The Conductor: Without care for season

lucaso

Honing the bowels of a crystal wood by taking a breath, pausing beside a railway seen only from above, a man dressed in pale-blue mumbles a joke to himself as he pretends to check his wristwatch.

He paces through the super-nova sovereignty of a compass, clipping shadows as he sweats. The typical refugee can never be honest with themselves, not enough to behold the glory of a stainless rendition between a cloud and a flower working together to call their name. They nod their head, grimace with the same certainty to the day ahead and proceed to confide in the revival of their own idea of sanity.

In the centre without end, tearing a piece of linen from the curtain tail, trees crumble to their roots.

The duck egg sky reeks of fresh paint, the desire to escape is met with that all too familiar frame of veins.

Manhood gutted — Childhood ignored; —

The Sun stays perfectly still as it withers.

But I have know worth for it. I never have.

 

  • Author: lucaso (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 21st, 2018 16:36
  • Comment from author about the poem: This is not all of this piece but I need to finish the rest of 'THE CONDUCTOR' to make sure the end of this introductory piece connects with the end of the Primary poetic Expression. I've found a cluster of poems from a year or two ago including this. The basic premise is dealing with the fear of acting upon the knowledge of the universe, sacrificing all you know for what you've desired, but not in a materialistic or actually physical sense. It's the existential reaction to irony when one makes himself a tragic hero. I have been feeling this strong lately and have been reluctant to express myself, which is why I've come across it, I have wrote many connected to this and I like the basic premise of 'the conductor' and I believe it will fit well into the R.O.D of Sola Virum/ Kairos of which I've nearly finished. You may not know what I'm talking about right now, but considering there's not many of you it won't matter, but soon the general population will have guidance to the layers of the Self and will understand what they could never have believed they ever could. I suppose this poem, and the set preceding which will be released with the whole book, is the 'breath before the pin-drop' it's also the execution of habits maintaining procrastination, that of which has so far been the only bane of my existence! I see why Rimbaud cursed himself for his idleness---but mine! Mine must be ten-fold! it's the irony of torture, the torture of irony, but i have suffered too long, I have repressed my divinity for too long, I could've initiated a huge change many times but I preserved the 'glory of an abstract history' that of which I now happily throw away, I give myself in every aspect to mankind. I am the nucleus of the cosmos. I have no doubt, no doubt what-so-ever that beauty awaits humanity. At 15 and 16 this all came to me in great waves, the joy of poetry and going beyond sense, and I instinctively indulged in the beauty of isolation. Though, at 17, the age I am now, this curdled and i became depressed. Although, this depression, this deep rest, was a necessity. This is what the rest of the introductory poem is about -- if you want to read it I'll happily share I just need to verify within myself that the nature of it's possibility resonates honestly. It allowed me to awake above levels I had never noticed and acting as Puck as well as writing a few plays and creating new literature, composing a new language etc. has showed me that this year will be the expression of why I have been frustrated throughout my childhood. My childhood including every past being that has ever lived... up until 'now'...I know I've been here before. I'm older than the universe. The only tragedy is that you are, and also never will be, too. Anyway....before I'm 18 I'll release some of my main works and show you all how to manipulate aspects of this simulation, an arrangement of psychic and existential processes, which may be an allegory for the psyche itself -- but there's always intermediums we can reside on, proving our ontology is beyond such definition, which is the essence of human cognition or mind itself. I have also spoke more about things people may not understand as it seems so stupid for them to be a problem, such as focusing on such stupid insignificant traits which issue nothing but distraction which have hindered me in my endeavours. I guess I';m saying this because I wish I released a lot more work sooner but I've realised this feeling and not doing so was a necessity. Peace and Love x
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 13
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