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"transmute" poems
Radness The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more. How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another. The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole. The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave. Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry. Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
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May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
Alchemy
Radness The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more. How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another. The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole. The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave. Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry. Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
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8
Dear diabolic debutante / Spawn of the unfathomable abyss of blackness / Daughter of dreadful dead desire / Black-shrouded sinister sister of celestial gloom before whose imperious gaze the heavens fall silent / Whip-lash girl-child of the graves whose pallid visage kindles the myriad infernal fires / Autocratic vampiress of lunar doom whose winding-cloth enfolds the thousand horrors of blood-drenched nightmare / Thou that wanderest the cypress-crested hills of funereal necropolises / Whose icy glance cracks the ungraven tombstones of utter desolation / Empress of night and madness / Who stalks the locked and shadowed hallways of unhallowed thought / Whose burial-boat glides the still waters over Lethe’s silent depths to the unglimpsed isle of eternal mourning / Whose parapets tower above the fiefdoms of quotidian banality / Whose flying buttresses overlook the Stygian waters of the forgotten drowned denizens of damnation / Whose unshackled dungeons open to worlds of regal splendor / Whose spires pierce dark skies where oblivion buries the ruined cities of revelry under the drifting clouds of leaden time / Oh maiden of melancholic alchemy whose petrified passions transmute base metal into pure gold… May the gibbous moon of equinox shine its baleful eye upon you; may you tread in sacramental calm the winding starlit paths of somnolent cemeteries; may my unmixed metaphors unveil in delirium their parabolic mysteries before the smoldering altar of your uninterpretable allegory; may the favor of your scorn forever lay me out, embalmed, undead, on the cold stone of merciless reality. Behold: in cryptic script of spectral apparition, in tracery of coded illumination, amidst the dawning rays of torment I write thine unknown name on the threshold of daylight. And from within the mortared wall of self I speak forth from my sepulcher the Sibylline utterance, unsought, unheard, undreamt: JUST WANTED TO SAY ‘HI’ !
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
Ω Gothic Postcard Ω
Dear diabolic debutante / Spawn of the unfathomable abyss of blackness / Daughter of dreadful dead desire / Black-shrouded sinister sister of celestial gloom before whose imperious gaze the heavens fall silent / Whip-lash girl-child of the graves whose pallid visage kindles the myriad infernal fires / Autocratic vampiress of lunar doom whose winding-cloth enfolds the thousand horrors of blood-drenched nightmare / Thou that wanderest the cypress-crested hills of funereal necropolises / Whose icy glance cracks the ungraven tombstones of utter desolation / Empress of night and madness / Who stalks the locked and shadowed hallways of unhallowed thought / Whose burial-boat glides the still waters over Lethe’s silent depths to the unglimpsed isle of eternal mourning / Whose parapets tower above the fiefdoms of quotidian banality / Whose flying buttresses overlook the Stygian waters of the forgotten drowned denizens of damnation / Whose unshackled dungeons open to worlds of regal splendor / Whose spires pierce dark skies where oblivion buries the ruined cities of revelry under the drifting clouds of leaden time / Oh maiden of melancholic alchemy whose petrified passions transmute base metal into pure gold… May the gibbous moon of equinox shine its baleful eye upon you; may you tread in sacramental calm the winding starlit paths of somnolent cemeteries; may my unmixed metaphors unveil in delirium their parabolic mysteries before the smoldering altar of your uninterpretable allegory; may the favor of your scorn forever lay me out, embalmed, undead, on the cold stone of merciless reality. Behold: in cryptic script of spectral apparition, in tracery of coded illumination, amidst the dawning rays of torment I write thine unknown name on the threshold of daylight. And from within the mortared wall of self I speak forth from my sepulcher the Sibylline utterance, unsought, unheard, undreamt: JUST WANTED TO SAY ‘HI’ !
