“It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one.”

― George Harrison

Ang kamusmusan daw ang pundasyon kung gusto mo’ng magkaroon ng matibay na kinabukasan. Dahil ang isipan daw ng isang paslit ay tulad sa Tabula Rasa (blank slate) na magandang sulatan ‘pagkat tiyak ang kalinisan. Nasa labi ng isang musmos ang katotohanan at nakikita nang kanyang mga mata ang malinaw na mga kaganapan at naririnig n’ya ang bawat katagang binibigkas dalisay man ito o masama nang walang halong alinlangan.

Subalit may mga paslit na hindi na makikita ang kanilang kinabukasan dahil maagang nawawala ang kanilang buhay. May mga paslit na sa muarang edad ay marami ng lamat ‘pagkat dangal nila’y hinapak ng mga hinayupak. Mga inosenteng paslit na dahil sa maling pagkonsenti nang mga hangal na magulang ay naging mga pasaway at salot sa lipunan. Naging sinungaling ang kanilang mga murang labi kaya’t natutong magtahi ng mga k’wentong mali. Naging mapurol at mabalasik na tulad sa isang asong ulol.

Nagsisiksikan sila sa mga madidilim na eskinita habang sumisinghot ng solvent at lumalaklak ng syrup. Nagumon sa bisyo at kalaswahan, binaon sila ng sistema. Naging mga dilingkwenti at walang kwenta. Nasayang na buhay, nasayang na panahon. Ang iba ay bigla na lang tumutumba kapag tinamaan ng bala o di kaya ay nahagip ng saksak sa tagiliran. Mga makabagong desaparecidos na bigla na lang naglalaho sa dilim ng gabi.

Hindi ko na mabilang ang mga eksena sa telibisyon na tulad nito: binatilyo nawawala, dinukot daw nang mga di-kilalang lalake makalipas ang ilang araw natagpuan na patay. Binaril, tinadtad ng saksak. Riot sa kanto mga kabataan nagsagupaan. Nagpaluan, nagsaksakan at may nagpaputok pa ng baril – patay bumulagta na lang bigla. Sabi ni Rizal ang kabataan ang pag-asa ng bayan; hindi mali ka Pepe, ang kabataan ay hindi pagasa ng bayan kundi sila na ang panlaban sa mga sagupaan. May mga pick-up girls na nahuli sa kalye, ilan taon daw ito? Disisyete anyos lang, putang-ina naman hija kabata-bata mo pa bakit naging pakantot kana? Grabe! May gatas ka pa sa labi puro kantutan na ang alam mo bwesit kang bata ka.

Mga kabataan na pag-asa sana ng inang bayan bakit kayo nagkaganyan? Hindi n’yo ba naiisip ang iyong magiging kinabukasan? Bakit kayo nagpapatangay sa mga tuksuhan at mga walang kwentang huntahan? Meron pa kayong mapupuntahan, ang kabiguan ay hindi isang hangganan. Umahon kayo sa pagkakalugmok habang meron pang paraan. H’wag n’yo sanang sayangin ang inyong buhay.

death calls
every heartbeat by name
making each one the same

this is your life
this is your life
this is your life
this is your life

the metronome, calling me home, ticking away, fading the day
life can be so melodramatic
like watching static
with the volume on mute
and your mind on mute, numbed by the gentle static hiss of your own personal hell
and the waves that swell
the remains of life-forms onto endless beaches of time

all time is mine
all time is mind

i look out by night
at the vast ocean of Being
and the sand, as it slips in my hands
is not made for my counting
infinity is not comforting

i smell salt
sitting on the naked earth, i draw from a vast reservoir
a deep well
hoping that maybe if i bury my head
under the beachy sand
i will escape the tide by becoming one with the earth and the stars

i try to write perfect words
with the absurd feeling that if i get them right
they will work like a spell
that shatters reality itself
and places me somewhere else
where things were right the first time

after all, we cast reality with words
and all of our pictures come to life
and all of life is our pictures
and words are our entire reality
so we must not be saying the right words, thinking the right words
no one taught us the right words, we don’t have the faculty for those kinds of words

silence and sleep
thoughts of the deep
give no rest for me
they reek of the sleep i dread to sleep
i make noise so that the universe must keep listening
i banish sleep because a white gangrene is glistening
where the worm never dies
and the smokes always rise, blotting the skies

are we the children of Cain? cursed from the face of the earth
is it because of ****** in my heart
that i am marked to die?

we stand shivering outside, in chains and shackles, all in a line
with brothers and sisters in front and behind
and every so often (we never know when)
our captors pluck one of us out of the line
and none of us can stop it
and we are forced to watch it
while they stand our mothers and fathers against the wall
and open fire, but not at heart or head
on stomachs and bowels instead
so our loved ones expire slowly, writhing on the cold dirt
pleading eyes upturned
begging our love to save them
but we can only wait our own turn

it seems that no Mind would dream up such a dream
and give it as Life
to its very offspring

i tremble to blaspheme
but i am questioning
doubting

whether Love has ever tread these tangled paths at all
whether Life ever begot life
whether we are not in fact just the spectacular fireworks
of passion and sorrow
that the universe has cooked up with
its chemical sorceries

which paint once the sky
for an instant in time

Father! Father!
do you even remember the name that you gave me?
do you remember the night you pulled me violently from my resting place
where it was dark and warm and secure?
and you cast me into a cold, hollow womb that continually miscarries
and i was born in a tomb
too soon?

it was winter
do you remember?

the dying of embers
O, wanton December!
Who pierced me with sorrows
and gave me tommorows
but stole all my todays


i inquire into the science
of infinite gaps
of gaping synapse

i investigate the substance of Being
poking at it from every angle
demanding that it yeild fruits fit for our consumption
that it justify itself

must i remind you
that i never asked to be here
and i never consented
to this form or this figure
riddled with cancers

i am the eternal thought
thinking itself
watching with terrified attatchment
these bodies which i inhabit

my haunts, my accostomed places
my ethos, my habits
my character, a socially constructed facade
my self, ever putting itself
into the eyes of others, looking on itself
imagining itself playing the roles
of each of the other children in the schoolyard


but at last, the primitive state of nature overtakes me
i’m going to sleep now, do not awaken me
and when i awake, Love will wake again with me
and all the smoldering, dying wreckage of this day will forsake me

ah, i remember now, the sound of Love, walking in the cool of the garden
when each day seemed to stretch on forever
and the night was full of magic
the infinite gaps can only be scaled
in the space of one instant, no more and no less

working its way back through every other instant
time, since it is a function of mind, is also subject to language
i stand back from the bodies of the dead i inhabit
i am the universal singularity, the one thought
throbbing and pulsing in the ****** heights before explosive creation
i
howl
the body electric
and rise, ******* over Moloch
whose mind is pure machinery
and whose children drown in their insanity

with a cold and broken hallelujah
i hymn the blessed race immortal
and rend the fabric of reality from top to bottom
entering in the place most holy
and die, writhing on the warm, welcoming earth
the place of my birth
the place of my hearth, where the embers glow and spark

December has now heard a lark
Hades, required to return to her mother
the goddess he has stolen for a season
and the Bird rises wreathed
in flame from the ashes
baptizing the Forms of our collective unconscious
with the blessed and holy power of life

and coming to life, all of our pictures bring us to life with them!

