Author: Pisceanesque

"It's not from within that I emerge; it's by emerging, that I am truly within." www.pisceanesque.com

THOUGHT #58

Each other side is another one always yearns for.

THOUGHT #56

One’s size is meaningless, for the universe resides within.

THOUGHT #54

It’s not from within that one emerges: it’s by emerging that one is truly within.

THOUGHT #53

One’s flaws provide a solid reality for grounding.

THOUGHT #50

False accusation is one’s public mirror for internal conflict.

THOUGHT #49

One is unaware of seeking self when blinded in the search for love.

THOUGHT #48

Honesty is seeing all truths staring back at oneself, looking out – eye to eye – from within.

THOUGHT #47

A single thought produces manuscripts of possibility in the authorship of one’s voluminous soul.

THOUGHT #46

Beauty, being everywhere, leaves one blind to detail.

THOUGHT #45

Tears are a visual drowning from stimulus unwelcome amongst the silent emotions of the mind.

THOUGHT #43

Caution is a small bump on a straight road, but a winding track uphill to mimic.

THOUGHT #42

When one expects to see everything, one sees only what one expects to see.

THOUGHT #39

All sight contains the deliberate glitch of imperfection from which one derives a perfectly unique experience.

THOUGHT #38

Labeling them miracles proves that one’s faith and vision are both absent.

THOUGHT #29

Time, full to empty with nothing, is something of which there is never enough.

THOUGHT #24

The unjust dessert of temptation creates an edible scenario that one must swallow whole at once to contain the many pieces.

THOUGHT #20

Instead of studying death to appreciate life, one should be studying life to appreciate the life beyond it.

THOUGHT #13

The weight of money is unbelievably light compared to the weight of the burden it was designed to carry.

THOUGHT #11

Often, liability is forgotten until it’s too late to remember.

THOUGHT #7

Befriending another for gain is quite the loss.

THOUGHT #5

Erring is judged by a standard of perfection that has never existed.

BROTHEL SHORE

Falling fast down hovelled stairs,
digesting wealth to ransom cares,
grotesque men who soil and harrow
suspend my dreams from thinning rope.

As discharge weeps from places raw
and blisters burn a molten core,
another phallus, soiled and poisoned
wants for smack and cunny’d whores.

I bleed from wounds so deep within
of pain so stark and crude and sore
that pins me ‘neath the brine of sin
like drowning prey in spunk and piss.

I fail to dim the moving shadows:
those twisting jerks of spewed release –
but coming soon will silent growls
of dripping fat and blistered guilts.

Voiced within me, vague and distant,
something cries, yet tears withdraw.
Copious unheard pleas are buried:
here lay I, unknown, destroyed.

To burrow past unhuman men
(to further seal a keyless lock)
would ‘splay me in the public eye,
exampled, maimed, defeated: lost.

Phlegm and fur may line my mouth;
engorged, my lips, a whore for more.
But somewhere deep inside myself
I’ve walked away from Brothel Shore.

EVEN BEYOND DEATH

Concurrent sessions of geometric,
(explicitly whimsical)
liquified squares
arose from patterned nether regions
of ‘somewhere else out there’
in smothering particles of
truest radiant flares.

And sat I upon the visible dreamscape space
that existed no-where
but outside of my illusory plan,
and cherished, I, the pictorial preempted
in the moment of my after-life birthing
of which polite demand
again beseeched me ride.

Yet not a one of the graphical displays
(filtered fresh from infinite dimensions)
approached me like a complete whole
– neither a partial whole –
but as a synchronistic sphere
of clouded systemic rumours
made to halt to keen attention
but one light-bodied and mirrored virtual soul
such as the sporadically alter-egoed I.

Flowing from one source to the next,
beyond the simple measure of a single point
a blast of knowing flagged a recognition spark
that folded time and space
betwixt one universal structure
unto the
(not unlike symbiotic)
self instructioned mind –
and so to Mind Exist described another route
for Love to spread It’s fastest cycle;
birthing cells and growing rife,
to yield a fresh creation.

And hereupon I watch/ed with hunger
that which transpired time before,
providing what is harnessed now,
with will to still repeat again,
and so again to knot forever
into chains of new momentum;
weaving,
waving,
slipping through and marking too,
another path to God.

