In Truth

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

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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]

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

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

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

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