*

one can not blaspheme what is not
for one can not think of it
look again at what Love gave us
in the space of an instant, which extends on forever
since time and space alike are a construct of our symbolic processes

i pull out my tabula rasa
i am written on the tabula rasa
all is white on the tabula rasa
all is white
all is white

the waves now are dragging me in
to the ocean without beginning or end
and the depths are alive with the wind
of warm currents and of births and of sand
and death would appear now a friend
leading me in by the hand
calling me into the land

Love is life
Love’s alive
Love is death

Death calls

Everything begins
As a blank slate
Just so is Life

Like an artwork or a masterpiece
Magnificient as it is
Like a poem or love song
Beautiful as it is
Begins in a blank slate
Just so is Life

With perfect melody
Of personalities and experiences
Variety of tunes
Of knowledge and skills
Colors burst in each blank of slate

Magnificient
Beautiful
Life will be

Static, memories
Emanating, separating  
The postcard- perfect
Still life speaks
From its storied past.
Invisible, to drift
Among  
The florid aphorisms,
Ending in
Deleterious debris,
Aftermath of
The inevitable.

Empty room, echo hollow
Tabula rasa -
Carpet clean, quite candid in it's
Return to callow.
Consciousness athirst,
Absorbing phenomena
Effervesce, inquisitive
Ideas foment,
Sealed inside a question.
The what -
Against the narrow
Scarcity,
And fatigue of should.

A tender malleable
Youth,
Betrayed, under
An assumed decorum -
Residue of truth,
Flattened emotion
Privations of a self
Unheard;
Misplaced affirmation,
Buried pathologies  
In architecture
Fear manifests symbolic.

Harboring apathy
The lunacy of pious
Pedigree,
Import contagion,
Fetters of benignity
Doubt and indecision  
Into ******
Cognizance,
Fallow spirits
Seep fumes of decay,
Credulity bleeds a human stain.

Social edifice, inoculated  
Heirs of neurosis;
Palpable, sensual pain
And transience, though
Tacit - remain,
Our haunted history,
The blind hyperbole,
Maudlin
Forbearance, this haven,
A portrait
Of immaculate condition,
Nurtured with precision
Under sterling pretense.

Provincial domicile -
House beautiful,
Savage irony -
Unseen treasure
Innocence unabridged,
Faces, tiny creations;
Compliant vessels
Wounded,  
While modernism murmurs  
Its promise.

Brave New World,
In a late model sedan,
Domestic ranch on a
Corner lot,
Suburban natives,
Silence means security.
The misunderstood
Speak louder -
Consumerism beneath    
Unvarnished ambition,
Never could
Repair the brokenness within...

© 2011 & 2018 W. S. Warner

Repression is everywhere .  Repression is so common it is almost impossible to avoid .  Repression can be found in natural laws ; gravity is a repressive force .  I experience a desire for repression when I consider the possibility of extra-terrestrial life .  Propaganda is a form of repression when it eliminates unwanted truth ; militaristic logistics require repression of the extraneous.  Social hierarchy is only as good as it is expedient ; credibility is the key .  Psychological repression can be a functional personal tool .  Repression is a frictional force that can either eliminate unwanted forces or alter their courses .
Repression is most often thought of as a governmental tool .  There are many reasons a government might want to repress it’s subjects .  In a truly free government no one can practice repression on others of no consent unless they have infringed on their rights .  Fascist and socialist governments can force their people at will .  Their children are trained both  directly and subliminally in order that they may better fulfill their social positions .  In free countries laws repress repressors : people who might want to tamper with your rights .  Monopolies get repressed because they tamper with the people’s right to a free market competition
  system .  The individual reigns and the majority decides what is best for everyone .
The elimination of all unwanted repressions is the natural goal of all individuals yet repression is common the world over .  Social hierarchies necessitate repressions ; expedience in teamwork becomes more credible than individuality .  Many sociological forces create their own realms of repression ; the normalcy demanded by tyrannical governments and puritanical religions are obvious examples .  
Any retrospective examination of human history that is depthfully complete will probably bring to mind a vast quandary of opposing forces beyond social integration .    
           Personally  I find people to have a vast amount of basic similarities .  We become alienated from each other in the application of our abilities .  In fact each and every one of us live in a realm that is totally real only to ourselves .  I find this and similar states of social fragmentation to be one of the most pervasive observations one could make about the state of the human race .  
The tabula rasa state of man is an evolutional being ; a conscious realm that became out of dirt , water , sunlight , time ; an essence that has an innate quality , a cosmic continuum .  The historical development of world religions paints a vivid picture of man’s desire to relate to this tactile awareness .
There are many forces in the universe that we as humans need to repress .  Unwarranted or unwanted forces encounter natural resistance .  Humans learn to control their conscious state as they acquire maturity .  Natural repressions grow out of an understanding of the need for them .  But humans are not satiated with pragmatic self orientation .  They are easily misled by the perceived nature of their unconscious state .  The perfection orientation of Adolf ****** gives a stark example of an institutionalization of one of these warped images .
World religions also are often abortive of individual aspiration . Of course more often than not their impetus factors seem at least partially acceptable .
Practicality dictates that humans be self orientated in order to achieve their optimum state , but what is self orientation ?  Humans exist in both a conscious and unconscious state .  Individually we all perform many subconscious activities on an inadvertent level .  Although many of them are autonomic defenses we can exercise control and attempt psychic clarity .  
Actually repression is something that each and every individual must put down for themselves .  Although social expedience creates an environment that is conducive to itself , individuals have an innate need to repress certain of their psychic phenomena whether they are created by their environment or well from within .

A blank slate, nothing.
Can it exist?
Point to it please.
The best I can do is
make something
from something.

A blank piece of paper
a fold just there,
another just here
Became a swan.
Paper origami.

From nothing came something
But how I wonder?
Minds greater than mine
play with this puzzle.

A blank piece of nothing
a fold just there,
another just here
Became a universe
Stellar origami.

Please don't tell me it ends like this.
Please don't tell me this is how I go.
Every  morning I force optimism into my veins-
like medicine;
like ******.
I let it drip drip under my skin,
the fluid moving like it would through
the twists and turns and chilly burns
of a plastic IV.
I stayed in a hospital for ten days.
My bed had plastic sheets
and my roommate had panic attacks in her sleep.
They always asked me how I felt.
How do I feel?
How do I feel?
I feel nothing at all
Or,
I feel everything,
and like paints bleeding into one another,
the colors lose their definition,
and the light fades into nothing,
and my mind is made a murky place.
I can't believe that everything happens for a reason.
My heart doesn't beat that way.
When I **** my head I can hear the rush of my blood.
Why did my uncle bury his own heart?
Why did he build castles just to leave?
I can't make sense of this-
I won't let myself.
They say Icarus died because of his pride,
but maybe he knew that we all **** ourselves in the end.
Maybe he found a way to the light.
Is hopelessness a sin?
If hell is punishment then what is this?
When I drink I feel closer to God.
I feel like I can float through
the cracks in my walls and join the angels.
But my father drank himself through twenty years
and his joints gathered rust.
There is a kind of beauty in the darkness.
Maybe that's where our momentum is meant to take us.
Maybe death is like a static screen.
Can we move through it?
Around it?
Within it?
In school they told us that matter cannot be destroyed.
How is it then that we destroy ourselves so wonderfully?
I don't know what I was before this.
Tabula rasa.
Someone painted 'DISASTER' inside my head.
I don't remember having steady hands.
I wonder if I could feel an earthquake.
Isn't it funny how this world loves to hurt?
I admit, pain is a captivating thing.
Our bodies were made to be resilient,
our minds elastic,
but our souls?
They are spun like spiderwebs,
or glass,
or fairy floss in grubby little hands.
We were made to fall apart.
Our lungs were meant to burn.
I stopped picking at my scabs when
I was ten years old, but my finger tips still itch,
and I still have the scar from when
I fell on a piece of broken glass.  
I used to make jokes about it-
say I got it from trying to **** myself,
but now I have scars from that too.
Something still pulls inside of me when I smile,
but it feels a little easier,
like walking on a mending bone.
Maybe one day the rain will be
the only thing to make my teeth creak.
A lot of the time I still feel smothered,
like wallpaper painted over.
Maybe all I'll ever be is a forgotten ship,
sinking,
sinking,
sunk,
but at least I'll still be something.
And I'll still be made of the same stuff as stars,
and maybe that will be enough.

