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| Dumbas |
 Wysłany: Wto 22:18, 30 Sty 2007 Temat postu: Cool Gardens |
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Cool gardens jest to książka z wierszmi pisamymi przez Serja . niewiele o niej wiem ale za to mam większość wierszy .
From Words To Portraits
The deconstruction of the human mind,
A shifting of polarities, to portraits, from words.
Embroderies of memories,
Daily on-line vision necessities,
Susceptible amenities.
Daily daisies marking their paths,
Fur longing shelter dwellers, Strange propellers,
Pillars making their presence known
To the venerable peers,
Coughing up the seas
As the breeze maintains its meditative ease.
The releasing of the world,
The re-shifting of focus on inter-being
And the attainment of nothingness
Through the veils of the Sacred Silence.
Mercury
Where were you on the day
When Mercury went into retrograde?
Did someone mess up your credit?
Did your recorders, computers, and machines
Interact on a different level than ever before,
Where, as a result, you lost data, and you,
Oh yes you, were somehow responsible?
Hey, can't we equilibrate and equally liberate
Our minds with the tides of the universe
So that we can proportionally
Complement the dysfunction abound?
Businessman Vs. Homeless
The wheel and deal for a meal man
Versus the organized, courteous homeless.
One lies and cheats to secure his possessions,
The other lives the truth of man's post-industrial reality.
One forecloses, fires, and finagles,
While the other relieves suffering by human courtesies.
One lives in a regal place with all the luxuries,
The other on a chair in the alley,
With the rain as his partner.
One travels across time zones,
The other travels through time,
And leaves everything virtually untouched.
One furnishes compliments,
The other insight,
One flies lobsters in from Maine,
The other flies through a glass window of a seafood restaurant,
His main offense, touching the lobsters.
Both may be lovers of music,
But only the latter listens,
For he has the time to be,
Rather than be on time.
Wet Flower
Teaching a Woman
Of the seductive mechanisms of man
Upon the voluptuous vagina.
Guiding her lips to the tender
Wet flower of another woman,
Expressing necessary patterns
Of oral explorations.
Expanding the learning curve
Of an acquired taste of pussy.
Sharing visions of climbs of ecstatic
Heights between two flowers and their branch.
Ah, if nipples could glance at watery truths
In the eyes of Venus,
If bodies flowered like wine
T hrough the halls of dire desire
Lit by an unquenched sunset beyond
The bodies of buildings,
Along the railroad
Going nowhere fast,
Unrelinquished circles plowing through time,
Regaining the same volume in the same space,
So they taste and they think while they drink
The purity of my manhood.
ART
Art. is the way to heart.
The hearts of man can and will change.
That change changes the world.
We can bomb you with love and you cannot resist.
We can kill you with compassion if you don't assist.
We can assassinate your ego with the knowledge and Awarness
Of oneness, allness, onlyness,
Opening darkness into its vibratory reality,
The super string theory
And its resultant simplification of purity.
Explode or implode,
External is eternally internal,
And internal creates the external in eternity.
Planets arise from chaos
Into an experimentation of order,
Then are lost again to another stepping pod
In our solar system.
The universe is trying to create eternal energy.
The flesh as a part in the assembly
Of the investiture of order, balance, Peace.
PRENATAL FAMILIARITIES
Devotion is focusing on the sound in every action.
Life is rhythm, and its fluidity is dependant on the Tempo.
In harmonies we find unity in diversity.
In harnonies we find prenatal familiarities.
Our true voice is our true colour, character.
The consensus is a misguidedbody of cencus information.
Though the tides seem to be slowly turning
In organizing true resistance to globalistic economic totalitarianism,
It might to be too late to save man's night.
Remember the child of innocence resides in cool Gardens,
Though the heat can be used to create the stimulus.
Our physical sences only report the portion
Of the actual motion in our universe.
The rest require extrasensory skills attained
Through the veils of the sacred silence.
CIRCUS TIGER
"A circus tiger wounded and killed his trainer. I wonder what set him off ",
said the commentator. I don't know.
How would you feel if separated from your family,
you were skipped to the different cities in a cage no less,
Bound of life, with pain\pleasure techniques,
And complete humility for performance under duress,
A whip no less. If you were a tiger would you do it?
Would you break away, Think of escape and if desperate,
Kill and avow infinite humiliation and guarateed Death?
Do you do it, now, as a human?
If not, then I understand why you were not sure
What set the tiger off, Mr. Commentator.
PEN
A pen is but a pen,
When the time has come
For its retirement.
A career is but a job,
Modern indentured servitude,
If not for the challenge
And dreams.
And a day is just a
Collection of hours,
If not for that one
Sparking, coaxing
Loving smile on your
Face.
NIL
If today I die, And cannot deny,
The life that I live,
For what I say now,
Will befit, myself, in time.
No time to die, nor live,
No structures of a pyramid,
Nor trained horses to arise,
Surmise my position.
My words define me
As a surgically proficient baker,
A baker who now lies still,
For assuming these were my last words,
I would say absolutely nil.
MY WORDS
My words escape me,
As I escape them,
To define me, As not refined,
mimed release expressions,
Of continuous thoughts
Pouring out like red wine
From a dark green bottle on a creme carpet,
Or white sand.
My words escape me
, As I escape them,
For love is beauty,
and beauty is love,
As diabolical dreams
of intestines on a platter,
As kidneys, lungs and livers,
Rushing the blood, my blood, winded, noisey.
