Wow! Would that all poetry were presented so slickly - now that it easily can be so. Rap and half the crap on YouTube would die off in minutes if the Brownings were reworked. Great stuff!
Hetoimasia Spoiler Is their happiness more important than your own? Come—let me show you an empty throne. From lodestone ladles to lunar mansions, we’ll decipher puzzles with nine dot expansions. Hear it?—a rousing old battle cry. Bound to necessity—there are limits to "I." Once told of men and mice. Potentials spiraling with loaded dice. Hope—the agony of desire. Love to wit—wine to fire. Proud assertions of self-control: beware of the captain of his soul. Whether in motion or at rest; we’re all first mates at best. In a realm of freedom and a realm of constraint, who’ll condemn us—a glass coffin saint? An unchangeable tyrant overhead; aware of nothing—dead is dead. Faith is made void—hollowed be thy name. There’s no such thing as an absolute frame. Come hither, Dilettante, nothing is set in stone. Neither righteousness nor judgments inhabit the throne. Ideals to die for—all have eaten from the tree. Be free to nothingness—nothingness to free.
Fortress building There was a child who was so mild That no one thought of her as wild And yet beneath her gentle face Was chaos time could not erase. And every day her pain would stay Just out of reach, in no one's way. And though she smiled, her soul was riled Because it has been long defiled. Yet, unreleased, her pain increased Until her deepest longings ceased. And in her mind she built the kind Of fortress no one else could find. Now all alone, in walls of stone, A young girl guards her fragile throne. And nobody can hurt her there, And nobody can show they care. So pain presumptuously plods on With fear the queen and rage the pawn. They fight to shield and yet to free The little girl I once called Me. A poem sent to me from a fellow fortress builder - 2011 ~Author remains anonymous
Lovin' Her Was Easier I have seen the morning burning golden on the mountain in the sky Aching with the feeling of the freedom of an eagle when she flies Turning on the world the way she smiled upon my soul as I lay dying Healing as the colors in the sunshine and the shadows of her eyes Waking in the morning to the feeling of her fingers on my skin Wiping out the traces of the people and the places that I've been Teaching me that yesterday was something that I never thought of trying Talking of tomorrow and the money, love and time we had to spend Loving her was easier than anything I'll ever do again Coming close together with a feeling that I've never know before in my Time She ain't ashamed to be a woman or afraid to be a friend I don't know the answer to the easy way she opened every door in my mind But dreaming was as easy as believing it was never gonna end And loving her was easier than anything I'll ever do again Kris Kristofferson
Hemorrhaging That from which the pulse beats As drums bashing repeatedly With a wild stare, an accompanied blush The distant scape beckons Raw energy, expansive space Running forwards, spinning Waving arms in all directions Felling trees, launching an axe This is when the adrenaline really spouts Now racing straight Continuing past the fires Snake veins and an eight stroke heart Spent scapes left behind Along an unseen path Demarcated, well demarcated Unseen through bloodshot eyes .... "My Goddddddddd, this takes me to eternity and back" Shuffling and coiling, along the red production line Steam and grease and iron spinning Past waking hours, lust knows no rest Work, as a door, fist marks, indentations Then, as the pavement, head marks, concussions What's left for sleep is passed over Bricks bashed in with the face "Maaaaake it more, take more, mooorree, Goddamn...." Head, hands, face peeling time from the mold A bat and a screaming headache Spinning Visage, broken drywall Pulling the strings above Stilted motions of strength Making them move To pull the roof in .... Then that which stopped short Standing still next to a rail and a river Carefully observing it flow In increasingly predictable streams No purpose Empty, as if anemic Waiting silently even to death Still, watching, listening
^interesting writing.. one can rest with it for a while, very little clutter, yet somewhat saddening, yet the passion for the writing itself is a gift. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
.consumption The World Wellness Web has evolved from it's beginnings perhaps someday World Peace will be achieved of course such takes time and structure. communication isn't a hierarchy is choice a field of legitimacy
Not The Best Writing Don't put me in your livingwill I have my own.. I prefer not to have an attention deficit disorder. ?Why do you need me as an additive in your chest to get through the day. as if you weren't love perhaps it is that missed the starting gun.. that said "be you and no one else""""""" I guess it may be true. Some souls get themselves so muddy with stealing people into their will that their soul expires from the wheel of incarnation. It ain't me it's just natural ethic. You can't even begin to know what love is until you have mastered that we are born individuate he or she whom defends itself with other beings or uses other beings to feel livingly Yes I guess it may be true some souls expire.
