Let’s agree that our words mean something;
words like Ma and Pa, all those proto-vowels,
but also ‘prestigious’ and ‘disambiguation’
they also are layered with insights
for the perceptive.
Words can be as layered as Damascus steel,
more so,
they many even have roots
as deep as earth-time itself.
All interesting words have a winding history,
their meanings are associated,
linked with many more meanings.
Such words are symbols for myriad realities.
This kind of inquiry is never ending.
interpretation cannot be superficial,
poetry demands a deeper seeing.
Some words have no inner-life of their own,
such words have a paucity, a dearth,
they are derivatives of a shallow concept
given unsustainable implications.
From the very start they were everlastingly
empty.
The astute choose words
that mean more than can be said.
Methinks it's time for me to create
A rhyme.
My marbles have been scrambled and
Methinks it's quite a crime.
To lose the grand red Highway running athwart my mind.
all my T's and F's and Z's are running amuck.
It is the Amygdala's disambiguation
Messing up my brain.
I was making such amazing progress!
I was starting to achieve,
Intrigued I am - about just how the Amygdala disambiguates.
Hower, mussitation in the definition of this disambiguation.
Have left me with a headache of metacognitive frustration.
* Amygdala - a ganglion of the limbic system adjoining the temporal lobe of the brain and involved in emotions of fear and aggression.
After ~ The Straight And Narrow ~ Lies The Truth
A ~ cross the Universe an alphabet of disambiguation homed in blue and black chatea~ U
C~aressing symbols letter signs and meaning pretends categories ordered logic reason~N
R~espite from uncertainty constricting reducing pressure measured flowing as a ventur~I
O~n the road from comprehension a channelled funnel oscillating Zeitgeist’s leitmoti~V
S~uggests that everyone and everything can be charted defined with logic’s abducte~E
T~he fact and matter of the Universe however yields understanding from us the arbite~R
I~n open quest of search beyond the prisons chaining beauty towards more pastel blis~S
C~ome therefore and find soft shadows pink and purple and live emotion emigrat~E
05th November 2016
To write ,
a word, then another...
insufficience
hurts.
A tear,
tearing the skies open,
rested on my forehead.
Skin my soul,
take my dreams,
bury my ashes
of stars
under the light.
We've never cried together,
we've never answered
these prayers.
Disgusted,
my thoughts have crawled away
into the garden
of my apocalyptic darkness.
One hell summons another...
The incessant disambiguation
of my lowest circles
spirals violently
within.
Don't gap!
But I scream...
Don't fill!
But I choke...
Morose stars glimmer
too far to be seized,
and the pigeons,
too white to be innocent,
have been murdered
by gravity.
The rain fell and the frost came.
Pavements became sheets of glass
waiting for unsteady limbs,
ready for their fall.
The back door opened,
shuffling feet made
there way down a glistening path,
an old key to this problem
held tight in the palm of a hand.
When...
Slip Bang Jolt!
Stars appeared
before dark.
Pain made his
presence
known.
Jack Frost
laughed loudly.
The old bag of salt
sat in the musky shed
looking almost tierd and worn.
It was time again for it
to see the light of day,
to once more do battle,
scratch and scrape that glass
beyond repair and dissolve
any hope of another ambush.
Jack Frost was
about to be
assaulted.
The element of surprise
was perhaps lost,
but the element of
Sodium Chloride
was about to
wage war and win.
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