June 2010
17 posts
signals
a constant
a constant rate of change
a constant variance of rate of change
a constant pattern of variance of rate of change
a constant rate of pattern of rate of change of
a constant rate of change:
a breath christened by the sun
as worthy. i would give my
mind away to be measured
if only there was some other
being that could leave me more than
a series of neural sparks that
hold the...
friday nite
A series of reflections.
I. Culture can propel and it can also oppress. A person unaware is stranded in culture. They have not obtained the perspective that shows the culture to be but an entity among entities, method among methods, perspective among perspectives.
II. Socializing can be people bombarding each other with their internal state without ever attempting any fluidity. At any given...
fulfillment
I see patterns. On some level, everything happens over and over again. Until you can see things differently and act accordingly and become enveloped by and swallowed in a higher state.
As I was playing guitar, I realized I was not. Which is to say, there comes a point in human experience where events cannot be reduced or given narrative because, for a brief moment in time, there is no narrator.
...
delirium in mesmers
the fantastic blurred edges
of shunted eyes
panted breath
cold exhales
forgone forevers
movie reels
of someone else
living your life
deep breath
all the secret lies
of how and why
the way you are
is how you needed
to be
a stern tick and
delirium in mesmers
the fantastic blurred edges
of shunted eyes
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a dreary story of all the weight potential brings...
all the lost fixations
that tease the suspension
of ourselves
bring our lives to an eerie
pause, where time is served as
the avenue of mere
reiteration
of why the golden dawn
did not come.
freedom comes from an absence of you and i.
the pairing, all the flickered swells of sincere emotions
that stem from an umblemished past—
the incomprehensible paradoxes of what we become
and...
the tired miss the heavy bit they left behind a long time ago
the idyllic formlessness mistakenly decided as a long dead static cling
now stranded only to communicate to us in the form of phantom limb
its desparate gropes swallow all the forward notions of time
all things progressing a decided stake
that stretches the length of awareness from now to
the moment you bartered your infinity.
...