It's been a while now since,
Whatever we are whenever we are together,
Disappeared, again.
There are no side things this time.
No plan B.
My life is a lot more empty, yes,
indeed.

It's not that complicated,
though my cursed mind must make it so,
It's easy now, being numb, being blank,
Like exhaling after a long deep breath,
at some point it feels like you are drowning underneath
a dry vacuum and still you keep releasing,
'till you don't feel anything
at all.
Tabula Rasa,
baby boo dearest,
how slowly you made me fall.
To a blank slate,
Rising up upon my former fate,
like a black curtain call.
Blissful. No.
Comfortable like,
going back into the womb,
surrounded, worriless,
in a fetal state.
Thank you for everything,
I said.
Not replying,
Was simply your colored place.

Praeludium in via ...

Vidi heri mane quando ridebam coloribus egregiis,
Eradere auro , trans tabula caeli , tentorium ...
Excelsus super omnes montes mundi mole fratres
Nimborum desertum , ubi non sit humana exsuscitatur .
Et non vidi nobili altitudo futura ...
Bonitas terribilis Vidi , *** indomitus.
Et peregrinare in ea carne existimarem Semel tamen divina ,
Nunc datum est scire , et non confundamur ab eo opus .
Ambulavitque *** Deo, quod nunc facio , et passus est ... accentus
Proditio amor et passionibus , quamvis non recipiat ecclesia ,
Divinitatis naturam , ne occulta omnia confitentur ?
Audis tu solus in universo ab duces ineptum
Ipsos victu pascuntur finguntur mendacii .
Sed ambulavit in vobis, ex ea ipsa mundi redivivi ,
Proelia ante hos annos multos, in carne nostra, amissis vate sacro .
Nos sequi vestigia veterum monumentis, ut ostensum est ;
Quia ex nihilo nati sumus , et adhuc in filiis tuis, ac spatium vivendi ,
Latebunt , quo melius in manifesto , vultus ingenio tegmina.
Ego sum primus , et consilium ... Memini tamen alta urantur
Humanis uti licet , *** aliena michi negotium.
Lorem quid ad ignorantiam et extra ,
Quia vidisti me in tenebris, in ardentem rogum meum .
Si sustinuero , praeire , ubi angeli labuntur ...
Quis autem, si non satis est dedicata piget.
Irrisorie , quoniam ego scio quod salventur , et saepe etiam ,
Post tantum est **** , et sic esset forma in re firmatam ?
Imago Dei , huc ad nos omnes in sanguine ipsius ,
A primis ad ultima, ut alpha et omega, gladius acutus .

Prologus : ( Os meum labitur )

Puer fui servus ad aras tam sacras ,
Hymnis immaculatorum : et absque iniquitate .
Quod *** ipse portabat diadema thons nudus ...
Expositum Spiritus meus, qui intellexi gravitatem.
Quis credit sanctum profanae habitu virtutum
Et illi qui in eo sunt ut carnifices ovis ad occisionem ,
Innocentes cogit induere larvis ad porcellana et operuerunt capita sua ,
Et filii eorum diriperent pueritia , vinctus catenis rudis .
Sicut teenager : ambulans in naturis hominum omnium adprobante ,
Et egressus est a me omnes, qui violatores extiterunt in coinquinatione verebatur .
Angelo fidem reperto cecidi inveni sanctitati
Nomen meum in ea , et curet abluitur dubium inveni .
Venit ad nuptias, et omnes dedi uxorem proditione ,
In solutione huius coniunctionis nostrae et sine intervallo in solitudinem imposuit ?
Traiectus mortalis caro mea reliquit me solum in sanguinem ,
Cor ejus scissum est , absque omni cultu ex ordine funem .
Angelus autem meus et leniat iras mansit dolori
Mea lux, in vigiliis, in nigrum, quod est victa ,
Admonens quia carnis mortalitate ... maxime
Angelus vult me et tremor et durum accepimus.
Et ego factus sum quam ... traumas vitae ac lacrimis
Et dimisit , in specie quae sunt post , veluti a me plagas .
Nox deinde calor intensior saunas percipimus ...
Sicut est mihi in choro , relictum est , nisi ab illo esse extensum ,
Et invicem tradent , et mortalem , ut impunita essent, sed numquam mihi ...
Non tradent ; effundam spiritum meum , et non totum .
FYLACTERIUM creare ex omni me , et oculus innocens ...
Quod amari posco sum ​​ut carbo margarita alba et nigra ;

Section I : Sacrificium Doll

Part I : ( litus sanguinem )

Ne revoces me pupa enim priscis recesserunt cavernam
Sunt inanima appetant , non realis forma in utero ;
A puero bibere rubeam ore exploratores in vastissimam taberna ...
Dum nati psallens FARRATUS agros effusi .
Vadimus ad domum Dei , in plagis , in magna pecunia debetis ...
Hoc non est ad oras Nunc cruore manant strigitu rubra de memoria , polluetur .
Nulla est enim me primus ad ignitionem gloriae ...
Quando autem mens aeterna , in omnibus placentes, causabatur laetitiam .
In stellis ibi verba quae ego volo inauditum revocare,
Quia descendi ita pridem apud venire primum ?
Sollicitus purus fabrica MYSTICUS chaos genitus antiquorum
Mitti expectant limine signa magica.
Interdictum revertatur in carminibus meis , Licinius, ut audacia ,
Quia oblitus est mei fere est: nunc originem , ut tragici.
*** filii bibere, et se abscondunt nati seorsum
*** aquæ in sanguinem, et super triticum, et arefecit fœnum, et humida !
Signum quod venturum est mutare et laboro mentem.
Facies in luna ALLUCINOR in metu torquetur , horror ...
Dumque in fauces manu stare super pectus
Inter ordines diu frumentum umbra nigro ambula
Genus servo meo animas infantium .
Aestas flavescunt, Phoebe caelesti audent .
Mea sola mcestas lupus sonitum audiri potest ,
Et *** feris leo in pontumque moueri relinquere ...
A natura mihi dolet cupio concupivit paradisus reducat .
Vidi terram terror , ut sanguis in sinu
Ater sanguis in terra , quae facit viventia ululare ...
Sicut **** habet stultitia non dicam prava vel !

