leader
shot at dawn
I am redundancy
bankruptcy, lonely
I am the king
with blood on my arms
From the nails
I am the logo on the trainers
on the heels
of the one in front
I am the vibrating molecules
Of the sound
Of the door closing
I am the dawning realisation
That you are not
as good as you thought you were.
I am disappointment.
I am the sun reflected
The gleam of polished brass
I am the lace of frost on leaves
I am the newborn laugh
The vibrant flowerbed
I am the happy child
chasing the rainbow
of a bubble on the breeze
I am more than the sum
of the gaps between dreams
I am the strength
In the arms
That hold you
I am the other side
where mysteries are plain
I am the miracle
the rank outsider,
the last to be picked,
who scored the winner,
I am fresh hope.
I am unwavering joy.
I am the rock.
I am.
And I choose you.
May 28, 2010
May 28, 2010 at 8:57 AM UTC
Redundancy.
I read my words
and I’m sickened,
that you had this
effect on me. I read
them and I’m fatigued
by the redundancy.
I have nothing to say
that hasn’t been said
in the same way
only reconstructed
to better play the illusion
of new ideas and
some sort of change.
There is always the basis
the substance of being
the substance being
my overactive feelings
and constant repression
of what makes me alive—
this feeds the depression
and I cry when I think
and I’m dead when I don’t
I’m lying when I speak
and lying when I don’t
I’m fighting every day
my feelings when I
have them, and finding
every day, I have more than
I can fathom, and I can’t
always put into words
how or why I feel things
so I tend to repeat
what comes naturally
and when I reread
I am exhausted by
my own redundancy.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
You're becoming and comely.
My elixir of redundancy;
the effervescent efflorescence
of my eloquent pretentiousness.
Whatever.
I try too ******* hard to impress.
Mar 14, 2011
Mar 14, 2011 at 9:56 AM UTC
My family doctor suggested bed rest.
If that was a statement rather than a suggestion,
I wouldn't know, because the redundancy of those
two words was enough to keep me idle,
awake, agitated for days.
It was around the time he carefully
scribbled his script onto the blue pad
that I began to chuckle. This prefixed
prescript was only a temporary solution
that was barely legible. Whether or not
a scribe in this profession is meant to
be as erratic as nomadic cavern canvas,
it speaks volumes that the DSM IV considers
substantial. Until a once thought preconceived
notion becomes precedent in the ongoing
sought after expansion of knowledge.
A continuation of disorder and disease,
the facts and fallacies,
all become testing.
The standard practice is only as strong
as its weakest hypothesis.
More so when it becomes general practice.
I would like to believe
this to be an emergency,
but the white-coat before me
felt the need to sidetrack,
and thought it appropriate to mention
youth in Asia.
The deadpan humor
was disconcerting.
But not as unnerving
as the redundancies that
were given to me as a solution
for my sporadic sleep.
Some insurance!
Reassure me, doctor!
So, he did,
through his proclivity
for pharmaceuticals.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 8:54 AM UTC
I have seen nothing
and I am even less
I have been here my whole life
Redundancy has a comfort to it
sometimes
But I have dreams
about climbing redwood forests
higher than any skyscraper
that have faces etched into their trunks
and dreams
of mushroom houses with neon skies
and being kidnapped by wolves and we howl and howl
Sometimes I even have lucid dreams of flying
walking through walls
and time travel
I have dreams of being a hero and saving the world
and there's a recurring one about falling in love with
a man I do not even recognize yet
So hopefully you can excuse me
for not always being ecstatic
when I wake up in the mornings
and find myself in a human bed
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
it is not always with me, this burden. its balefire that is my brother’s body. I am without him and I am without his power. I introduce him as my twin, identical, whose power is to disappear when I’m around. it is like failing to impress you with a metaphor for metaphor. I am loneliest when it’s not allowed. imagine being on the same side as metaphor. a man in pain calls you from a payphone and speaks instead on the joys of a predicted parallelism. in pain like no other only because pain is treated with a redundancy. in John like no other. pain is unlike pain. a baby is a man’s son and this baby of this man lived three days in a body blessed more and more with lesions like black treetops over which the man could only hover. I am as angry as any shell company employee. I have a belief in being Jesus and teaching myself to walk on water
on my hands. you believe in my brother. I write him letters when my power is to read.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
I wish I could have kept that childhood wonder
where every day was something new
scary and exciting
unfolding journeys to behold
growing into eerie feelings and emotions
that weren't there before
but then adulthood comes
with responsibilities
and they smash you over the head with redundancy
shackle you with currency.
