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"universally" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
Shamans, in an attempt to find a word that all cultures could understand, to represent, universally, the subject; married the languages by root. Each attribute or thing that the beast is said to do, have or have power to do or over is found as a definition in a language of the individual roots. Take Sanskrit for instance. "Dra," is "water and combine it with Sumerian, "Gun, Gon," and you get a "water-born," beast who "writhes, twists or wraps around," which is the Ouroboros Serpent as shown in ancient images. The secret to all ancient myth or religion is in interpretation of language into foreign languages over time. And, yes, it is very creative, appears complex due to time but is just humans trying to describe observable nature. None of it is meant to be taken literally unless you literally live six thousand years ago and speak in an ancient tongue. Addendum * Keltic, "Con, Kon," makes the Dragon, "All-knowing." * And we know from Plato that Greeks stole their root words from the Celts. Plato's own words in, 'The Cratylus.'
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Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
DRA KONdefɪɴed
Spirit Dolphin To be in tune in natures light To be in touch and resonate Intelligent communicate Heartbeats of love and breath of life Superior to human sight Your sound waves and reverberates To be in tune in natures light To be in touch and resonate You touch the stars and elevate Our spirits to become alight Giving us freedom to ignite Centers begin to emanate To be in tune in natures light Beneath the sun, beneath the moon You teach us how to breathe with care Oceanic friend, solar flare Communicating our monsoon Teaching in us how to commune Opening our minds to beware Beneath the sun, beneath the moon You teach us how to breathe with care Your innocence rests like lagoon On the surface emotions bare Vulnerability is there Beneath the sun, beneath the moon A good omen to protect us Saving the lives of so many Selfless creature giving plenty From outer space some do discuss To touch you frees us from raucous To ride with you fulfills empty A good omen to protect us Saving the lives of so many With you we find our playfulness Self-confidence more than any Never to lose our assembly Connect us all with inner trust A good omen to protect us Helping others finding our truth To be One Universally What might seem strange is certainly A reflection upon our youth Make bright our eyes with wisdom's root Free from shame inadvertently Helping others finding our truth To be One Universally Though we may taste forbidden fruit What we will learn so artfully Forgives our aches so perfectly Flipping through curious pursuit Helping others finding our truth © tHE tERRY tREE
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Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
Spirit Dolphin
Spirit Dolphin To be in tune in natures light To be in touch and resonate Intelligent communicate Heartbeats of love and breath of life Superior to human sight Your sound waves and reverberates To be in tune in natures light To be in touch and resonate You touch the stars and elevate Our spirits to become alight Giving us freedom to ignite Centers begin to emanate To be in tune in natures light Beneath the sun, beneath the moon You teach us how to breathe with care Oceanic friend, solar flare Communicating our monsoon Teaching in us how to commune Opening our minds to beware Beneath the sun, beneath the moon You teach us how to breathe with care Your innocence rests like lagoon On the surface emotions bare Vulnerability is there Beneath the sun, beneath the moon A good omen to protect us Saving the lives of so many Selfless creature giving plenty From outer space some do discuss To touch you frees us from raucous To ride with you fulfills empty A good omen to protect us Saving the lives of so many With you we find our playfulness Self-confidence more than any Never to lose our assembly Connect us all with inner trust A good omen to protect us Helping others finding our truth To be One Universally What might seem strange is certainly A reflection upon our youth Make bright our eyes with wisdom's root Free from shame inadvertently Helping others finding our truth To be One Universally Though we may taste forbidden fruit What we will learn so artfully Forgives our aches so perfectly Flipping through curious pursuit Helping others finding our truth © tHE tERRY tREE
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53
From the BBC today, Excerpt Why does Taylor Swift write so many one-note melodies? "It's easy to get distracted by her celebrity, but Taylor Swift is a once-in-a-generation songwriter. From the very beginning, she's displayed a knack for melody and storytelling that most artists never master. Take, for example, her first US number one, OUR SONG Written for a high school talent show, it's a fairly typical tale of teenage romance until the final lines: "I grabbed a pen / And an old napkin / And I wrote down our song." That's smart, self-assured songwriting for someone who wasn't old enough to vote. Notably, the lyrics insert the musician directly into the narrative - something she developed into a tried and tested trope. But Our Song also establishes another of Taylor's trademarks: The one-note melody. Excerpt Repetitive melodies that centre around a single note are part of that appeal. They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech. "They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech." "They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech." "They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech." Rebuttal Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics. They can relate to your song but if they cannot sing it themselves putting themselves in the 'first-person perspective narrative' they cannot feel as-if they have BECOME the artist and are living that moment as they remember it. Taylor Swift sings about teenage love and angst something EVERYONE ON EARTH understands. ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG. Cadences are singing statements that confer a discipline and unity. Song acts as a catharsis. The artist shares their pain in a way that is universally understood. If you want to sell a rock, literally a pebble, you will not sell it if it doesn't look like a rock. If it doesn't do what rocks do. If it is not what people remember a rock to be like. Nor will it sell if it is just like every other rock they have ever seen. It cannot convey an emotion unless it elicits emotion. One cannot even begin to feel emotional if one cannot remember easily the past and that includes lyrics one has heard that evoked said emotional state. It is horrifying to see HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS that rhyme be obliterated in exchange for an intellectual or individual perspective NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE. If you want to sell and make money you better start thinking about the 99% of people who are not geniuses. If your sole goal in life is to attract a genius to give you a great job because of how, "smart," they perceive you to be then fine. You are not an artist. You are an employee. "Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics." "Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics." "Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics." Thrice Times Great. ⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ                                            BECOME                               EVERYONE ON EARTH                ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG                       HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS             NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE                                          HOW BAD                                       artist? or employee?