Part II : ( Crucifixo et Inferorum Animas Excitat)

Nam inertis est gemere pupa altari parato, in sacrificium,
In lapidem calcarium, et in cavernam, ubi sunt wettest fingit arcus !
Un - res sunt, sed etiam *** vivit in vulneribus animae , ut in glaciem ,
In horrore frigoris fictilem , ita *** pedibus non vocavit.
Serpentipedi mucrone subrecto , remittit praecise a pupa in collo ,
Et non potest dici , quia non habet pupa voce clamare.
Puer, et egressus est a tabernam , aspectus eorum quasi a naufragii vile ...
Ut curem hominem a superioribus agentibus , corpus totum mundum.
Infra in concavis locorum asperitate visa petram
Magna voces resonare in tenebras , et vocavit nomen tacuit.
Eripuit animam trahit nauta Multo gregis
Ubi aereum reddet unicuique antiquum signum desideratum .
Et venit ad bibendum aquas illas vitae malis mederi ...
Porcellana , et liberatus a vinculis mortis obscuris sentiat frigore ;
Animas in captivitate , unde nemo mortalium loqui
Sed statim liberavit remotis perforabit clavi ...
Omnis **** , qui dicitur Golgotha ​​, olim in cruce positus .
Omnis autem mulier quoque, ad quod omnes tales sunt tormento
Et facta est , dum consummaretur sacrificium insita primum sic infirma est,
Et intantum ut nisl tot annis perpessi .
Signati post fata diu Quod murus ignis in Terra ,
Stigmatibus ferre posset ita etiam multa futura!
Quod signum erat in manu mea, ut labatur pes meus, et dimittam ...
Tamen adhuc vetera perseverare illusionibus , et non possum excitare multos .
Ego, qui iam tantum conligati Lorem ferrum quid reale,
Factaque est infinita in dolo : Ego sum ​​, et desiderio erat pax.
Nam et ego quod negas , nisi aspera ac rudia mei liberatione ;
Angelus liberavit me , et nunc inter saevus sigillum frangere conantur .

Part III : ( The Return of lux)

Qui a mortuis Surrexit , frigidior , ubi de somno , ultrices in somnis , per
Et obliti sunt intelligentiae invocatum est super sancta miserunt innoxia verba ...
Et inde apud hominem , ut maneat MYSTICUS sequuntur revertamur ,
Ea aetate in inferno commemoratione praeteritorum.
Qui suscitavit eis manum meam , et pugionem eius lumen gloriae,
Relicta meae effercio fluere sanguis subito currere libero.
Ex profundo flamma surgit millennial amisso puella puer ,
Quæ est angeli redivivam sinit luce clarius ostendit .
Et omnis qui non occaecat oculos ad intima ;
Infideles , in momento temporis ponere in obprobrium .
*** stellae ab Diua sacrorum opera voluntatis
Dum coccineum limen transeat , lucem adfert .
Momento enim omnes in caelo et in terris sunt ,
Sicut dies longus tandem inclinatus ante noctem veniat .
In tenebris , claritas multo maiorem et perfectiorem descendit ,
Eorum, qui dum in nomine meo orbata est devium.
Sicut incensum in conspectu angelorum ira animos eorum , occlusum ...
Ferrum IRRETUS texturae talis effugere nequeunt carcerem
Nam quicquid occaecat vidit lucem et scindit
Nisi quia in templis revellens mortalibus irae.
Et , postquam ipsæ fuerint fornicatæ infidelium , ut uoles, petulans ,
Et factum est in excogitando dogma , quod de ratione immemor ?
Horrendum non fides sit , tamen ita fecisse ,
Ante finem exspectent praemia petunt .
*** enim , ut est in paradisum suscipit dereliquerunt ...
Imago autem libertatis quam servitutis et negotio.
Nimia tempus extractam converterat a gladio:
****, ut spectet ad salutem in lucem , caeca lumina sua .

Antiphon alpha :
Quia hoc est ut , barbaris quoque innocentiae gentilitium mendacium vendere ...
Numquid et vos vultis emere , aut aliquam nunc forsitan putas,
Ad sciendum neque rationi consentaneum neque aetate sapientes ...
Quod si non moverent malles *** saltare!
Pleni sunt somnia noctes ; Dies mei tantum ...
Ego ad bis et quem maxime diligebam , in purpura quoque , et aprico occasus .
Ego autem haec imago non ad tangere memoriam tot ,
Qui replet in sanguinem furoris me , et frigidam desiderio finis .
Et considerandum est quod *** in ultima desperatione rerum , in cuius manu mea, equo et pilos in ore gladii ,
Nam ni ita esset, nunquam tamen inde trans familia .
Sed abusus est , ut fuit, et quidem instar caedentes sepem
An ut reliquos omnes transcendunt omnia , amice!
Ego superfui , transfiguravi ascendi in fine est ,
Multo magis quam erat, non plus quam diruere animus .
Sed tamen , quia speravi in solitudinem , ut a somno exsuscitem ancillam meam in flamma ...
Ardet , o superi, ut arbitror , usque uror dissiliunt!
De caelo et magis obscurant vestris, et tridentes, et contritio ,
Audio furorem tympana caelo antiqui gigantes hiemes.
Dii irascantur et ecce valide erutas ,
Uvasque calcantes Angeli hominis Illi autem vinariis ageretur ...
Recordatus sum in omnibus navigantibus battleship galaxies ,
In die ortus nubes inter exaestuans, quod ' vaporem ...
Depopulari Sodomam et Gomorrham, ad contumelias !
Ibi eram: et *** impiis non perire denique gemitu.
Ut illuderet mihi : et populus , quia ego bonus sum male velle ,
A Deo est, quam diu tot mala ferre cogetur .
Ego autem non sum solus , quia multa in eo et detorqueri
Deus remittit, nam adhuc sed non est intellectus ;

Section II : Hostiam de Spider

Part I : ( Rident Primus )

Caelum non egerunt pœnitentiam super ulcus nigrum est furore , et in indignatione, et in iustitia :
Et factus sum caro , quamvis intellectus non mortale .
In antro loca , quæ transivi , et dæmonia multa discurrunt ,
Et locis minus adhuc amor in search of a provocare .
In quo autem in craticiis tectoria atria mea, et thronus fuit stabilis ...
Et super collem , ubi dolorum laborum animae perit labor in mundanis ,
Transcendi vincula et consilio fidelium expectabo laudatur.
Ignis et sulphur et, semper est dextera arderent super altare ?
Ridentem cogo faciem meam : non enim veni , ut velle,
Ut in hora *** iam iuvenem, *** proposito aureum ...
Quæ pro impenso super solidum, pretium quis ,
Qui autem non cognovit , quomodo cupiam sibi solvere ...
Furor solitudinis nascitur ira nascitur ex malitia,
Qui autem contemnunt me , quia sine causa Provocantes me .
Quid est **** , impunitatem , ne quis putaret se excusat ;
Quam sapere , *** culturis tuum: mergi , in balneis , in ardentem .
Loquor de inferno, qui est infidelis nescis ?
Neque enim suis oculis effossis clavorum ...
Loquor cruciatus qui daemonia fecerunt superat .
Primus erit mihi dolor meus *** omnis fera voluntas ut ratio ...
Ut qui me conspui caro quod ambulans ,
Nescis modo larva facies mea , abscondens se.
Attendit ad illa nihil nisi insipientis solis erratur in sonis cantus
Tantum numerus ratus e fratre soror .
Sed in caelestibus quae sine causa nata est incestus est alchemical ?
Habitat in me peccatum occultum compages sǽculo.
Sit mihi vim inter gentes auditus est ABSURDUS musica ...
Spiritus meus qui regit omne simile est genitus.

