in truth
i am nothing
if not
for this
suffering
fleshed
of sighs
in nuanced
rebuttal
abjection
from sanity
lost
spectrums span
ceaselessly
i dare be sworn
to behold
the bane
of my dedition
In Truth
Universal Truth
The universe has once again flourished in my consciousness. Knowledge of my own existence and that of the world around me becomes my reality. There are many things, infinite things for which i feel fear and unknowing. Life persists and time is imminent. I am helpless to anything other than surrender to its insistence.
In spite of the anguished plight of each individual’s existence, i feel the warm energy of assurance and comfort radiate throughout my entire being. An understanding that all that has been, all that will be, and all that is, shall be okay.
The singularity of time and truth looms above. Not as a harbinger of sorrow but as the sun, infusing all with its golden beams of love. Doting on each and every one of us with buzzing motes of life’s exquisite mystery. Anything within and beyond our comprehension may take place at any given moment.
Just as we are here so shall we be gone. As those that are gone are here, surrounding us with their love and granting us stay. Their existence continues in all realms. The love that permeates throughout the varied instances of our day speaks of this divine truth.
This understanding brings hope. The love we all share brings hope. Hope is the understanding that although we have no possible way of knowing what things may come, we refuse to let the fear of the unknown tarnish our weary hearts. For we know that things will be okay.
Knowing that regardless of the surreality of reality and all things contained therein will happen as they will. And this is okay.
Every moment we have ever experienced. Every treasured memory Every misplaced memento that wanders throughout our subconscious as the fuel that feeds the fire of our dreams. Every brief moment of perfect happiness that so fleetingly dashed across our life’s landscape. Every first beholding of love that was previously unknown to our conscious minds. All of these exist in this very moment.
When we gaze upon the open sky of umbrage we are overcome with a sense of wonder and awe. As we glance upon the very particles that compose our own existence in physical and ethereal form. The true essence of everything in every temporal tense of existence.
That truth is love.
[image credit: Chesley Bonestell]
Sharing Is Caring:
Profound Mechanism
what an oddly profound mechanism memory is
to be able to hear
the exact sound of someone’s voice
from years ago just by imagining it
to be able to vividly picture
a scene from a bygone era
whilst simultaneously looking
at the reality of the present moment
to summon the irreplicable symphony of flavors
rendezvousing upon the tongue
from a cherished dish
whose creator is no more
to behold the sweet scent
that once had found your senses
rapt in an erstwhile lover’s embrace
to revisit the feeling
of fleeting ideals
whence they fooled you into falling
for what you thought would be forever
foundations are ever shifting
in the light of newfound context
tragedy reshapes the stories
locked within our mind
knowing that the day will come
when all that we might stand to muster
swiftly turns to dust swept away
by a lonesome gust of wind
and this, the only truth
that we might ever trust in
it is for this very reason
we must live
within each moment
to foster our experience
as though it were untold
to leave a bold impression
that we one day might recall again
when all is lost as we retreat
into death shrouds of our own making
Sharing Is Caring:
rant of scant merit
I guess I’m an emotional masochist
because I always fuck everything up
far beyond the precipice
of merit propitious
Dare I say
it’s depressingly disconcerting
for it’s duly quite fervid
the ferocity with which I unfailingly inflict
this inbound bondage
I have deemed a living hell upon myself
whose reins I shall never relinquish
Nor shall I ever dispel
the curse that these verses disperse
on my pithless personage
I search for the dirge
that might deign to divulge
my divergent urges
surging to ravage my visage
with savage compulsion
and vague supposition
Vulgar and vile these vices I vaunt
when enveloped in venting
with vanity’s wont
As I saunter hauntingly
to a daunting demise
I witness this witless world
through wistful windows of time
since rescinded sans residual reticence
of rote compliance
that readily dotes on my amative recalcitrance
To further articulate this artless affliction
so to properly parse the veil of this valse
lacking prevalent cause
prudent pause must be given
to parlay the amplitude of dispossession
so that I mayhap, per se
gain from said deprivation
With all best intentions
mentioned ad infinitum
impressed upon god’s greatest audience of none
Yet somehow I find
that the soul of my mind
ever shuns me thus spurring
to run underground
just so that I may hide
from this hideous horror
whorled in writhing
Undermining my chances to shine
with such vibrancy confined to contrivance
in idle contradiction to idyllic ideals
Where no sound is present
to presage profound plights
of piteous people persistently perishing
garishly sinking into sentient pits
of sapient despair
And here I lay
hapless in hyporeactive states
hopeless to extend a helping hand
bearing the selflessness of our sole salvation
To solve any quarrels of lore’s requiem
as ennui quandaries of quietus quell
squeamish skin squandered
Acclimatization to scandal and scourges
encouraging naught but a purging averred
Spurious inference evinced disingenuously
a word so misused it defines what is wincing
Thrust upon miasmic oceans of plasma
in plumes plotting schisms of ruinous rue
Sophists usurping
poised with dissemblance
in spite of supinely presented sound pleas
At which point I ponder
to pander implore
that you please apprise me
what purpose this is for
Aside from assuaging an aging aplomb
ere appearing as pompous
as this pen’s pathetically impaired plies
of reasoning so paltry
Alas, I digress
for my state of distress
is distorting the functions
compressing my chest
Lest I cease and desist
I shall cease to exist
but at least I know this much
is blissfully true:
I am fucked
