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My poe=prose



This one was written a while back.  I decided to depart from my norm of a few lines of poetry to just let the stream of consciousness flow unabated.  I tried punctuating it to make it a bit easier on the eyes.  What's normal for me is to automatically write with almost zero recollection. And I don't edit unless there's a spelling mistake I don't want.  I hope there might be a line or two that you enjoy as much as I do.  Don't worry, I'm not going to load this with a bunch of spam...I'll take it easy.  Contrary to what some might think, this is not me taking a dump.  I find some modicum of enjoyment at reading this and if you do too, sweet.

September of 2009.
The Critic.

align the wards, those that speak foreign words won’t fill the void beneath this strain of lords beholding the wrath sated only when the cleansing devours the false animated piles of clay.  stains remain showing the last sign, convoluted by design.  messengers from the sky through a cosmic lens bring humanity into focus indifferently substantiating its malleability through subterfuge; the Lovers womb and tomb embrace the center, shrouded by the circumference: the wall between the Actors and the Audience.  The Director pulls the strings of the marionettes on Stage, the empty slabs of lifeless substance given the gift of life by the Author who becomes the Script.  Fortunate are the words written for they become the Actors.  Fortunate are the Actors for they become the Author.  to exit Stage left one merely divides unity by naught producing something from nothing: Audience from Actor.  realization sets in: they play themselves and impotent is the unread Script, the Script without them.  pretense breathes life into the costume, animating form, the lies I shall not be: this hollow string of words.

Ok, and here's another one more like standard poetry.

The puppets of puppets they are
revealing the game within the game
exiled from the room of minds
from the outside Looking in
the I behind the I

connections established to the labyrinth that is mind
fortifying their will
behold the faceless strangers
meandering from one confrontation to the next
surrounded by ubiquitous eyes, staring
removed from the concrete, delivered to the abstract
piercing the veil

floating wherever the flow carries them
tugged forward by impersonal forces
a sea replete with allies and adversaries
dipping below, rising above, submerged yet emergent
they cling to their faith in the righteousness of the current

pivoting allows lateral movement, forming their own conduit
independent of the useless external imperatives
driving rather than riding along
blazing a trail more direct
effective, they are masters of point to point travel
aided by reflection, stepping sideways

they flip above to below
inside to outside
with hand on the mirror the reflection becomes reality
subordinate to the formerly reflected
now they have a breathing room

Here's another one I wrote sometime.

false enlightenment

they bring thee to thy fate, frozen behind time
fashioning the slumber into an ecstasy

a being becoming, a different star dust
lies furiously told: an awakening caught in the ways of the flesh
this one's principal wind: divinity.

our now that has the love
I of our breathless, disembodied essence
with a punishing fate, diversities opened, chanting nobility
reign thee over all that is you.

the waves of the way eroding age-old levies
celebration of the undead rising
lungs filled with wind and silence
they, tamed by laughter
fables having a timeless source

ways of wisdom overwhelming the strength of words.


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