Part II ( vindicta aurum )

In hortos, in quibus cupiditas sanguis rosaria semina ,
I , in manu eorum , qui esurit Quorum sitit aquam surgit !
In quaerere dilectionis affectum bestiis pavi eget
Quid faciam ut pudeat , habet me non elit .
O **** , quo impune ausu palamque vociferari ,
Quod amor sit ex me credis , et me opus manuum tuarum ,
Ut timidus , et cucurrit ad me latere turba depravari ,
In simulata excellentiam tuam , et ipse te vile animal .
Coniunctio oris linguae quasi telam laqueari
Si fieri potest araneae ; et fugiet a turpis ut octo pedes nidum ...
Et *** jam non calidus humanitatis indignum ,
Cogitans te meliorem quam reliqui descendes !
Ut vitae pretium millies , tibimetipsi .
Creaturam factus sum nocte expectant te aranea heu !
Nolite putare quia ego audirem . utrumque stridens cruris ...
Odium ductor tuus , et equi ejus , et ascensorem ejus .
Et in vestra web Video vos, Quirites immune ungues acuti ,
Ad toxicus venenum , quod oculis non potes, nisi te , octo ...
Ex quo bases Caesios sine timore, et sic primum
Ut dolores tuos comedat vos accendentes ignem caelum ;
Detur paenitentiae venia , quae dicis omnia cogit , ne superare dolores ,
Qui tibi semper, quæ videtur , non est potentia ad non noceat .
Et ascendit ulterius sapere plus pavoris tui ...
Numquam puerile ludibrium ulla facta .
Omnis domus tua dissolutae horologiorum ad socium non est ?
In desertis chaos est gaudium, ut si quod habuerunt.
Surgit in novum ordinem , nemo potest negare chaos genitus locus ,
Dum descendes perdunt, muneribus laesae.

PARS III ( Ultimo Rident)

Et sic videtur quod Angelus se et ante deam
Angelus autem nominis vocare aliquis tenuerit formarum.
Et qui in illis est , maiora sunt, ego saepe ad extraneas ,
Fingunt enim se perfectum , ignorant eorum saevitum ,
Num amor crustacea tam veteri quam in praedam , et mendicum ,
Quod minus quam tuum est , quam sumpsi eaque cibum ...
Est autem tarn coquina sicut clibanus tua vadit et ora
Ipse, ipse est extra te praemium virtutis tuae chores ,
Sicut enim res suo cuidam negotium , qui meretricem ... Lorem ipsum leve,
Putas praemium amaret , et mendicum , falli te .
Quid autem vocatis me alienum **** ... amor est malum , et hoc pudet,
Et similiter anima atque animus , quibus tandem corpus infirmare.
Vides tantum larva ... sub aspectu nisurum
Larva ut me in tenebris tenebris latet .
Circa collum tuum habebis , ut falsae aestimationis pendet a mortuis, et corona ,
Quia sterilis tibi relinquo mundum , Intenta ancillæ.
Consurgitur in excitate de reliquis abire tibi , qui sunt cognati mei
De manibus eorum procul offendant pedes vestri ?
Qui manet in coemeterio quasi mortui
Non tollere incorruptione Nimis tibi dubium .
Hue tacito lachrymis virgines flere ...
Ad mea, et robur , in quo praeda, gregibus rursum super vias hominum ,
Ad eos qui non ineptis metus mutetur ,
Aureus transmutare non magis quam plumbea nocte dies ;
Quod verum est de fine , qui scit ... Alchemist
Magistra rerum artes a me in profundum.
Ágite , quod sum aggressus creatura placet mutare ...
Ut res sunt nostrae demiurgorum lasciva oscula enim calidius ?

Omega Antiphon :
Non est autem in Utopia , non videtur quod ...
Donec ut nosmet ipsos cognoscimus prima quaerimus imaginem .
*** et in sacrificio sui ipsius , a volunt reddi obsequium ...
Qui ad reformandam et divina se , *** Leo renata agnus mitis !
Sicut in Christo, ex parte in qua invocatum est cicatrix, et vulneratus est ...
Sed simplex conversio ad dissimilis vultus nolui .
Memini dolore meo, ut acer et vehemens ...
Donee tantum possum emissus dolor servare sensu caret.
Quomodo potest aedificare paradisum non est, nisi in se mutant ;
Mutare ante mutatum esse non est in medio ; quae est in via .
Qua ad paradisum , et oportet eam, et non deficiunt,
Ne ad caelum, nisi quam nos aedificare illud infernum iniustitiis nos .
Utopia , non ruunt ad genus humanum, nisi a te, tu es qui habitavit ?
Nisi quod est extra omne malum quod in se corrumpunt ,
Manifestum enim est , nisi malum, quod mundatam ab omnibus malis moribus.
Tunc malitia faciatis abstulit senex super pluteo tom .
An non intellegat , quid est salvator ...
*** diceret quod non omne quod simplices filii ingredi
Regnum caelorum , et inde ad delectationem pertinere ...
Et quomodo potes perfrui , si tibi placet , cauillando crudelis ?
*** aurora tempore domini nituntur hominum planeta ...
Numquam imaginandi praecipiet ut discat primum voluntatis.
Non armorum vi , nec inutile mandatum ...
Sed *** modestia , et misericordia ; ergo qui ad cor suum in satietatem,
Gáudii innumerabiles et celebrationibus quae causa ?
Sed animus intendatur dolores peccatum lacus.
Ubi plausus rotundum vt quilibet sensus ?
Modernitatem iocabitur ullum definitum ornare.

Section III : sacrificium sui

Part I : ( hortos perditio )

A ziggurat sublatus est , arenosa in calidum lateres , quos coquetis in igne ...
Septem fabulae in caelum, sicut turris Babel ,
Quod in solitudinem, et in

Beams of light explode over the soft sand,
i can feel the warmth on my face as i sit on the beach,
sinking softly into natures warm bed.
The light seems to turn everything it touches
into a glowing ball of light,
as if god himself is smiling down at the dawn of a new day.
The beach is deserted apart from a few seagulls
that seem to share this enlightened appreciation.
I grab my board and walk slowly towards the sand,
my feet sinking into the grains,
feeling the consistency change as the water laps at my ankles.
My wetsuit keeps me surprisingly warm
as the cold water rises slowly, and i close my eyes,
holding my board under one arm.
I smell the salt, the fresh air, this is what beauty is.
I wander in, losing myself in this new environment.
I duck quickly underwater wetting my hair and face,
floating weightlessly in the water for a second,
before rising, feeling fresh as i grab my floating board and straddle it.
Leaning forward, i can seeing fish scatter
as the first wave washes over me
like a tilde wave of emotions and stress,
i wipe the slate clean,
i am the tabula rasa and this is a new day.

