Anima Digitum

Failing to sail.

The winds of change drawing us in again,
To a state never the same but flowing from within.
As sails hail the coming of Gail force winds,
So does the sun and mighty restraints undone.

Here comes the beach that never falters,
Allowing us to reach beyond shallow waters.
Come now and do not fear the fall,
For only in darkness do we know how to stand tall.

Tumbling down empty beer bottles
Just to remember how to go full throttle.
Throttling necks with suits and tie;
Throttling love with poisoned minds eye.

Toppling expectations to face ruination
And only to turn round and find redemption.
So let natural selection batter and make us bleed
For we are only tested in our time of need.

Standard
Anima Digitum

So now it makes sense…

“So where the fuck have you been” he said in an ever pale expression. The other man shrugs “I’ve been away, man, away.”, almost insulted by the lackluster answer, the pale faced man, so frail from smoking weed and subsisting on cereals, retorted as if he’d been wronged before. “You been ‘away’? What the fuck does that mean? You been lost up your own fucking dickheaded, cunt for an arse.” The other man, now not even addressing the query directly, just starts talking about what he wants to hear. “I’ve come out of a cave, where men don’t do but speak before their words become echoes. I have been alive. I’ve been dead. I’ve been crazy, pretty much hated and loved at the same time. I don’t know when I’ll ever feel that way again, freely chaotic and loose. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll fuckin tell you what, I’ve lived 3 lifetimes in 4 years and all you’ve got to say to me is ‘you must be lost up your arse’.” The other man shows his height, adjusting his belt in fury at both his pale, angry friend and the fact he had been adjusting since his commute.

The tall man now paces towards his friend with a solemn face, trying to shape his face to match his heart and not his tired feet. The sweat dripping off of his chin as he ponders for a second on just how much it would be worth putting this person in their place. He opened his mouth to annunciate a word, stopped for a second, then continued on. “You know what? I don’t need this shit, I really don’t, who the fuck are you anyway? My back up, less than a friend on the mend? What the fuck do you have? You have fuck all and now I’ve been to university, you know what the difference between us is? Fuck. all. However, lemme say something real quick!-” the tall man insists. “motherfucker I have walked away with purpose, I have the drive of a dumbass and now I have the key!”.

The day had only gotten hotter, the park grounds dried up as the paler man asked a question, almost with pained boredom. “What the fuck are you on about”. The taller man grinned, lay back on the grass slowly, closed his eyes and just said “No matter how good of a liar you are, you can always tell intent. I have come back with intent”. The tall man slowly drifts off to sleep and dreams of long nights in a bar. Adventures more far away than can be fully recoiled, but strangely with a smile on his face. His dreams would no longer be dreams and his memories forgotten. What was left… what was left was a man.

“Oh dear it seems I’m still quite unclear like misty rear view mirrors, horrible visions makes for delightful pick me ups,

Such is the life, such is your strife, such is the man with no words to speak. Looking pretty bleak from down low,

But it depends if he blew it off slow. Reliving each moment with every tug, utter destroying what made it to finally

Display it’s purpose. The worst has yet to come.

Standard
Anima Digitum

An open note to writers.

As of late I have been very inactive on both sites and I shall soon be resuming my posts on another site exclusively. In my absence from those who know me personally, I have accumulated quite a strong case of being dead inside and working to live and living to work; we all know how it goes. However, as a few of you should know I left with a few ideas in mind when it comes to projects; one of these projects is quickly coming into fruition. I am currently working on a set study on the natures of rhyme as a tool and as feeling.

Now I’m not going to use my usual metaphoric language to explain this;

  • To form complex rhythmic thoughts can be thought of on a technical level (i.e. letters, syllables etc)…
  • …Verses the more core content at what is being said.
  • To understand poetry as art but art as a specific expressive medium; poetry is accessible and as such is often considered a ‘lower’ form of art,

These are the core areas of focus I am currently focused on, so my question to you is:

  • When you write poetry, is it an expression of you, a persona, a thought or feeling? Some metaphysical concept? etc
  •  When you think about how it should sound, are you thinking of it in terms of it’s content or technical word-play?
  • Do you consider poetry something quite close to you or something that stands apart from you (‘just a hobby’)?
Standard
Anima Digitum

And As Is Stood, So Shall Stand.