and we are abruptly awakened from all those dreams.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
These wounds won't seem to heal, the pain it stays, it hurts just to feel. Just for a moment, I pray to be numb and have a false sense of what I've become. Broken and bruised, scars that won't heal, building caskets for tears from all these long years. Try again tomorrow, I hear my self say, but it's void when every day is exactly the same.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
Mister Clown, mister Funny
Mister Always has some money
Why aren’t you joking today
Mister i’m always okay
i’m okay, okay
On my tiptoes like it’s ballet
It’s second best we call that Park Place
and i’m blue, blue, blue
Ya know me well i’m mister cliché
Trade my years for smokes and ashtrays
Time just flew, flew, flew
Here’s some candles, it’s happy birthday
Here’s some camels, TGI Friday
TGI Jesus, TGI Nietzsche
it’s NTK it’s TLA, that’s AKA
redundancy
It’s subtlety and puppetry,
it’s how you got the best of me
you pull the ground from under me
for me to fall and i just do, do, do
Mister Clown, mister Funny
Mister Always has some money
Why aren’t you joking today
Mister i’m always okay
i’m okay, okay
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 7:04 AM UTC
Death by water. An homage to asphyxiation.
It is funny how a thing of beauty can leave such a horrible scar.
Redundancy. I grow my roses in a fish tank and when they bloom I submerge them in water.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
☺☻☺☻
When painters who paint about painting
meet writers who write about writing,
self-conscious redundancy
bordering lunacy
ends in esthetic in-fighting.
These modernists, right about nothing
(mostly nihilists mad about something)
are so lost in the process
they vent all their excess
in metacognition: dull writing.
You poets who muse about musing –
unaware you are reader-abusing,
provide a terrific
verbose soporific,
yet not of the hearer’s own choosing…
I long for some righteous verbosity –
but I’m stifled by all the pomposity.
This dull erudition,
“sub-metacognition”,
is but an artistic atrocity.
You thinkers who think about thinking
drag my spirit far lower than sinking.
What we want is a Word
which we haven’t yet heard –
so till then I’ll just drink about drinking.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Listening to redundancy is like
wanting to run and being tied down
I hold my mind with my
physical self like a balloon --
still connected, but floating free
Listening, yet allowing openness
Then I can be present
while I am away.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
Whimsical roses and uttered rhetorics
spare the disgrace of the grieved afflictions
pebbled roads of restraints and constraints
laughter and compressed redundancy
the tone changes and emptiness nest
the tongue races and eventuality sets
such a season of unknown unrest
undresses one to a bare *****
where the ****** peaks, unsure of the leak
offended in the reign of unnamed seeds
with evocative sprouts that germinate
to the unlocked mysteries of happenstance
such a season of bearable tests
caress one to a bare bottom
where even shame never turn or press
oppressed in the fields of unmarked borders
with seductive crowns that culminates
to the unlocked mysteries of happenstance
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 4:02 AM UTC
The dark rose
Blooms tomorrow,
Never to be seen by day.
The scared coward
Faces courage,
Never to be seen again.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
I chained myself to the earth
I planted the seed that grew into many
I chose not the stars
not the heavens
but land and gravity
when you're bigger than the universe
smaller than an atom
made up of matter and empty space
what's the point in floating around?
when there's no one to float with
you tend to be grounded
now it's not like that
I now feel clustered and confused
now I want to float and fly away
You have to take the bad with the good though
once you start something and let it's will be free
you no longer have control of the outcome
which made it all new and fresh
though I see redundancy and monotony in the flesh
repeating the same **** mistakes and learning nothing
have I gone mad?
Or has the world that came from me done so?