In the second part of my thoughts about Purity,  would like to observe the different stages and levels of Purity. I accept the statement, that here "in this world" we can't be "perfectly pure", but also we should clarify what to understand under term "pure". We can't aim something impossible to achieve, but we can observe simple rules and make definition of "pure". Of course anyone can be "pure" person, if he want that, and it's not hard to be achieved.  Purity does not mean to be "perfect". The fact that we are all in our human body and "here" means automatically that we are not perfect. It doesn't mean we can't be pure. Now I'll determine what i mean with that. First of all, all people are born "pure" or as some kind of "tabula raza" (clear table) and the different circumstances, the different social level and the different connection with God/ or with self-consciousness make them go to a different path. We know very well that children are "innocent" and pure, they are not guilty as far as they are not able to show and express their real "self". they are in stage of innocence, but not of wisdom - which is the choice of will. (Swedenborg *). They are example of purity of heart - they talk and act from inside without any hidden intentions, or if they seem to have any, it's just by "outside" character. They have strong intuition an ability to feel the others heart. That all qualities of children we try to achieve again in our parts of life. What we have to learn and achieve is "how" to be pure. Even it's easy, it requires qualities and patience, and on the first place "will".

I. - Purity of heart :
How to achieve purity of heart? There are several rules you should observe, if you want to have pure heart. First of all the heart is center of the body, it's connected with our emotions, feelings and provides blood to all body. The heart represents actually:
1. truth (to be connected to the truth. Try to always speak out your real mind, show your real self)
2. love (have pure love to others - as first christian principle!) love others and love God
3. believe (when you believe without to want proof, that is the true faith) Believe in yourself and others.
4. God (connection with God, represented by prayer)
5. forgiveness (learn how to forgive and do not seek for revenge! that makes your heart pure of evil feelings) We can conclude the 5 principles inside the understanding of "purity of heart". They are well known and widely spread in all religious principles of Christianity, Islam, Buddhism. First of all, never conceal the truth, which you know, means do not tell lies, no matter if that will harm others or not. Truth is the first step to purity. If you feel very hard to say the truth, as you feel you are harming another, you should first heal your heart, and see that truth never can harm. You should say the truth about others too, if anyone has their "own truth", be aware that the truth of God is one, and he can see any moment your spiritual body. If you know something, which is harmful for anyone, so you don't want to say it, that will cause problems later in your life, for your health -your heart or your throat will suffer, or to the same person you wanted to "protect". In all religions the truth is one of the basis for good life. Do not hide your real face, as that is also equal to lie.
2. Love to others means - do not harm others, do not ****, do not make suicide, do not harm anyone's body or soul -by words or physically. Any human has right and it's here because of God's willing! If you take life for anyone on the planet -no matter the reasons, you play like "God", and that will send you to the bad end and out of spirit. It will remove from you all power. That is one of the biggest sin. You can not play to be God, and all his power will return to you, as there is justice but in "Spiritual" world. Don't seek complete justice on earth. There is not how it works - as all we are in the test, while we live. Can the teacher give all answers for the students, while they are in exam? of course no, but teacher can help for some willing students with clues. So the second principle for pure heart is "love the other - your fellow as yourself. - (as Jesus said) It's really hard to achieve, but if you do, you will be rewarded , because that is the real love. and not egoistic love. When you love your fellow, you allow all negative feelings to "him" and connected to world to flow away from your heart, do not allow anger to possess you, or any negative feeling, as they make your heart "unclean" for a long time. Also it's not good to hide your bad feelings inside, as they will harm you again and again. Release them forever.
3. Believe in God, trust others, and don't be very doubtful, because that will also harm your heart only. The one who really believe- as the most simple and ignorant people - so he is really pure in heart. So try to not be suspicious too much, and doubt in case that is the normal reaction. Of course it doesnt mean to believe in "any craziness' or fantasy, it means simply to choose to "believe" if you have this choice! for example there are many stories of jealousy, burning the heart of someone, when he reach to this point to **** or harm his beloved, and after that the truth reveal he didn't have reason to doubt. But so he lost all!
4. God = faith in God. that is a basis in any religion, and that is how people, who believe get strength from the source. Prayer is the most beneficial and fast way to God, and the only practice to purify your heart. If you do not believe in any God, that doesnt mean you can't pray inside yourself, or to find way to heal your heart. Anyone can find the way for himself. The prayer is the most intimate relation of human with God. - and also with the higher-self and with his pure heart. that how the prayer makes you pure. (if you want to achieve results pray at least 3 times a day, it maybe short prayers inside you, but from heart.)
5. Forgiveness - it includes all above elements of the "pure heart" - truth, love, believe, faith, but also allow your heart to pour out the bad feeling of "revenge", anger, sorrow, impatience, egoism. We should avoid all this feelings and claim them as source of bad energy. If you are "in fire" or in argument with someone, if you have different views, opinions and directions in life, dont allow anger to possess you, as then you are the one who fall in trap. If you are sad from anything, dont allow your heart to be fully in sorrow ,as that is harming you. If you need something fast and your desire is good, dont allow yourself to be impatient, as that will harm your heart. All these feelings are mentioned because of forgiveness. No matter what, you have to forgive others, if they ask for that! if they dont ask, so forgive them inside yourself, because that how your heart will be clean from the evil. If they don't want to forgive you, then their heart will suffer, and it's unfortunate.

observe all this principles, and you'll have the first basic step for "pure heart". Speak always the truth, that will make you happy and confident, don't hide your real face, will release you from the fear, Love your fellow, will make you more open-minded, believe and have faith in God, the prayer will strengthen your heart connection and make you free of bad feelings, be forgiving, don't keep the bad emotions inside you, pour out of your heart anything not necessary for it. In this way you will be very near to be pure!

-nour-
July-013

Copyright © Nina Nour

I was sick of being a woman,
sick of the pain,
the irrelevant detail of ***,
my own concavity
uselessly hungering
and emptier whenever it was filled,
and filled finally
by its own emptiness,
seeking the garden of solitude
instead of men.

The white bed
in the green garden--
I looked forward
to sleeping alone
the way some long
for a lover.

Even when you arrived,
I tried to beat you
away with my sadness,
my cynical seductions,
and my trick of
turning a slave
into a master.

And all because
you made
my fingertips ache
and my eyes cross
in passion
that did not know its own name.

Bear, beast, lover
of the book of my body,
you turned my pages
and discovered
what was there
to be written
on the other side.

