I wish to see.
What and how and why,
From whence the fountain leaks.
How long must I wait
For this ultimate discovery
To take form and place?


Wishing and whining gets us where?
Depends on the person, inside that tinge
Of which they see out, and us we see in.


Never you mind, that is only the goal
This journey of self discovery is what I will behold.
What will I find? I must wait and see.
Forever learning and growing,
That is how life must be.


The answer is not in a book,
The answer is not in the symbols.
They can help me see,
Aid on the journey of Self discovery.
A small part of the vast spectrum of existence,
Pour forth from these lowly forms.
Different shades of expression
Of what is and can be.
But never will they shine
That light of the Divine
Into the luminous ethereal soul of mine.


Who are you soul?
What have you learned?
It is your wisdom of which I yearn.
Come out from the back and into the fore.
Please enlighten me.
What do I know?
What must I learn?


For ever I search, eternally I wait.
Service to others. Share what I have learned.
Tap into that well of knowledge within the Self
In every Self
The Only Self
The Self I am
The Self I must be
It is not one man who will make the world See.


The pearly gates open wide.
Engulf me in that luminous shine.
It makes so much sense after the fact.
Then the ignorance returns, and I go back.


We will never see, in that sphere of Reality.
Transcend above,
Beyond the stars that fell into the sea,
The spinning particles,
The waves of thee.
The sands of reality wash upon the shore.
Beautiful sea, of the mysterious blue.


What are You?

Where is the answer?
Not in a book,

Where is the answer?
Not in the symbols.

What can they help me see?
They can aid on the journey of Self discovery.

What is the past?
A small part of the vast spectrum of existence,

A book?
Pour forth from these lowly forms.

An idea?
A different shade of expression

Of what
Is and what can be

But never will they shine
That light of the Divine

Into the luminous
Ethereal

Soul
Of Mine


Inside of the consciousness, what have you learned?
Who are you Soul? It is your Wisdom of which I yearn.
Come out of the back
And into the fore

Please enlighten me, what must I know? What must I learn?
You must learn who you are inside the Consciousness. Who are you?

Inside the Consciousness?

I am … I am … I am …
OUTSIDE THE SELF

Is inside the self, inside the self, inside the self,
The perception swirls and swirls and swirls

Like this.

I have a feeling from reading this that you are young. I don't mean in terms of age; I mean in terms of coping with deeper thoughts. This type of thing is typically crafted from youthfulness.

It's crafted well and seems to have some nice flourishes to it, even if it does falter in construction some times (the second part with the call and response would read better if they were both separate but happening simultaneously, allowing them to be read apart or together; gives extra layers to work with). However, I think you haven't quite discovered what it is that really moves you. Because ultimately, poetry tends to revolve around one of two things: 1) a narrative, however abstract it may be or b) a singular moment or emotion or mood.

I ask you for the sake of experiment to strip your work down. Right now, it is, for lack of a better term, "proggy". Which is excellent and I like it. However, I think you would have a better grasp of what you are doing and a better direction if you separated all of the elements and worked on honing them apart, then put them back together again and see what you get. Or, if you wind up like me, you might find you like only a specific element of what you were doing and the trappings were distracting you from your incredible enjoyment of that element.

You may not believe that at first, but I was once in your shoes; my earlier pieces here were either incredibly long (the longest is 20 pages in size 10) and abstract or very short avant-garde pieces. LostCause, King_Cotton, Toothlessjoe, ChaosPenguin and Apex all at various times cited my eye for image and construction and other things but basically politely asked me to strip things down and monitor how each part functions. And that completely changed my style for the better; I've been published a couple times because of it.

You've got talent. But you need to hone it.

I have a feeling from reading this that you are young. I don't mean in terms of age; I mean in terms of coping with deeper thoughts. This type of thing is typically crafted from youthfulness.

That sparks an idea, I'll set it free when the time is right.


It's crafted well and seems to have some nice flourishes to it, even if it does falter in construction some times (the second part with the call and response would read better if they were both separate but happening simultaneously, allowing them to be read apart or together; gives extra layers to work with).
By this I assume you are talking about the second post. Are you saying I should transform it into two separate sections instead of a single section where questions are mixed with the answers? The higher part of his self mixing in with the questions?