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Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
Article: Taylor Swift and why rhyme sells,
From the BBC today, Excerpt Why does Taylor Swift write so many one-note melodies? "It's easy to get distracted by her celebrity, but Taylor Swift is a once-in-a-generation songwriter. From the very beginning, she's displayed a knack for melody and storytelling that most artists never master. Take, for example, her first US number one, OUR SONG Written for a high school talent show, it's a fairly typical tale of teenage romance until the final lines: "I grabbed a pen / And an old napkin / And I wrote down our song." That's smart, self-assured songwriting for someone who wasn't old enough to vote. Notably, the lyrics insert the musician directly into the narrative - something she developed into a tried and tested trope. But Our Song also establishes another of Taylor's trademarks: The one-note melody. Excerpt Repetitive melodies that centre around a single note are part of that appeal. They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech. "They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech." "They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech." "They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech." Rebuttal Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics. They can relate to your song but if they cannot sing it themselves putting themselves in the 'first-person perspective narrative' they cannot feel as-if they have BECOME the artist and are living that moment as they remember it. Taylor Swift sings about teenage love and angst something EVERYONE ON EARTH understands. ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG. Cadences are singing statements that confer a discipline and unity. Song acts as a catharsis. The artist shares their pain in a way that is universally understood. If you want to sell a rock, literally a pebble, you will not sell it if it doesn't look like a rock. If it doesn't do what rocks do. If it is not what people remember a rock to be like. Nor will it sell if it is just like every other rock they have ever seen. It cannot convey an emotion unless it elicits emotion. One cannot even begin to feel emotional if one cannot remember easily the past and that includes lyrics one has heard that evoked said emotional state. It is horrifying to see HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS that rhyme be obliterated in exchange for an intellectual or individual perspective NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE. If you want to sell and make money you better start thinking about the 99% of people who are not geniuses. If your sole goal in life is to attract a genius to give you a great job because of how, "smart," they perceive you to be then fine. You are not an artist. You are an employee. "Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics." "Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics." "Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics." Thrice Times Great. ⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ                                            BECOME                               EVERYONE ON EARTH                ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG                       HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS             NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE                                          HOW BAD                                       artist? or employee?
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Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance. Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique. What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion. Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression. We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms. There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all. We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural. Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate. Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success. The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race. How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’. So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for. Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism. It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism. Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights. This is mandate. The republic for which we stand. Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance. Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique. What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion. Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression. We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms. There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all. We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural. Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate. Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success. The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race. How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’. So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for. Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism. It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism. Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights. This is mandate. The republic for which we stand. Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
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18
My heart bleeds tears So yours doesn't have to. It opens right up to every piece of joy and sadness and injustice and inspiration. Gushing tears....flood waters for the dramatic. No use in trying to hold them back. They burst all barriers and reinforcements. My heart beats pain....thump thump...thump thump Louder now. THUMP THUMP....THUMP THUMP Innocent children destroyed in all corners of society. Pump. Pump. Pump. Poisoned by our own government with lies   Imprinted at a young age and we believed them. For a while. Pump. Pump. Pump. An aorta so large that tears mainline my existence. It bleeds for you, your children, me, my children, our animals, our planet. Some days it stops all together in a moment of silence for the ethereal shedding their tears as rain on us all. No tourniquet could stop the strength of my pulsing heart My forceful, stubborn tears. As I bleed out these tears nourish the ugliness around my shell. Souls who are born with a heart like mine encase an ***** strong enough to hold, release and replenish tears of pain and joy over and over again. It allows us to not just see beauty but breathe it. It allows us to feel love so intensely that our teary reservoirs are life forces beating Universally. My heart bleeds tears so yours doesn't have to. Apply pressure with an embrace or your own beaming light so my heart beats in unison with yours.
