Author: Pisceanesque

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

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.

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.

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.

THE EFFECT YOU HAVE ON ME

When asleep,
intent allows
I doze to dream
– aroused –
of you.

I wake to lust,
robust with hunger,
starving
for a glimpse or two.

And in a trance
I rise to seize
– to freeze –
an instant here
with you…

but

I won’t retire
tried and spent:
instead,
I slumber,
yet,
to dream of you.

Throughout the day
I crave
and bathe in
lingering wants
I won’t release.
Desire
keeps me occupied:
my mind inside
unstable from the tease.

And time,
it passes,
fast escaping
– raping –
my increasing need
to lay at home
– alone –
and close my eyes
and doze,
aroused,
and dream.

MORTALITY

the life
on which we thrive
is so small
amongst the larger
landscape
of a picture
that tells a thousand words

the life
we so treasure
becomes a whisper
of nothing more
than a dream
in the lives
of those
who are dying

the life
we are
the life
we can’t see
is contained
in an egg shell

and its mother
is the womb
of all mothers
from the wife
in which we live
called life

THE MOON

As I watch
the moon slowly

vanishes

behind the clouds
to appear again
in someone else’s vision
all white and shiny
and virgin.

BY I PASSED YOU

By I passed you
–
like a tornado
on a quiet day
sweeping you
into the jumble
of my world
–
I watched
as you floated
(unaware)
in a void
of confusion

PLEASE

Ignore me
when I beg for you.
I like to melt with desire.

AFTERWARDS

Thundering heartbeats
pounding with authority
emphasise the seclusive desire
to explore deeper
into reposeful slumber
by enhancing
the physical
momentum
tenfold.

Responding to
unlimited satisfaction
gospel silence is achieved
and all entities within
journey forth
into the
escapade of . . .

now.