a lamentation for innocence
Lament (Photo credit: miss mass)
agnewpickens
May Gumbytron heap blessings on you and yours
Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category
End Game
English: Dying offspring – Painting by Joakim Wiborn 2009 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
novus ordo veritas
Diagram of Unicast Streaming (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
On Someday, ye shall surely Die.
View over part of the Thy Nationalpark (Denmark) at Hanstholm vildtreservat and Tved klitplantage. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
i will touch you
with these Words
like the mark of some beast
on Thy Forehead
and ye will surely Die!
well you were gonna die anyways
unless of course
yer into one of them Space Cult Religions
but trust Me
these Words
One day ye will surely Die
it was these words that do it to some
WORDS
(translate)
BELIEF
and if the Blind lead the Sheep
come to grips with this Thing
Thy Spirit came here not to tarry
and do 400 pushups a day
if you think that will save you
you will
Decay
and with these Words
realize
ye shall surely Die
OK, so let’s move on…
in the meantime
YOU have an Indwelling Spirit
maybe it came here to do 400 pushups a day
in a Human Body
or
MAYBE
it came here to investigate
in its Negation of Abnegation
(or maybe just its Playful Spirit)
what is it exactly?
I mean the Human Experience
at the End of Every Edge of Reason
CROSSROADS
why does the Dust
that your Spirit has collected
Walk the Earth?
When the Sun Comes to December
Lanzarote windmill (Photo credit: @Doug88888)
Spring, mine
has come Late Summer
Rays lengthening like luminous lashes
on a photoshopped Supermodel
and stars
I mean I see them everywhere
they shine even
by Day
were I a Beginner
it would almost seem wonderful
in brief flashes
between dry Heaves
recurrences begin
to replace
Occurrences and I feel like walking out
on this Movie
Sometimes
really I do
but Mother Universe
keeps inventing
compelling characters
you know, the kind that make you wanna stick around
and see when and how their story ends
if You don’t exit before them
and then controversies
Buddha said “withdraw”
It is Illusion, Maya
but so damn compelling
and you don’t get much press
tilting at Windmills these Days
some battles you win, some you lose
but you know, you stop keeping score after a while
and look out the Observation Deck
and begin to enjoy the Scenery,
its fleeting quality
the evanescence of new and varied Stimuli
that keep you from finally pulling that Trigger
and give you the Patience to wait for
when the Sun comes to December
Oh but it is
Residence of P.T. Barnum, by David W. Wilson (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
fluff
(fluff)friends (Photo credit: secondyip)
Fluff
<fluff>
is it <fluff> that you desire?
<fluff> that will help you ignore?
forget?
i’m sorry
turn off my Non Sense then
if thou willt
i do not talk in
and if my words aren’t minced
to your particular narcissistic brand of satisfaction
you know what?
i’m prepared to live with that
prepared to live
without <fluff>
RISE!
Image from the Book of Kells, a 1200 year old book. Category:Illuminated manuscript images (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
come look fer yerself…
English: The Battle of Stalingrad (1942-1943) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Charon?
can ya carry me ‘cross
this here Dry Creek?
I got no feet
nor hands nor sphincter
I’m just a bloody
Shady Specter
tired of livin’
a Fool’s Folly
reachin’ into crania of spiders
but very few single GD human noggins
by Golly
I think I’ll make ME
a SPAM sammich
SPAM, well WIKI it if you must
Battle(Siege) of Stalingrad, etc.
’em pigs we slaughtered
fought off the Aryan Horde
at least out East …
out here in the Nether Regions
well
come have a look fer yerself…
i won’t be
The worship of Mammon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
i won’t be your superman
and i’ve got no master plan
i’m just doing all i can
to stay atop these shifting sands
eating fire from streaming screens
buried in minutia
at once
burn my insides
with the Beauty of a dying ember
i won’t hock my soul for Mammon
when i look around me, examine
War, Pestilence, Death & Famine
all Religion controls by damning
eating Fire from the Belly of the Beast
buried in the Afterglow
at once
a salty pillar
melting in the coming Rising Tide
i won’t sit and wait for Heaven
and i don’t need to be forgiven
a madman with no purpose driven
taking only what i’ve been given
eating fire from the fruits of Error
my burial plot thickens
at once
back to Mother Gaia
eating every last Unspoken Word
Honey Boo Boo dyed for our sins.
With a tiny bit of faith in Gumbytron and a functional Level 4 Matrix Control Panel.