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Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
My Heart Bleeds Tears
Does evil exist? Well, does it, or not? I demand an answer And if it does, hold that thought Because if wrong does exist We must face the reality That calling something wrong means There's a right way things ought to be But if wrong does not truly Exist in bright colors Well, what, then is justice But a meaningless construct? If the **** of a child In all histories and cultures Can be called pure evil Even by society's worst prisoners If the ****** of innocents Is forever and always An evil in society That can't be tolerated If imprisonment of a woman Like chattel for sale Being held as a *** slave In her own private hell Or murdering Jews Like Hitler's evil plan Or starving millions unjustly In Stalin's Ukraine Or killing the masses For political expedience Culling babies in China Or locking up dissidents If beheading of heretics Is inherently wrong Or even violating your privacy Or invading your home If these are universally bad And there's meaning in words Then there's universal good That our souls are drawn toward Something more than just philosophy Because that lacks authority And if good is defined by the majority Then what about the minority? Tyrants run roughshod When rights come and go At the whims of the powerful Because what they say goes No, evil is something More than laws, or from cultures Or philosophical sophistry From ivory towers To try to stop badness Is really to defend That there's a god of pure goodness Who wants us like him We can discuss who that god is And what is his substance But the least we can do Is acknowledge his existence You can say that religion Starts evil wars and such And you might just be right But you've just proved too much Because if there is no god Whose nature defines goodness Who are you to call war bad Or **** evil, or hate, darkness? Who are you to sit in judgment Of the religious who you think hate you? If there is no moral standard That makes hate wrong, and judging too? If morality is nothing more Than just a social contract Then it's just he said/she said And there's no moral compass You see, your compass is as good as mine And that may be fine, generally Until the ****** asserts his own Warped idea of morality What makes his wrong And yours universally right? That's a tough question That keeps philosophers up at night Because indeed, if there is no god There's no guilt to assuage For the wrongs that man does Because there is no such gauge It's like measuring empty Without knowing what full is Or like trying to describe love Without knowing who God is
0
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
Does evil exist?
Does evil exist? Well, does it, or not? I demand an answer And if it does, hold that thought Because if wrong does exist We must face the reality That calling something wrong means There's a right way things ought to be But if wrong does not truly Exist in bright colors Well, what, then is justice But a meaningless construct? If the **** of a child In all histories and cultures Can be called pure evil Even by society's worst prisoners If the ****** of innocents Is forever and always An evil in society That can't be tolerated If imprisonment of a woman Like chattel for sale Being held as a *** slave In her own private hell Or murdering Jews Like Hitler's evil plan Or starving millions unjustly In Stalin's Ukraine Or killing the masses For political expedience Culling babies in China Or locking up dissidents If beheading of heretics Is inherently wrong Or even violating your privacy Or invading your home If these are universally bad And there's meaning in words Then there's universal good That our souls are drawn toward Something more than just philosophy Because that lacks authority And if good is defined by the majority Then what about the minority? Tyrants run roughshod When rights come and go At the whims of the powerful Because what they say goes No, evil is something More than laws, or from cultures Or philosophical sophistry From ivory towers To try to stop badness Is really to defend That there's a god of pure goodness Who wants us like him We can discuss who that god is And what is his substance But the least we can do Is acknowledge his existence You can say that religion Starts evil wars and such And you might just be right But you've just proved too much Because if there is no god Whose nature defines goodness Who are you to call war bad Or **** evil, or hate, darkness? Who are you to sit in judgment Of the religious who you think hate you? If there is no moral standard That makes hate wrong, and judging too? If morality is nothing more Than just a social contract Then it's just he said/she said And there's no moral compass You see, your compass is as good as mine And that may be fine, generally Until the ****** asserts his own Warped idea of morality What makes his wrong And yours universally right? That's a tough question That keeps philosophers up at night Because indeed, if there is no god There's no guilt to assuage For the wrongs that man does Because there is no such gauge It's like measuring empty Without knowing what full is Or like trying to describe love Without knowing who God is
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92
