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"tapestried" poems
you would want to peer myopically into the id-entity of any poet?. to stroll down his or her mnemonics lane shaded by white towers full of his or her worthless and shallow memories?. How can you expect to see with truthfulness when even the poets eyes are,like yours, are blinded by their version of "truth" and tapestried by the colours of wealth with its intellectual and aesthetic attendant triviality?. How can you exect to hear with truthfulness when even the poets ears are stuffed up with their version of "truth"and the oligarchy owned recorded sounds of counting houses and insincere celebrities babbling ?. How can you expect to speak truthfully when not even one poet alive cannot distinguish between the duality of yes and no and the non-duality of neither?. Whattya want?. Religious Enlightenment?. A Cathedral of Corruption. Gnosis?. Union with dead failed prophets. Buddhahood?. I will be your Bhudda tonite. Christhood?. Great View of Yerushalayim shel Zahav. Union with Allah?. Teach children to blow themselves to smithereens. All these have  been banned under Health and Safety rules. All decisively proved by history to lead to War. And ****** Chauvinism. And Alcohol/Tobacco/Opiate Drug Addictions. And Medicines whose side effects **** And Alcohol and Tobacco fuelled Violence and Psychosis. And Racism. And Poverty for the masses. And Adulthood. And TV Dinners. And Strictly come  dancing. among others. so tell me once more why you cant be a normal human being.
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
so tell me why
you would want to peer myopically into the id-entity of any poet?. to stroll down his or her mnemonics lane shaded by white towers full of his or her worthless and shallow memories?. How can you expect to see with truthfulness when even the poets eyes are,like yours, are blinded by their version of "truth" and tapestried by the colours of wealth with its intellectual and aesthetic attendant triviality?. How can you exect to hear with truthfulness when even the poets ears are stuffed up with their version of "truth"and the oligarchy owned recorded sounds of counting houses and insincere celebrities babbling ?. How can you expect to speak truthfully when not even one poet alive cannot distinguish between the duality of yes and no and the non-duality of neither?. Whattya want?. Religious Enlightenment?. A Cathedral of Corruption. Gnosis?. Union with dead failed prophets. Buddhahood?. I will be your Bhudda tonite. Christhood?. Great View of Yerushalayim shel Zahav. Union with Allah?. Teach children to blow themselves to smithereens. All these have  been banned under Health and Safety rules. All decisively proved by history to lead to War. And ****** Chauvinism. And Alcohol/Tobacco/Opiate Drug Addictions. And Medicines whose side effects **** And Alcohol and Tobacco fuelled Violence and Psychosis. And Racism. And Poverty for the masses. And Adulthood. And TV Dinners. And Strictly come  dancing. among others. so tell me once more why you cant be a normal human being.
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As Dawn approaches with certainty and confidence, the worries that inhabited my mind through the night disappear with the lingering smoke left circling above an ashen wick. A yellow beam dares to peek through the Royal tapestried sky, sending a joyous jolt into the fibers of my soul. I am awake, I am alive. The darkness is gone and a glimpse of hope seeps inside, lathered in faith and the promise of renewal. I am a Survivor of the Night.
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC
Survivor of the Night
There’s a hermit in me and a flying god too. And a dancer, who dances on the bones of his lovers… gently dancing life into them. There’s a liar in me and a repentant thief too. Who tried to stuff precious moments into his pockets… There’s a handsome man in me, bold, strong, and true. There’s a woman in me too… delicately twisting in her sleep. And somewhere, there’s still a small boy who can’t find the right size shoes. There are rules in me that have no purpose… small print in search of a home. And there’s a warrior in me who plays the harp before battle, then rushes late into the fray. There are tapestried walls in me and marble halls, formal gardens, and servant’s chambers. And there’s a simple cottage I can’t quite find. There’s a psychic in me who reads the future but is sometimes unable to turn the page. And there’s a mysterious poet in me who finds words only at night. And there’s a seeker of truth who gets lost in the snow.
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Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 10:44 AM UTC
Ash Wednesday
Living in a world of my own, Bound in beguiling threads In an intricately tapestried mind map, Always thinking, Rarely living, Socially isolated, Socially inept, A prisoner of my mind, Falling down never ending rabbit holes Into boundless oceans of despondency and despair, Paralysed by confusion, An assault on the senses, Suffocating, Unable to breathe. A familiar light shines in the distance, I swim towards it, Limbs thrashing, One stroke forward, Two strokes back, One stroke forward, One stroke back, Two strokes forward, One stroke back, Slowly, slowly, Closer and closer, Until I reach the life raft and arms of my saviour, Who never gave up hope of finding me again, Even in the darkest hours.
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Dec 29, 2021
Dec 29, 2021 at 9:21 PM UTC
A World Of My Own
Sometimes I want to ran away to a place where the only name I know is mine. This two-syllable name that rings nothing but emptiness. For I am like a glass-- I only let people see through me because I am terrified of them getting deeper to my soul. A soul tapestried with confusion and migraine-- for I am only an ache in the head when you try to understand me.
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Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
nonsense