Written immaculately in imperative late lyrics in the airs, hope was there but the
Stares got to her and made her fade. Made her jaded, only to play dead for a penny as
The succulunt ideal drifts into passion and fades into doubt. Oh dear, is this what is
Feared? Heavy breathing on the backs of defiant giants, powerful but depraved.

So… what is it to write, what is it to rhyme? Nobody really knows, but as they keep on crowing it’s just a poorman’s showcase. An emotion laced with fleeting teeth trying to get some relief. Is it ever honest to forget? What was met ten times in broken frames of mind can only be said so many ways that rhyme. Or so say they on display, they that would

bring dismay. Little do they know there has been meaning in absence, fragile to the tone
bone but getting your mind blown just doesn’t do it here. I am not going to be posting old poems but new expression. To explain the struggle of life, is to endure insecure torture. When your talent is being broken, new windows start to open.

See you soon

Standard
Anima Digitum

It’s never enough

You may put a number to my words,
Slurring thoughts supposedly taught and
Bought from hands turned towards fraudulent
Hordes. Did it ever occur that

Boredom has swept my mind? filling
In dotted lines, pining for a sign that the
One and only love from above reciprocates
But what I get barely fascinates and just

Debilitates my ability to facilitate a gift.
Now the eyes shift into a sigh of arrogance
But let me fill you in. My sin was always
Anger. Anger, strangling at being afraid,

Being laid bare with none that cared,
Even when I was scared. I couldn’t
Dare blare rare ideas over years for fear
Of more tears from leering stares.

Trapped in an entrapping snare. “Be a man,
Why do you care about this shit if you’re something?”
By every definition I’m nothing surrounded
By unfounded and ungrounded dead eyes

That despise the wise and hypnotise with false cries.
I’m not trying to lift myself up by lying
But confiding in you a certain truth. A feeling
That’s more real but can’t be sealed in words

But in every verse laid out in the dirt,
Like footsteps in desertous outskirts
I’m treading ground no one has as
Passion goes unnoticed. Do you feel out of focus?

Reel at my rage? do you understand
That every page created is left for dead,
Because free thought is like sewer venom
To academia. Even if you see you can’t

Dream as I do, you don’t have a clue.
But is it not my due? In lewd thoughts
As the one caught in confusion. Maybe
It’s delusion but I can’t help feeling

Drawn and sworn to not conform as
If I was born with a mission. I just
Want someone to listen, my life is not an
Intermission but like fission, powerful and

Soulfully fraught with existence. Hindrance
By questions since consequence became
conscience, am I dense or full of false providence?
Don’t know but this flow comes from somewhere,

Why do I care? Because laws stall this
Life call and I don’t know what
It even is, synthesis in this life long
Quiz and incision; kissing my mind,

Making me grind time away with nothing
To say isn’t good enough. I am not a clutter
Of stuff or a bluff cuffed and snuffed out
By bout after bout of loud mouthed sour

Flouting false kings. Bringing lingering praise
From long gone days into a haze of suffering.
Buffering delusion, “how do you do it,
what’s that secret song you sing?”

No clear answer just pampered fast
Words so devoid of toyed concepts. Like
A pair of forceps used to bring forth
The abortion that is your inflated self worth.

You may call and forewarn this as crass,
With the many things you pull out of your ass
But my sass is true, simply because of you.
Leaving divorced minds black and blue;

If you have a passion but no tassel
To unravel or camel to travel along the road
You’re born for, how can you break but not be torn
By this forlorn journey. This shit is poor,

I want more than a tour but raw outlawed
Thoughts, sought but yet found; fighting whilst
Off the ground. Left beaten down and slithering sound,
We’re simmering now, blow for blow and no witness in tow.

