Commentary and Philosophy Poetry posted August 1, 2010 Chapters:  ...30 31 -32- 33... 


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Brief, the leaf.

A chapter in the book Volume 3

On Brevity and Energy Drinks

by Xylok


On Brevity and Energy Drinks

According to Shakespeare, 'brevity
is the soul of wit,' and so
I've come to back the bard up with
a 'brief' statement that shows
how much I think he nailed it
in constant waves of flow
forever on through poesy songs
as countless lines that grow
until they start to merge and seethe
no matter the message, they blow
through a-b couplets that (k, breathe)
convince sweet Earth's soft snows
to barter the beauty of winter's night
in fair exchange for summer's rose;
and really if there is a point
it sort of goes away,
as rhythm through a lover's night
tastes sweeter as Chardonnay
spilled o'er the Atacama dunes
(they say they've never seen rain),
and also by the way where loons
with telescopes maintain
'there is a better view of the moon'
because our lamps and wicks don't stain
the quiet space between her gloom
and our recording brains;
(those squishy blobs of thoughts that brew
up stuff like moving trains),
ergo if we're to tell of life
and all life's dense, wide things,
I'm thinking just one sentence might
not be enough, it seems,
to cover all the subjects right!

So, here are more to intervene:

In the tummy of eternity
brevity is everywhere.

Right?

Eternity outlasts
itself
all the time,
day or night.

Right?

Will light?

Scratch that, let's work it this way:

I mean, if E=MC squared, that means
tangibility's energy;
settle down, I haven't compared -
IF energy's real I said,
(just saying, love the theory),
then peep this...

What drink ISN'T an energy drink again?!

Milk's an energy drink;
tea,
water over Spain.

You ever see a generation
fall down in ivory nations
as the rain?

(Imagination's thoughts
must be insane!)

You ever see yourself
inside your twain?
You ever do a day
without disdain?

You ever feel the freedom
to BE your will?
Can you say you've
envisioned such a thrill?

I think it's a wonder
to wonder at all
and wonder, while wondering, why
so many questions seem to fall
from silence stitched to sky
urging this urchin to answer some call
that's always, always floating by,
but always near, not OVER the wall,
and seems to follow nigh;
(an inch or less from my mind).

Yet, I glide on about my day
and I look back sometimes
to see if there, along my way,
I'd overlooked some finds,
and man, I got to tell you they
are waiting there each time!

Sometimes just a shadow that seems
now freshly reshaped - renewed,
dragging my vision toward the streams
that tantalize our view,
and there I read the rocks and deem
ALL presence IS presently True -
in fact there is no greater thing
than what it is passing through -
there is no better sort of wing
than every bird has used -
no lovelier song to write or sing
than every song we choose.

So, where the heck would I have been
had I not turned to look,
at that which begged the land to bend
to forge the frivolous brook?

For every shooting star I show my friends,
I might be taking more away from them!

The problem, thus, the other way,
of course, is what gets missed,
while panicking I turn to they
who went unnoticed, this
suggests I don't gaze up ahead
to see that sparrow resist
the fear that says, 'Don't tip your head',
who thrills with areal twists
just down the road where thoughtless woes
won't itemize or list.

(Though likely seen by crawling things
that noticed from the mist ;)

Thus, it turns out no matter where
I go, I get to see,
a play called 'All Creation' that's
coauthored some by me,
as I stoop down to pet a cat,
or climb whatever tree.

There's simply too much beauty and
too many angles free
for any single beast or man
to ever fully see...

The rapid succession of everything
is perfect simultaneity,
as we have ears that hear parts sing
and eyes which partially free
whatever we are near to bring
to moving mounds of memory -
temporarily.

So, this suggests we're all alive
to write and read between
the hours that stoop down for us
in separate, sovereign scenes,
which pieced together from the dust
of stars and sand and dreams
convince our wholes to fully trust
in Love! (Love's life's extreme!)

Let us dance into the deep
that only deepens more
to live as footprints, then as feet
that leave them on the shore.


Recognized


Seasons satisfy.
oh, and about the Atacama Dunes, how cool is this place?!
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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