And now
I am blank
for you,
a tabula rasa
ready to be printed
with letters
in an undiscovered language
by the great press
of our love.

yet another year zero
reinventing the squeaky wheel
constrained writing just for kicks
reviving a tragic hero
tabula rasa and leaky spiel
trained for fighting prickly ******
hollowing future and reticulating splines
swallowing nature then duplicating rhymes
only a blank drawing
at a bank withdrawing
funds splashing down like acid rain
workers trashing town with great disdain
fluxing bureaucracy
with ad hoc hypocrisy
go country for old zen
and then
shot glass shopping sprees
statues with haunting verdigris
from target to target
the stupid (never forget)
airport shuttles and toxic puddles
epic riddles while popping bottles
thrusting bodies and a fruity box
alternating current and topic drift
trusting hotties with shuttlecocks
baiting adherent with basic *****
eating that dog in a bar by the ditch
bar all rowdy with many shots taken
beer hall drowsy as closing time looms
far too loudly with identity mistaken
the band had us frankly and amply forsaken
awakening in a ditch as the a-bomb booms
a thousand soldiers ready for battle
at town's end with less depleted morals
worried about the deleted portals
we buried hell well without the cattle
no more long weeks of slicing ****** meat
origins about which they should not care
oh to sell knockoffs to the rich elite
hear their yells and use an odd nom de guerre
the profit and the revenue forecast
**** on the new road
the prophet and the parvenue act fast
pill for the wet load
he had dropped the load leaving pungent smells
in the dark it glowed and lit the deep wells
launching a rocket every four hours
we encounter yet more perplexing times
measuring success with fewer metrics
punching the clocks in tall black towers
changing the locks and the warning signs
altering quarters with newer ethics
cannibals watched while we profusely bled
fine forget it forget it forget it
ingest the capsule to induce the sweat
just relieve don't botch
figure figure figure
don't bereave think scotch
ticker ticker ticker
sounded like it came from someone shady
getting beat to end with some other blend
year to date murders now about eighty
yet today's statistics lie and pretend
fudging the digits to fake the assent
so what happened last week stays in last week
all of those painful jarring sights and sounds
making it all seem to look rather bleak
kept sly with pennies and kept shrewd with pounds
on alibaba we will not delete
separated heads from dark desert towns
metropolis with millions of dark souls
lighting up papers for a rapid trip
necropolis with brilliant harkening trolls
fighting the power in order to strip
their medals that they never earned at all
writing this line here and ******* the fall
straightforward message from a plain green rod
a photographer in obscure disguise
throw him into the main canal and nod
the coffee shop looks banal with just guys
losing interest quick and wanting to dip
touching that shiny pink wide-open clip
unknown underground studded with diamonds
mind-blowing trap sounds burst from the caliph
volume gets higher and heads start to ring
they came in sequence and then came silence
waking up confused in a condo lift
taking refuge in an ugly building
just invited myself into your home timeline
somewhat sublime reciting trifling rhymes
alter rhyming scheme to eschew couplets
now fully mobile and automatic
pentameter schemes and android tablets
tents and suburbs that look quite nomadic
recruited minions for the rebellions
human microphones sans inhibitions
quicken resistance to the man's big plan
invoking the crowd to buck traditions
spell that with an accent with great élan
broken mobile phone texting hexagram
a rapid drop in communication
a postal service mailing vexing spam
token for transit lost at the station
we can no longer go back to the farm
here in the city living these last days
sounding the airhorn and the fire alarm
seahorses as fish and whales as mammals
hard to keep track here of various things
went to the desert and smoked some camels
patient zero died sounding the alert
some will paint dark scenes with exigent themes
paintings so dire that your eyes avert
inverse distance decay in the network
old flags questing through the flood and tumult
of course these rhymes make them go **** berserk
losing sight of sites that house the occult
refusing to eat and wanting to drink
these words resonate with all those who think
utopia fell soon after completion
never understood humanity well
rationality ends with deletion
all the fine stuff just goes to *******
humans emitting alienating vibes
they form foul cliques like pups from putrid tribes
three ships all wrecked up in some unknown land
divulging harsh things and eating raw food
far too many times getting shunned and booed
had all my writings fully blocked and banned
still no dumb luck yet after x decades
recalled old friendships that have long decayed
more constrained writing that will make them groan
some will even see the trail left behind
writing all of this mostly in e-prime
punctuation-free zone made just for fun
lighting dark alleys with a mobile phone
some get all the love while others get none
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****
ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch
glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch
kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch
stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch
twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch
yesterday's blunt stunt went to the gutter
no regrets no threats no whatever man
just like autechre and that song flutter
forget the police just rave on til dawn
**** how darkness has lasted this **** long
ominous songs here still pumping along
exponential sneers and the obscene scene
existential fears lit up with benzine
socially-accepted narcissism
honest thoughts here treated with cynicism
forget all -isms / go back to the scheme
spending days like these sniffing naphthalene
won't dwank to the masses or kiss *****
temperamental peers can go live that myth
experimental stage done and over with
(pause)
*
* *
*
✝ gone to a higher place ✝

Phantasmagoria, I was preached, is sin:
To clutch to dreamlings is ill-will;
To ponder about freedom is misanthropy,
But to succumb fosters good- will

An iota of irenic coexistence, fugitive,
Washes away rebellious thoughts? No!
Men, remains of flesh, tricked, eros,
Follow their desires, where the go?

‘Son,  to this earth belong we, transient
Creatures are we; have to dwell on ‘their’
Wishes, weak, weary, a love-in, common-
Touch; ‘they’ have teeth and scare.’

Worm’s eye view, attainder, yield,
Stop! Cul-de-sac! Walls! Apartheid Walls!
High! Not enough to thwart efforts to
Seek freedom, e’en via blood rainfalls.

Those precious little moments,
Where hearts like ours could mend,
When love was all we lived for,
And dreams could never end.

Each precious little moment,
The hopes we held inside,
The good and bad encountered,
All taken in our stride.

Those precious little moments,
When we walked hand in hand,
No longer to be shared by us,
Despite all that we’d planned.

Each precious little moment,
Wrapped in each others arms,
A safely now long gone to me,
Sat here lost in my qualms.

Those precious little moments,
Where love still found a way,
Shared by our souls forever,
No matter what we say.

Each precious little moment,
We never should regret,
The time we had was special,
I will not soon forget.

Crack my spine and
Lay me open
Am I in those words before you?
Or a footnote
An observation
Scrawled in the margins

Run your hands
Over me
With your eyes closed
Am I Braille
Beneath your fingertips
Can you feel me?

If you lose
Your Self
Come and find me
Hidden in sentences
A map of
Paragraphs

Somewhere in
The shifting corridors
I am a haunt
A shadow; memory
One of those
Lost girls

Shifting scenes
And new
Locations are
Disguises, I
Am buried in the pages
Of your story

Like Echo
I have faded, until
All that remains, is
My voice imprinted
On a recollection
In a loss

the first step to knowledge
is to know you know nothing
the second step to knowledge
is to follow the first
the third step to knowledge
is to keep on going
until you know your steps
go somewhere

Let off the debt from yesterday
when you and I were (loves) virgins
lily white and yearning
dewy-eyed and callow
naive to the frailty of
We the tender footed
heart bruised and marked
breakneck blows from a fast hand
double-quick, posthaste
Remedy the wound
let growth be the antidote                                                         ­                         
satiate the womb
with golden spirit

Everything I have
experienced until now
has affected me.

Funny how the longest times
All seem to fall black
It has got to be a fountain
Or perhaps a small paper cup
We built those walls
Years piled on
Watching as everything begins to stack
Crowding out the inner most thoughts
Waiting for the line to go slack

No use whistling for Lyonnesse!
Sea-cold, sea-cold it certainly is.
Take a look at the white, high berg on his forehead-

There's where it sunk.
The blue, green,
Gray, indeterminate gilt

Sea of his eyes washing over it
And a round bubble
Popping upward from the mouths of bells

People and cows.
The Lyonians had always thought
Heaven would be something else,

But with the same faces,
The same places...
It was not a shock-

The clear, green, quite breathable atmosphere,
Cold grits underfoot,
And the spidery water-dazzle on field and street.

It never occurred that they had been forgot,
That the big God
Had lazily closed one eye and let them slip

Over the English cliff and under so much history!
They did not see him smile,
Turn, like an animal,

In his cage of ether, his cage of stars.
He'd had so many wars!
The white gape of his mind was the real Tabula Rasa.

