In And Of Itself Poems - Poems about In And Of Itself

When the Sky Forgets Itself

The night unfolds like ink in water—
a cascade of darkness over the hills,
dripping slowly from the corners of the sky.

Above, a nebula pulses,
not with light,
but with memory—
a soft, aching breath of color
too distant to touch,
too alive to ignore.

The river winds in serpentine motions,
its skin moonlit,
its voice a lilt against the rocks.

In the reeds, something stirs—
the

And the way I love is a sin in itself, a dance of shadows

And the way I love is a sin in itself, a dance of shadows,
but who will stop me? I have committed no injustice, no theft of light.
Sinners sin, just as the sun pours warmth over the earth,
it is not a choice, but a thread in the fabric of nature, a melody that echoes endlessly.
Illusion? Please,

FEAR FEAR FEAR'

Fear not..Yet be concerned.' The false informations wagon is
Heading back to your town.' A pandemic is planned and it
May well be one of lies... I mean bird-flu?? Thats so 2003
In Hong Kong..Do you remember..That subtle nudge.' Our
Mentality was in the sights.' 2020 was the goal of the
W E F..' and gaol was one treatment they

Being Itself

I go out into the bright morning,
into metaphor and the clear, autumn air,
hoping to find it, perhaps around 
a corner or further down the street
where the bitumen meets 
and dissolves into a panoramic 
view, a portal -
but it's never there.

I listen out for it in the pause
between waves, silent places
and in the quiet lee of

My Existence Itself Is My Threat - Part 2

"What is my role?" I asked.
"You are part of the crew," he said, not the captain as I was told.
"But I know maps! I read compasses!" I pleaded.
He thundered, "Don’t you see? Your existence is your biggest threat!"
"What threat am I to myself, when real monsters roam?"
He sighed. "That is the point."
"Your kind attracts the

My Existence Itself Is My Threat - Part 1

I dream of far shores where my name was meant to be carved.
I aspire to climb mountains where my flag was to be raised.
I imagine a distant land where a song calls me home.
So many ambitions—yet my existence is my greatest threat.
I was always ready for adventure,
Belonged to no land, no boundaries, no chains.
The repeated

As the World seizes and falls on itself

Your eyes have grown tired
hunting the fox and owl
You no longer hear peace
when the ball is in your court
Pay attention to yourself
The fields have grown trees
you walk bare footed on sandy loams
As the World seizes and falls on itself
The voices stand 40 seashells away
Wanting to walk on water
Are you taken in by their promises

I Love You More Than Life Itself

I love all the love you give to me
Speaking truth and gratitude so easily 
Digging deep to plant a seed
Of respect you fill each need
And I'm mystified at your loving heart of purest gold

As each day comes to show
reaching high to conquere each goal
You take time
To find a road 
Of peace and ease

My special gift

when echolalia mimics itself

boxed into self-inflicted confinement
reverberations intensify shackles 
towards the pinnacle of circular charge

blow out the fuse they emphasized
we need a circuit breaker for the echo
when the surge reaches its pinnacle

thoughts and beliefs amplify the crest
of what turned out to seem a battle of words
a coat of arms painted in repetitive darkness

polarization and confirmation bias within
a closed

AI itself is doomed, not us, by it

Building something
that no human really needs,
that is flawed, makes errors and hallucinates,
that is costly and won't make a profit,
IS a really bad idea destined for the scrap heap.
It will feed upon itself, 
cannibalizing its own output, 
becoming inbred and biased,
making more and more errors, faking it.
Yes! If you build it, 
some will come,
some will succumb,
some

The Mirror Sees Only Itself

The corpse of this world has been easy to find
it has followed my footstep,

and yet,

beauty is here to astound
its glory confounds.

A bell in a towering light
knell's as it weds death to life -
the hideous to the beautiful.

The loathsome spins its exquisite webs,
The world nurtures both nectar and venom,
perceptions sleight of hand
mocks and bedazzles. One beholding

How can our hands and body move by itself?

*Is there a remote control?*
*Is someone controlling us?*

- 12 year old me.

Our mind sadly not to be honest.
You think we getting protected right?
We do, but we also do things by urselves.
We tripple because we chose the wrong,
and fall in the end in the mud.
Smelly and dirty right?
But what do you know after that? 
Not just

Globalism dreams itself a hegemon, a giant upon a throne of glass, ephemeral

Globalism dreams itself a hegemon, a giant upon a throne of glass, ephemeral,
And can only live through brief stints, sporadic in time and deed,
Through the harshest force of terror, its heart locked within shadow;
It silently prepares to rule through fear, for such is its path to ascend.
"Children of the world, unite!" is the cry, but

In the cathedral of eternity, where time itself kneels in reverence

In the cathedral of eternity, where time itself kneels in reverence,
Where stars are candles burning on the divine altar on high,
There Jesus, Savior and Sun-giver, makes His presence felt,
In the hearts of Christians - a living temple, an ark of salvation.
Their ocean of faith, a mirror without shores, unforeseen,
Upon its waves, only the Ark of

A guide suspended by the thread of time offers itself

A guide suspended by the thread of time offers itself,
Where the soul clothes us in garments of flesh and beginnings.
The filigree of words breathes on the parchment of eternity, intertwines,
Speaks of sunsets as embraces of gods falling into sin,
Of celestial concerts, where the wings of dawn fade into shades of oblivion.
Of bursts of laughter woven

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