Yes I go, yes go to seek a Great Apocalypse One that will unravel the complex elaboration of difference To articulate a perpetual aesthetic with violated codes Of the experience of illusions of temporal stimulus That are beyond all compass and soothe a fragmentation Oh Great Apocalypse of beauty whose deception finds strategies For youthful prodigality and binds me to your inarticulation An embodiment of beleaguered and charmed fictions Whose artifice is the governance of generous impulses As such sway about me with a harmony of moral disquiet Inadequate in description of the qualities of their oppression Yet oh great apocalypse there is a plausible generosity In these pale assumptions of impatience which carry The obligations of a universally shared human existence Compelling a projection of charged issues on competing claims For the enigmatic logic of life Yes Great Apocalypse now I understand all thought From Everywhere and for Always
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Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
Great Apocalypse
My recollect is of the each, The Two And within the Two One is the One Holding and using our lead and ink utensils as if they are weapons for winning at Love, and reasoning for our written duel Expressing desires the voice would customarily sever into dissection Permitting authority to the crafted scripts *********   and may it’s barrier lay over the possibility of a broken and scattered tongues communicate Giving our internal intent its day the way hoped it would speak Expecting the requited, the return was a pesticide over wide horizon, Where the organic surprise of rainfall kept us neutral and thankful And apart, our minds maintained with and of our other With no need for philosophical proofs only the inner felt proof Of forwarding shards of sentiment with compiled assurance and a dispatched formula the best way we could phrase Alongside images that came in and held tight in sectors tucked away and reserved from the cherished to this day are still to be amazed Spontaneous placement of universally synchronized jewels and stones Of not have to have [Only the simplified, pushed down and planted fact] Of want her to have So when away, You feel a personal, singled-out appraisal of praise
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Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:07 PM UTC
APPRAISAL OF PRAISE
Streched out gazing, on the sands, Of one more of the common seas, An orange orb setting slowly apparent, Shiny path of light heavenly,reaching my feet, Taking me briefly,to creations wonderous, Minds magnanimous,hearts Alexandrian, A short utopia of a world universally real! The unrests forgotten, all toils borne stoic. All shall pass,Endurance is all, truly Human! As the path sinks into the deep waters dark, To shine in worlds other,rays of morning hope, I know they shall witness the same, some morning! Night lights of revelry beckon me,the traveller ever, I merge in them,the sunset feeling sacred in my heart, Praying,May it hold true for all people all over Earth!
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Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
Thoughts of a Traveller on a Greecian Sunset in Santorini.
The non-planet, poor Pluto, Circling far out and forgotten, I cast my thoughts around you, Knowing you are like many here, Too insignificant to be noticed, And yet, still worthwhile, for sure. I caress the cold of Neptune, Her super speed winds whip by, She has no thought for me, too busy, As is her sister, Uranus, circling, Unaware that I, or others, even exist, Yet, we are made of the same stuff, Stardust, so exotic, so varied; so us. My thoughts come leaping back, Arcing around the rings of Saturn, Slipping between sparkling icy dust, Navigating the dark reaching fingers, Stretching impassively from their host, Guiding my eye to the little moons, Knowing that life might thrive there. I somersault away to King Jupiter, He used to wander, he battled hard, Casting out the rogue gas giant, Clearing the way for the rocky worlds, Giving life to us all, before drifting back, Cajoled by Saturn, his anger still rages, The red spot storm churning, his moons, Observing, as Jupiter takes on all comers. And we, the rocky four, so grateful, As Jupiter snaffles the debris, holds it, Or hurls it away, so we live, we learn, Our inner sisters too hot, brother Mars, Too cold, for now, but one day, yes, As we begin to bake, Mars awaits, To welcome us for a million years, or so, A blink of an eye, universally speaking, But home has hope, hope offers life, Unlike our unwanted distant cousin, The non-planet, poor Pluto. ©Paul M Chafer 2015
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Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
No hope for Pluto
Veasna Ta Kvak recording playback over Chinatown cafe again while recounting recent events to journal pages muddled from frequent exchanges bag to bag (Been to Taipei airport, Bali, Vancouver, most recently) blind fate blind fate shower me with Indian daisies and photographs of Railway New Delhi! Hanoi Old Quarter/ Vietnam monsoon/ evening on balcony/ Darjeeling water boiled and filtered anti-malaria golden drink for honeylungs and spring-soul morningtide under moonlight canopy of Avalokiteśvara the fruitful Bodhisattva! English lessons and future hourless comely chimera in sleep phenomenon Benares phantasmagoria YELLOW (near Mata Anandamai Ghat) speaking to Aghori prophecy Kala Bhairava FIERCE ILLUSORY APOCALYPSE FAMILIAR WHERE IS YOUR NOOSE? the Ganges is full of lice and flowers candlewax melted into holy water sickness equal to harmony & jubilant eyeclose and mouthcurl. The future mysteries in Mexico City poorboy $2 mystic orb jade green reflective underneath dirt now in North American bottom white four floor house basement suite coffee table. Visions indivisible from the Viridian roundly haze but surefire in their accuracy I'm absolute and universally formed for the next few cacophonous decades!
