Call it BrainbreakCall it Brainbreak (2/7/06)Call it Brainbreak
No. Let's call it brainbreak (The blood is flowing fine) Despite my trainwreck eyes That search, surmise, despise of spite I'm calm. God damnit, like a palm. Free and sailing, balancing the winds
Time to rescind? Unacceptable! I'll win. I'm in, begin, again explain What seems to you so plain I'll train, my weaknesses refrain My own Pygmylian I'll claim
But if I will, what of my will It seems you are still looking for a foreign fill I'm only one such pill,
with side effects well studied and con
Monumentmy. eye. finds your figure, binds;Monument
and it lingers. as a lightning of my mind. linking likings, two of a kind
i rue the fact so few are due to envy as i do. you.
its heavy. so react to this.
please, cease the act and sieze my pleas as truth. as fact.
may they attract
the neck of you - the island flower that does cower, my indifference.
whence i wince at weakness wringing weary shows of distance do you see? you pierce me fiercly,
in both vein and brain.
plain and cripple. ive been mangled! &nbs
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hairs have fallen to the floor door swings slowly with the draft craft dull spirit, I inherit father, battled in his life. yield to fate, I am - striving king bring to my red lips a fortune of a torture, curved like you bind down, tie round, for I am due it is no chance that melody reminds my remedy: to live. to give. achieve. to be more so than a routine,
to be not thin, to fly upon a whim
A Misanthrope at the CacaoA Misanthrope at the Cacao 5/15/03A Misanthrope at the Cacao
A weapon of the eye closed fist, a beautiful refrain my faded denim cool will rule
this pen shall scribe into the bone, outline my clenching jaw the blond bleached bitch shall sway
don’t read this with a smile I say, my art is dire and all my mirrors break so let this ego fly
as a smoke ring of precision legs crossed and leaning low disheveled hair and
thrift store style
To the Young PoetTo the Young PoetTo the Young Poet
I hear the young poet speak of the beauty of
Starvation And mutilation And emotional emaciation --
Artistic steroids That dance our souls On splendid strings of self destruction For all the world to admire, Creating an early grave But lasting fame.
And I can't help but wonder If perhaps she has a point -- True beauty is ephemeral, So those who create it Follow suit,
Sacrificing sunsets For a direct connection to the divine; The price of the profound -- Our blood.
But then I wonder &n
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my childhood home My childhood homemy childhood home
suffers contained a millions nascent of vagrant nuclear (violent) &nb
ReflectionI tiptoe out as the snow silently falls Forgetting troubles, I quietly leave the residence halls Periwinkle toque on my head, snowflakes on my nose The cold paints my face a warm coloured roseReflection
A dance and twirl in the middle of the night Wrapped in a jacket to ward off frostbite Scruffed up jeans and warm comfy fleece The cold bothers me not in the least
In the icy arms and frigid fingers of nature Numbness sets in and in pain-free bliss I linger.
A frozen teardrop runs down my face Brushed away but it leaves a trace In life I may hold to dreams ideal
random excerpts from my novel
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JoshTierney.com
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JoshTierney.com
And yes, it's true. Although, thankfully, I got over the fact many years ago that my verse is never likely to have any sort of universal appeal.
That does free one from certain encumberances though eh?
okies.. thats my public service for today
all those people watching you and no comments....
meh.. oh well..
HELLO!!!!!!!!! Just checkin in to see how you are n stuff
well, as for the dogmatist error...
the poem was inspired while speaking to a dear friend of mine (my town is a cultural void, and soccer, boxing and fighting are the only topics one can really fall into, so the odd philosophical conversation is na god send) Andy, argued how we can never embrace abstract concepts, one can not know "what is in itself" as it is a shimmerer, a man-made dream to keep us on our feet.
his argument was quite nietzschean, so i tied it into nietzsche's phrase of dogmatic and cognitivist philosophy: the "dogmatist's error"
so, the shadows represent say, Platonic forms. we know of the concept of such abstractions, but what lies beneath them we can not. So, the shadows cling to us, and force our imagination and philosophy... but in reality they taunt us, for man can never know such things.
the last stanza (if i remember correctly) brings in Plato, and blames him, the father of the dogmatist error.
nothing really original about the poem, but it was written purposefully in an abstract and aphoristic manner to connect it with the theme.
as is known, it isn't my perspective.. though sceptical, i am too spiritual, and feel reality can be found in a true sense.
any way... i'm tired, and i hope this made some sense. i'm always happy to talk philosophy, so if you'd like, i'm up for discussion
daniel
--
many cry for the dolphin, trapped in fishing nets.
but who cries for the tuna?
Thankyou.
Dae
thanks for your comment on "ube ubi caritas".
peace.
+g
--
human rights for all
Thanks for the kind words. Your interpretation was fairly accurate, but the germination was a fairly random thought, and the dovetailing referred to a merging of things.
--
Another shameless artist
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. . . and birth a new translation of a language yet untold.
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