"symbology" poems
From the moment I walked in,
I felt the piercing eyes.
Same eyes that nailed Jesus to the wooden cross.
Jesus said, by this,
all man will know you are my disciples,
if you have love one to another.
Pharisees, Pharisees, Pharisees.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen into apostasy.
Like the Nephilim which came & has yet to come again.
Surely heading back to the beginning, the Days of Noah.
The entire time I sat in those fold-up chairs,
my heart couldn't stop racing.
Perhaps it was the spirits aligning to seek whom they may devour.
Heard many vain repetitions today,
didn't Jesus say that's what heathens do?
For they think that they will be heard for their many words.
We all crucified the Lord Jesus Christ.
We have all blasphemed.
One perfect Godman died on our behalf,
then rose 3 days later to break the curse.
Sacrificial love.
Let us not break bread & drink grape juice.
Guess you never knew that's symbology for cannibalism.
In which He never commanded us to do.
Simply two commands were left.
Love God with all your heart,
with all your soul & with all your mind.
Secondly, love your neighbor as you love yourself.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
the narrative does not cling to classicalism of stating whether the pronoun usage is either singular or plural or both to allow an armchair of expression; after all... there's enough for us to bypass the classical philosophical debate about subject and object, simply investigating pronoun usage in relation to singularity or pluralism.
there’s a theory where poetry came from,
one read: cleopatra wanted to hear sweet-nothings
calibrating a razor with a viper’s kiss...
another read: she báthory?
she báthory? she the one that turned milk into blood?
she can burn in hell.
i thought we were un-dialectical in the realms of concern?
no... you see... poetry came from punctuated-impressionism...
or a fear of it... punctuation of course, not from the impressionism...
poets fear punctuation...
give them a semi-colon
and
they
treat
it
like a sidelined line of verse.
this is poetry in mathematical equations:
i had a pear(,)
it was a spare(.)
i had a care for traffic(-)
so i missed( )
the expressions and started using an obelisk to quarter up the mammoth
into chop suey...
poets simple say: next line! when prose says next paragraph
and the prized execution of the 100m sprint . . . (.)
that’s universal alpha romeo with alfa bravo charlie delta (echo)...
come on in the u-turn... give us a smile......... :),
poets says... i need breathing space
without sentenced timing of silence, for the toad to feed inspiration
and envy!
no wonder you came with the alpha - zulu
alphabet given that you used ɪɡ and zoʊ...
so tell me... where’s this copernican west upside down
(this heliocentric west with east being the big bang)?!
i'd swear the thing stopped orbiting in circles
and a thing that's on it's thought started to become
orbital... a fashion sense of the 60s 70s 80s 90s repeated -
that's right, the whole thing became heliocentric
and we became narcissists instead of solipsists
in the geocentric system of worked-up plagiarism
with adequate excuses.)
it's here it the poets apprehensive of punctuation symbology
and instead writing "sparingly,"
to write, e.g.:
i
hate
this
love
affair
claimed
to
be
the
world...
i
rather
chisel
chequers
into
geometry
of
x4
90º.
makes sense poets begot fear of
punctuation and not grammar, they
serviced to explore nothing else,
leaving grammar open long enough to *****
mathematics in... remember...
poets are firstly concerned with punctuation...
secondly with grammar...
philosophy for poets is grammar;
**** i'm um um so drunk i'll need to revise.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
Muck bit her ivory nightgown, as if earth hungering
after her...the delicate collapse of a napkin,she.
Hours poured atop her head, her shaggy, silvery
mane suspended--its reluctant bounce captured
at midpoint...as a spiderweb under ultraviolet light.
Desert sands lost in contemplation, reminiscent of
her flesh--divulge her core as she sleeps in a
fetal position.
Her body spasms awkwardly...its will visibly slowed
from initial motion.
As the paralysis experienced by prey amid the astral
annals of nightmares.
She'll rise into that shine, wonder at the nightmare's
symbology...talk to her garden--whilst thinking of her
time to come.
Silkworm breached the parcel
of time, its cocooned inertia
coarsed through the opalescent
eye of God to Godhood.
Of time's ruination redeemed
in a solitary work...cupped
airless the unbridled form of
a trapezist spent itself.
Opened and closed somersaults
atripped a piece of said space...
nothingness regenerated to
move, to take step of itself.
A self-argumentative abstraction
glowed...undid its silken flag--
firmly planted in an undiscovered
region...her time come.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 7:45 PM UTC
The weather
it's sobbing, but not really.
My heart
it's trembling, really.
Cause I look,
and sometimes I see
but sometimes I don't.
So I wonder as I look her,
Fishnets, mascara and hair
like silk
(I must admit to envy).
And I do see
Your hat- hers now, if only momentarily
(I must confess to jealousy)
You make it delicious.
And I ponder and hash and squirm about
This **** Symbology.