I’m not to trust as I thrust waters,
Bursting forth with lion like roar
Seeing like an unborn sworn to tear
This shit up, Never giving up living.

Raise your middle finger in the air
Until someone notices and stares.
They may stop playing flay the dismayed
And stop paying attention to what is displayed,

As if life is laid out with no doubt.
I want an out to this slanted, barely
Well handled candle we understand to be
Soul. Don’t die or grow old with no hand

To fold, there are thoughts untold, for
The bold are sure but the enlightened are
Poor. What am I talking to you for, lauding
An audience barely aware of existential sentience,

Just building soldered fences and
Penting up sentences they’ll never say
In fear of not being clever. Severe the cord
And sow some discord on life’s blackboard.

Living a life we can’t afford any more,
In balance of opposing stance. Can’t even
Believe in blinded binds, rescinding the kindling
That powers the soul, do you ever feel cold?

You probably think that, understandably,
It’s not your responsibility to think beyond
Tomorrow. What, you gonna follow and
Do what you’re told because when you grow

Old you want a pension and some pretension?
Do you want to live or give everything you have?
Are you sad or complacent? Damned or sacred?
Taking away everything since you were a kid.

Are you angry or can you not stand
me? I’m not here to please but make
Feasible the unbelievable and bring trouble
From under the rubble, like a couple

Of subtle Hubble telescopes, Huddled but
Full of hope. Let me widen the scope
And give you some rope. Do you really
Believe the shit that they tote?

As they sit and smoke, choking on egos
Which seed those throws that keep you
Up at night. Filling your mind’s eye with
A barrage of mirages, keeping you from looking to the stars.

Break free from the bars, become broken and
Scarred. Even if you don’t get far you’ll have
One card nobody else can deal, become real, stand and
Don’t be bland and rot on this pale blue dot in a strand of stars.

You want fast cars? or do you truly,
Foolishly think you’re free?
It’s not hard to see but easier to
Believe when no hope chokes your throat.

Begging for a window to know that there’s
A way off this boat, I don’t want to
Gloat but more people keep to themselves,
Content with being in hell. Are they alive

Or living a lie? It’s hard to tell how far
They fell or if they can even tell but the
Dinner bell rings for mindless people,
Too devoid to think as they sink young

Optimism into drink after drink and before
They even blink they’re six feet under.
Do you ever wonder what happens when you die?
If anyone will cry or if the man in the sky

Is a lie? If you’ll be understood or if you
Could or should of made a difference by pen
Or penitence. It doesn’t make sense, Why
Do you lie like the devil in disguise, like prying

Eyes despise you as if you have a clue;
Blue in the face as you live your ever loving disgrace.
Keeping pace with fiddling arms as they charm
You into being undone.

Come now, you knew where this was going,
Flowing like a river, in a direction of
Ill-perfection but no lecture will lead to
New conjecture. Just a few long gone

Freedoms that you bleed for but never realise
You’ve been hypnotised by cynical mind sets
Duly wept. You upset yet? The passage of
Time will tell only stories that will fit well.

Too bad the truth is ugly, like the light
Of the sun it’ll be tinted behind glasses
Masking everlasting contrast to those who
Let loose of this noose with every breath, bone and tooth.

Standard
Anima Digitum

The Rising Sun

Who am I turning into blue moon?
Did I lose control is it just cause
That these flaws break through too
Much? Such a hard life ahead, I may

Be dead. When all is said and done
Did I have fun? Stunned at the lost,
Slowly fostered to who I am but man
I am not hot anymore; I’m no Peter Pan.

Maybe I can’t stand fanning flames already
Lame. I thought this was a game which
Itched at a wound grooved like a noose
Round my neck. Funny thing is I’m not upset,

Not just yet. Can I make it? Is this thing
Fixed on this sick rail road track? It feels
Like the end and I didn’t even get to pretend
To live. Is it not enough? All that I gave?

