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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Man.dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Joachim
    ASL Info:    75 Male RSA
    Elite Ratio:    5.39 - 361/264/178
    Words: 413
    Class/Type: Poetry/Mirror or Mask
    Total Views: 374
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2769



    Description:
       A bit of what shall I say?


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

    dotsMan.dots
    -------------------------------------------


    Man.

    Mentally construed Intricacy computed
    Liquid motivated Conceit activated
    And he Was!

    Programming every event Meticulously so
    Conspicuously Dead!

    Until the Word was Spoken and Mechanical Man
    Awakened from his Slumber from his Submersion
    into Nothingness to greet a new Dawn.

    Sunrise Noon Sunset A Journey through Time
    with Eternity shimmering on a Horizon
    still covered in the Mists of Ancient Equity
    Recycling.

    The Sun will rise in the East touching with warm Fingers
    the lingering fragments of the Mist of the Night. .

    A New World Awakens in the West
    the creatures of the Night Mother silently debate:
    Shall we linger on shall we be Silent Sheltered in the folds
    of our Darkness.Await another Night.

    The Sun creeps steadily along itís Path of Light
    Sending a message of Bliss with Caressing Fingers
    dipped in Dew Inviting all to Play.

    The camel-masters linger on the edge of the Oases
    Where Palm Shadows remain guarding The Clear Blue waters
    a Breeze softly murmuring a Song so ancient
    The Sirenís Song a melody alluring them to Stay

    Daylight moves lazily along the boulevard
    Beauty Dazzling Bowls of colour
    folding in Shadows Urchins at their play
    those wistfully daring the math Masterís efforts
    to equal their abstract play by multiplying the efforts
    of the Bakerís wife to keep their fingers adding cookies at bay.

    Noon appears from Above Silently with contentment watching
    over Creation. Warm and bright unrelenting on its Way.
    Creations Slumbers once again!

    In the West the Sunset is eagerly impatiently waiting
    to adorn with its multicolor Cloak the labors of the Day.
    Scarlet and Blues Orange and Grays announcing the coming of the Night Mother
    whose Children will touch all with Moonbeams and Silence and Silvery Wisps
    Of Mists so Ancient so Antique a Game in hide and seek.

    Once again Life has completed a Full Circle.
    Witches Brooms and gargoyle urchins come out to Play.

    Man wills Transverse Time
    Conquer the Elements of Nature
    Create Abundance
    But!
    He will never escape his Heritage!
    Mechanical Man. Timeless Machine.
    He Became a Soul!


































    Submitted on 2008-08-30 13:14:29     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    Rate This Submission

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    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      this was a pleasure to read, the rhythmic lulls and spikes pulled off superbly. the subjects you ponder over: of man, this technological age we inhabit, and the beauties of nature were illustrated with dashing effect.

    great stuff.

    | Posted on 2008-08-31 00:00:00 | by discombobulated | [ Reply to This ]
      there were a few typos here, but i glanced over some of your other works and decided to not even point them out because...

    i've been here for a while. and dude, you're talented. i read this one aloud twice over, and it has the distinct feel of a performance piece. almost as though this were meant to be read at some poetry slam venue.

    the first few stanzas drew me in with the fractaled imagery that just drew me in with no time to respond, and kept on giving throughout the entire piece.

    i interpreted this one as follows.

    no matter how a man decides to keep his mind or creative spirit entertained, he shall succumb his finally destiny, which lies in death.

    for as a creator,, in order for us to exist in this plane, we were created. fathers of sons and yet sons of fathers. reality is such an abstract metaphor for completion that we sometimes become lost in the very bowels of that which completes us. in my case that would be poetry.

    now i interpreted liquid motivated conceit as one of two things either

    alcohol
    or
    tears induced by something
    so thats what i meant by you drug me along the entire read.

    excellent write, and i grazed some others. i want to stalk you but i fear i have o room, well perhaps i can make some. i faved this piece for ya. keep writing, and thanks for the read
    Aerosol.
    | Posted on 2008-08-30 00:00:00 | by Loquacious Mind | [ Reply to This ]


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