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
Early Rest in the Chinatown Cafe
Inspired by The Mars Volta Encased in, tubular, too much too fast, written again with music in the background! Screams now or be they babies?  Here it's more with talking, psychedelic naturally! Complete the creativity contract stingy stars stealin' popcorn RIPS, and I can feel it coming to me.  Groaning, rhyming with the rather outer despite the order AND GO! Build up, build up who wants a build up? Pause. Groove to me my Ukraine tartar! Make no sense, make it so hard you can't understand where it or was she GOING, go, go, go! Membrane skin saturate thy kin with separating spin so I can't fuckin' breathe! Correct my sins or be you scared to talk to pins though they your friends. The tack is in to lift paper from she and she can't see.  Are you a man or a mouse or anthropomorphic spouse of any of these fleeing an-i-mals?!  I find in the mirror myself and beer to drown the pain or discomforting disdain I can't quite get it right anymore therefore goodbye all truly universally bleeding.  I say goodbye to my past and won't come to grip with it!  GRIP your children's ears but it is you who doesn't want to hear.  You cover their eyes because of the size of daybreak rise!  Rise to the occasional borderline street sign between Inspired by Tool I will explode into the stars, become all of them, but all in sparkle of another's eye I can't rip this mind any further, or else it'll break and snap and slow-mo crack May, may, may, may you starve, breathe, sink, rise, steep, leap, creep into my parallel like a feeling Demented in this way due to you, the closest I'll ever get Five years, apparently not enough to forget Five years, without you Five years, and you still break into my dreams Five years
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Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
Brunette Corridor
Inspired by The Mars Volta Encased in, tubular, too much too fast, written again with music in the background! Screams now or be they babies?  Here it's more with talking, psychedelic naturally! Complete the creativity contract stingy stars stealin' popcorn RIPS, and I can feel it coming to me.  Groaning, rhyming with the rather outer despite the order AND GO! Build up, build up who wants a build up? Pause. Groove to me my Ukraine tartar! Make no sense, make it so hard you can't understand where it or was she GOING, go, go, go! Membrane skin saturate thy kin with separating spin so I can't fuckin' breathe! Correct my sins or be you scared to talk to pins though they your friends. The tack is in to lift paper from she and she can't see.  Are you a man or a mouse or anthropomorphic spouse of any of these fleeing an-i-mals?!  I find in the mirror myself and beer to drown the pain or discomforting disdain I can't quite get it right anymore therefore goodbye all truly universally bleeding.  I say goodbye to my past and won't come to grip with it!  GRIP your children's ears but it is you who doesn't want to hear.  You cover their eyes because of the size of daybreak rise!  Rise to the occasional borderline street sign between Inspired by Tool I will explode into the stars, become all of them, but all in sparkle of another's eye I can't rip this mind any further, or else it'll break and snap and slow-mo crack May, may, may, may you starve, breathe, sink, rise, steep, leap, creep into my parallel like a feeling Demented in this way due to you, the closest I'll ever get Five years, apparently not enough to forget Five years, without you Five years, and you still break into my dreams Five years
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14
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphorias of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix are pandemic.  Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness.  But what of stint-ness snities?  Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums.   Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied ****  Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums.  We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture.  And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums?  Do we only dream about dexterous articulation?  Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary?  What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton?  We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache.  Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology?  Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward.  Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective.  Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable.  Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue.  Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh.  Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered.  Infusing all with the capability of  aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others.  I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection.  Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony.  Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual.  Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist.  We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
0
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
Importunacy? or The Apotheosis of Oneiromancy's Apotropaic Panaceas
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphorias of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix are pandemic.  Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness.  But what of stint-ness snities?  Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums.   Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied ****  Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums.  We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture.  And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums?  Do we only dream about dexterous articulation?  Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary?  What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton?  We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache.  Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology?  Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward.  Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective.  Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable.  Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue.  Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh.  Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered.  Infusing all with the capability of  aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others.  I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection.  Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony.  Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual.  Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist.  We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
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1
Can you stand there looking on As the innocent die? Will you speak up for your own good And for the sake of a life? The guilt may not belong to them An execution unjustified The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you When is it time to pull the plug On someone who still breathes? Who can decided when it's time For them to be at peace? Is it to act on their behalf Or to act selfishly? The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you When is the exact moment when A fetus is considered alive? Is it merciful to abort it when You know it won't survive? Was it carelessness or misfortune That has brought you here to decide? The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you Are we not all humans who may want companionship And might be willing to take that sacred vow? Then why are those who found it in the same gender Told their love is not allowed? Who is to say that it is wrong? Isn't love what it's all about? The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you Where does it say that you can't have *** Unless you are married? It is your own choice and we must respect The beliefs that each of us carries For we have our own  reasons And circumstances varies The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you When is it right to start a war And fight with bullets and bombs? Religious scuffles and political disputes About who was right and who was wrong Does the world need more bloodshed Or has it gone on for too long? The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you I ask you these things to make you think So we can find an answer hopefully These are issues we as one world must face And though we may not all agree We must try to communicate If we ever want peace universally The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you
