Thought Text

Attuned to Opportunity

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 02:02:00 +0000

and the world's arms will open
to guide you,
provided your trust is without peer,
your equanimity disdains unraveling,
and your lungs are open to nascent air.

a drift across seminal blunders
stirs keys from their resting space,
pries portholes beyond thresholds,
sees to it that light will deftly bound.

best tinged by wills in flow
is the discovered shine,
the absented shadow,
the breath behind the veil
giving form to thinnest wail.

To Die Fighting

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 00:54:00 +0000

giving away a long abused dream
i cannot help but hate myself,
know in my guts that time is blind
to my damning inflammation of the will
to abandon each albatross mind conceives.

and i am so angry with you for trilling my heart
with aging promises prior to their age.
you two who tattooed nothing but a borderline
between innocence and possibility.

let me lose the day they were born
rather than to lose them now,
when love exists as it has never before,
within me a stranger still, but growing.

the past is never terrible, it is only too true.
what can i do, in the face and spirit of this day?
if nothing else, i will not allow for attrition's reign.

How the Self Denies Unity, pt. 372

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 19:44:00 +0000

to obsess over placement
is to undress an attitude
that itself may require
change of its hearth.

can it be clearly stated,
that within without's all
is its absolute depiction
of a center born apart
from its intended potential?

and autumn is not so far from winter
as we make it, with intolerable bitching.

Obvious by Concentrated Glance

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 19:10:00 +0000

control and its absence are regulatory fiends,
driving the rush toward pontification
amongst a throng ill at ease and easily made ill.

what terrific cycles of frustrated fruition
are caused by simplicities compounded
for a perceived lack of their invincible scope.

done as it will be, crenulated are the psyches
of each of us, with such maddening definition
as to blind the eye to rudimentary understanding,
much less the complex topographies we claim to know.

freedom free from fences is the only mature inclination.

Foolishly

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 22:15:00 +0000

by name only
does division occur,
and with it
the loutish veins of man.

A Quandary to Fathom

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 01:18:00 +0000

necessary mediation is sometimes disguised
by distances of bewildering inception,
their volume created by haste, against reason.

the surprising quality of the unfolding bemusement
is littered with dreams that woke too soon
and seasons whose fruition was never attained.

how will a child come to grasp the ways of his direction?
how can any two steer so wrongly from beginning to end?

victims unaware, the little selves of selfish generation.

Proper Place, Proper Time

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 01:50:00 +0000

the dislocation of exhaustion
should not incite lethargy,
rather, a palpable nobility
may be attained by a steeled resolution,
not unlike the craft it takes to rend from air
its vicious and glorious energy, oft unseen.

periodic rebirth lays volition its curved track,
guiding transition toward spaces unknown
and gracious, simplistic in their reception
of equally unknown, courageous travelers.

brought forward, absent of fear, by patient
curiosity and sensual investigation,
an agile intimation is born within its locus.

It Is Unlike the Many Bullshit Dreams of the Past

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 03:13:00 +0000

chasing a careening demon
'round echoes flayed of self,
weaves heave to heart,
every other breath
a pantomime framed by outrage,
each step forward
a plunge beloved by death.

its age dictates neither
knowledge nor fear, it travels
at a rate deemed fit by my
legitimate pursuit of an assembly of chaos.

virtue and its marksmen seem everywhere but here,
the place where a man denied himself, fell backward
over time, and did not know where to begin, all anew.

Open v. Closed

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 05:18:00 +0000

seeming stability knows no truth,
fruitless and befriended by none,
save idle warriors, drunk with pain.

an amusing determination seeps
into those born of a tendency to
thrill by hoisting useless threats
into airs absent of determination,
ballooned by a poor sense of life.

the fastidious are the champions
burrowed beneath the surface of
our engagement with the earth,
properly channeling reverberations
come from stations curved, entire.

The Marvelous Ocean

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 21:01:00 +0000

one chord strung
between then and now,
played in minor,
by major trends.

echoed across
magnificence
and magnificent death,
the virtuous moments
of life, long pledged
to gathering ripples
and their wild centers.

in peace does solidity abound,
aware of its indebtedness
to an ethereal intangible core.

the basis of infinity is sound.

Upward, Sunlit

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 19:56:00 +0000

why what is wrung from time
enervates one while
invigorating another
is not to be written or spoken
by anyone with a mind to shine.

disengagement from a tired form
may come without rapidity.
embrace it as you would any whole,
free of sketched wide boundaries.

Untitled 012012

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 02:57:00 +0000

the volume at which control is destroyed
varies for all,
not a one of us privy to the solemn coarse lair
from which identity is twilled
till we face one another,
memorable patterns along an indeterminable edge.

vicious by default, there are centuries which contain
some good,
the weight of it harboring dreams and actions illuminative
to the brink of disaster,
where meditation dissolves
and invaluable integration begins its dynamic expansion.

a curve between prominent pentameters
succors relations that may otherwise
run the worldwide gamut
from befriending introduction to voracious murder,
whereupon one comes into contact
with valuelessness and its knell.

Fitful Groans of the Fictitious Great

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 02:11:00 +0000

expression confounded by expression bold,
compounded by an exhaustion old,
marks clean a territory with claims superior
to youthful thriving within an optimum clime.

one memory strictly pitted against another's lack
does not forebear an easily expressible outcome.

a tendency to find grievance marks the face
with scars that cannot be managed,
not by the loveliest of possible saviors.

and age has nothing to do with time. it's more
bolstered by the growth of doubt, shame, fear,
and an obstinate allegiance with an abstract stone
that does not change in accordance with water or wind,
disbelieving in notions of harmony or chaos, in favor
of a monolith born to ingrain all earth with its lonely shadow.

give tragedy its exposure to the sun, that it may become ash.