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5
Transmute from lead to gold this crooked soul. Memories of times old create the whole. I am unashamed to stand before God. My spirit naked, covered with dirt and sod. You did this to me yet I rolled the dice. Forgot to check the trap - my fatal vice. Dabbled with the darkened void in your heart. Should have known it was rotten from the start. Betrayal makes for a more grounded man. Locking his emotions into a sealed can. So I raise my head in bold defiance. And slay that "God" with cynical science. © Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
Betrayal of the Heart (Antitheist)
Rather than allowing Oneself to get upset and flustered- lashing out in negativity; seek to transmute that Energy into beneficial positivity: set out to make it right. Such self-discipline is truly auspicious.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Transmutation
The government is like a feeding black hole; ******* everything inward into a swirling vortex until everything reaches one simple, conformed point; singularity. Instead, transmute yourself into something else, something much stronger than the tug of gravity and explore the outer reaches beyond the event horizon. Become unique and delve deeper than before.
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Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 4:48 PM UTC
The Government
Grief is so often a harbinger of repair if only t'would be welcomed as such! Aye, t'is but a matter of sheer Courage: of Willpower; to consciously transmute Grief as such!
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
Grief, Harbinger of Repair!
Because we are earth. Because we are not here And nature over there. Because it is a dysfunctional mental habit To conceive of ourselves as separate From the flowing energy of the planet - the air, water and nourishment - That we transmute to our own energy. Because we set aside a day to recall How dangerously mistaken it is To treat as a lowly inexhaustible slave One that is both single-minded parent    and sustaining comrade, Worthy of love and respect. - fr
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Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 3:37 PM UTC
Why Earth Day?
in our rocky mountain vistas and certain landscape paintings our imaginings are captured sometimes clear and ordered in others stormy patterns hiding then revealing dark and jagged forms almost hearing the hawk's invisible circling call imagining ourselves on precipitous mountain paths blown by shifting icy winds vertigo and dark crevices fearsome obstacles foreshadowing impending loss     then most suddenly we return to our observation places warmth safety comfort as before our imagined landscape fears now engulfed transformed within a joyous pervading light a jolting new experience mysteriously named by some as the sublime the word a gentle quiet merging of beauty and twin terrors fear and loss might we then find in this our landscape viewing a rehearsal for life's dark confrontations and on a promising day enfold transmute and with ecstatic labor discover true beginnings new births reaching this time a friend we know and name our sublime
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Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 11:51 AM UTC
sublime
I come before you Yehoshua with my hands lifted up in holiness. All I ever have is my faith in you. You know my heart, and my emptiness you know. You understand my feelings, and my follies you forgive. I am renewed and recreated daily, transmogrified into a new creation like I've never existed before because of you Yehoshua. My weakness are before you, my past you erased and forget. I am nothing without you because you are my strength Yehoshua. Your presence is comforting and reassuring for you are my glory and my salvation. All power belongs to you. Everything fails when you are not with me. You are the breathe within breathe for your Spirit dwells in me. There's no joy within without your presence. Your touch restores all things, and cause everything to heal. We cannot fully worship you when health fails, restore our brokenness Yehoshua. Your supremacy confounds the heart of man for no one can challenge you. You reign as King in the castle of my heart where you dwell in Majesty. The glorious beauty of your existence transcend and pervades all things. You transmute the gross material from nothing into gold. Every created things ever made resonates to you. All creatures above the earth, in the earth and, beneath the earth adores you and sing of your glory. Your awesomeness is a wonderful wonder. Thank you for everything that you do. ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
HE DWELLS IN MAJESTY
Purely noumenal or epistemologically maieutic?   Existentially transcendental transmogrification, transmute, transude, transubstantiate.  Spiritual apercu’s incarnate.  Infinite possibilities eidetic prospectus perpetrates incorporeity ideology’s perfectible ontology.  Elan vital’s entelechy’s apotheosis.  Psychic clarity’s evolutional ascension.  Perpetuity’s adamant tenacity.  Sentience’s inevitably irrefragable logistical tactician.  Preternatural’s ostensibly immortal fecund.  Yes, lie with me and I will indeed proceed to exceed the parameters of your mind with mesmerizingly enrapturing ecstatic euphoria.  Sublimely surreal futurity fatidic and  decadently arrogant blatant flagrancy.  Incorrigible atrociously impetuous impudence,  pusillanimous no.  Enthrallingly endearing sensually demonstrative flirtatious flamboyance.  What’s to extravagant exorbitance portray……… exserted protuberance’s indefatigably indomitable.  Sexuality’s infrangibly latent virilities, erotica erectile errantry’s hubris!  Feral phrenic frenzied ***** salaciously seductive.
