My brain is sideways and my eyes can only feel the way into reality, sight lost in the fierce volacity of my mind.
As a thought;
Train of thought, found and bound, like I was bought.
The mind is the capturer, of the perverse fluidity of nothing.
Does this sound like non-sense or do people understand what I'm saying? Or trying to convey?
So I don't study other people to much, but I ponder on words, and rhetoric a lot.
"The mind; when is it fluid"
When words are just thoughts captured.
Do they roam free like me? When they are unbound by my will?
Who is to see inside were these ideas dwell, certainly not me.
Our minds are not all thoughts, because we do not always think, we can put pencil to paper with just will.
This is intuition, automatic writing, but from where does this dwell?
Certainly not from my bound mind.
Is this my higher will? When all works as 1, and it all seems still?
Like water, the thoughts get spilt into our spells, and thoughts construct while desires transform the shape.
Passive and active they are outside and inside as Word carries from the pools of wisdom to the tree of life, we call this nature and growth.
Words mold us, even as we are the creator. From a raindrop that drips into the arrid night, to a raging tyrant that lifts out of the Sea with its might.
Always we dig for our lore, as we burn with passion that dries our spirit furthermore.
Anyone
Im spilling some good shit atm
Passion, the furnace where our Hearts turn red with the fiery life.
Hot and Heavy create this Alchemy
Dat rosa mel apibus, diaphanous.
Notunlike the ever light, as One.
Quickly we take to create as light.
Our Inner and outer as One.
The Sunshine with its eternal flame.
This where our creation is fed.
Grounded up in our messy lonely room.
Now Go without your meal, they said.
Told we are terrible and loose like a tooth.
When we look up at the you and who?
Down upon me face, they gaze a serious face.
I march my feet up to my room, to ponder upon my horrible disgrace.
The growls are here and I want to hear.
What goes on down bellow, I leer
Shouts and pouts, all of me and both.
Cold and soggy, excluded in nightly fog.
I finish my plate, with a puppies pace.
Pridely I have pondered, I ask for more.
Ego now torn, with scorn, point to above
Again I march, up to my war room.
Here I ponder about my steak.
Now I wait. To sleep and wake.
We are the Grooms of solitude, for ever blooming.
We are the Rides of solar tides, for ever swimming.
We are the Brooms of the entropy, for ever sweeping.
We are the Clocks of Godly thoughts, for ever teaching.
We are the Eggs of Philosophy for ever hatching.
We are the Dash of lightning for ever clashing
Just so you know
I dont know prose
I make it up as i go
Odd to me I suppose
I look for my flow
I grow it like a rose
Up and out we inspire
Twirl and swirl, spiral
I Climb this mount
And spell my count.
Math in nasty stuff
MI minus S
Puzzles in prose
P
I am going to bump bump
This thread head up up
Gonna put thisis fistist up
Just like your a-or daughter
Is a whore she wants more-a
Her head up and down.. down...
Cause this thread is up up up
She gonna hump hump this dick
Just my bum umps for clicks
When Ego's fleet, reflectively as it hungers
My words, Jumbled salads
And you needa jumbo salad
Who is the creative ego
Tender, and timid, he goes.
G-guys please
...
all the lettuce in the alphabet
remind-h-er of succotash serenity
(ph/f)ilibu(tre)ss)ter
redolent miasmatic purgatory
for>sook->same
Light bounces off these wonder blues
Waiting and drifting on sounding moons
Vibrating giving to the ups and downs.
Sending these tunes to our sight mounds.
We wonder what started this flying might.
From one we see, the who is He and she.
The what is who you and me look to see.
What the fuck is going on in this picture
I speak of the one of all of ye need
Heap of shimmering heat leak out of me
Bored and stored, for hungers of change.
Sold out, not for the poor, now you care.
Hoarders of words will spill into the night.
You have heard you are yourself to blame
Ye as one, ye as gods, ye as mortal sods
What happens when Rosie O' Donnell and Oprah Winfrey bump uglies.
Your response makes about as much sense as that image
Read my poetry and I'll tell you
I have the beans and ate some to.
I can share but you'll smell poo.
Pull up a chair and write soon.
So have you been diagnosed with schizophrenia yet or what?
I also goog'd it on my own. Unicorn Jelly by Jennifer Diane Reitz. You're all about as useful as a bag of shite
Im the op I just want
You to read My poetry
Not schizophrenic unfortunately, I can just use a bunch of different perspectives to analyze information.
It has something to do with my ADHD I think.
The splits in reality, are the waves spread by Moses.
Chaos, and Entropy, the immortal enemies of life.
The divine yin and yang dance, and create passage through time.
We know mother as Nurture and Nature, combined as 1.
For see Father as Design and Time, working as 1.
We are their path way, their passage, through source.
We come henceforth, as evolution of all things combined.
As all things intertwine and find more order in lines
Words from spells with our after numbers and we show and tell.
Heaven, dreamt about on earth, we picture as an aethor, forged by the horrors we yearn to escape from where our slumber takes place.
Earth, where we learn to walk and bleed, the place of need and good deeds. Here dreams die and were light comes to be.
Underworld, is down a size, outside, where everything is really light as we loose this mass, we learn to grasp.
Prose Ego, Rose eagle.
please some one rate
me
please let my fate be
oh why can't you compare my idea and lies