Notice of absence from Tristan Robert Lange
Life is full of seasons. This is a season of transition for me, where I will be moving with my family to a new location. As such, with much logistics to consider, I am doing my best to keep up. Please know if I accidentally don't respond, it is not because I am ghosting or becoming distant. Once things settle after the move, I am sure life will return to some normalcy. In the meantime, and always:
Read ð, Write âïļ, Rise ð , Realize ðĪŊ.
Tristan ðđðĪððŊïļðĶââŽ
Life is full of seasons. This is a season of transition for me, where I will be moving with my family to a new location. As such, with much logistics to consider, I am doing my best to keep up. Please know if I accidentally don't respond, it is not because I am ghosting or becoming distant. Once things settle after the move, I am sure life will return to some normalcy. In the meantime, and always:
Read ð, Write âïļ, Rise ð , Realize ðĪŊ.
Tristan ðđðĪððŊïļðĶââŽ
mycelium memorandum—
the mind-wide web
pulses with electric
creativity—
mind fucked,
cranium coated with
ejaculate—
perception’s effusion.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, August 2, 2026.
Tittu
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: August 3rd, 2026 08:29
- Comment from author about the poem: Part of the The Art of Being collection.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
- In collections: The Art of Being.
Offline)
Comments4
From fungus to neural to internet all seem to have electrical a shocking discovery of what we hold in common. Webs and fibers hold us all together and bond us as one. A most interesting write where the sexual becomes not only physical creation of new cells but mental and emotional creation of new thoughts and feelings. Well done my friend
Thank you, Soren! Yes, indeed...I was playing with creation on several levels here, all tangled together in one wonderfully weird experience. Glad you came along for the ride, my friend! ðâĄð§ ð
Always a pleasure Tristan
Someone blown a fuse?! Popeye would if he runs out of spinach. lol
Oh, Orchi...ð Popeye without spinach, blown fuses, electrical chaos...and somehow Olive Oyl is probably standing there wondering why she puts up with any of this. Her problem, right? We've got brollies! #JustSaying ðĪŠ ðâĄð§ ð
the electrical thought process
Indeed, Norman! Electricity firing through the mind and setting everything in motion. Thanks, my friend! ðâĄð§ ð
most welcome
This poem is a wild collision of biology, technology, and raw imagination, creating a strange but vivid inner landscape. The unexpected imagery jolts the reader awake, capturing creativity as something chaotic, physical, and impossible to contain.
Thank you, Thomas! I love exploring those places where consciousness and creativity get weird, messy, and a little obscene. ð This one certainly went there! Much appreciated, my friend. ðâĄð§ ð
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.