Minimal gains behind reindeer reins, nay don’t
shush me I already lose sleep. Seeping in sink holes
I didn’t dig for signature big missteps with no foul
Etiquette. Bless this mess one more time because I am

Dying for a sign. No more lies for some potato pie,
Nigh unstoppable but lovable even under self-pitying rubble.
I feel like I’m in trouble for cause a rumble;
Numbing my fumbling eyes.

Limitless spinnerets forgetting fresh
Sessions blessed with mid-wife strife.
Alright then, hen party? nasty fast creeps
Leaping in tall falling towers for

The powers that be won’t come mesmerise
Me; I am free to belate constipated
Wisdom. As if real kingdoms answer to
No-one we must be accountable for all but one.

Such is the nature of the rising sun…

Standard
Anima Digitum

Unseen

Location lost, forest with laws at her behest;
Unless confessed hearts do depart it cannot start right.
Stuck in ice, luck wit thrice blows
To the nose flows in tow.

Crowing minds grind honed bones on
Shallow thrones. Kingly crows we can barely
Understand land exempt from unsaid messages.
So easy for us to be mislead,

Eyes dearly wept but those secrets kept
Unchecked bled dry. Don’t lie with crying sigh
Endowing deniers as scholastic town criers;
Like burning tyres leaving swift mistake.

Let us sign hers, focused defiers ride in
Mental steeds received down blown nay sayers.
Layers still letting me believe deeper receding
Thoughts but all is darkness and naught.

Fraught tautologies sighing reality yet why can’t
I see, pleading faces for days is sadist but so afraid
Of this. Dark ink still the therapist, listing consisting
Sombre properties but just trust lust, please.

Just for once, don’t drive limited spirit to set
In lit seance. Long gone songs drawn in crayon
Flay beyond fond donned memory; a long
Forgotten melody you would have hung on

Gallows sounding frowns bemoaned. So on
New roads swiftly carved but ever delivered,
Into dreams slithered dark thoughts brought
To an art. What a tart taught lesson

Never learned in dear heart. Torn apart but
Tutted with no chance to start. Carting
New implications on sensations send to lend
Rending contemplation with liveliness sinking to less.

Less. Less than what? To more than ought,
Caught tectonically in sonnet beneath we.
When nihilism is free; everything in nothing
Bleeding something finally seen.

Standard
Anima Digitum

Winter

Do you ever dream of summer
In the city we came from?
Is that spell your under tame
Or ten tonne madness in lyrical song?

Trust issues. Constant misuse
Of a mind you must abuse.
Your short fuse loses it,
Contorts and diffuses it

As confusion is spit. Splittering
This fine thing, ring ring I got it.
A fond voice down the phone,
Despite the fact that nobody is home.

You’re not alone in spite of your
Fateful tone. Your defeated groan,
Belittling necessary growth. take it from
Word of mouth, this is just the beginning.

Silently winning, leaving heads still spinning
in reverberation of the nation.
Don’t be late, son!
It’s only a finite window in the closing gate.

Too bad it’s a hunger neither of us can sate,
Though the madness we are under stands tall.
Contemplate! Meditate to mediate
A much needed transition into embraced fission,

Our final mission. If you listen and
Look you won’t have far ’til you’re shook.
Loose waves draw you in, chemical sin.
Don’t let the cynical in.

Just ride this miracle win,
Like a fool’s rave. A cool gaze
Across a clouded room.
A familiar tone.

Almost sinister in change across a membrane
That always seems to switch lanes
From the insane to some kind of fame,
A dance and sway.

Never say never because
It’s clever to sever from societal tether.
Encased in criminal leather
On immanent feathers.

Looking into forever for my ever
Lusting, gasping fervour for more
Of a life that was torn away.
Just wish to be born again.

Standard
Anima Digitum

Owed

How long has it been
My very keen friend
Since you let me bend and toil
In red hot oil.

A ravenous foil to subtle insight,
All consuming and fatal;
Gluttonous and unfaithful.
Now broken and unhateful.

No longer tainted by shame and guilt
Of rage. Finally faithful and old the same.
I am not timid or insipid
But limitless and war bound.