and I cannot resist
this fool’s fate
of such languorous
and lasting lamenting libration
Intent on selling my soul
to the devil in reveries
of such voracious dyspepsy
and lack of discretion
so disseminating degrading the ground
that I share with my fellow
formations of foul indignation interred
In tombs of tempestuous vestibules
flailing in failure
so profound it resounds and reverberates
in sonorous echoes
that beckon our reckoning
in this armageddon that hails from charred skies
Rippling throughout our decrepit contortions
condemned to a cold crippling morphine drip
faintly gripping death’s sinewless hand
where we lie
Sharing Is Caring:
Existence Remiss
lo, i know naught but an ignorance dire
inflicted upon those who dare court my ire
possessing scant patience for due diligence
i have no inclination to sate precedence
for all that i see is a world which devolves
revolving around me with heedless resolve
to suffer such consequence not born of my realm
indolent irreverence is a relic unsound
so profound is this bliss some might call it profane
still i’m bound to persist as they wither in vain
from the slithering stress steeped in sorrowful waves
such a grave indignation of conscience enslaved
abhorrent abomination i deign piteous
seeking sordid salvation of scorn hideous
sisyphean sell-outs diseased and distraught
such boolean fallout finds fools ever-fraught
with frivolous fears ere their failings forsooth
the fate of their frail bed of tears ailing truth
entailing an entropy expeditious
extrinsically linked to existence remiss
Sharing Is Caring:
A Brief Importance
in days of dust
and clouded haze
sing silent whispers
amid resignation
where muted martyrs
beckon forth
a call to arms
at arm’s length, lost
dull, broken banter
obscuring cries
as empty bottles
fill out our fears
skies loom strewed
with vacant signs
to feed the void
of eyes so vain
the passive ardor
adorning glass
peers through our window
in blighted light
a hand lay cold
on shoulder spurned
fixed in the moment
without flinching
when dusk came sweeping
the people waned
a brief importance
then saw me home
Sharing Is Caring:
Tripping
we experience
our own expression
subjectively
in the form of dreams
our subconscious
is the peripheral landscape
flourishing between
the diametrical opposition
of a contiguous mirror
as we stand
in the midst
of chaotic illusion
alluding to the infinity
persisting in each dimension
and that
of our existence
within every aspect
of eternity
itself
as oneself
as everything
and nothing
in perpetual states
of entropic balancing
behind the masquerade
of conscious awareness
through the cosmic filter
of relevant perception
personified
Sharing Is Caring:
Time Control
Time doth taint the faint of heart
By painting truth where once stood art
And shining light in corners dark
From ancient moor to morrow’s hark
Perception forged with dawn anew
The day’s deceptions drawn to view
Our misconceptions now construed
With every moment thus imbued
So hapless are we to contest
The trappings of its false arrest
We must abide by its behest
Beholden to our sown duress
But only with its presence nigh
Doth life exist within our eyes
It must persist lest we devise
A narrative bereft of rhyme
We struggle to appease its ire
Befuddled by the muck and mire
This force of nature ne’er retires
The nomenclature of expire
At best, the past and future stations
Merely are but speculation
We have only one salvation
In our present indignation
Futile flights of fantasy
Flown by fools on fated eves
Found fast the path to effigy
Forged by the wrath of flippancy
So when the tower’s bell doth toll
Sing loud its reverie with soul
Think of it not as time control
But that by which all life unfolds
Sharing Is Caring:
Sapient Wastrels Subsisting
transmuting mutable emotions
into tragic projections
aired triumphant
the essence of our dissonance
flaunting our afflictions
through depictions of despair
in proud parades of pride displayed
disguised as introspection
devised of indignation
feral fears of primeval impel
fostering our fates
in lives surrendered to placation
impending skies of false illusion
looming truth e’er nigh
belying belief that all is for naught
lost amid the bliss of artifice
remiss to mind the cost
as sapient wastrels subsisting
Sharing Is Caring:
rant of existential fallout
i’m having a false memory about a dream i once had in which we all existed inside of a forgotten pocket of time that had folded in upon itself and transmuted into a vibrational frequency of such dynamic harmonic resonance that encompassed the entirety of all things both quantum and cosmic on a spectrum of infinite looping which so enraptured our corporeal coils in an ensconcing of such esoteric acquiescence that we instantaneously interspersed into the essence of our absence in transcendence to placid dimensions of eminence and omnipresent consciousness that spanned the heavens far beyond the liquid crystal windows through which we present ourselves as denizens in varied states of indiscretion vetting the significance of cognizance amid existence venting to avail our failings falling from our fleshy prisons vying to compose a comprehensive version of our vision through the vices implemented to prevent the avaricious evils that have sequestrated every living soul inside of silent isles of self-exile meanwhile their wastrel lusting spurns our precious chance to dance with freedom compromising all that we had ever grasped into an astral dust then scattered shattering the poignancy that once we stood to gain but rather than forgo the ego they would sooner let go of the reigns whence they had commandeered in vain through poisoning the coursing veins of mother nature with disdain and disregard imparted by their phantom hearts of darkness drowning in disreputable logic marred by hyperbolic deviants colluding with the devil deftly orchestrating devolution of every amalgamation made up of the molecules that rule our only known subsistence in this distant form that undulates between the egress of our fated path from womb to tomb to aftermath whose ingress we are left to guess in ponderance of great distress so dauntingly ubiquitous the impetus of our bequest
Max, or Not 
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