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Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
Pneuma’s Epigamic Hubris
falling unfading timeless towards paradise fingertips streaming spirals of howling light beyond the speed of ecstasy flying blind knowing unseen the unbroken strand that binds two through boundless halls of celestial wonder skimming across astral seas split the surface peel back the facade plunge beyond the deep spread your wings for me envelope me ride the cresting wave rushing inside of you through my tantric eye we coruscate and transmute constantly becoming infinitely and intricately being converged
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Aug 20, 2022
Aug 20, 2022 at 10:52 PM UTC
Singularity
Each one of us is a set of shifting molecules that transmute in atomic form and are continuously reborn within this anatomical uniform Composing of two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom bonding together at birth - making up a significant proportion of living organisms on earth Born submerged in the adorner and refresher of the world; the building blocks of life magnifying congenital unification intertwined in this oxygenated blood of mine.
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
Building Blocks of Life
In a world of my own construction, reality bends to my will. Ancient secrets of ancestral blood transmute to its inheritor. The voice of eternity whispers my name, carried on winds of rolling laughter to my ear, waiting. Naive enchantment behind child eyes is transformed into something magic, but real; second sight becomes second nature. Soon, the joy behind my eyes will return, forged in inner fire and whetted with love.
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Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 10:48 PM UTC
Sacred Things
pebbles over the eyes beautiful vacancies and folded hands our true home land of inanimate flesh gray skin in sunken grave beds and operas theater of mice while tumbled hair still grows we are already dead waiting for the flaming barge necropolis; to shuttle seas raven vanishing point age; a slow erasure the mind still wreathed into the torrents of life morals transmute into desires lost every inhalation a going going gone the only savage kisses; crypt tongues slow unwinding allusions of a destiny abandoned forgotten   from niggling chatter and the price of a chicken bathing in a tide pool abyss of inked black teas i hold fast losing steps a worn animal, waiting till sanctuary comes
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Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
Vatic
§ The spiritual and corporeal depths of your beauty transmute cliche into novelty, ridiculous hyperbole and silly fantasy become literal reality. My paltry verse shall always fail to convey the way in which your beauty imbues me with conviction. All of your incomparable charms, have conquered my doubts. I wish only to be with you, and to dwell together with you in the luminescent radiance of our love. When our bodies meet we release a heat that burns like a thousand suns. This weary countenance of mine is transformed in an instant when you smile at me, and tell me you love me, as much as I love you. And I laugh, because I know it can't be true. How can anyone love me as much as I love you? And yet, You do. I feel such power coursing through me, when I think of our love. With you I become everything, without you I am nothing.
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Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC
Without You I am Nothing
Now for Iberia the Goat trips the Swan To expound his Potentials his Win compete His Wing - now Healed - placed Earnings on his Fawn And ensure his Feet leave Imprints complete Though needed it be keep Sweets in his Box To open once his Strategy proclaim That by Politic break Legs with the Fox And sap one's Owl of its Senses declaim Sport or Savoury either Ties relay - May your Holiday Cheers by Random bless Sustain Tomorrow; Else promote Today The Road to the Gold your Instincts progress. Should Hands for Wine toast; Cheer for Moment's come Will my Handles flip; Transmute Wine into Rhum. ‬
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Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT - TOM DALEY - #WORLDFINASERIES: BARCELONA, SPAIN
I blew a kiss and you smiled Your heart shook in tremor Won't you admit the vacancy? It's like a field of football Ball bouncing from sides For whoever holds it wins A repressive defence chains Diseased denial cog wheels Mind played, tongue slated Sublimation of eager emotions Compassed in all directions Comprehended ridiculoupsity Sinking stilettos drills deeper Barbed wire erected to fence A barricade of a no wait zone Hedges cut, trimmed to invisible No allegations stains to appease Peace to transmute,a game changer
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Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
Game Changer
Don't waste perfectly good loneliness. Don't waste it on the wrong person. Don't even waste it on the right person. Don't waste loneliness during the day, When there are things to be done. Don't waste it in dreams at twilight, When there are dones to be thinged. Don't waste loneliness at night When your time should be your own And could be filled with anything Other than everything you're not. Take your loneliness And denigrate it. Crumple it. Crush it. Throw it in a blender. An industrial oven. Take it out For a few drinks too many, And a few more after that; Lull it into a false sense of security That congeals with its drunken state To create a blinding dichotomy Of vulnerability and arrogant invincibility, So it suspects nothing As you lead it Down a dark alley And beat it to death with a brick. Have a too-close-to-call Fight to the death With your loneliness In a public toilet, With it almost getting The better of you Until you smash it Teeth-first Off of a porcelain Sink basin, Before dragging it By the hair To a cubicle, Where you hold its head Under the toilet water, Long after its body stops convulsing. Do what you can To transmute Your loneliness Into solitude, And wear it. Inside-out. Back to front. Upside-down. Right side up. Wear solitude so well that It ends up wearing you, As its skin. Use solitude to learn thyself. To feel thyself. To know thy changing self. Let solitude remind you that The existence of loneliness Begets the existence of The antithesis of loneliness. So definitely don't waste Perfectly good loneliness, Especially if you're forgoing Perfectly good hope.