No longer a warrior without a cause
Or left in awe at others. I will pause no more.
Angry energy no longer trapped and stored.
Something to be feared and abhorred, but

Steered with applause ignored.
Not nice or subject to fate’s cruel dice,
Simply clear as ice, raw and unconformed.
Sworn to more sacrifice of flaws.

Constantly reborn; longingly forlorn.
No more flux, no more change.
After wishful hope there is only rage,
Feeling the escape from this cage.

Bound by weeping chains
Only to be torn apart
By the sound of sweeping rage.
An old age made anew, a brand new start.

But do not pity, sweetheart.
For it met with petty
Mental genocide. The hide grows thicker
with every moan whimpered.

Emotion no longer simmered
Under a pretence of kindness.
Perpetual and motionless blindness
To the conceptual reflection of mindlessness.

Raw and feeling the walls a creaking,
As if they were speaking secrets
To let kind whisper turn to regret.
A net ill designed to keep the will of the mind.

Confined. But I don’t mind, as you’ll find
On this humble rewind, prisoners don’t stumble
Or fumble in a presence full of pretence.
Wardens so dense they forget the lock.

But not the key. Stuttering as they see me
Before I am even free. Forsworn to
Like before the knife, before chemical strife.
Sensual night born on cynical life,

Final times; not quite.
As eyes peer through mind
With daggers finely refined
Through impossible times.

New nautical precision
But through hope I listen.
Stop this self induced division
And shelf the mechanical fission

Of me and my self criticism.
Who are you in the end?
A target for your rage to spend?
Or a mirror as I age, A tiring age.

A wearied sage on this page
Trying to escape from this stage
Full of laughter that isn’t there.
Nothing of which I must beware.

A rage that forever stares,
Glares at a lever for my demise.
Stand strong young one
You owe no one.

Standard
Anima Digitum

Finally, A Goodbye (I Am)

Can I ever have peace
With these sweeping emotions I reap?
Seeking distraction through constant inaction,
Only ever sinking into frustration.

No more shall the redeemed be deceived,
No more will the self esteem be restricted;
Freed and ever again convicted
By malice unconceived.

Need to get out of here,
Away from mundane cheer.
Sway under ten tonne fear,
No more.

No more for you
All the more for me;
Forsworn to you.
Calling as if I will answer

To your tormenting cancer
But there is rage in my heart.
Where to start? With my age?
That I should grow up and turn the page?

Never feign my care, feeling my
False hope. This is how I cope.
I look for you, I look for freedom
Like some worn out trope.

All that is left is anger,
Anger I can’t stand to bare.
I seek a target to fight
So that I might save us both our suffering.

Little did I know, through my benign muttering,
The one utter thing to fight is me.
Have I got it down to a tee?
Do I turn my anger inwards or flee?

Except that is not what I need,
A plead to myself to limit, to hinder,
To hide behind marks. “Are you alright?”
No, and here is why.

If I was to lie and say I am well;
That what I tell is what I am.
I am rage, not staged or made
Bare by fist and stare.

I am rage. Rage at friendships death-knell.
Rage at lesser men with lesser problems.
Rage at never being zen with messier problems.
Rage at life’s dying light.

In brightest day, in blackest night
No greatness shall be hidden from sight.
For those fearful of my might, beware my power.
Self achieved insight. I am rage.

Standard
Anima Digitum

To Friends

Probably the worst poem I’ve written so far whilst drunk, for your viewing pleasure.

Can’t flout irresistible emotion twisted
By years of tears and fears standing
In front of me so clearly near me, but
I won’t flee. Gonna keep what I see in you

My intellectual heartfelt crew. You are
My black and blue. Few can understand
Bland quicksand and can we just
Make loving a must; nothing but breathing.

My seething self hatred is no longer dread
Because instead my friends lend strength
At length. Sensing unrelenting blinds to my minds eye
Which cries lit signs of failing wailing sayings.

Tom from sunny skies inside the mind finds
All who stand tall alone on stone thrones.
Not as dead as bones he said whilst led by
Binding darkness and believes lies far less.