I hover on knife's edge and ponder this to:
Shall I fall
jump
or tightrope?
Maybe I'll astonish and grow wings.
Such marvelosity.
(I'm feeling whimsical- practically bubbly
And yet, still morose).
And so the weather cries
And so, too, my heart.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
What is quantifiable are the symbols. What isn't quantifiable are the zones between the symbols, unless there are many symbols present that form spaces.
There are partial symbols, i.e. a gesture of an animal is present but not the form of the animal.
Reality stays more abstract with partial symbology.
What is known about the symbol gives reality meaning.
Speaking of visions as symbols separates the meaning from the visual experience.
The person who doesn't see the symbol as the reality has not been exposed to reality which is somewhat hard to ascertain.
When, in dreams for example, there are just collages of things, it is hard to say that it is more than a collage. But if I recognize symbology, it allows me to see every part of the picture.
Symbols are more for the artist than the scientist who simply wants to verify what happens in reality. While transcendent of verification of meaning is reality "filler", yet it attains to meaning only if it is seen as symbol.
The filler is more abstract because logic only exists here if we consciously give something meaning. Otherwise a huff of a dog, for example, is merely a passing image.
Since concrete objects already have existential meaning, they cannot constitute as filler.
Visions, because they only partially exist, calls into question existence itself.
In filler reality, it becomes participatory as to giving reality meaning or just enjoying the visions.
What separates this filler world from normal mind is that meaning is no longer the key to reality.
Simply experiencing the visuals explain reality in an easy way.
Meaning almost ruins the mode of experience.
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 9:29 PM UTC
Symbology cup.
Water spilled over meaning.
Seeping out my prayers.
Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 10:14 PM UTC
There's a really heavy typewriter on the shelf above me.
It's old. It's broken. It's beautiful.
"I wish I could use it." is always my first thought when I stare up into its under-carriage of prongs and teeth.
It doesn't fit on the shelf, and it surely doesn't belong there.
My first thought should be "That may fall and **** me at any moment", but I think I avoid that thought because I kind of hope it does. What a way to go out. Not intentional. I didn't put it up there with the intention of it becoming some sort of Medieval time-bomb, but the symbology behind that accidental death would be enough for me to be satisfied with the ending of my life.
If you manage to banish the senseless fascination with your imagination's speculation of what people will think of you if you do THIS...or when THAT happens...then what's there to fear about failure? Failure just becomes progress at that point.
There's a really heavy typewriter on the shelf above me, and a part of me hopes that it falls and bashes my skull in.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
My archetypal anima
Could dream a billion dreams
Yet none elucidate my psyche’s
Shadow self-esteem
It yearns to be made whole again
Detaching from the soma
Yet cannot mend the mandalas
That fracture its persona
From the superego servant
Of unconsciousness collective
To the individuation
Silent tyrant introspective
Still projecting as the pedagogue
The hero and the saint
But the mystic rebel overlord’s
This portrait that I paint
For I’m an evil genius author
Penning nurseries of rhymes
I am the psychopath symbology
Just read between the lines
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
Aggressively inverse algorithms
Unpleasantly traverse towns
within them
(Sideways symbology stains soulless surroundings)
An uninheritable playground
Dangles in sustaining silence
Passable problems pretending that perhaps a passer by plans on picking the winner
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
the section in question is as mentioned in rachmaninoff’s
vocalise (op. 34 no. 14), first some symbology of numbers
in relation to kant’s thesis:
in a sequence
(end) (beginning)
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
upon reaching 1 and
subsequently 0,
i find this to be unsatisfactory in terms of the kantian
equation 0 = negation,
unless there be an affirmation of non-negation, the use
of zero would have to take the form of coordinates,
thus the sequence would be as above but it would end
thus: (0, 0, 0) - given that the above sequence can be
seen a linear, given that it might reflect the essence time,
ending the sequence with 0 would only provide
“the end of time,” hence the need to change the whole
sequence ending with the other essence, space - and thus
the loss of negation, given from the beginning (0, 0, 0)
the following sequences are provide:
(1, 1, 1), (2, 2, 2), (3, 3, 3) (x, y, z), etc., which is the affirmation
i was looking for - movement in a three dimensional space,
the only other affirmative possibility is by ending the
sequence with ∞, which is transcendental positivism
aligned with ending the sequence with (0, 0, 0),
and not transcendental negativism of merely using 0;
nonetheless, this is my introductory fascination
as on offshoot of what is about to be translated
(i can't read philosophy in english, hence this translation
comes from a translation of german translated
into polish and now translated into english) -
antonyms of pure reason
the third conflict between transcendental ideas
thesis antithesis
causality in agreement with the freedom does not exist, yet
laws of nature isn't the only everything in the world happens
causality, from which all only according to the laws of
phenomena can be explained nature.
in the world. for explaining them
it is also necessary to accept the
(self-accomplishing) causality
through freedom.
proof proof
let us accept, that there is no other accept, that freedom exists in a
causality other than the one in transcendental understanding of
agreement with the laws of nature; the word as a particular type of
thus everything, that is happening causality, according to which
appropriates a preceding state, after events in the world could take
which its next successive state is place, namely the ability to begin
not sheltered from a certain rule. in a way that's absolute of a
certain state, and also in the
same way, its series of successive
implications.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
Sample size is invalid without complementary points of reference.
