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transmigration of the soul
| Dark Poetry #3 |
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transmigration of the soul |
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amyX Junior Member
since 2001-04-02
Posts 32 |
stained in the corner a Migration ascends the temporary idea waiting for death the carrier of belief from this distant earth to the station laced in exhile no touching achieved no touching allowed a missionary position between idle release and the conscious uplifting of individual extinction a primitive generation a primordial generation an "X marks the spot" degeneration here lies speculation here breathes visualization the future empowerment in seams the future of recurrent dreams the future of nightmarish larsony nailed shut spoiled in secretion waiting for the carrier to free this natural descending but wait for those dreams those karma coming rhythms those nirvana bumming ways achieved here and now in the here and now to a terminus chain and eight paths to choose as waiting becomes tomorrow one to heaven two to hell three to reckoning four to reason five to conversion six to corruption seven by seven, this is not death eight by eight, miscarry the birth the soul an earth of child-born innocence the child born of ignorance from past-life indifference satisfied the seeds of the young planted the tears of the living drowned no yesterday surrendered no tomorrow allowed bleached in the corner a Migration recycles the temporary psychosis waiting for life [This message has been edited by amyX (edited 05-13-2001).] |
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| © Copyright 2001 amyX - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704 |
Wow. I'll try and get back to this sometime - want to critique it lol... it's great!  KAll obscurity starts with a danger: |
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coyote Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 1077 |
As expected, Amy this is another great poem. I loved it all. But I particularly like these lines : "those karma coming rhythms those nirvana bumming ways achieved here and now in the here and now" This is so "Beat" in nature, that I suspect Jack K. may have been "upstairs in bed" with your muse at the writing. Thanks, Billy  "The rose, like the cactus flower, protects herself with thorns. We however, impale ourselves on their beauty." |
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