From Whom Are You Running?

We have written away our souls
And express surprise when they know us whole.
So we deserve to experience fear.
We would not wish for it to be otherwise
No matter the protest that accompanies it all
Block it out, or don't. Accept our fate, blindly.
Or change it while you can, if you can.
Why won't you take off your rosy glasses?

The Page; the Page

Our freedoms lay entwined.
Unknowing yet utterly trusting
A dynamic pact, as strong as any other;
Tighter, still, for it cannot so easily be betrayed.
Each party has no overt motivation to deny the other
Their advantage is mutual and rewarding.
Exciting and always new
The reader and the writer.

Do You Ask Questions?

We will always be asking you to do something
I have all of these things in my head
Then, though a mess it may be, it exists.
Don't be narrow, we do not like it
If you run out, please conclude yourself later
Then eat your undesirable words
Or they will return to haunt you.
Repeating what you've heard
Or you should have. Where was it thrown?
Do you still claim ownership? You can still try
A suggestive connection requires gestures
You can decide on the hands.

Infinite Memory

How often do you muse
On how things could be
If this or that were different
If you or I weren't me?

Do you realise the contradictory manner
Of such a musing? That nature does not hold
Ultimate sway? If you were born 150 years ago
You wouldn't be you. There is a possibility
Somewhere; but we cannot attain it, yet.
We can never know any moment except the present -
And never again will we, truly.
If we even knew this one.

Living Memory

Again, these ears hear the end
A convenient oblivion masks our fate
In depth, we cannot remember too long ago
It all becomes blurred,
A siren call.
A living disintegration of recollection.
Return now to this disjointed site -
Can you ever understand what happened here?
See your imagined community,
What have they given you?
What have they destroyed?
Tell me about yourself only.

Trapped. Talk, Talk.

Many limited interactions
Processing the noises surrounding
An all-too-familiar feeling of isolation.
The sounds mean nothing when I hear.
Shapes manoeuvre around my being,
Almost desperately it appears
The terror of being near this lonely husk
Is in itself
Too much for whispers to handle.
The sum becomes the reverse of the parts,
They chatter and dissolve.
But there is variety, and goodwill at times.
Or so I perceive through a narrow and cracking lens.
One day to purchase an improvement over this.
A goal that may decide the worth of believing
When factors coincide.

Talk, Talk. Trapped.

What ideas do I have? None, say I! Why? For the book did I not read! Say it does not ring true. Fie, it doth ring truer than you know. Accept this and weep, but do not despair. The lecture will be saved! These scoundrels - noisy, noisy scoundrels - are more than likely to sprout one promising perception between them. It must be, by the simple laws of probability!

What reading? Ponder for a long time and hope that no one notices. Look up, provide scope for inspiration, then head back down to write more intangible lessons. Hope. Hope. Is she looking? Why sit in the front? This situation begs for relief. Cavalry doesn't show itself so readily in life. The horn lies silent beside the Gordian Knot. On with it. Perhaps more slowly for a time, this notion is a deep one. Full of double meanings and interesting commentary on the multifaceted subtext of that queer book. Quiet. Did I write too much?

Is that satisfactory? We are searching for more. It would be rude to start reading a different book, I suppose. Then, this is equally so, only far more inconspicuous. Until I'm put on the spot. What is she doing? Too close, far too close. Cramp. Must stop.

Vainglory

What does it, inevitably, lead toward?
When we turn to attempting we are
Still left uncertain.
An Answer?
It is only when we have finished
That we have.

Come. Join us in our invasions.
The body undefined.
Against years and modes of obstacles
That have existed, with only slow erosion,
And have not.

They can mimic and act.
Based on their lives and what they have seen.
Is not that all we can do?
Are we not inventing the past in tandem
With the past creating the future?
Originality is but ignorance,
The subject and their opinion.
State your case, but do not be afraid.
Rest. Be content.

I Am

As they say
In all "good" shops
And everywhere else -
You are becoming
Of the world.
Representing changes
That do not concern you.
You are certainly something
More or less anonymous
But completely and
Thoroughly not what
You may have intended
To be.
What does concern you?
Do you need to be told?
It is far too complicated
For such reasoning now.
What, define you?

Sees No Virtue

A view to a deed
And events that contend
Despite a last wish for sickness to end.

I ever provide Justification with airs;
not for my own welfare, but for theirs.

Recognition of wealth
And of enveloped beauty
Pity for sale
Pity for duty.

A Postmodern School Shooting

"bears wanted to take over my country so they did and now there is bear on the money instead of old white guys. also im am usually discriminated against as i am neither a bear nor do i speak their laungage.
i would start a civil rights campaign but i am too lazy and stupid. other then the casual racism i think the bears run our country in a positive way."

∞

Each moment, without beginning or end
Time: our affliction
Like mirrors to our ears
Unable to grasp that which we cannot see.
Forever trapped by our understanding
Of progress
And our inability to proceed.

Linear Advance

Look forward, not behind. Admire, and improve upon, do not worship. Social changes. Upper class men.
Slavery acknowledges civility, and is one.