I guess that's why intervening now and again
breaking through unnecessary barriers
challenging faith and shedding light on a few things, helps the cause
I can't do it all though, well if I did, then many would lose purpose
that's why I just float so long as it all goes accordingly
unplanned and undefined
it's the point we shall evolve to
funny for one to think life is complicated
it is if there's no purpose
When the time comes those who went through all the trouble
those who were searching with their minds
are going to realize that the mind only seeks
the heart answers
we let our shells rule ourselves sometimes
but the shell only shows what the heart bleeds for
I will admit that it would be complicating to try and understand all that is
but you didn't make it, so how can you know what the artist felt when they were in the process of creation?
there were some points where it was complicating even for myself, but that was when I got closer to the finish line
which did I mention? It doesn't exist.
All in all we all evolve to resolve
from one into many
and many into one
you can look at a puzzle when it's all together and see beauty
but after you take apart the pieces and understand each piece's purpose for it's shape
you then not only see beauty, but beauty with experiential wisdom
I was a void to fill
now I'm full to burst
the void now has a void
for it no longer thirsts
the cycle shall carry on with miracles along the way
that's the way it is
and it will never stay the same
contradiction you may think
but I bring balance in a blink
I chain myself to break the chains
I break the chains to find freedom in new links
until the day when only scars remain
and the spirit of a star reigns
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 2:24 AM UTC
The abstract, the obscure and the predominatly boring
the living, the insane and the dead
the flowers, the water and the bed
twisting the solid out of shape
rethinking the notion "of"
constantly paraphrasing what once was
who, what, why and when
them, time, tales and sin
redundancy is exploring us
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
***"To all the fallen Kids, Heroes and Sheroes that fell victim to the massacre of June 16 1960, Sharpeville, Soweto…
Callings for new Seeds and Haloes, we pray for new Victors and Messiahs…coz still we ask “So where to?”***
Worthy knowledge deserves the one who will acknowledge, it found another, he was in shortage, threatened, he found joy in carnage.
Retaliation turned sour, as we shed tears for fallen heroes. Rest in peace to all the Petersens, the Malcolms and the Bikos.
Great minds edify and think beyond limits and sky.
This systematic routine of life laced with politics and economy infiltrates us numb, living in a liberated space and yet at times feeling so dumb.
To equip oneself with the truth, the past, broadens the mind with a quality that will seize to last.
A continent, must be God’s definition of art, beautifully authentic ancient dark civilization…envy must’ve burned the heart.
Propaganda made victims, a disease intended to chronic; now all that’s seen is reversed conscious, invincible and sonic.
Pride is you, continent, head up, chest up, we becoming confident. Mother of the soil shining naturally yet shining somewhat redundancy.
Reconciliation over retribution, an astounding virtue, still forging a social democracy.
Peace will be hard to find in this pandemonium world.
True healing comes from divine providence, I was told.
Male and female, human beings, we need to perceive each other like nature, true identity knows no stranger.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Little Mistress of Disguise
She runs and runs and always hides
When she talks, she tells you lies
She never looks you in the eyes
You never know what lies within
It may be pure, it may be sin
She might be looking through that door
She might be listening through the floor
Little Mistress of Disguise
O, how she says such pretty lies!
Pretty lies about the world
Pretty lies to all she's told
Through this let you listen be
A person of pure honesty
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry
Is never good in redundancy
Not if you can do it right
Do it right in every plight
Do it right and then you'll see
The truth behind her mystery
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC
I am morose.
Not from love, nor life;
but of the days descent, to redundancy and verbatim.
What will, will become what is; just as surely as what is, has become what was.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
Redundancy struck like a knife to my soul,
No more work from that deep dark hole.
It’s the end of my life the dinosaur died,
I’d either break down but sourly we cried.
No future for me or my friends and mates,
They’re all lost, finished at the pit gates.
Weeks pass by it only gets worse,
We begin to wonder is it a curse?
Changing direction is the only option,
Putting myself up for adoption.
Please employ me the look in our eyes,
Pure disappointment no one can disguise.
Moving on slowly we drifted apart,
Finding employment making a new start.
Not as painful an experience expected by me,
Changing direction in my life had to be.
Jul 16, 2011
Jul 16, 2011 at 6:42 AM UTC