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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: ...magic...dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    57/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2777/1297/258
    Words: 583
    Class/Type: Prose/Misc
    Total Views: 813
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 4305



    Description:
       ~Too much caffeine and too many words can be fatal if swallowed~


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dots...magic...dots
    -------------------------------------------


    How do you deal with…

    Loneliness? Madness. When the hinges in empty rooms creak…I hum the same tune. Have you read the ending?

    Of the novel? Hmm…when does the love interest die? Before or after the final – kiss?

    During. It adds to the dramatic…tension. Wouldn’t you agree?

    Erotic, necrotic, psychotic…

    Despotic? Pen your first impression of anyone…anything…and each syllable becomes a soldier of the mind.

    And if the penis is your pen? I mean…

    You mean the train wreck people create when they try to find rhymes for ‘prick’ and ‘chick?’

    Well, yeah…

    Then you have nothing to say. Everything is a metaphor for something else.

    Isn’t that an odd allusion? An – intrusion – on reality? I mean…doesn’t that rob the world of some of its glory? Or at least its…I don’t know…autonomy?

    What sort of sensation do you consider mother’s milk? Visions? Or lists?

    The space between both where there’s nothing…or is that too philosophic?

    Hmmm…you probably should read that then.

    This?

    Mhmmm…


    We Interrupt This Broadcast

    Crackling like nutshells
    against the sill
    pebbles gathering
    underfoot
    uncreated kingdoms
    dancing;
    so many blanks to fill

    Whispers shared
    with native angels
    kisses solidified
    on flesh, grace shed
    a lengthy, velvet
    robe;
    so many blanks to fill

    Car pools, calendars
    grocery lists
    bipeds carve symbols
    to mark their dead
    stumbling like drunken
    millipedes toward heaven;
    so many blanks to fill

    REQUIEM aeternam dona eis,
    Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
    Requiescat in pace. Amen.

    …so many blanks to fill

    ETERNAL rest grant unto them,
    O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.
    May they rest in peace. Amen.


    So…all my emptiness, un-emotion, bloodless lust – is normal?

    More or less. If that’s what you’d care to call home.

    Or would you rather wander this sleepy landscape until you come to some conclusion?


    And what conclusion would that be? There aren’t any conclusions…no answers to no questions to no resolutions to no peace to no love…

    And nothing sleeps.

    You think?

    You want me to admit I’m twisted?

    I want you to admit nothing. As for the…substance…of your admission, I wouldn’t fix the twists in you for anything, because you want to believe you’re sick…when you may just be empty…not enough – purpose? – in your life.

    And how do you propose I get purpose and focus? Relax?

    God no. You need the immense pressure of eternity’s thumbscrews to cause your thoughts to coagulate – or at least congregate – and spawn linear vision.

    Your mind needs something to resent to be happy.


    And how would you know this?

    Magic.

    The word of God?

    The word of anti-God, the word of celestial indifference. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world it needed a sequel. Now everyone is trying to resurrect themselves as something more than the third act in a miserable trilogy. Imagine how often people wait for perfection without realizing hell is paralysis in motion. Everything is dying and living…so how do you choose to remind yourself to live?

    Or do you?





    Submitted on 2007-10-02 18:35:19     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      You know, this is a piece to come back to. It is dialogue layered in meaning (or not, depending on how one looked). So many things to pick from... purpose, twistedness, blank fillers, emptiness, god/anti-god, and who could forget prick, chick and penis pens.... I mean really, why are we here? I think the problem (at least for me) is the more I learn, I realize that I know nothing at all... I question more, dig deeper, find the source, look for truth, sift through the crap, and formulate my own beliefs, opinions, etc... Do I choose to breathe? I don't remember ever having to think about it (other than when I had pnumonia). I have died spiritual deaths or parts of me have died over the years but I really want to be here. I like here, my ego likes it, I want to surf more, stuff to do and all that jazz. I don't know... maybe we make our own realities to live in? I couldn't tell ya. I swear I can never comment on a poem and not interject myself, sorry. I enjoyed and will have to keep re-reading this and its twists and turns.
    | Posted on 2007-11-01 00:00:00 | by isabella | [ Reply to This ]
      I guess... I remind myself to live by observing everything around me, reading, and coming to the conclusion that life isn't so bad, no matter how f.ucked up it may seem at times.

    "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world it needed a sequel. Now everyone is trying to resurrect themselves as something more than the third act in a miserable trilogy. Imagine how often people wait for perfection without realizing hell is paralysis in motion. Everything is dying and living…so how do you choose to remind yourself to live?"

    How pertinent. And cheeky. And wise. And drama queen like. Haha. Yes, I agree with all of this--hell is paralysis, whether here or in the supposed fiery depths. Yes, some things get old and jaded and should know when to shimmy off when the going's good. But people are suckers for punishment, whether that be the inflicter or the victim.

