Poetry

As sysphean as Love for Psyche

And extract future, from eternity

An organic vehicle lays in bed at night Felt to be permanent, he fades to a reality in sleep The truth of his vitality: frail, on crutches The ongoing dance-step clock-work Flowing fluids, reactions and pulsing electricity All interdependent, all are indifferent Nocturnal fits of psychoses awaken He who grants himself invincibility Naive of his fluctuations in eternity He grasps onto what he knows A bed, dresser, pillows, sheets and health As they dissipate like grains in his vision

dimensions upon dimensions unraveling from the deep, psychology from alchemy, becoming from our feet, dimensions upon dimensions they sit upon your seat, in plain sight before you, and in the foods you eat, universes come into being like bubbles in a bath, they come and go in time, as our own brewing rath

The entity plucks heart strings of the cosmos he is composed of he has lost himself in the vibrations of what is seen as but magic things he wanders in the harmony overall of what he is a part of naturally and so by submitting to the universe he is one and the same with the all to the layman he is a magician to himself he is but a drop to the universe he is everything in his eyes the layman is him

There he minded nothing and saw nothing yet only here at this lone empty vantage did he find he too does not live for himself and found bliss under corporal baggage

As the routine films play And realities crumble in satire Sense loses all of its meaning Where meaning never is Until the wakeful one wills it How I dread waking up

Dionysus leers behind every human brain, as geared by the souls shell casing, embodying us in the worlds illusion, endowing ailments of fear and pleasure Our luring needs for insatiable ecstasy, is but an imposed shadow to the mind, of a larger drive to meld into another, and relinquish borders from the spirit For we don't know the utmost sublime, in the world of subjective materials, who serves to stray us from the truth, which there is no sense for perception A society ruling upon the pleasure principle, dominates solely upon regression itself, further blinding us from that of which we are, separating us from another and ourselves A life who reinforces the true reality before us, is not one who faces us with our bodies, but one of love who faces within ourselves, the same true Apollo who lives within us all

Is one where we choose leaders that will allow us to keep our guns and protect our egos, while our vote gives power to a knife-yielding entity with keen eyes on the thin fabric of society…

The dams of the day Crumble every night And in catharsis say Glimpses of the light

The tides of earth and sun Lay testament to the will of disorder For it counters the arrow of time A map back to the grand perfection Where animosity to life arose Proof that beauty is only transient The instability that begot duality Is encompassed in memories Encoded in an attempt to rebel And climb the deep sulci of energy To arise in model of our maker Who’s indifference arose love And all of which we named In the pursuit of consciousness

The tides of life burn As a slow combustion Intimately following time Sparked in infant breath The marvel in which we awe Over our many waking days Is nothing but the heat Of the spark of life itself The ease in which life lives Is the poetic hand to our fate The torch of wisdom and passion; The aim of the machinery within

I am stranded in the islet of today Cornered within a dance of yesterdays In a masquerade of inflated memories I stand my ground upon withered bones