0
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
A Challenge to Your Moral and Ethical Perception to Find Universal Summations of Truth
Can you stand there looking on As the innocent die? Will you speak up for your own good And for the sake of a life? The guilt may not belong to them An execution unjustified The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you When is it time to pull the plug On someone who still breathes? Who can decided when it's time For them to be at peace? Is it to act on their behalf Or to act selfishly? The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you When is the exact moment when A fetus is considered alive? Is it merciful to abort it when You know it won't survive? Was it carelessness or misfortune That has brought you here to decide? The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you Are we not all humans who may want companionship And might be willing to take that sacred vow? Then why are those who found it in the same gender Told their love is not allowed? Who is to say that it is wrong? Isn't love what it's all about? The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you Where does it say that you can't have *** Unless you are married? It is your own choice and we must respect The beliefs that each of us carries For we have our own  reasons And circumstances varies The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you When is it right to start a war And fight with bullets and bombs? Religious scuffles and political disputes About who was right and who was wrong Does the world need more bloodshed Or has it gone on for too long? The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you I ask you these things to make you think So we can find an answer hopefully These are issues we as one world must face And though we may not all agree We must try to communicate If we ever want peace universally The only thing to do Is pursue the truth And make sense of what's in front of you
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63
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
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18
Dear America, I was built on a loose foundation A table with three legs to sustain the load of a table with four. To make nothing from something but For something to come from nothing you need some thing. The most terrible thing to waste The superlative of Man’s tools What makes us as individuals unique, On the contrary defines us as a social order The mind, The M.I.N.D. My Intelligence Nurtures Divergence Always accepting of the opposition, A bloodthirsty cheetah digging its fangs deep into the flesh of a wildebeest, my mind feeds off of their ideals, Further amplifying my intellectual power. Expansion within the human intellect, builds on experiences of failures and success Be afraid of failure, but unafraid to learn from defeat The world is a frigid place, and even colder when you squander your most valuable weapon. “A weapon? What beats an M16, double barrel shotgun, 9mm, Smith and Wesson, or Desert Eagle.” Young blood, the divine power is in your head Gandhi, Malcolm X, Socrates Gone too soon due to minds considered Weapons of Mass Destruction, Weapons of Mass Enlightenment to others Since 1992 I’ve embarked on a journey A journey to educate myself A journey to realize the man I want to be A journey to reach my full potential Universally familiar words of my grandmother “You can do whatever you put your mind too” The future poses as an unknown force, But within me fear is absent as my MIND is fully equipped for the ongoing battle of life. I was built on a loose foundation Tupac Shakur, John D Rockefeller, Oprah Winfrey, Chris Gardner, Christopher Wallace, Richard Branson, Steve Jobs, Walt Disney, Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson, Henry Ford, Bill Gates. Expected to come from nothing to something but had that one thing to become something Utilize your strengths and bury your weaknesses For with a strong mind the word weak is without purpose
0
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 12:05 PM UTC
The Letter
Dear America, I was built on a loose foundation A table with three legs to sustain the load of a table with four. To make nothing from something but For something to come from nothing you need some thing. The most terrible thing to waste The superlative of Man’s tools What makes us as individuals unique, On the contrary defines us as a social order The mind, The M.I.N.D. My Intelligence Nurtures Divergence Always accepting of the opposition, A bloodthirsty cheetah digging its fangs deep into the flesh of a wildebeest, my mind feeds off of their ideals, Further amplifying my intellectual power. Expansion within the human intellect, builds on experiences of failures and success Be afraid of failure, but unafraid to learn from defeat The world is a frigid place, and even colder when you squander your most valuable weapon. “A weapon? What beats an M16, double barrel shotgun, 9mm, Smith and Wesson, or Desert Eagle.” Young blood, the divine power is in your head Gandhi, Malcolm X, Socrates Gone too soon due to minds considered Weapons of Mass Destruction, Weapons of Mass Enlightenment to others Since 1992 I’ve embarked on a journey A journey to educate myself A journey to realize the man I want to be A journey to reach my full potential Universally familiar words of my grandmother “You can do whatever you put your mind too” The future poses as an unknown force, But within me fear is absent as my MIND is fully equipped for the ongoing battle of life. I was built on a loose foundation Tupac Shakur, John D Rockefeller, Oprah Winfrey, Chris Gardner, Christopher Wallace, Richard Branson, Steve Jobs, Walt Disney, Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson, Henry Ford, Bill Gates. Expected to come from nothing to something but had that one thing to become something Utilize your strengths and bury your weaknesses For with a strong mind the word weak is without purpose
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41
For the very first time I trusted freely Loved universally Spoke in open truths I believed a heart And words that moved me When my cracks grew large And my flaws were unflattering Words bit into flesh Backed across the line of beauty Where distance its kinder Than reality When all perception is clouded clear For the very first time I trusted freely and I learned quickly As I am I will not be loved
0
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:45 AM UTC
An Honest Perception In Hues Of Past Pain
The Creator The original Aboriginal Indigenous   Australians In their Dreaming Uncreated Baiame The Sky Father Creator of everything But who created This creator God Mythological Theological Like everyones Too similar and Geographically Universally spread To be explained by One Big Bang But still I ask Who created The uncreated Creator
0
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 4:09 AM UTC
The Uncreated
If I wanted to take a little time, If I wanted to share my inner mind, If someone said it had to rhyme, I got no time for that **** Paint for me, in your chosen words, The lines are branches; the letters, birds. Sing to me songs sublime; absurd, Just don’t tell me it has to rhyme… Settle the bitter, ancient scores, Make the audience seek for more, Make the shoes I stand in yours, Do not make me repeat myself… Write me a letter, I long to hear, Your poet’s voice in my mental ear, Till the world does shed a collective tear, I think I’ve made myself perfectly-  uh… Clear.