An Inaccurate Rending Leads to Troublesome Complications

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 01:35:00 +0000

voluminous and clandestine
the apogee of truth's fruition
grows in proportion to its will,
looming unbeknownst to standard-
bearers of acceptably tasteful mores.

as a combustible without end,
this painful, uninhibited growth
seeks nothing but an infinity
from within which to shore up
the breadth of its firmamental zeal.

Crystal Clear

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 01:37:00 +0000

victims of a tawdry imagination
fall flat upon faces bewildered
by their own rife incompetence.

go sing that torpid tune elsewhere,
its famished melody is not welcome
or soothing to ears embroiled in now,
where everything is a claw toward god.

falsities can neither be qualified
nor banded to progressive affairs.
they must needs be squashed
beneath the violent boot of actualization.

Strain the Sinews Until Fire Illumines

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 18:41:00 +0000

availability and possibility reign absolute
along life's temperamental course,
allowing vision to deftly glance and grasp
all gold previously imagined as possession.

the air may not be owned,
its contents vicious with seed
which when consumed will
set fetters to floor, hands aloft,
hearts to their rightful station,
exploded to live aloud.

expressions of the infinite contain no complexity,
derive nothing from overexposure, but are
filtered through their simplest form and thought,
operating with a calm that cannot be broken.

a sky shining blue is an object to be aligned
with our imperfect bodies and seraphic minds.

By Aggravation Born

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 21:05:00 +0000

befriend the past while you've time
to question its deplorable leavings;
piles of shit standing arrogant.

collect them, find the means to sing,
lest you be banded to a dim science.

the whole of its breadth may be infirm,
your vision lax,
time visibly drifting,
but without breaching a new dialogue,
all heretofore will be dragged grossly
beneath muck and mire of a failed future.

delineate who you are and are not. gold follows.

A Prism Poured Through Time

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 20:00:00 +0000

nothing within the sphere
but what has been placed
by maturation without control.

slowly locked upon a whorl,
spacious dreams advise:

measure speech
with ample thought,
compound love
with greater empathy,
grieve no one
whose time has come.

our fractures are not irrelevant,
as they form what flows forward
and backward, beside design.

Faintly Seeing an Expanse of Glorious Ruins

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 00:05:00 +0000

vicissitudes need not be considered poor of power to instruct.
nor should damages be feared for their intensity of purpose.
stare at them, free from numbness or a propinquity to shame,
and valor may crawl forward from steepened depths of heart.

to be crushed is to be called upon toward slow rising actions
of gilded nature, equal to tasks darkly unknown, ever present.
no refuge is to be taken if beneath open rains a fire is delivered.

answer vital calls with vitality indefatigable, braced for victories
emptied of bounty, filled with naught but the opportunities of silence.

Consumed

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 03:45:00 +0000

a reverie indirect
may grab hold,
silent and unaware
of distance or shape.

preparations
stem its flow,
and so release
is forward, now.

allowed loosening
empowers whole
the waking walk
to a beginning
inclined to its end.

in every space
the mammoth fire
breathing its love
through our lungs.

Meditation Beneath the Earth

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 01:50:00 +0000

by silence brought to storm,
by harmonious rigors saved,
the body that is the patience.

through solids, ephemeral forms
step towards flight,
free of well whittled fetters,
anvils deftly cloaked by violence.

No Word but the Act of the Word

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 03:33:00 +0000

between sentences of indescribable length,
a sullen head rocks against dim wet walls,
aware of nothing but dreams as empty as full.

intonations clean
enter and inhabit
wake and sleep
and the precious
strain that is both.

warbled light and an air thick with the deranged
illumine encapsulation's crazed passion for time,
which it twists and horrors and flails until unamused.

speech careens
end to end
to inflected end,
openly disdainful
of parameters' clutch.

hardened by the mockery that befits the newest born,
a soul may stand tall during times of emaciated worth,
calloused identity, and more, to engage the becoming.

The Beam is Unbalanced, and the Mountain has Taken to Toppling Away

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 01:07:00 +0000

and there is love in everything,
though many heads dangle
in remorse, without reason,
wondering why to them its come,
this quarrelsome weight of selves.

no facile trap, the mind.
its powers quick to plague
the forthright energies of fire.

flesh and abstraction vie for time
the way prisoners reach for food,
prepared to annihilate.

and that there is love in everything
seldom provides respite from failure,
its shadow long and baleful, poised
to envelop the minor successes
of a steadily sublimated life.

slowly readying a stage for war
demands a cleanliness past belief.

One Simple Stance Amidst a Many Pulsed Dance

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 01:50:00 +0000

a patient tongue speaks lithely of its silent incarceration,
wherein no soul was saved an echo for later love,
and seasons travelled through thoughts imagined roughshod,
their ebb and flow the pattern of mania or a sacred dementia.

listen now, the sequence is buried beneath pearled pillows,
waiting for sleep to delve below its formative beginnings,
to that space where when is forgotten, and hearing is revealed.

lavish liquidity of contemplation sanctifies the daytime march,
rings the bells of fervency with a feverish fantasy
that chimes are all that will be heard when the last rest has come,
its head proud to nestle against tones which wave without time.

A Nurturing Return

noreply@blogger.com (Aaron) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 01:32:00 +0000

it's a delicate matter,
that the invisible
facilitates what is seen.

the portion whose portion
is not newsworthy
attend to the stars, as is
their calling, yet not business.

insects scramble and piece
morbid monoliths
for another's benefit and dollar,

while fragmented fires burn
until their hearts yearn for blood,
without failing to burn still further,
into an invisible they can report
by substantive song, principle art.