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Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 2:30 PM UTC
Shumble
Don't waste perfectly good loneliness. Don't waste it on the wrong person. Don't even waste it on the right person. Don't waste loneliness during the day, When there are things to be done. Don't waste it in dreams at twilight, When there are dones to be thinged. Don't waste loneliness at night When your time should be your own And could be filled with anything Other than everything you're not. Take your loneliness And denigrate it. Crumple it. Crush it. Throw it in a blender. An industrial oven. Take it out For a few drinks too many, And a few more after that; Lull it into a false sense of security That congeals with its drunken state To create a blinding dichotomy Of vulnerability and arrogant invincibility, So it suspects nothing As you lead it Down a dark alley And beat it to death with a brick. Have a too-close-to-call Fight to the death With your loneliness In a public toilet, With it almost getting The better of you Until you smash it Teeth-first Off of a porcelain Sink basin, Before dragging it By the hair To a cubicle, Where you hold its head Under the toilet water, Long after its body stops convulsing. Do what you can To transmute Your loneliness Into solitude, And wear it. Inside-out. Back to front. Upside-down. Right side up. Wear solitude so well that It ends up wearing you, As its skin. Use solitude to learn thyself. To feel thyself. To know thy changing self. Let solitude remind you that The existence of loneliness Begets the existence of The antithesis of loneliness. So definitely don't waste Perfectly good loneliness, Especially if you're forgoing Perfectly good hope.
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66
Speaking One's mind isn't always the best idea. Sometimes, One is much better off keeping it to One's self. Try doing what I do: carry a pen and notebook all the time and write down those thoughts; transmute thy darkness into a muse. Make it constructive rather than destructive, lest it poison your life as opposed to enriching it.
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
Edify thy Speech; be Discerning
She text at 4 a.m. A long forgotten lover, sending scrambled messages from beneath. She is probably drunk, yet still, my heart is fraught with worry and uncertainty. I wish I could transmute my feelings, eradicate her shadows, forget she existed at all. Sadly I can’t. Her ghost clings to me like a second skin rising, her reflection only serves to color and confuse me. Why can’t I forget? Why is she still a part of me? Nagging unanswered questions walking in the deep. Yes, she is a haunted memory, slowly draining me.
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
Straggler within reach
Flee the scene; Mind, take cover - No! We must abandon ship. The battle is lost, Cover will not save you now; You must let go. As the depths rust the ship, Its living moments reorder and recast; Transmute and alter. Its iron-cast reality dissolves away; It is no longer your ship, It is no longer your memory. Now you may float once more, Undburdended, unhindered - unknowing, Until the next screaming vessel Meanders by...
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Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
Dissociative purgatory.
Transmogrified through the written word, I see myself through his agate eyes; Shall I take up then the sin of pen, Transmute smooth paper To invisible sighs? Secrets suit him best of all; A blackness from which ink disappears; The word written down remains only a whisper, The heart has it's stalwart lock and key Which safeguards well it's timeless tales. For he's the unturned phrase of a day, Which empties deep into me my own; And the faint, far echoes slowly returning, For a thousand years: Bedrock of my soul.
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Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 12:40 PM UTC
Transmogrified
The idea is to illicit a thought in hopes that that thought will transmute into a mechanical action.