Use of Yin require finesse with Yang,
as action requires finesse with non-action.
It's at least as much about omission as addition.
The influence of negative space is profound.
Welcome to Taoist philosophy;
to astrophysics and psychology.
Welcome to symbology; mythology.
Welcome to Life.
May your stay be meaningful.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
The Christ man hangs with head cast down
Cloaked is his Hebraic looks with western charm
A Blond, blue eyed, fair skinned Messiah
On aged beams that torture his archaic form
Hanging always before the eyes, before the mind.
Crafting his Image within their sanctuaries
Giving face and character to a new God
His form drawing the respect of it's new converts
Awakening the archetypal symbology of their minds
Their ancient pagan deities, now reborn again
into the Pauline Christianity of elaborate faiths.
It's Massive Empires and political powers
That would staunch the individual rights
Corrupting with the torments of eternal damnation
Hording the flocks of the ignorant and the rich
The Church becoming Lord and master of the Christ.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 12:44 PM UTC
I
-dulcimer clatter opens the sun, first fruit-
timber fathoms/crystal veils
on all steps, crossing all human borders
untethering wood
from forest, until only the green element remains
to purify the soul
an alpine afterimage, shadow-display
(creature of Earth, moss-backed & yowling thru the chaotic sleep
of October, you see it's symbology in your tea, sharpening its
obsidian hands against the seastones,
imprinting loveliness into the rock, to be worn by tides,
replaced by death absolute)
The fabled Black Horse (shadow-self) waiting solitary at a
gas station, an imprisoned dreamer inside
its gaping jaw/saturnine, coldness
of daybreak, clouds at their Atelier, my head
feels a pressure, been awake too long,
breathing in through the nose/out through
mouth, monastery of the mind in need of clearing.
II
Soft/soft/skin/fury
embrace, catharsis, collision of
two individual energies
pent-up and cast/release
like a skeleton net::onfire
(kissed, consumed
elated, recurrance)
closeted eternities
cycling back into the
wind (hanging willow)
calling to the seeker, gold,
purification & lightness/mouthcurl washed in silence
(your own body, rising tide)
welcomed crucible of chilling air
& my black and
white vessel,
electricity spirit-
whispers
“valley swimmer, elude me”
FLASH OF LIGHT
III
…. The widewaking world
unspun-
theatric elucidation,
emergence of a great snake
a wisened flower, sprouted from exile
blissful rejuvination of
the ivory leaves, at once!
I wrap my throat in a Munich scarf
(pattern-blue)
walking upon the softness of
Grötzingen (angel's eyes speaking)
an orchard, where the last gardener's tireless
work lay like a dreaming ossuary
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
..and I have nary a thing to say, save for this:
Be
who it is you know
in your heart that you are
and compromise the spark
which kindles your fire
for nary a Soul nor obstacle,
for, in this mortal Life,
there can be no greater Sin
than to let it all go to waste
just to soothe the pain within.
The Obstacles in Life
merely provide opportunities,
to which one can rise
or in spite of which one can fail.
But,
though it may seem a losing battle,
there is e'er a way to prevail.
Perseverance
is the sound of optimism,
in the name of betterment:
Perseverance
is the cry of mortal Warriors,
battling 'pon this battleground
rife with Life's adversity.
To the victor,
the spoils.
To the defeated,
what they deserve.
Harsh
though it may sound,
truly what you get
is relative
to your chosen
perspective, attention and intention.
If you intend
to lose the battle,
it is already lost.
If you intend
to be victorious,
nary a thing
shall stand in your way
for very long.
Heed this, please:
I speak in mythic words,
metaphor, symbology:
battle not Others
for selfish gain
or in the name of demagoguery,
rather,
battle constructively
within your Self,
that you may harden
your resolve
and become truer
to your true Self.
In such a way can you transcend this mortal World.
In such a way can you be happy and free of it's tyranny.
In such a way have others pointed to Enlightenment.
In such a way be Heaven and Hell creations of our Selves.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
I always encounter different versions of you here
By bodies of water and bodies under stone
I’m trying to figure the symbology
The motion of life and that of no motion
Perhaps its the prominent eternity in both
Tears have been borne forth by the banks of both.
Amid the tombstones and tangleweed, and alongside sand dunes and the reed.
