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Monday, November 16, 2015

yes but born? 11/16/15

born into the metaphorical
this block of ice as my mass for my life
from then, going forward, is still forming
the physical as overwhelming resides
evaporative as aging versus oneness as spirit 
transformational wisdom (?) hard to come by
through these representational means
the word-pundits, already on a roll in my mind,
trap me at every understand
and now they hawk at every syllable inwardly spoken
it is like reality as a land of beggars
in my mind-city built out of neuro-stone
sure the ice is also melting in pain
as well as ever so vanishing with age
even though it is also ever the forming
it is a game of ratios, manifest versus disappear
and I am the benefactor, so to speak, for the ride
the tools I am given only steal from my essence often
they pester and pursue and promote prominence
they want particulars in small scale ways
they create the force of details forthcoming
my senses have been criminalized into depiction
brain paths are flooded with repetitious nonsense
comparative truth is their belief standard ongoing
syncopation for them is a state of long suffering
the harmonies presented are of superficial delights
away from the true notes sounded as soul
I was, well we were, of the Universe before we got here
this makes no sense unless we are an act-out on a matrix
otherwise I am a just spore,
but dedicated to the whole . . .








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