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Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 9:48 PM UTC
Mechanical Ideas
1. My mother hates me! My father hates me! Oedipus screams to the stealthily silent Sphinx. He scatters riddles like laurel leaves waiting to be braided into a playwright's crown. It is too grandiose to fit his cracked. cramped cranium. His unconscious mind flies open like the Sphinx rocketing to the sky. Sacred haunches soar. Wings beat steadily to reach titanic heights. Blind to his murderous fate, Oedipus cannot know himself. Before the Delphic Oracle, his life shrivels, unexamined by his bleeding eyes. 2. Freud exults in triumph. Maternal love births eternal love: endless comfort and affection for the newly bloomed beloved. Soon, comfort metamorphoses into feral eros, unspeakable, unthinkable, beyond the bounds of catastrophic evil. Submerged desire sullies the chastest kiss. Jacosta embraces her son as her new living king, her husband's royal blood bubbling brazenly on the bitter road to Thebes. His hands stained, Oedipus strives to transmute his trauma as our own. We become him when Freud deigns to interpret our darkest, direst dreams. Blindly, we mimic him: carnal union with the mother, lethal rage against the father. Mourning Becomes Electra beckons to the wary second *** 3. The Sphinx belies its own riddle: How can prophecy spring from the sculpted, smooth stone of these perfect ******* Only blind Teiresias plumbs the depths of Oedipus' fate: Judgement lies blinded, action lies blinded by the ventricles of violence, the twisted telos of the mind. Humans sin against the world, against nature, siphoned of joy. They sin without a sacred perch to rise from. Blood and ***** mud and blindness fashion their Oedipal souls.
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Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 3:21 PM UTC
Oedipus Rex
1. My mother hates me! My father hates me! Oedipus screams to the stealthily silent Sphinx. He scatters riddles like laurel leaves waiting to be braided into a playwright's crown. It is too grandiose to fit his cracked. cramped cranium. His unconscious mind flies open like the Sphinx rocketing to the sky. Sacred haunches soar. Wings beat steadily to reach titanic heights. Blind to his murderous fate, Oedipus cannot know himself. Before the Delphic Oracle, his life shrivels, unexamined by his bleeding eyes. 2. Freud exults in triumph. Maternal love births eternal love: endless comfort and affection for the newly bloomed beloved. Soon, comfort metamorphoses into feral eros, unspeakable, unthinkable, beyond the bounds of catastrophic evil. Submerged desire sullies the chastest kiss. Jacosta embraces her son as her new living king, her husband's royal blood bubbling brazenly on the bitter road to Thebes. His hands stained, Oedipus strives to transmute his trauma as our own. We become him when Freud deigns to interpret our darkest, direst dreams. Blindly, we mimic him: carnal union with the mother, lethal rage against the father. Mourning Becomes Electra beckons to the wary second *** 3. The Sphinx belies its own riddle: How can prophecy spring from the sculpted, smooth stone of these perfect ******* Only blind Teiresias plumbs the depths of Oedipus' fate: Judgement lies blinded, action lies blinded by the ventricles of violence, the twisted telos of the mind. Humans sin against the world, against nature, siphoned of joy. They sin without a sacred perch to rise from. Blood and ***** mud and blindness fashion their Oedipal souls.