Cries of joy also have erupted from our throats
We were wild horses along the sea’s shore
and giggles at other times creeped out our bellies
Sneaking secret embraces in such haunted places
Strange, how we dishonor the revered silence expected here.
Eerie, how recurrent all this is.
Time and again we are back by these bodies of water and bodies under stone. I’m sure you can twirl our two bodies and make them into one,
hearts and bones don’t easily come undone
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 6:09 PM UTC
✡ ✞ ✡ ✞ ✡ ✞ ✡
Never been a sinner – I never sinned
I got a friend in Jesus
So you know that when I die
He’s gonna set me up with the spirit in the sky…
Norman Greenbaum
Judah’s gelt in fuzz guitar
cymbals cling
Spirits rise as souls descend—
hippie ears ring
Babylon’s theft: the temple bereft
earthly vessels
****** apostles; Jesus people
(Jacob wrestles)
High theology, low symbology
dealer slang
Green the budding branch, the buzz
symbols clang
Sixty-nine/seventy: youth unheavenly
overjoyed
False revival. In survival
shines the void.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 10:25 PM UTC
I put out
Cigarettes on my fingertips
To 'pass the torch'
And echo the way that smoke drifts
With every letter
That finds reality
Between my blistered thumbs
And cellphone keys.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
I've always loved color symbology
The silver of the sharpest blade
Is fluid, emotional, sensitive, mysterious.
Is soothing, calming, purifying. Silver
helps with the cleansing and releasing,
mental, emotional issues and blockages
My pink tinged, pale skin
Is a sign of hope. It is positive, warm
comforting feelings, everything will be okay.
Suddenly violated by a shock of red, which
can give confidence to those
who are shy or lacking in will power.
the color red symbolizes and awakens
our elusive, physical life force.
And after all is said and done
All is wrapped in white clothe bandages
purity, innocence, wholeness and completion.
white is the color of new beginnings,
wiping the slate clean,
It is the blank canvas waiting to be written upon.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
It is all fake sadness
Without cups, no sprite to collect the rains
We are an endless rolling fog
on the edge of the terrain.
We are foxes living in the suburbs
we are sneaky creatures not meant for fluorescent light-bulbs
and streetlamps
We are the oldest vulpines alive
I had been asked about symbology-- about flags and shapes and geometric plagues
I had to recollect the places in my head, London was a dime, Berlin was a teeter-totter
U.S.A was a great big long balloon snake
There wasn't anything left to say in the barbershop,
the razor blades dully buzzing,
no songs but the buzzing
of satellite radio
I got a removal done,
my deforested head could feel the wind caress it
I was a new and reemerged cocoon with a lacking self-confidence
I studied books and computers at Best Buy
You were a yet unknown quantity
you were god in the skies of San Ramon Valley High
Or perhaps the other prestige of some other village dream
You emerged and contained within the largest fib
Give me one good reason why
You deserve any more of god than the earth.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 2:45 AM UTC
Sometimes the clarity of a geometry is only appreciated by learning symbology which skates around such form.
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 2:36 AM UTC
I see a tree and it's a tree
not some metaphoric symbology
and that bird is just a bird
and that creak I heard
is not a ghost, it's just a loose board
some think that's boring
but this is how I view the world you see
strictly reality
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
My legs burn, my teeth bite into chain-steel,
The lever of a radius - my wheel.
I am attached on many levels to allow
Acceleration and braking, only through pedals.
Life seems a fiery time-lapse of lights
As I feel evolved - my air is spiked.
The rush of risk, driving me to live, move.
Distilled liquor of Man's ingenuity propels me.
Tube, link, cog, chain, lock-ring, cork, alloy.
A bicycle Cossack charging the marauder, lines of
Barbarians keeping their metal defences high.
Red is blood. Green is grass. All new symbology lost.
I flow like water, mind at once empty
And full of flashing, raw animal intensity -
Sixth sense turned up to eleven
A roadblock turns and steps, I see it in slow-mo.
Harrods Hamleys tourist, an alien unprepared
I predict, see, smell and react - thinking for them, too.
Before I am ever registered, a shadow: I am gone
Trickled away through gnarled city fingers.
My strides geared by a loved machine
Into motion at once manic and serene.
Gritty, visceral yet wrapped in velvet cloth
Beauty, tradition, belonging and souplesse.
I am a working rider on a crest of euphoria.
A day-full of rain slides easily off my skin,
As limited others forget how waterproof they are
And deny gifts of movement and life. And riding.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:14 PM UTC
...is like accounting.
Is more abstracting of the brain than calculus.
What's missing from it are the visualizations of what is being mentioned.
Like working with a space in the mind that can only make one or two changes at a time - giving logic but not seeing the big picture.
Unless the big picture is really only those one or two changes in the symbology and equalities.
But these only tell relations of 1-2 changes connecting and spreading like a web.
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 11:49 PM UTC