    This is very lyrical. Nice rhymes.

    Touche.
    Jase
    | Posted on 2007-10-19 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
      magical indeed. let me just ramble about the title of this piece coz lately, ive been loving the way most pieces are appropriately titled, especially this one. i just learned to appreciate a few things more, where the title makes total sense of the whole piece, be it song, movie or symphony. you called this piece magic? and well, i saw magic! lol

    this piece is sophisticated enough for any david copperfield tv special extravaganza bonanza! what will they (and you) come up with next? tune in and bear witness the MAGIC!

    watch as david makes the whole world disappear!

    and now a word from the sponsors...


    the first lines were brilliant set ups for these babies;

    "And if the penis is your pen? I mean…

    You mean the train wreck people create when they try to find rhymes for ‘prick’ and ‘chick?’"

    bam! killer subtlety man, but hit me nonetheless! imagine trying to write something, or create something artistic or deep or meaningful or pure... and your sole desire is to bang chicks. its definitely not easy. oh ive tried. it doesnt seem to work that way though. you cant have the cake and eat it too! lol!

    "Everything is a metaphor for something else."

    of course, and it does rob the world of many more things, gods lose their power and heroes and lovers die. sort of reminds me of the matrix (deep symbols in that flick), all that we perceive of the world and of reality is through these senses. so there's gotta be a catch there... coz if there isnt, we're all screwed... or not.

    the interruption/prayer in the middle of the broadcast is kinda new. going for a one-two punch eh?

    as for the ending, its the magic i was talking about earlier. you've managed to hammer and temper down into words, something that is insanely neurotic that it boggles the mind and borders on the metaphysical...

    how sharp thy pen!
    | Posted on 2007-10-08 00:00:00 | by Pietro | [ Reply to This ]
      this seems slightly different from your other prose. i cannot put my finger on why exactly. just the tone of voice and the message/intention behind the piece seem more... forceful...

    there are so many elements to this piece that leave me gasping for air... the questioning seems so pointed as if to make me doubt what it is i believe or atleast to make me think/revise/review what it is i believe and whether i am subscribed to it for the right reasons...


    to me this feels like a conversation had with no one... a talking/questioning/convincing of self as to why we are the way we are and whether there is anything that can be changed or should be changed...

    i like your so many blanks to fill interruption. it seemed like a new invention for presenting information and kind of served as a break in the conversation while concreting the intentions of the piece [and i LOVED the latin prayer/requiem words... brilliant touch]

    im in like with this piece
    | Posted on 2007-10-08 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ]
      Are you SURE this isn't poetry?

    :) annie0888
    | Posted on 2007-10-04 00:00:00 | by annie0888 | [ Reply to This ]
      "The word of anti-God, the word of celestial indifference. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world it needed a sequel. Now everyone is trying to resurrect themselves as something more than the third act in a miserable trilogy. Imagine how often people wait for perfection without realizing hell is paralysis in motion. Everything is dying and living…so how do you choose to remind yourself to live?"

    This sums it up for me out of the entire piece. I was most impressed with this part especially. The rest i felt was a bit of symbolic poetry and a bit of conversational poetry. But this last piece spoke a lot of truth with me and right now i seek truth. That impresses me. As always you impress me. Your style is still the same and it still has something about it that people don't get bored of very easily.

    Thanks for sharing your thoughts and your extended use of words. It's always great to read sentences that makes a lot of sense.

    Cheers,

    Irina

    | Posted on 2007-10-03 00:00:00 | by charmedidentity | [ Reply to This ]
      Huh! If I said the contents of this piece to my friends and acquaintances I would be a lonely person indeed. They would think I was trying to enforce my anti-denizism and make them into what I am without even a mere mention of recognising differences.
    This piece is a good admonishion to someone who asks for admonishment but a failure indeed when overcropping a crop that is already growing and sensing no need of thirst.
    | Posted on 2007-10-03 00:00:00 | by realpoet | [ Reply to This ]
      "...how do you choose to remind yourself to live?... or do you?..."

    wow.

    this is quite the piece, and as usual i don't feel quite adequate to offer much other than praise and consideration.

    i feel perhaps that my own life is a dreary monotonous circular motion.

    do i remind myself to live?

    yes.

    but reminding yourself and doing are independent actions.

    how do you DO?

    how do you ACT?

    how do you actually LIVE?

    that's my mystery.

    perhaps you've an answer?

    at any rate, the line: "...the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world it needed a sequel..." stunned me outright.

    baffled, at the truth in it.

    hmm.

    depressing?

    i'm not sure.

    what am i talking about?

    oh... good write.

    i'll ramble elsewhere.

    thanks.

    ~KRG
    | Posted on 2007-10-02 00:00:00 | by Sheakhan | [ Reply to This ]


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