Sing democracy's praises, do not let it hear you doubt it.
Do not tell it lies, except to protect the other.
Tell them all that they may hope.
Disguise a change in it and
Focus on defeating your rival.
This is survival of the popular myth.

Nothing Questions

Where did they come from?
Did they intrude on the present?
Rudely, and corrupt, without a personal sex.
No definite. A concentrated ambiguity,
Only this.
A light drawn from above.
And the colours become nothing
In sudden contact.
Vacuus and derived,
A slow development allows for completeness ,
That washes our excitement and understanding
Away. But what do we know about concrete?

All is Well, All is Permitted

Try not, do.
A contradictory element
That is vital to the end.

An equation that denies it,
The internal mirror
Balanced on all gains
And none.

Never can the recurring steps
Be repeated, for truth is not.
Only the innocent may witness eternity,
It is but a hollow echo for us all.

The absurd mind accepts not
But hope lives still.
A closed eye sees despair in mortality
And it is then
That happiness is exchanged for faith.

Joy Cannot Be Savoured

The end. It did. And left, it did.
Though the contained remained behind.
Full speed exists, the pace that happiness arrives.
A silent resistence to all and any light,
The shadow withstands the plague.

When trapped man can aim
To discover what he can.
Though there is always an hour
Of the day or night
When man will prove a coward
And fear that moment, nothing more.

Love.
It is not much to be.
To find its own expression,
A love cannot achieve.
But one cannot prevent
The act of condemnation
In himself or any other
Even victims can sometimes
Be executioners.

There was no surprise in this suffering.
For months, for days, it was but
A continuation of always the same pain.
Dull and enduring, detached from whatever
Wish could be real.

The long exile.
A sudden downpour,
Unrivalled by the old,
Confused and bewildering joy.

A searing emotion.

No More Than a Simple, Obstinate Determination to Live

Affliction confliction
It's never too late or ever too soon
And each repeats itself
Before the judge
A judgement.
The day will come
And then...

To start again, cannot pretend
The thought that isn't there.
A new relief, but all it can
Create is an
Unbalanced image of existence.
A past self becomes negative
And never does return.
Suffering a general separation
From that which was the daily life
Of us all, and on.

Inquiry as the Rain

Here, we are no one. But if not here
We cannot truly live.
To live we must not.
The doubtful distinction between survival and being alive.
What does will become?

To each his own task.
Were these words ever uttered?
A dream within imagination
Only given - life? through a singular vision.

The world cannot be perceived and lived
And though I am not certain that I exist,
I know that one day I will.
Nothing is lost.

Testimony Held to a Narrow Strip

Positive
Antithesis of negative
Like the film
Only shorter.
A brilliant display of life as we may never know it.
Though true, always, to the original perspective.

A Veil, Conceived

When you do not know whether pity or envy is your true course
A desire for knowledge, through Fear the accursed.
Then pity is but envy, veiled
This pity, if so, is already lost.

Foma

Anything I can tell you is a lie
I exist
Fortune fears
Disrupts the roots
Contains the tears
Ignites our breath -
A thousand years
For
Everything I ever tell you will be a lie

The Dangers and Potholes of a Capitalist Economy

"I get paid in monkey.
Then I sell the monkeys to small children for ridiculous prices. Then rape the children
before they leave."

The Illegal Impression

The forbidden cult of the underground poets.
A true escape haunts both of these eyes
For never can the world know now
Of what did pass, in time untold
The practice was strange, a selfish act
To keep one's mind on the plane of sanity and reason.

But if ever these tools did reach another's eyes, or ears!
It was forbidden by all who knew, that is
Who knew that they must not know
For the sake of every other.
A volatile equation convinces them of the futility of pale reason.
It cannot compete in err or triumph,
But how could it?

An example is drawn when eyes are closed again.
The individual sense explains our death rite.
Must not speak.

Do you know the trees? Describe them.
No. Describe them truly.
How do they impress themselves upon you?
What can your person do to change me?
Now you understand the unspeakable darkness.

Dionysus' Madness

I cannot stand the poet
Such an overexaggerated air
But not of confidence; themselves.

I, the Other

I can't run, however
The weight continues to pull
And a head distorts the truth
Of whatever we can know, if we can.
But there is a tendency to assume -
This opinion?
Obviously we try to challenge this
Never fully justified by a
Lack of testimony
Only a return to the mimic
The form of life that fills
An idea to be.
Exist from now on, to make your
Freedom last and to exercise
The ultimate right of choice,
Which is.

He Remembered His Own Sarcasm

My eyes close
And I return to the room
Unintentional
But calming
And warm
Transient harmony
If only for a moment
Before the other reappears
Outside of my eyes
The pressure and the weight
Light again
But cold for its space
And words that come and go -
Through that man we know no more
Except if wishing for northern slur
And praise of the old and grateful dead

An Entirely Unnecessary Composition

Let us run counter to this expectation
That people try, and drift along
For not their minds are used for long.
Until does Fate destroy with tools
These vessels wrought by blind, poor fools.

Now take, and to, see, and why
Does it appear, before - can fly?
Not a cliché, divined by sight
But one of sound and enchanting light.