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51
Do not talk to me of your version of God One that personifies God by egoistic mind For ego by definition is Exit God Out For your personification of God Does not resonate with my knowing of God The hell you believe I will burn in Is the heaven I will transmute all my sins in The hell you believe I live in Is my route to heaven The hell you believe in Will drawn you in an ocean Of guilt and shame Keep your fears to yourself I can no longer entertain them Do not talk to me of God When you want me to silence my soul God can never be silenced by your egoistic minds Let me redefine for you ‘كفر’ * Let me redefine for you ‘blasphemy’ It is being a slave to your ideas It is being a slave to your mind It is being a slave to your concepts It is being a slave to your fears I am not here to be a slave to human minds I am here to be a slave to my creator His breath gave life to my body I am not here to worship your fearful mind I am here to worship my creator through my heart Do not talk to me of God When you refuse me the right To exercise my divine gifts Do not talk to me of God When you rob me from free will Divinely gifted to me at birth Do not talk to me of God When you rob me from exercising The gift of freely speaking my mind Do not talk to me of God When  you forbid me from listening to my heart Yet forcefully enslave me to your mind Do not talk to me of God When you fail to accept me Do not talk to me of God When you vilify my shadows Do not talk to me of God When you fail to see my divinity Do not talk to me of God When you deprive me From the experience to witness The limitless capacity of my body Do not talk to me of God When you reject parts of me Yet God accepts all of me Do not talk to me of God When you fail to forgive me While God offers me eternal forgiveness Do not talk to me of God When you abandon your son after he sins For the God I know Will never forsake his son Nor shame him for his sins Nor will he love him less For the sins he does is the forgetting of self When one acts against his self Do not talk to me of God When you fail to embody his love For you have yet to know God If you still refuse to embody his divine qualities Do not talk to me of God Till you reflect his unconditional love, grace, mercy, forgiveness and acceptance Do not talk to me of God When you sexualize my body that he has created Do not talk to me of God When you shame my body For the sacred red fluid that flows out of me The body that gives birth to his creation Do not talk to me of God When you separate me From divine creations Do not talk to me of God When you justify killing Yet vilify love making Do not talk to me of God When you normalise violence upon his creations Yet shame the pleasures of love between his creations We will not be silenced By the barbaric volumes of your egoistic minds Our divinity can never be a slave to your fears You can not fears us into enslavement Our divine faith runs deeper than the fears that hijacks your minds Let us love each other While we both try to experience God Let us love each other While we both try to understand God Meanwhile I swim in the ocean of grace where hell does not exist Thank you for being here - NwK
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Oct 5, 2024
Oct 5, 2024 at 10:15 AM UTC
Do not Talk To Me Of God
Do not talk to me of your version of God One that personifies God by egoistic mind For ego by definition is Exit God Out For your personification of God Does not resonate with my knowing of God The hell you believe I will burn in Is the heaven I will transmute all my sins in The hell you believe I live in Is my route to heaven The hell you believe in Will drawn you in an ocean Of guilt and shame Keep your fears to yourself I can no longer entertain them Do not talk to me of God When you want me to silence my soul God can never be silenced by your egoistic minds Let me redefine for you ‘كفر’ * Let me redefine for you ‘blasphemy’ It is being a slave to your ideas It is being a slave to your mind It is being a slave to your concepts It is being a slave to your fears I am not here to be a slave to human minds I am here to be a slave to my creator His breath gave life to my body I am not here to worship your fearful mind I am here to worship my creator through my heart Do not talk to me of God When you refuse me the right To exercise my divine gifts Do not talk to me of God When you rob me from free will Divinely gifted to me at birth Do not talk to me of God When you rob me from exercising The gift of freely speaking my mind Do not talk to me of God When  you forbid me from listening to my heart Yet forcefully enslave me to your mind Do not talk to me of God When you fail to accept me Do not talk to me of God When you vilify my shadows Do not talk to me of God When you fail to see my divinity Do not talk to me of God When you deprive me From the experience to witness The limitless capacity of my body Do not talk to me of God When you reject parts of me Yet God accepts all of me Do not talk to me of God When you fail to forgive me While God offers me eternal forgiveness Do not talk to me of God When you abandon your son after he sins For the God I know Will never forsake his son Nor shame him for his sins Nor will he love him less For the sins he does is the forgetting of self When one acts against his self Do not talk to me of God When you fail to embody his love For you have yet to know God If you still refuse to embody his divine qualities Do not talk to me of God Till you reflect his unconditional love, grace, mercy, forgiveness and acceptance Do not talk to me of God When you sexualize my body that he has created Do not talk to me of God When you shame my body For the sacred red fluid that flows out of me The body that gives birth to his creation Do not talk to me of God When you separate me From divine creations Do not talk to me of God When you justify killing Yet vilify love making Do not talk to me of God When you normalise violence upon his creations Yet shame the pleasures of love between his creations We will not be silenced By the barbaric volumes of your egoistic minds Our divinity can never be a slave to your fears You can not fears us into enslavement Our divine faith runs deeper than the fears that hijacks your minds Let us love each other While we both try to experience God Let us love each other While we both try to understand God Meanwhile I swim in the ocean of grace where hell does not exist Thank you for being here - NwK
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