To Beat The Devil It was winter time in Nashville, down on music city row. And I was lookin' for a place to get myself out of the cold. To warm the frozen feelin' that was eatin' at my soul. Keep the chilly wind off my guitar. My thirsty wanted whisky; my hungry needed beans, But it'd been of month of paydays since I'd heard that eagle scream. So with a stomach full of empty and a pocket full of dreams, I left my pride and stepped inside a bar. Actually, I guess you'd could call it a Tavern: Cigarette smoke to the ceiling and sawdust on the floor; Friendly shadows. I saw that there was just one old man sittin' at the bar. And in the mirror I could see him checkin' me and my guitar. An' he turned and said: "Come up here boy, and show us what you are." I said: "I'm dry." He bought me a beer. He nodded at my guitar and said: "It's a tough life, ain't it?" I just looked at him. He said: "You ain't makin' any money, are you?" I said: "You've been readin' my mail." He just smiled and said: "Let me see that guitar. "I've got something you oughta hear." Then he laid it on me: "If you waste your time a-talkin' to the people who don't listen, "To the things that you are sayin', who do you think's gonna hear. "And if you should die explainin' how the things that they complain about, "Are things they could be changin', who do you think's gonna care?" There were other lonely singers in a world turned deaf and blind, Who were crucified for what they tried to show. And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time. 'Cos the truth remains that no-one wants to know. Well, the old man was a stranger, but I'd heard his song before, Back when failure had me locked out on the wrong side of the door. When no-one stood behind me but my shadow on the floor, And lonesome was more than a state of mind. You see, the devil haunts a hungry man, If you don't wanna join him, you got to beat him. I ain't sayin' I beat the devil, but I drank his beer for nothing. Then I stole his song. And you still can hear me singin' to the people who don't listen, To the things that I am sayin', prayin' someone's gonna hear. And I guess I'll die explaining how the things that they complain about, Are things they could be changin', hopin' someone's gonna care. I was born a lonely singer, and I'm bound to die the same, But I've got to feed the hunger in my soul. And if I never have a nickle, I won't ever die ashamed. 'Cos I don't believe that no-one wants to know. Kris Kristofferson
“Infodrome” By Blind Pathos From my chair Through the air I want my info now Truth or dare I don’t care Give me info now Hip wired infolites Something bout usage rights Whereas my info wow Flying flags ever knowing Looking back never going Here’s my info now Meaning without content Exists without it being sent The contents meaning slowly dies Contending feeds on sorefull eyes Mercy typo pings brindle blogger Immortal mention 2 NSA loggers Wikimaster with google goggles Seeks truthess acknak for boondoggle Give me just a little push My parental burning bush Life lite the snippet deluxe Youtube the world gone amuck
“Overfuture” By Blind Pathos There will be no secrets Nowhere to hide The left and right outwitted And little brother inside The drones and data crawlers delve Dreams and nightmares being ourselves Compiled evidences mount concern While mankind’s bridges burn Our cyborg image never shown Our accessories scent allured us Hums of technology a pleasant moan We breathed deep the aroma’s service Bandwidth culture firmly in place Everyman has no face Ethnicity of avatar and clan of choice Everyman selects a voice The blind face themselves feeling Something’s missing out of sight Reaching for the cognitive ceiling Surrendering for wrong and right To machines constant drumming The overfuture’s coming Where there’s nothing left to do And no difference from me to you
Confucious As it were by 1969 ish I am confused at the continuous invent of the materialization of human form.. the sickness of continued population increase with really only cluttered integrity to show, It's not as if people actually get a long perfectly at all. they slop the air with commentary of slight and neglect humans evolved into form, what on earth are they doing multiplying human form on and on with what seems little regard for Life.. And the kid was supposed be a person.
The Mess The mess of opinionated/ science................. what actually is an ?opinion guess I wouldn't know I'd rather 'not bother. practicalogic is naturalaw
Toooooooo Much Double Time "make it true "make it so disgusts me' you think your bright yet you exemplify hellllllllll with your cluttered ronism that destroys realtime righteous overt negligence is materially destructive as coversion is unfit.
True Tomorrow Why do you ask such things? Do you know what the future brings? Is it better to seethe? Art like air allows you to breathe. All men are slaves. None are free. The torch-bearing whore is necessity. Do you think me a fool, for my love of tomorrow? Should my delight linger into one's own barrow? Shall I trust in the spinning of the triads? And yet, speak nothing of the dyads? They are my pleasure, my pain. I yield to their needs, their gain. When I risk, does my reason pause? They are my reason. They are my cause. If deprived of such delight by weak resentment and petty spite. My fury, my passion, my love will embark. I will guard my purpose, protect my mark. The key that unlocks my passion's cage will put all of heaven in a rage. Shall you seek solace like a child in a womb? Take away love and your earth is a tomb.
*Places* where it was, the united nations monument.. a good idea for political and social peace. ooooohh the sidelines of social and textual ?!illegitimacy. and the familial whip of tooo much. & strange excessions. ?!assumption?! ?!what is this ?!now of compass ?! regarding religion,philosophy or skin color?. ?what are we raceing for?what for?! ?!what of legitimacy????????????. and not wanting or demanding a ?kisss for !!!!something Allllllll these sideline things the crime of sensual war, ?littering our planet with negligence and superfluous industrialization. ****************** Some say, some said, back when before the 1500's "Like what life represents ?what will thisearth look like thousands of years from now.. It isn't and wasn't meant to beeeeee a place of greed and human error....
*********************************** *lost by cause* one can choose to choose to live life as a good person or one can end up garnering oneself into being an idiot............ an idiot plays wargames. an idiot enjoys voyeurism. an idiot thinks he or she has rights to punish,harm, and alter beings single liberty .it never is too late to choose to be a good person how a harmful being whom is relishing in the wrong kinds of fun.. ?!wake to the idea of being ?!good
A little ditty from the 'nam days: Love the system and fight the war but don't as what you're fighting for lest you fight the system and hate the war
