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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: mi(d)stdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Black Rock Tractor
    Elite Ratio:    3.78 - 555/824/140
    Words: 126
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 678
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 843



    Description:
       


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

    dotsmi(d)stdots
    -------------------------------------------


    time finds me
    in the midst once again

    no surprise to anyone

    no surprise

    but, there is a but -
    time and space
    have found me hiding within the depths
    of the recesses of
    the incessant condition that is
    being human

    Yet in the mist, my reprieve:

    time is a sequence
    among many;
    it binds this poem only,
    not its meaning.
    And even then it fails.

    Infinity is the only thing
    and here it has been written infinitely

    as have we.

    Death is nonexistent,
    for in our infinite world,
    so are all things.

    so though i may die today,
    so i live and am born
    infinitely.

    Heaven is wisdom, Hell a state of being.




    Submitted on 2011-03-26 02:57:21     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I like the feel of this, it is strangely calming and familiar. Thoughts such as these are those that linger on the edge, just peeking in when the distractions are busy bothering someone else. Yes, true poetry.
    | Posted on 2011-03-28 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      Great poem. Oddly comforting to me at this hour of the night. At first I shirked from the title , but it's actually very clever. To be in the midst of something that isn't really tangible: mist. And the tone of the resulting poem, was lofty but called for. Very effective I think, as far as a poem goes, but I just wanted to say I liked it, explaining why is probably needless.
    | Posted on 2011-03-26 00:00:00 | by Raphael | [ Reply to This ]
      not even time binds the meaning of a poem---

    as in "ars poetica" motionless in time as the moon climbs"
    a poem stands the test of time...and it is a part of us that will remain forever...even as this moment passes in which we write it...

    poetry is that part of us that will matter today, tomorrow and long after that if it is a good poem...yes, even as we live this hell on earth...heaven is the wisdom in the words that remains eternal...

    damn fine piece here

    jacob
    | Posted on 2011-03-26 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
      Well now , as strange as it might seem of our sentient abilities to conceive of the infinite I'm not sure this is going to preternatural supersede death . Although there are some who would argue that the sheer fact of our existence gives us an intrinsic affinity with eternity I'm not sure this is corporeally finite going to be sooth . On the other hand perhaps God will turn out to be the transcendentally existential he translucence appears to be of teleportationally telecommunicational . After all on the plenary plenipotentiary there is room for all on the fiduciary principle up fiscal policy to financially responsible . Then again perhaps he's not so frugal of equitable and will simply blow us all away and start over . What's to agnostic christian tell you .

    Bruce
    | Posted on 2011-03-26 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      A deep realization poem.

    This makes me feel like an existing plonker, distinctive but always thinking about time.
    And the fact that about Poetry personally, something about it that calms me down, pushing thoughts of death to the back of my mind or out of the cerebellum glimpse to understand an aspect of, extensive to it.

    Hell is a state of being a mess and a bad sense of scratchiness in filth.Heaven comes with wisdom of knowing what do with time and to comprehend infinite things, even in compatibilities, possibilities and hardships.

    In the midst of time we struggle but does not mean we cannot prevail.

    People are prone to having excuses towards time but not everyone.
    I think short and hard on poetic matters like this.

    Every brain vessel and it's current mental affair.
    The more time flies, thoughts of mine I force to fly faster.

    You even learn to pace the thinking.Time corrects us and wounds heal because of it alone.
    | Posted on 2011-03-26 00:00:00 | by Rex Gold | [ Reply to This ]


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