Perpetual plague - will to assume
Inevitable that it must consume
Eventual, life is ripped from birth
The other, the tyrant; laughter and mirth.

To whom, we grant the sabled eye?
A stream, but broken before the sky
The great life, through the world
Disaster as ever, truth unfurled.

And when sense nears its rest
Reason encounters its greatest test
The one, not other, commands a way
For the voice, its choice, to finally say.

Twenty-Two Propositions or; Sixteen Solutions

Tempered steel and context wrought
A laboured day and battles fought
Deep in time, the abstract thought
Never new, the meaning bought

By Man

Man's control over man is Almighty.
A struggle for freedom ever
Renews itself, on and on.
A mind so complex and disturbing
Is in turn so weak and misled
With ease, by man.

Acts

How to become a university professor in English: be anti-social.

Share – let us develop together. Make lists, what do you activate? Are you a robot? Does an artificial mind comprehend the virtues of language? A monkey on the stage, preaching intelligence. Why do we listen? Choice? Apparently so. They give with one hand while the other holds ground. Control is our forte, we exercise when we can. Exceptions are expected, we are only human after all. Abolition of higher education. Is that not what you stated? I'm terribly sorry. I was mistaken. Lazy lectures, drunkards also, no care for the students they look to. Day by day. These lights, my eyes; they're burning.

Karl Marx – now I see the truth, attempts by my friend to convince me, John Lennon was a communist? Surely not utopia, the advancement of all man, doesn't quite equate to the red banner? Oh, Lenin, you fiend! Do you know now just what you started? Let us re-invent the world. Let the buildings fall and shine again.

Autonomy

The day has turned too late

We forget what we once were

An hour's victim played

In the shadow of a stair

Return to body's rest

Exhale for why we care

Accept a daughter's pleas

Alone, the wander fair

Denial of the past

Limitless appeal

The world has made its mind

Known to all who hear

The gentle touch of life

A lover's whisper, dear

Breathe in me a new begin

Fight and kill and gasp and win.

Lie, Low

Let us dream, and keep dreaming
The eye waits for none
A steady hand, but faster writing
And time turns for one.

Wait, do you hear?
Exception breathes the wind
Again, another year
Disaster; have we sinned?

Only I, a step for
A breach in the wrong direction
Allowing for, only I
Far clearer face, complexion.

A rattle bought, considered long
Alive, but surely teething?
Beware the vice, a poisoned son
The man, betrayed and seething.

A Natural Suicide

But what does it mean?

Our angry voices cry

With the fervour and rhythm

Of a thought that feigns to fly.

Collective, we are

Give to the cause

I came from the

Past?

That cannot be true

For what significance

Can be attributed to life

Without that passage

To frame and guide?

I will not use 'we'

For fear of contagion

Needs breach the person

An extension

Of nothing, of all.

This, we come to the root

Of the very problem

Facing a wide berth

And stronger arms

For the last, and first

Is here.

Part Deux

Am I more cultured

May I now place myself atop

Of you?

Combining foreign and native

The social ladder proves itself to be

An easy climb; steal a language.

I defy your rules

But I live within your bounds

There is naught I can do

There is not I can be

I do not defy these rules.

TPoSCMoIDEWHBtAT

Whenever I tell someone that
I write poetry
The phrase seems to stick
A stigma I've been drawn into
Willingly, for a time.

Since the first written venture
Perhaps it was ironic then
Trying to hold my laughter
from nudging my scribbling pen.

A break from reality through
A breakup, it came
The inspiration was laid quickly, and heavy.
A string of emotions inked out in black, and blue
But never red, I was told it was rude.

Reserve your opinions if you wish
But to my eye, no restrain will do.

Do Not Struggle

When we came to be, that short time ago - but was it?
What is my justification for using that particular adjective?
That we haven't been dominant on this planet for as long as the dinosaurs were?
There is an immediate flaw there; what is dominant?
Do we mistake dominance for greed and self-harm?
What pride can we have in dominating a planet that we are destroying?
For the time being, however, I shall press on with the point. Do I surprise you?
Can I justify my words by referring to the continued, and original, existence of the planet that we inhabit?
Or perhaps in the universe lies the key?
I bring to the stand the predicament; which term is the righteous?
Humans have existed for a long time. Humans have existed for a short time.
Case 02: The human race has existed for a long time, as we have been part of the evolutionary web for many times any single span of life.
Furthermore, as the span of one's own life is all that a person can know about time, it is by default that anything longer than it must be classed as such. Relativity.
There is always a but, only the effectiveness of the manoeuvre can fluctuate widely. When do we grant humanity to have begun?
With the evolution of the Homo Sapien?
What of the genus?
If this proves to be too difficult an indicator would you consider the human race to have been in proper existence since the time of the first civilised nations?
If so would you consider many modern people to actually be of another race?
Inferior?
Why do I contradict myself?
What if we hadn't survived?

Post

There is no
That we must know
In reference
But to whom?
Not self
But where?
Do not question
Broken
It equals it
Active possibility
of disunion