I'll consider that when it's rewritten however, I think I'm going to keep it in the style I did it in but with a major reconstruction. And make it more of a continual growing process where he finally understands who he is. Maybe that should just be an entirely different thread. We'll see what happens.


However, I think you haven't quite discovered what it is that really moves you.
I think you're right.

Because ultimately, poetry tends to revolve around one of two things: 1) a narrative, however abstract it may be or b) a singular moment or emotion or mood.
hmmmm


I ask you for the sake of experiment to strip your work down. Right now, it is, for lack of a better term, "proggy". Which is excellent and I like it. However, I think you would have a better grasp of what you are doing and a better direction if you separated all of the elements and worked on honing them apart, then put them back together again and see what you get.
When I originally wrote this, I was just writing without thinking. Then I took some of it and made it more readable. So, what I think I will do is take an individual stanza and contemplate the idea, then just write without really caring what comes out. Do that with everyone and then try and mold it all together while keeping the flow.

Or, if you wind up like me, you might find you like only a specific element of what you were doing and the trappings were distracting you from your incredible enjoyment of that element.
hmmmm

You may not believe that at first, but I was once in your shoes; my earlier pieces here were either incredibly long (the longest is 20 pages in size 10) and abstract or very short avant-garde pieces. LostCause, King_Cotton, Toothlessjoe, ChaosPenguin and Apex all at various times cited my eye for image and construction and other things but basically politely asked me to strip things down and monitor how each part functions. And that completely changed my style for the better; I've been published a couple times because of it.

You've got talent. But you need to hone it.

Thanks

Sitting in my black chair
It has arm rests, and it rolls
I fall back in wonder,
What/How/Why
What makes IT go?
Who made the stage?
And the rolls our vessels live
And play, in this humorous
Show. Day after day after day.

Doth it suit you? This

Masquerade of colors,

Of Flesh and mud?


A fun run it was, but behoveth
Me it does naught, this world
Of desire, of greed, Of murder.
Never will I plant my seed into
This ill-nourished Earth. I feel
This is not my home. A faraway
And distant land of which I
Mistakenly reside. I am protected
By peculiar stars of foreign names.
I will no loner play. Oh cruel Destiny,
What sick game Hath Thou wrought?

Doth thou desire

To trot away?


I spring from my chair and bolt out
The front door, into the cool night.
Immerse myself into the dark
Unknowningness of the woodland
Forest. Faraway I want to go, away
From where I once was, into the
Darkness. Dark trees taunt and urge
Me to leave, “You are not ready.”
They tease.

Now you will see

Who you are

Away from what

You know


Laughing cedar
Branches swirl
Penetrating pins
Of the everlasting
Life of the evergreen

I collapse into obscurity

In my nebulous haze, the demons
Dance within my tormented mind.
Oh the fear, the queer jests of this
Strange torture. A sizzling branch
Wielded by the malignant spirit is
Inserted into mine higher Eye.
Scalding it shut to that. . . To
That. . . BLACKOUT



Godless dirt! I will no-longer bask
IN thou Unholy Name! How I
Despise all things in this shallow
And crepuscular light… The
Light . . that . . that . .
That I . . . Will never L~~

LOVE


Love . . .

God Laughs with you dear child


Meheheheh
Heheheheh
Muhahahahahaha!


My ignorance is vast and
To the Truth I AM blind.
How can I Love what I do not understand?


Your eye has been damaged

But in time thou shalt see

What you have learned

What you are to be.

Your careless haste

Into the unknown face

Has hampered your development

Thou potential you waist

That shit's really good man.


May you be interested in this?

http://www.lawofone.info

A response written before your questions:



Patterns are glowing, and soon to be showing
showing reflective
perplexive, detective?
Facing the wilder, facing the floor
Why won't you walk anymore?

Smoking with brazen, facing derisive
They wait for the full moon, a function of queued doom
Looming and smiling, so wildly surprising
Evasive abrasive the glow is soon worn
Explosive neurosis, the hipsters corrosive
Selectively feeling a guest in their homes

Under the mantle lies but a candle
Lonely and seeking the dust of my hole
Pervasive, a stasis, the song of the worn

The mask keeps on falling, I cry out with longing
Calling a monster who seems not so pure
Allure of the widow, her meadow a pillow
Queen of the damaged, sickly and cured


I will not endure....


I will not endure....


A gnosis corrosive, my dullness explosive
The question a rhythm, the key here is role