0
Feb 24, 2023
Feb 24, 2023 at 11:47 PM UTC
Uniquely undefinable, Universally defined
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphoria of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix is pandemic.  Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness.  But what of stint-ness snities?  Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums.   Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied ****  Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums.  We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture.  And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums?  Do we only dream about dexterous articulation?  Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary?  What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton?  We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache.  Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology?  Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward.  Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective.  Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable.  Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue.  Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh.  Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered.  Infusing all with the capability of  aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others.  I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection.  Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony.  Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual.  Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist.  We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
0
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Importunacy? or The Apotheosis of Oneiromancy's Apotropaic Panaceas
Maieutic dreamer, the ecstatic euphoria of cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix is pandemic.  Extravagant exorbitances of flirtatious flamboyance and flippantly flighty flit-ness.  But what of stint-ness snities?  Excruciating exacerbations of laboriously beleaguering hypercritically meticulous tediums.   Synaptic syntax is fervently intense like a feral phrenic frenzied ****  Ruminating humanity’s collective consciousness gives me hysterical deliriums.  We’re frenetically febrile, atrociously impetuous impudents who don’t know our id conclusion from our impromptu innuendo juncture.  And what of the organizational principles of our subconscious continuums?  Do we only dream about dexterous articulation?  Can we become the agile acuity we envision or do we wallow in the drifty drivel of dour droll’s dreary?  What’s to phatic say about futurity fatidic’s forlorn wanton?  We need chutzpah, moxie savvy’s panache.  Is there no such thing as a universally acceptable ontological deontology?  Probity is as obvious as due yesterday, ethology’s entelechy the omnipresent reward.  Elan vital is not subjective, it’s objective.  Explicating epiphanies of social contiguity’s prospectus so innate as to be irrefragable.  Not perhaps the oligarchies of eclectic synectics, but perhaps the pugnacious audacities of emote to exude aimed imbue.  Assay relay’s convey, foray delay purveys inveigh.  Perhaps if we are all cogently fecund with our vituperatively vociferous the holocaustial cacophony of our obstreperously abstruse will be just what the grotto grouch gumption ordered.  Infusing all with the capability of  aspiring to higher powers and yet not forgetting the mystery of self and others.  I know I know what an ingratiating sycophant on the introjection.  Gambits of alluvium aloof impunity when we all know immunity is Epicurean absurdity, but I already covered that on the phrenic aimed holocaustial cacophony.  Seriously of we all enunciate so on the diction of mesomerism's to punctual.  Why can’t that be the essence of accidence ambience acoustics, the arbitrational attenuation of actuator's aorist.  We are not ethereal, we are corporeally preternatural and the sooner we all learn to respect each other to that the sooner we can get down to the sublimely surreal in oneiromancy’s apotropaic panaceas.