BIPOLAR

Standing here
I stood my ground
floating
closer
than the distance

Further
than ‘ahead’ I saw
me
fighting for resistance

Fast
unmoving
– not alone –
with only me
I stayed

Fumbling
– screaming loud –
to hear it:

. . . silence . . .

yet I disobeyed

Cocooned in air and
muffled
by these fitful gulps
I dared not breathe I
marked out time
in vacant space
I owned – yet
not yet: not for me

Thinking hard
I cleared my mind
– illusioned, lost –
yet
memories traced

Would I
(should not) leave
I’d try

The where?
Just ‘some’
to
ANY place

ABSTRUSITY

(meaning: wisdom that is incomprehensible to one of ordinary understanding or knowledge)

Alone, let me dissolve into the stale persistence of repeated memory, where,
to sink, into that moment, long at last, I will;
to time that stained my white and holy life like thick excreted waste,
as lost among the black apostles, self detest infection festered.
My soul did roast my psyche.

Let me watch through wiser eyes as I was suckled dry by rogues and devilled men who
fed me lies and praised degraded hopes in tight knit bondage ropes and
prayed their symbiotic futures whole;
their shackled lives, encased by squalid dwellings, raped to empty, burnt to coals. Then,

let me fear again the death I cheated, let me shy away again from light and love,
as once I did,
and let the drugs inspire hunger, let my ribs admonish friendships;
show me seated on the sharpened iron throne that clawed its way into my life.

Let me remember courage, this, when biting clean the straps
that bent my arms behind my back,
that tied my feet without allowing slack, that stole my mind, that seared my life,
that scarred my flesh and sent me running, set me free at last
from final unforgiving seas that tempted me with futile guarantee
to nurture, care and carry me.

Let me, lastly, naked, stand in stark surrender, found by precious realisation.
Finally human once again! Majestic once again! While
chains of brutal, rusty, rotted steel detach,
and I begin to heal; to patch at last, my puzzled life that, muzzled,
once,
I hanged among
such sordid ruin.
Now a sequined future wheel rotates as I transition
from a past so art surreal,
so damn unreal,
and yet, a history, sad, but passed, that’s mine, alone to boldly feel.

SOMEWHERE

somewhere
there is a space
where I will find myself
amongst the dust that falls so calmly through the air.
I’ll find my purpose lingering there.

meanwhile
I’ll stay partitioned off from ghosts
and other 5th dimension beings –
sharing this part of the room
with my cold desire to belong.

ABREACTION

carnal lightening reaped my brain with verve
and sickled fever, emotion sloughing clean
my tortured psyche

and who was I to challenge
this narcotic self-ablution –
yet, what of my resolve to linger
undisturbed
in bias mental disarray?

pathetic hypotheticals
engorged my blood
like nothing new
the tension burning scars within this
manic carcass grew

until

my hybrid-self assaulted what was once
un-failed but often wrong integrity
and swifter than a scarlet blade
my conscience was absconded
to a heaven: peace, release, and ease

had I commanded armies to retreat?
my palsied mind
was finally worth its bloodied ground
and tissues thick with matters
fed on independence
lost amongst the strain

I must remember where I left my genius

ALIVE

I fear to perish early –
dread my soul be drowned
and led astray.
Deceased
I can’t commit myself
to be the best I can display.
I’d like to grow in wisdom
lest my life be worth its end today.

But with dismay
I grow archaic
resentful of my future fate.
I can’t expire starved and needy –
I want to ‘have’
not live to ‘hate’.

Before the end
I’ll search for more:
another route
a higher state.
Then I can pass
become the past
succumb to death
become sedate.

Desiring this
I’ll set a plan to vanish happy:
die fulfilled.
In a deed
I’ll write these words
consumed with grace –
my burden killed.

I’ll live a life of glory now
enshrined in love
that’s mine to build.
And when my mortal skin is shed
I’ll know it’s something I have willed.

DISCO

the blue light fell on my cheeks
creating illusion
blushing me purple
and
smothering my warmth with
a masked smile of mauve deceit

shy to the last
my violet rouge aroused you

I WOULD, I DO

If I could depict the substance of my heart,
this mass of space (this massive room!)
would brand a masterpiece of art.

If I could write,
the composition would neither start nor end,
the meaning lost on tongues of lovers.
Yet, spoken soft or written proud
your name would glow its fame out loud:
expression shining strong and sound.

If I could activate emotion,
unhindered,
I would sway in craze,
but movement knows not this commotion;
impeded,
but just,
with solitary devotion,
I mind the thoughts.

In silence I thrill.

I love you still.