Fragments of Poetry

Fragments of Poetry

"1.txt"
The verses slipped from betwixt palm and pen
a malfunction somewhere between
the formless something of the mind
and the coded key of vocality.



"poem fodder.txt"
And if everything was as it seems
we'd be tearing at our dreams.



"dg.txt"
History ate her.
Head first, hors d'oeuvres for the last supper.
Because she's been repeating herself for years.
The second coming is coming again.



"jh.txt"
If I could create a world of pain
I'd hold in my hand the answer to everything
a question unasked for it's various folds of love
and life
and happenstance.



"FragmentOne11.txt"
I am quantum
(I am everything and nothing)
look at me
(and I freeze in place)
look away
(and I'm in a million places at once)
We feed on pain and death
(My voiceless voice will be heard)
I am conscious
(I might think, therefore I might be)
Between one moment and another
(I stroke Schrodinger's cat)
I construct my world



"FragmentOne12.txt"
Opening in to the blackness of the void
My eyes burn
The freezing nothing
(It reminds me of the emptiness
with in my own body
the space between what makes up
Me
;the holes in the substance of my being)
I look into the blankness
and see the infinate possibility of myself
that which is possible
in my furture
in my past.
Niether are immutable.



"FragmentOne13.txt"
"We are multiple."
I said to myself whilest
looking into the mirror
a wall in my room
and so thinking I walk through.



"try one.txt"
He sat beneath the silvering moon
in serious contemplation
of a time he knew must be come soon
the dissolution of all relation

In his mind he saw the blank walls
the corridors of majestic creation
filled with the lies and truths of all great halls
as slowly comes the revelation

the tearing down and repitition
slow cycle of ages and history bashing
them in the head with clubs in her consternation
her anger forever lashing and relashing



"fragment.txt"
The black dust falls
(the ashes of my memories)
burned black by the flames of time.
Nothing will be saved.
It can not endure past its time
(and its time is short)
for all my feelings are ephemeral
in the scorching light.
It burns my skin like construction paper
(under a magnifying glass)
acidic smoke of the past.



"Duality"
She smiled into the sunlight
But cried to the silver moon
And no one ever noticed
That the single one was two

There was too much there inside her
too much empty space to fill
and none there to guide her