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1
Hallucinations in life"s desert accompanied with my unquenchable thirst Lacerations fade to scars to prove luck"s point that it wasn"t near the worst Temptations conspire with times inevitable push as we all learn we"re cursed Plantations wear us down as we are all slaves until our souls have traversed Fascinations are shared before we hitch a ride on the grim reaper"s dark hurst Elations are defiled like a child"s smile transformed after the last bubble"s burst Cremations are compiled as ashes drift away off cliffs and are forever dispersed Vibrations guide us through the universe so please join me as we dive head first Take my hand my friend and lets go be free No need to worry about having any eyes to see trust me as our souls dance in the wandering sea And accompany me through this glorious eternity We are Universally linked paralleled to every degree Soul searching for the destination that they call journey Brave souls are blessed with this human shell as a test A life materially possessed leads to a lonely empty nest So don't waste time depressed on this short epic quest You"ll forget all the rest when our souls have coalesced
0
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 6:16 PM UTC
Soul Searching
Love was universally patterned , Eyes as if entry to a new galaxy , floating to her milky way, kissing her every axis , body soothing silky wave . She, the goddess of beauty & love , architect of my universe. Meditate, mind orbit to her passion, soul waiting for reincarnation. Being disciple ,timorous to fall, prayer was granted ,judgment day call. Oh lord ,crucify me, listen to what I say , reborn me as a god or start humanitarianism way . She turned into human in eve full moon , she could'nt wait, ran after me soon. Then behind the blueberry fountain silver light , i kissed her deep blue eyes, and hold on sight by sight , moments of our exotic zeal. some love never ends, some ends in a new beginning. By MAHI-Galaxy www.mahadin.co.uk
0
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
"Some Love never Ends"
# There is a responsibility, borne within an online conveyance    of the heart when it comes to publicly posted poetry.. For within the conveyance of words released into the Universe.. *(words once residing  within the inner linings of heart and soul..   words.. now made seen and known  to all)* is the deeply embedded DNA of the author, wherein lies the accountability; when those words,  bearing genetic imprint enter into the heart of another. I write  specifically over things touched within me But try to convey it in a sense..  Universally so that it might be taken  in by any and all .. That the benefits of Love's beautiful ways may find access into the parts of the heart that need it most.. sometimes, sneaken in  and finding root before the receiver is even aware.. bringing, inside the recipient's skin     healing      But also the potentiality      of becoming hurt. I am sorry. You (and most everyone else in the world) rarely, if ever..  talk to me. But I watch you just the same solely  by what you write. My existence causes pain.      That..  I know. I love you more than you will ever know. I would stop writing,  but I don't know how There's not a 12-step group for these things I dream of one day being killed for who it is that I am. I dream.. and then I smile. But I do not smile at all, the times I see that you are hurt. I have real arms,      *..within this poetic world    that is so very intangible--* When you cry, they could not truly show you it's okay They cannot show anyone that it's okay Everyone's afraid of me like I'm some kind of perpetrator So I will die alone..  judged for things I have not done So I am sorry, my Beautiful-- It really is all my fault for ever truly wanting to see.    All I ever wanted to do    was become able to see and overcome the  hurt that  long ago so horribly hurt me You've become hurt by my ability to see. I'm sorry. #
0
Feb 12, 2023
Feb 12, 2023 at 11:28 AM UTC
The Universalism of the heart
# There is a responsibility, borne within an online conveyance    of the heart when it comes to publicly posted poetry.. For within the conveyance of words released into the Universe.. *(words once residing  within the inner linings of heart and soul..   words.. now made seen and known  to all)* is the deeply embedded DNA of the author, wherein lies the accountability; when those words,  bearing genetic imprint enter into the heart of another. I write  specifically over things touched within me But try to convey it in a sense..  Universally so that it might be taken  in by any and all .. That the benefits of Love's beautiful ways may find access into the parts of the heart that need it most.. sometimes, sneaken in  and finding root before the receiver is even aware.. bringing, inside the recipient's skin     healing      But also the potentiality      of becoming hurt. I am sorry. You (and most everyone else in the world) rarely, if ever..  talk to me. But I watch you just the same solely  by what you write. My existence causes pain.      That..  I know. I love you more than you will ever know. I would stop writing,  but I don't know how There's not a 12-step group for these things I dream of one day being killed for who it is that I am. I dream.. and then I smile. But I do not smile at all, the times I see that you are hurt. I have real arms,      *..within this poetic world    that is so very intangible--* When you cry, they could not truly show you it's okay They cannot show anyone that it's okay Everyone's afraid of me like I'm some kind of perpetrator So I will die alone..  judged for things I have not done So I am sorry, my Beautiful-- It really is all my fault for ever truly wanting to see.    All I ever wanted to do    was become able to see and overcome the  hurt that  long ago so horribly hurt me You've become hurt by my ability to see. I'm sorry. #
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72
Follow a poet for a day, write a sonnet or something universally beautiful. I cut my bangs, count to two. Find myself with too much time in the morning sand in my socks, dishes to do. Walking heel-toe heel-toe through the kind of grass that reaches for  your calves and stands to your knees. A collection of heartbeats melting into AM radio. Dark velvet dreams long enough to bury your fingers in, carpeting every bit of the floor. Wafting streams of woven gasps knees touching, appreciating green. Top button undone eyebrows receding into the hairline with an ear pressed to the glass. Fear of nutmeg clawing at my apathy, remembering the west coast.
0
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
Licorice candy and popped balloons