"sempiternity" poems
insanity, begin;
PLAY
foam born (A) of the ocean
the backtrack (B)
to the origin of human emotion
before hue and saturation
my life may be black and white
but for the next hour
- quite frankly -
I don’t give a **** because
I am a spaceman looking down on you
no, literally
I am
[above]
you
the decade of statues into which I was born
begged to be forgotten
left behind
communication with my own kind
redundant
boring
meaningless
humanity, mother earth
nothing worth living for
no one worth dying for
because of the
informal gluttony
a sickening acceptance
of the inherent claustrophobia of the human condition
I’m floating
floating
floating
further away from you
from any possible natural surrounding
or human connection
[claiming to be part of humanity always secretly disgusted me]
everything is beautiful from up high
I am a spaceman, a future butterfly.
wait.
something isn’t right
I’m further away
more detached
than I intended to be
further away
the safety of my orbit overlooking you
deconstructing in front of my own eyes
now floating towards the sun of nothing
perhaps I
miscalculated my own superiority
I am the one floating towards eternity
after all
to an inescapable fate
while you are back home
with your (our) own kind
perhaps unhappy
but not alone
I am.
watch me pass by
one last time
I feel my soul breaking apart
my eyes glaze over and
sha/t/te/r
atmosphere
burning
mistaken for a shower of stars
an acceptable way to leave the third
dimension I suppose
perhaps you will see me as the ants of the sky
scattering
glowing
burning
as I find the sun
hello?
am I still alive?
are you still there?
perhaps all I’ve said
and lived
was nothing more than a prequel to the sequel
life before death?
or the other way around?
I am no longer confined by four dimensions
even time is irrelevant
everything is different
everything is right
bleeding viridian
feeling the sensation of nothingness
seeing the sempiternity of the galaxy
hearing translucent shades of the endless chasm
that now surrounds me
falling
fallin
g
falli
ng
fal
l
i
n
g
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
into the depths
until I land upon a new horizon
I am a spaceman
I am discovering everything
I found death
surrounded by white walls
the greatest journey
of our [lives?]
happens only six feet down
surrounded by white walls
this is what we have when we die.
this is what is left of us.
white walls.
White Walls.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Anaïs Nin once wrote;
'And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.'
Life has been a roller coaster, few words
describe this journey, taken,
swaying from belief to imperforate betrayal,
doubting all I am, do
and in, an unfathomable manner, enticing myself,
to the darkness, where I may find resolve
allowing me to not only, wholly, scratch the surface,
but dig deeper into the skin,
cutting through skin, membrane, muscle
I delve right into my bones,
the veins in my body flow,
with rhetoric and rhyme, infiniteness
climbing up the walls, the skin tears
a sempiternity of knowledge pours,
red sanguine fluid,
purge my body, pierce my mind
a carcass remains, ready
for devour.
© Sia Jane
Please feel free to learn more about me and my writing on the Facebook page I just started.
My poetry at present is really concerning the fears I have about finally widening my audience to my work.
https://www.facebook.com/Siajanewords
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
He said
I want to see where your mind goes
In the mists of life's bitter throes
I want to see if you'll plateau or grow
He said
Your mind mustn't go where only I want to see
For you are painting this canvas not me
Your mind mustn't wonder so apologetically
He said
I may go where your mind wants to see
But only in our dreams, where we'll meet subconsciously
I may go but your mind will stay sempiternity
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
Why did you hold out the hand of friendship
When you didn't feel a sense of kinship
why did you try to get acquainted
When you felt like " love is tainted"
You told me you are rectitudinous
comely and pulchritudinous
Why did you hold my hands with alacrity
When you didn't want them till sempiternity
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 1:29 PM UTC