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Desert IconsDiscreetly placed outside an art gallery in Upstate New York, A placard informs curious patrons that the works Within are specifically meant for American consumption. Ignorant innocence breeds affinity and a careless reading Of the message to that extent brings some visitors to believe The paintings are a gift to the American people, Doubtlessly given in the spirit of cultural exchange and enlightenment.Desert Icons
But this is not the case.
The placard instead serves as a warning for the potential diasapora,
The kinspeople of the artists, which abstractly depicted the most Sacred
by ~TheOmegaPoint
Campus LifeThrough composite glances, I've started to notice, That I look more gaunt Than in previous months.Campus Life
Maybe I haven't been... Eating well, perhaps. Yet, I have the same money for food And stand in line at supermarkets With everyone else. There, the thin faces of celebrity Stare at me from glossy dimensions. I try to avoid eye contact. Confrontation makes me uneasy-- It's not as if they don't Get enough attention, anyway. I wonder
If they might have something to do with it.
I've started exercising, too.
Work has been v
by ~TheOmegaPoint
AutopoesisSome people claim writing poetry Is difficult. I respectfully disagree. In fact, I am writing as we speak, So to speak, Although, in truth, for you, It is finished, already written. Alas, I digress And now my exposition Is clipping to a close. So, before we're through,Autopoesis
I will leave to you A single parting thought: The writing is simple in its way-- Results are open for interpretion. Just remember, if you find that tough to take, Many things can pass as chicken, But good eggs are hard to fake.
by ~TheOmegaPoint
RecoveryI wander in light bleeding through a drab sea Hung with moth-eaten sidewalk rapport Amidst the annihilations of November, Contemplating, trying to remember, Beneath steel clouds and branches empty, How the world used to be...before.Recovery
* * *
Your last thought Was of a reflection caught In bedside mirrors Where, on a thin metal table, You were crucified, died, But not buried, Carried back in linen shrouds To an alcove, curtains drawn, That opening sealed, then unsealed An hour later, When you rose from the shallows of the dead
by ~TheOmegaPoint
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: The End of Time, Many Places at Once
- Interests: Remembering the Future
- Favourite movie: The Last Tempation of Christ
- Favourite band or musician: The Church, The Porcupine Tree
- Favourite genre of music: Progressive
- Favourite artist: Zima Blue
- Favourite poet or writer: William Blake, John Keats
- Favourite photographer: Callae Bignoli
- Operating System: Myself, The Universe
- Shell of choice: Conch
- Wallpaper of choice: Tapestries
- Skin of choice: The Skin That Is Not My Own
- Favourite game: Life
- Favourite gaming platform: The 11 Dimensions of Space Time
- Favourite cartoon character: Alan Turing, Nazi Decompiler
- Personal Quote: "It is by my will alone I set my mind in motion."
- Tools of the Trade: Quantum Mechanics, Turing-Complete Languages, Universal Constructors, Weather Prediction, Futurology
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--
... and to some God, is hope and nothing more.
--
Dulce et decorum est pro patria notare!
--
All the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep
And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep
All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep
Hey, I can bleed as well as anyone but I need someone to help me sleep
--
All the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep
And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep
All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep
Hey, I can bleed as well as anyone but I need someone to help me sleep
--
Dulce et decorum est pro patria notare!
--
All the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep
And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep
All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep
Hey, I can bleed as well as anyone but I need someone to help me sleep
--
Dulce et decorum est pro patria notare!
--
"The greatest purpose in a human life is not to love - but to persist in love."
-- August Boatwright (The Secret Life of Bees)
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