[inflectious]
I am nothing
If not
Something unnecessary
I am nothing
If not
Something essential
I am
Something, if
Nothing else
[within/without, pt.2]
Make what ideas rest
Within the mind
Shine upon the second,
Next—a second lost,
A minute invested in
The manufacture of
Consent—consensus
Prods the mycelial
Mechanics of
The meditative kind,
Even when we tend
To be unkind
[within/without, pt.1]
Training focus—
The meditation that
Mediation imbues
The mind—lost in a second
As sand slips particle
By particle—a rush
As currency gripped
Is let slip
And rains upon
Intentions borne
By plight of what
Incites the mind
To produce intention
First—nothing but
The rubber of
Cognition bears fruit
Amongst the stars
That shine as ideals—
[shutterspeed]
Summary makes
for quick solace
When sense is twisted
Out into space—
Struggle is pasted
Across the make
Of cosmic face
And what matters
Is pressed
In question against
Curiosity’s quest
To taste the universe
[impulse]
Haphazard complacency
Paints regret with
Nothing kind, while
Impatience for the
Tension building
Breaks into rhythmic
Intervals of sound,
Squeezing through the
Technosapient membrane—
The soul, the heart
The earful of
Paradise—
That bears the
Careful onslaught
Of carbonated melody
Through the desktop
Speakers singing centuries
Into the night
Liberty dressed in
casual best
makes
strides upon the
asphalt—
Pride resides in
knowing that,
while
Freedom paints the
naked youth,
Liberty weaves
an ageless truth—
As feeds
the growing needs of
Maturity—we seeds
of Autonomy's brood
Set adrift
Like leaves upon
The glassy sheen
Of springs
Embracing twists whilst
Sprinting softly—‘twixt
The dashing landscapes
Of green—
The merry stream
Of consciousness bubbles
And bears—skipping
Swiftly, and with
Ease—the soft caress of
Sunlight, glistening,
Upon its face, its
Wander and weave
...
The sun-dressed stream of consciousness,
of wind-swept summers, dreams.
Appreciation dwells in
Shallow corners
Donning shadows so
As not to be seen—
As not to be seen
As should be possible
Were appreciation not one
For making a scene
...
~and so, the stream of consciousness
(where appreciation, attention, seeks)
2020
2012
she believed
he lied
Music seasons the frequency of life
What are we but instances of reality seeking federation.
a keeper by the gate
will wait—my entry for
to negate
my claim
I stake, and make my way
back from whence I
narrow came, whilst
doing so
it’s clear to see—
the keeper shares
my very face
and shares
with me, implausibly,
the beating of my empty
heart, and yet—
we stand apart
(version 2)
a keeper by the gate
will, my entry, negate—
and, whilst turning to forgo
my claim, I realise the
keeper‘s face
is, but, mine own—
and still,
nothing will be done;
let this much be known
(version 1)
Responses on a spectrum from Nothing to Anything are appreciated