Erase it.
If anybody can, you can.
I have no right to wish you would. But I think you could.
I think if I were to lay in your arms, I would forget everyone who tore me up after you.
I think if I let myself see your face the way I used to, if I memorized your eyes again,
I think maybe I could lose all this.
What I felt when I knew you was pure.
And now
Now I feel like a river or a sea that's been churned black with oil,
Polluted,
Tainted.
I loved how complete my love was then, how clear.
Whether I was in pain or in joy, it had this... sacredness to it.
A clarity. A divinity.
Since then it feels like all anyone's done is graffiti the walls of the church of my soul,
Carve names and cross them out, tip over the pews and shatter the stained glass windows into little harsh rainbow shards on the ground.
There are scorch marks on the doors.
There are vines growing through the floorboards.
Erase it. Erase it all.
Make me new.
You are no angel, and I am no ******, but I don't want to be
Saved.
I want to be new.
I want you to make me remember how to believe.
I want to have faith in someone who actually deserves it.
The girl who knelt at your feet was so innocent, so awed.
She is dead, angel.
She died pure. But I remember her.
I remember her enough to wonder if she could haunt me a little, maybe touch my soul and wash it clean.
I want to be a blank slate, a clean page.
I want to be what I was when you were the first person I ever wanted to be close to.
And I am not naive-
I know that you are no angel, angel.
I know that I am no awestruck little girl.
But I think that if anyone could bring out the purity in me, it'd be you,
And if anyone could bring out the light in you, it'd be me.
I have no right to be wishing you'd erase these years,
All this dust that's gotten caked upon my heart.
But..
I've got to hope for something, don't you see?
I just want to forget.
I just want to be free.
I just want to be
New.

Release me (x2)
from these barb wires (x2)

empty minds
blank
blink (and open your eyes?)
and see nothing inside
nothing to find (x2)
blank pages no thoughts no words


army of slaves
army of slaves

Transplanted to these '...fruited plains...', grandpa,
One of Gaia's fruits, what was his twinkle among
The countless stars? Here, millions have come
To stay, imbuing us with their place of origin,
Their souls dancing, flying, in a universal way.
For over 60 years Americans to be came through
Ellis Island, headed to who knows where West,
My grandfather, Uru, which means hero, a Fin,
One of three who left a concentration camp that
Fifteen thousand entered, did too, to NYC, NY.

Following freedom's beacon, its first light he saw,
The Statue of Liberties still unscorched torch, thanx
To Frederic Auguste Bartholdi, and the French. Of
Libertas, the Roman goddess of freedom and a
'...Tabula ansata, a tablet evoking the law, upon
Which is inscribed the date of the American
Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776.'
The broken chain of tyranny lies at her feet,
Upon a pedestal, wherein etched words are,
From Emma Lazurus' sonnet, 'The New Colossus',

Which may rise again, only if we embrace them:
'...Her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
'Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!' cries she
With silent lips. 'Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!'

Only 151 feet tall, she will ever stand taller, or
Be turned to dust with us, all of humanity and
Large mammals, as well as the Earth, tragic
Members of extinctions annals, if we don't stop
The permanent altering of weather cycles through
Overuse of fossil fuels, the degradation of the
Earth's orbit around the Sun. We can walk in
Nature's abundant balance again, humane beings.
Still, she gives hues to the vast canvas of what
The Big Apple, and its beautiful mosaics' art, can be.
I shine only because he, a Merchant Marine, did.

the sky was stained purple and green- ghastly hues-
leaving me with a very unclean feeling
unfurling on my palms.
I wanted to wash it away-
the colors were becoming one now
(the kind of mysterious brown mothers pulled their children from peering at on mown lawns)-
and have a canvas pure as the first hour snow falls over weary towns.

it was harder than I thought it would be.
it involved scrubbing away the lights when aiming for the darks;
too much muddled together to pull apart the best, beautiful parts,
too much of a mess I should’ve noticed earlier when
I picked up my paintbrush and decided to spread my existence
out and out and out-
too much to pull back now, anyways.
too much but I don’t regret
anything
for I pulled out my soul
and spun my paintbrush around in it collecting
deep pigmented blood stains and tear drops and soft hugs.

only then did I begin to understand
my twisted self- when
brush touched world.

First, you. The husk that splits
And out pours newness.
You and one thousand
Parallel: Pisces’ roe
Plucked from above and dropped
Into honeyed Nile to sip her moon-pale tears.
Your pallor Lunaire by sun’s ray unthieved
Inward glowing like tomorrow’s pearl.

Cry farewell to meandering cord then
Drop on silted earth’s cheek.
No words to wield. Now there is nothing
But those life-wrought hands that
Trace the candour of your flailing slouch.
Hands that
Tug on your round-eyed buoyancy
Hands that
Brand you with sour sorrows
Like footprints on the moon.

Feed me your
Fabricated falsehoods
Lend me your vice
And borrow my
Virtue
Purchase perfection
With a silver tongue
And still be left
Wanting

No one listens to anything but
Their own ******* pulse
Dum dum dum

Can you hear me singing over
The sounds of your skull?
Dum dum
Do you see my mouth flutter like an insect that shares and dances or
Do you only see your own stupid
Eyelashes?
And their own ******* rumba?

The only thing you truly own is
Yourself
You don't need to claim ownership of yourself and be this
Attentive to yourself the one thing that's yours—
Look harder in front of you don't
Dumb dumb dumb yourself
Down
Like a mindless lacklustre thing!
Paint with the
Colours of other people
Stop waiting for your
Turn to talk

Wipe the spit from your
Chin

I walk towards the light, the darkness cutting off both sections of the house, this section as if a corridor from one life to another is obscured, it only partly touches, caresses, the orange skin folds of the chair. The smell of a faint dinner, laughing, arguing across the table hangs like a cloud in the room which only moments before was bustling with life and soft eye rolling glances. But all of that is gone now turned off with the flick of a switch. I walk towards the light which is open and safe, walking faster i can see it glistening and glowing and bursting into a million suns scattered upon the light blue walls, as though i am god seeing the beginning of creation for the first time. My ball of light flicking, touching everything that it comes into contact with, lighting up the darkness that was ever so slowly creeping in, poisoning the world with its shadows. This dream like state keeps me sane. The numbness usually encloses any spark of light that might touch my world. But some memories were so filled with clarity at times i swore they were real, and maybe they were, once. I liked to think so, that in this dark world that was so intent on constricting and confining there was once some good. I slipped back into my vidid imagination, the black pit. Intentionally switched off and entered back into my thoughts, hopes and dreams with the last crack of reality sealing itself up behind me, and i smiled.

A theory at birth the human mind is a blank slate
We teach our child to; love, live, hurt, and hate

  Prejudice judgments, we make them
often every day
Yet, we are embarrassed when our children repeat what we say

We blame others when our children regurgitate
Children are sponges they listen,learn, reverberate    

To say your child didn't here or understand You
Its' irresponsible to have that point of view

Music, TV , friends, inappropriate behavior is all around
Truth be told Christian values are hard to be found

Your child was a gift entrusted to your care
We live in a time when evil is everywhere

We are molding young minds into who they will be
We need to be diligent good against evil only time can forese