Post by artolmaeus on Dec 5, 2022 23:34:00 GMT -6
This drive, of being held,
to hold, to merge, surrender
oh it is the engine
maybe the engine Quixote uses
against windmills, to create Dulcinea
what then, when Don wakes from this stupor
if only at the eve of his last breath
comes the knowing
all is a temporary tattoo
pleasing to the eye
carries through to the by and by
drifts us all upon the shore
of some place
never seen by mortal eye
and once seen, cannot have it's compare to anything that was
and it is like love comes anew
if only in the fact that this is what was always wanted to be seen
not some solipsism
maybe a place where we are not necessary
but can nonetheless be
what then, if the old loves
all the old loves we had, we sought, chased
culmanatively were only the penultimate to this new story
we write only with the language of being
How did Lazarus feel about sex after his resurrection
no one has that story
maybe it was never written
and only a few was it spoken to
Oh to love and be loved, how long yes, how damned long is this?
Is this the need of God, in so making so many
so many live out a life each their own
all matriculating an answer to this question
We leave this to a room filled with blue television
maybe holding us all as an audience to the stage of light in all its shifts to give us some way of touching our own souls
in so many multivariate ways in the nature our imagination
only written the imaginations of others
and touched vicariously with the glimpse of knowing and feeling can be reached sitting still
so much for television and all the blindness it gives
love gets found, love gets lost
love gets lamented but well
what is love, baby, go ahead, hurt me
the gamut of four letter words
pressed and starched, wet and dry and maybe smelly or perfumed
tastes like no food can, and we still, never really own it
chase a butterfly or a common moth or a hummingbird
and once there is no movement
then, the thing has no fascination
but we wish to make stagnant ponds of rivers
only to miss the sounds and flow of the river that was
what the fuck is the point
you have one and everyone does
and they go everywhere and here and there there
yes, for the there there
everyone is everywhere
and we all care like a care bear or some googly eyed cutie cuter cute cute cutie
and we believe in everything and nothing
and somehow, the idea of supply, maybe scarcity, lessens us or lessons us
is there enough books about experience
are there enough fishing shows
to where fishing is not necessary
what was the question, maybe that is the question
We may not have ever asked it ourselves but we seek it
and well how sure are we that we have to
but whatever the question, because we seek the answer, we have pledged and allegiance to it pretty damned strong
it is only through loss that we lament having
how wanting drives is further
who holds the stick and what is that hanging on the string that you chase?
yes why worry to answer, that anyone would listen, but are you?
funny, we might be saying the same thing and because we do
gosh damn, ain't that just the Jim Dandy fucking truth eh?
it is not what they do, but what I do
if sometimes, you are the I in the paragraph before during and after
and how will that be written out?
to hold, to merge, surrender
oh it is the engine
maybe the engine Quixote uses
against windmills, to create Dulcinea
what then, when Don wakes from this stupor
if only at the eve of his last breath
comes the knowing
all is a temporary tattoo
pleasing to the eye
carries through to the by and by
drifts us all upon the shore
of some place
never seen by mortal eye
and once seen, cannot have it's compare to anything that was
and it is like love comes anew
if only in the fact that this is what was always wanted to be seen
not some solipsism
maybe a place where we are not necessary
but can nonetheless be
what then, if the old loves
all the old loves we had, we sought, chased
culmanatively were only the penultimate to this new story
we write only with the language of being
How did Lazarus feel about sex after his resurrection
no one has that story
maybe it was never written
and only a few was it spoken to
Oh to love and be loved, how long yes, how damned long is this?
Is this the need of God, in so making so many
so many live out a life each their own
all matriculating an answer to this question
We leave this to a room filled with blue television
maybe holding us all as an audience to the stage of light in all its shifts to give us some way of touching our own souls
in so many multivariate ways in the nature our imagination
only written the imaginations of others
and touched vicariously with the glimpse of knowing and feeling can be reached sitting still
so much for television and all the blindness it gives
love gets found, love gets lost
love gets lamented but well
what is love, baby, go ahead, hurt me
the gamut of four letter words
pressed and starched, wet and dry and maybe smelly or perfumed
tastes like no food can, and we still, never really own it
chase a butterfly or a common moth or a hummingbird
and once there is no movement
then, the thing has no fascination
but we wish to make stagnant ponds of rivers
only to miss the sounds and flow of the river that was
what the fuck is the point
you have one and everyone does
and they go everywhere and here and there there
yes, for the there there
everyone is everywhere
and we all care like a care bear or some googly eyed cutie cuter cute cute cutie
and we believe in everything and nothing
and somehow, the idea of supply, maybe scarcity, lessens us or lessons us
is there enough books about experience
are there enough fishing shows
to where fishing is not necessary
what was the question, maybe that is the question
We may not have ever asked it ourselves but we seek it
and well how sure are we that we have to
but whatever the question, because we seek the answer, we have pledged and allegiance to it pretty damned strong
it is only through loss that we lament having
how wanting drives is further
who holds the stick and what is that hanging on the string that you chase?
yes why worry to answer, that anyone would listen, but are you?
funny, we might be saying the same thing and because we do
gosh damn, ain't that just the Jim Dandy fucking truth eh?
it is not what they do, but what I do
if sometimes, you are the I in the paragraph before during and after
and how will that be written out?
