The Collective

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A collection of my poems.

Submitted: January 29, 2017

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Submitted: January 29, 2017

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Patterns in Madness

When the tides of man churn, And you find yourself questioning why, Burn to the stars, perhaps they'll open your eyes. (Is it so that you're asleep?) When light beats out fine edges and disposes of the realm of memories, And you find yourself asking for more, Seek the guidance of madmen, perhaps they'll open your mind. (Is it so you have no thought?) If chemical concoctions and electromagnetic interfaces plan out societies next step, And you find yourself asking to be better, Find hope in ancient manuscripts that give meaning to life. (Is it so you do not feel?) And when psychotic patterns ware down on your psyche, Pleading that the sleepless, meaningless nights stop having meaning, You should most likely see a professional, For you've worn out your mind, And it is true, Insanity impedes upon your rational, And everyone's really wants to see you get better.

The Peak We parted on the peaks of incarnation. Before so, all paradoxes, riddles, and mysteries were unraveled, Alongside the meaning of life and death, Which as always, you accepted joyfully and with little to no cumberance. You were told a final secret, And then given whatever amount of time you would wish to sit on this peak with us, And look out to the next mountain, where it was we would meet again. Below us was the valley of absolution, Where all lies and riddles took form, And the thick thickets of whispering willows and gnashing thorn bushes, Would do anything to keep you from the next mountain top. We sat for sometime, you would exclaim at the magnificence that such a dastardly place held from afar, And would hold in silence most thoughts of worry or anxiety, For you never worried much around us. As always, we'd say our farewells, make our amends, And you would waltz down the side of these cliffs, Joyfully into the arms of chaos, Then, as the forest grew darker and the path grew slight, You would begin to forget, All the riddles and paradoxes would seek unanswerable answers, All meaning would leave itself as you sought blindly for hope and reason, And the magnificence of what once was, Would seem all too much as you stared it in the face. From atop these cliffs, we could only watch you wander aimlessly and pray you'd find someway, For most times what we'd tell you wouldn't matter, Since you'd soon forget it anyway, let alone if the knowledge itself held any power over the valley was seldom known, And it was truly up to you to find us again. We'd sit, and we would wait, And some time would pass but you would find us again, And for you it would seem we'd never met, Though we had just parted ways. We wouldn't shock you with repetition, To you, we simply unraveled mysteries, brought meaning and form, And gave to you all the time in the world. You never asked for more, you never asked for less, And joyously you'd waltz once more into the valley.

When I Pry

You sought meaning, There you have it, That's the meaning, my friend. The meaning is as you see, As you create, Because meaning is simply order, Which is only brought about by the conscious, To make sense of the all. To bring some sort of systematic sequence to the chaos that surrounds.

From all options, I was just another. Importance does not come from what I am given, But from what it is I give. Reason is not incorporated in the thoughtless form of the universe, The universe, though it breathes, Lives outside of me, Perceives realities inconceivable to I. I am it's part, A single part, Floating in the infinite void.

Emotions don't hark the great expanse, This world I seek, This land of gods, Is no place for the like of man.

Hath not weakness, Hath not stupidity, Hath no reason for man here, Simply as a fish is only home to the sea.

Here, balancing on the cliffs of madness, Hung between heaven and hell, You may choose where to go from limbo.


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