Stream of Consciousness
Beyond
A point in time indicates finish, period to a sentence, finite space stopped by boundaries and contained. But what if a point in time is simply continuation? Beyond the ellipses of the written word, beyond grammar and punctuation, beyond the end, the stop, the taking in of a breath. A point can be a black hole, incessantly consuming. A point could be the tip of something larger, the beginning of a foray into chasms of underwater icebergs. A point could be the opening of an eye, which sees beyond the edge of reasoning. A point could be a doorway into another realm, the place where you insert yourself from one dimension into another, where what you are is not what you will be, but merely an instant, not even a pause, leading to something greater. A point could be infinite expanding, commencing, fulfilling, hope, Heaven, chaos, art. The point could be - should be - would be - will be -
By Alison McBain2 years ago in Poets
A Raindrop on Repeat. Top Story - September 2024.
Satin sheets cling to my sweaty skin. They would tell a tale of sin, but today it’s no such thing. My bed an empty vessel of vast memories of the past. I reach out to empty space, it’s nice but also sad. Melancholy manic thoughts wash over me, after scenes of gratuitousness play out. Looking at past failures and success I wonder what life is all about. My thoughts so loud they echo in this vast empty house. I long to hold one close, yet push away like a body builder lifting plates. I long and crave to have, yet spend and give my money away on frivolous amenities and vices each day. Then, I look and ask why neither love nor money choose to stay. I’ve had both and gave them all away.
By Kenneth cruz2 years ago in Poets
Life: A Gimmickry awakens over staged insight
🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫© ✍️ Madhu Goteti,May 28th, 2022Where minds’ musings scatter o’er the day’s lightNone the less a prelude to the provisional spirit flashes upon those quivering eyesAnd as the night’s stillness pauses the WILL , to wait and minister it’s needs for a whileTentative upon the soul, a limbo fondles upon notions, deeply mystified Thusly, merely dispatching and attaching new meanings to that perseverance called I When changes come in ,duly suffixing and affixing, thro’ this pageant life Thereupon, only known for what it does, and not nearly enough for all those purposes, a gallant morn promisingly arrives ! And as for which, we trust a glance to spy,That for which one bears that virtuous eye; Upon such disciplined probes are cultivated for that future to rise and ,as ever, surprise Appealingly ... heretofore spangles a new status quo (fully) undisguised! But then , In rue, the arch enemy of intellect derides …As if, unasked for, legions of chimeras, insist to pass by Perhaps from genesis a (Phantom,)a new fantasy of oneself awaits to be contrived Such so influenced, the mind hiccups to the “egotistical sense,” fully trapped and held upon its own exileFalling apart or emboldened so, it’s all about that journey—to find “oneself,”all in the inside! O! Is that —Ironized decadence declaring progressivism’s aesthetic delights! O! Such impinging joys and challenges both lain together side by side ; but in effect, a sort of override ...yet totally ephemerally disguised !Therein, reformed in determination and not to be classified ; a crude common sense, (not found in places so common,) emerges otherwiseAnd forthwith, thereupon, everything mixes in amalgams, systemically aright, In unison , as though, perfectly — fitted to that human strife To that, rebirthing, the one in many, smiling wistfully to the mind’s mime For against choking trivialities, willingly renounced , a custodian ,so ecstatically, arrives For me ,at least, it’s the …Mind’s eye 👁 or is it me in myself translating the I … You decide 😃🙃😜Or so as it seems, am I preoccupied Or as some w’d believe —mortified , stupefied or ethereally justified ! It’s Me to my unknowns subjected to those turning tides But, thereof, bringing new birthings to this life …. My Life ! Or is it a renewal we duly device .....None the less an airing of the provisional spirit brought upon the eyes As the night’s stillness spills out a silent nightWhere destinyʼs lingo thrives to plunge in 🗡 daggers 🗡 over the hind sight There’s strife in sharing,with no single bearing to light 💡 O! That’s Life! Where word chains tell us their own inner meanings —standing alone —yet closely tight Thereupon those endless trailings .....go.. by n by Over the tracks, where trains run nonstop, …. slowly trailing out of sightSomewhere spreading is the destitute desire dwelling with ease —much wider than skies Ah! upon longings to come forth with it’s own rightsAnd within , as I in them, or who knows, by them in us , who actually reveal themselves to the light 💡 Perfectly enthralled and repositioned on that —again —a rebirthing fondles itself to get pulverized….Yeah simply mesmerized —showing thee in thine … A sort of effervescence fills me completely with lightPerhaps now we have become something of that conscience to answer that question 🙋🏻♀️ —Where am I ?! Here, I am …Where wisdom streams to dispel all the agonies rolled out in cries ! Yes, here I AM ….Passing by ! Just Passing by! Just to watch — this marvelous thing called “Life”P.S: Now please don’t say : HOW CAN YOU SAY THINGS LIKE THAT 👍 😜🙃
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Poets