But I must confess trust never could ever be
Easier. Ewan stewing through that voice
Leaving no choice, coy to his intelligence;
Always mentally fencing. Collectively selective of his words.

Which is absurd, like a nerd third in place.
Case closed but he doesn’t even know how much he’s
Grown, flown over our heads and fed large false visage;
He is not but blotting out his light.

Gotta fight dark days says the wise
One upon lofty hill tops. Beat my hip
Till I flop and drop on uneven sleepy
Feelings I’ll be keeping deep in my weeping eye.

Crying a sigh from more like Emily, Needing
Appeasing leashes on unsoulful pieces. You need
Not strop old thoughts you thought bought
By time and practice. You are no less and a

Blessed cerebral goddess. Stressed like your kin in
Rolling hills and picture stills. Filled soul
Whole cold when you’ve blended in with us,
Trust. You’re a must because our flaws

Are yours and yours ours. Stars as far
As the eye can see side by side, confiding with
Eternity. Odd how now old folds become wounds
Again. Stain my lame sight with fright.

Night grows thin in my skin but finished
Are diminished actions in spasming contractions.
Rob, a fraction of the man who stands
In only a way he can understand.

Don’t let his masterplan brand you a fool,
His cool speech is more than preachers
Keeping untold secrets. He lets you see less
Of sights blighted by cheap threats.

So the sun sets on undying bets as I
Let Freddie steadily seed freed enthusiasm
To harsh sarcasm. You cannot fathom the caverns
This man dug from under dusty rugs,

Mistook for cookey mooks shook by drive-by
lyrical potency. So he does for us what
He will for the next irking circle. Lurking
Back is Jake Stones following roads untold.

I’ve sold tales told in spoiled greatness
But to those who know let this rhythm flow
In synonym grown from shown likeness in kindness and no less
Blessed stressed sessions rending our souls; no longer pretending.

As if offending lent prying eyes at our
Collective demise. Hanno, Camille, I cannot speak ill.
You still mean everything to this nothing.
Conor and Mike, you always get me psyched.

Matt, Chisara, so far away but sway
Through life like hells angels before
The bell toll. Katy, Anna, hit me with
A well needed spanner to fan a fire

And sire old parts admired whilst
So very tired. Set a trapped deed free
To see what a gazelle looks like in hell.
Fell together but bound forever on

Friendship’s tether. Now I end with
Disappointing flutter as my mind’s clutter
Clutches Essex in essence.
Forever with me in presence.

Standard
Anima Digitum

Good To Be Back

Been a ghost town
Since my voice hasn’t been around,
Stinks like Lazarus and twelve hounds.
Finally found a crowd that’s pleasing

But there won’t be any appeasing
Or freely sleezing on these murky seas.
So please believe me and don’t get queezy
With hidden meaning.

Who are we kidding,
Low are those that need spoon feeding
And bleeding hearts to get a head start.
Let us just agree to blow them apart.

This is our art; our hearts,
Not a lyrical wall-mart.
Never uttering minimal up-start
And never falling short like Bonaparte.

Got the gall for calling out product
Whilst stalling for expression, this is not luck,
We are not stuck in confession
And we don’t need your blessing.

Just pure artistic sessions;
No lure of realistic essence.
For sure an exercise in sadistic pleasantries
Made free in anonymous expression.

So many of us! Not ready for us.
Almost always oozing steady pus
For the rest who can’t be fussed!
Be it a blessing or a curse.

We are you at your worst
The thoughts you never let out first
For fear of being emotionally searched,
Irking until it is dangerous.

Steadily contagious in our range as such.
Quivering pen with purest clutch
And a lens you dare not touch.
Searing it down to the ludicrous.

This may not mean much
To the uninitiated mass duds.
The fast slugs with mad thoughts,
Stand back when you’re being taught:

With blessed lighters firmly held
We are the Essex writers circle.
With fertile head in hand
We are the ones with no master plan.

No fans and no promised land.
No need for you to understand;
No Peter Pan and no Neverland,
Just something you can’t grasp. Grains of sand.