My words escape me,
As I escape the world.
SALIVATION
I have resolved to salivate
On your favourite salad dressing,
Or your dear held principles,
Who run ahead of their respective schools.
My form is that of a butterfly frozen in mid air,
En route to the jungles, Thawed by escapism,
Nourished by self preservation.
My stride is that of a guitar string
In the hands of a drunk gypsy courting a fair lady,
Making love with the ascending and descending
Frequencies of the heart.
Time is the father of existence,
Rhyme is the brother of the word,
Words that define the world,
Worlds that refine my words.
Natural water no longer exist,
We must now create what was initially abundant,
And destroy that which took its abundance away.
Is the garden clear for the new plants?
Is the soil still rich enough to support life?
My fears are shadows behind the edge of dark buildings,
The howls in the night.
FRIIK
What's my problem, Here's my problem,
My problem is that I'm
Too visual to be blind,
Too audiological to be deaf,
Too ideological to be in peace,
Too compassionate to be in war,
Too crazy to be sane,
Too sane to be lazy,
Too emotional to be you.
If I could only stop my head
From going into constant infection,
Then maybe I can swim back
To my own version of consistent sanity.
Angelic demons, Liquid dreams,
Transparent mountains Of our own reality.
Burning oceans,
Melting faces,
Melting faces,
Why!
NATIONS
Nations come together as one,
Forming candles in the sun.
The candle burns deep inside his head,
His wax mind is finally dead.
His wax mind they all had learned,
Secrets of those that burned,
In the valleys with a gun,
They still didn't reach the sun.
Nations come together as one,
Sending killers on the run,
Controlling the crowd,
They take the killers'
place bold and proud.
Even if I wasn't dead,
I'd see the dying straight ahead,
believe in your destiny,
Life is not, you seem to be.
Nations come together as one,
chase the children on to the desert,
Let them frizzle away and fry,
Although in their mothers eye,
We can do or say anything,
As long as we're allowed to think.
Let's make an example of them all,
Take the institution down to a fall!
NONAME1
The blinded eye spoke,
Of the headless toads
Being used for growing organs, For transplants.
For it is far more profitable,
To sell parts, than to prevent
Or even cure man's ill fated,
Selfinflicted diseases.
I can't find a straw in my revery,
Nor comfort in my ideals,
For while among the heretics,
Burn the flag and touch their hearts,
With ecstasy and porno films.
I too wonder who painted
The seas of undrestanding,
For among the shining, we shine.
NONAME2
The golden awnings feeding vultures of salvation,
For the murderor, an unmached delight,
A sanitized removal of dreadful dead victims,
Of an elitist concocted genocide,
As in East Timor, as in Nicaragua, as in Salwador,
as in Turkey, Lebanon, and elsewhere,
For as long as natural resources exist,
Locals (as they are called) will never see freedom,
Thanks to the American Way of Life.
NONAME3
We rested beyond the welded, fenced peninsula,
With frosted baby bites filtering the harbourmaster's voice,
Within the city of sound, The pollination beyond interrogation,
In life's haphazard wizardry.
In a sense, periodically dense carcasses Shine light upon the backdrop,
Themselves so drained of colour and sight.
NONAME4
Negative, disenfranchised populace,
My throat hurts, From the vicious disease
Called preaching, alerting, The showing of all my truths,
Our truths, history, Our lives, in misery,
Always striving for balance,
Allow me to plunge
The dagger of my frustrations with injustice,
Into your soul organ.
And let me infect you,
With the energy and willingmess to know;
Who is dying today? Where? Why?
In what new and innovate ways,
At the hands of brutal men
And their military business world.
Let us instigate the revolt,
DOWN WITH THE SYSTEM!!!!!!!
NONAME5
Life ties you to addiction,
Through its many Epicurean,
immortal extravagances,
Pulling you ever so inward,
Along the belts leading to the Powers
That Be, Through debt, loss of credit,
Credit being the foundation for 20th century credibility,
The ability to carry credit,
Chance being created in dire times of desperation,
In the profitable casino of geographical domination.
Those that are left are survivors of the system,
That reinvent themselves on the cycle of 5 year planning,
To adapt, adjust, learn and continue.
As in a good maze,
Where you end up is never you started,
No where you ever predicted.
DEATH
You will live death, in your life,
If all you do with your life, is avoid death.
My goal is to stop reacting in life,
While reacting more in sports.
It is great work to strip man from his home,
Clothes, education, social cicle, and job,
In order to preserve his freedom and individuality,
Giving him his own dreams,
Rather than those of society.
Life's cruelty is in its forced forfeit
of all worldly possessions
In trade for one's life.
Death should only be the reward,
The aftermath, not the focus of life.
The world lives according to death,
Rather than in accordance to life.
SILENCE
In an arrested silence, We plead to our insane gods,
And their voices in our heads, Like the silence in the woods,
To stop appeasing man
And his cruel culture of global economic domination.
The balance remains between That which is sought by the few,
PROFIT, And that which is sought by the most, PEACE.
Staring through funnels Of our contempory state of political affairs,
It's disparaging and demotivating to see
An isolated consumption addicted society
Not realise the potency of its silence
To its well self-guarded establishments.
People, it's your dollars that pay for the bombs
That are killing our chances for survival
In the years to maybe not come.
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