Poezja

As moments wait
And years turn to hours
The rebel showers
Shout high above the river-pains
Together with love
Right and wrong emerge
As half-castrated recoils
Into the face of fear
 
Like shadows of the mystic
I emerge as a force
Not worth fighting for
And hoping to be put to rest
So that my soul may find ease
In oneness with the river of time
The shores are cold
And the more I step away from the cold splash of the water
The more rigid the air gets
The faster life passes by
In the most tormenting of grinds
 
Gears that shift
The war machine that rides inside
As a manifestly made
Black hole
Upon this leisure
My time-I do abide
 
Obedience has come to me
For once I see
The light of faith that resigns me
Not to the shore
Not to a wave
But to the river itself
For if I am-caught in a reason
In an objective, grasping glance
I will suffocate on the open air
Of possibility
And if not
Then a vial conditional
 
So I must submerge myself in the river;
As that which has no option
I remain free
From the constraints
Ney the utter unbearable torment
Of being-among beings
With no essential relation
To the being, that beings essentially are
 
As a spattering on canvas
That can never touch art
 
I gasp at air
Being slowly ripped apart
By the rampage of intellectualism
That rummages my soul
Holding love to the glow
Of an iridescent candle
And devolving into meager thoughts
Of that which lies Beyond
 
Tarantulas come gripping up
From inside of me
The hyper-dimensional resting space
Of space itself
That emerges in a form of undeniable blackness
-A reflection of my own
 
Dejection runs through my veins
Castration foments in my mouth
To lay barren the sentiments too holy too speak
The repugnant poet
Masturbatory exploiter of experience
As such I stand before you- ashamed