Standard
Anima Digitum

First Love

The quiet one in the corner,
A beauty unlike any other;
So unsure of yourself at the best of times.
Let me put my love for you in rhyme.

We met through a friend in kind.
He really set the trend, “you two will be fine”.
Long blonde hair died in black,
I never knew that once we met there would be no turning back.

You invited me over, into your life
little did you know your presence, your light.
You shaped me you know;
Shaped me for the better, giving me flow.

An inbetweeners episode on a family computer
As you leaned your head against my shoulder.
Laughing at my jokes and exploring science
It was like an internal emotional defiance.

I never let anyone in, except for you
As no one gave me a chance, I was too black and blue.
I thought it was true, all the hopelessness
But I never knew kindness like you.

You had all the reason to be moody and mean,
But with courage and purity of heart,
You let me feel what it was like
To be part of your team.

Two against the world, high or on a bus
Awkward teenagers, never creating a fuss.
Lying in bed I sometimes shed a tear
For your presence that was so dear.

We fell in love in the pale light
Of a tiny blue dot, embracing ever so tight.
Your grey-green eyes are forever with me
No matter how dark it gets in my dreams.

Once my lover, forever my family and friend
I am proud to call you kin like no other.
We argue and fight
But in the end we’d be alright.

Upon inspection we fell in love thrice
But I only need the once to be enticed.
Your milky skin, that of which you were ashamed
To me like a piece of the moon, elegant white flame.

Standard
Anima Digitum

(A not quite) Tortured Soul.

Internal struggle.
Eternal greatness and utter shame
Long gone, over silky hills that never crumble.
Stumbling around meaningless walls.

Just trying to stall
Before the fall to
Paradise. All for you
Once upon a time.

Now ideas never quite obtained,
For a medium without master’s eye
Is half the experience, half the time.
Yet I bring tears with my rhyme

So they are spent, just in time.
Deeper pools in deeper caves
Made superficial but some what insane.
Remember what was abandoned

And stranded with what is left.
Stop mourning such petty theft,
left bereft and sombre.
Can’t help but wonder,

Did you leave me alone
To see if there really was a person
Made out of stone?
Then let it be said:

Never again left for dead,
To die is for the dead.
Strength from bravery,
Such is life!

Compassion in loneliness,
Such is the lie.
So undeniably fine,
Mind lost to rhythm and Rhyme.

Don’t feel afraid inside.
Since rising from sand and time
Through line after line
Of thinking about anything but you.

Just a slew of constant memories
And deeds which can be lost.
As the unwilling hand clutches,
Craving an old touch.

All the air leaves the body
And a word barely escapes.
Trying to reconcile
A desperate escape.

Slowly moving through mind’s eye
Crying in awe of love’s lie.
Triumphant return
Of a long overturned lie.

Finally ready to see
What need be
Of old songs
Made anew with foundations strong.

Seeping away from an old shell.
Stay in true form.
Scarred but nothing new;
Just wise eyes, that don’t believe in pride.

Every stroke made in shadowy stride,
Stopping not for a second,
Not until it is felt inside.
As the guide takes flight to a long lost paradise.

Standard
Anima Digitum

Meditation on life.

Life is a learning process, such is the life of philosopher and living spirit alike. All beings seek goodness and only in striving is it attained, not as a destination but as a journey. Do not be afraid of being ignorant, embrace it. We are contingent beings stuck in the absolute of life; we relearn the same lessons. The same truths. Not out of forgetting but out of being obscured. Being lost. We get lost to be found. Paradoxical in nature and tautological through nurture, throw away one and you neglect the other. That is, without striving for truth we do not experience our paradoxical wonder. Bad thoughts are the paradoxical nature manifest, like a snake consuming it’s own tail out of existential hunger. Simply put, they are part of you but not all of you. You are neither good nor bad, brave or cowardly. You are a fleeting moment. Not even a whisper or whimper. A cosmological accident making sense of it all.

Just chill. xo

Standard