poetry and parables (and stuff) compilation one

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Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One By: Seth Moris -------

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Page 1: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

By: Seth Moris

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Page 2: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

Neotany

I might be flabbergasted at neotanous monotony

the machines bequeathed to see and mean

"A bludgeoning engine of seamed scenes"

Postulating the decision to breed

before ever considering the need to feed

or to realize the condition of the multiplication

the complexities have more mouths to scream

for what they 'want' to chew upon

things to cry for, moan after

pulling strings to prosthetic parents

through the television screen

the google machine...

filtered of course to suit "your" will

it says so in the magazines

the fiends you deem to monstrous proportions

will never quite match towards your mental distortion

how many of the things you see with your mind

will you choose over what you can see with your eyes

Page 3: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

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Ananke

I am a fool, I've failed, at my trials

Or has Fortune struck me a seductive blow?

My own volition, lack thereof

Has led me to a darkened grove.

But what, now, with these things before me

will keep within their mind the Truth?

or bind the animated glory

Dreams do not hold a heavy roof

Page 4: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

It was upon a lightened inkling

that first transpired sacred love

but never larger secrets, thinking

ever managed to succeed above

The many options held before me

daunted I, with weary thick

they may taunt a leering psyche

remaining present, er'r I sink

Erected totems to the prime

garnering potency in primal

the many grains of sand in line

neccesity dictates what is final

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Page 5: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

Affimatively Negative

I am the Sacred

I do not exist

I am the Profane

I do not exist

I am not the Sacred

Only I exist

I am not the Profane

Only I exist

I am above the Sacred

There is no above

I am below the Sacred

There is no below

I am above the Profane

There is only below

I am below the Profane

There is only above

I am the god

I do not exist

I am the beast

I do not exist

I am not the god

Only the god exists

I am not the beast

Page 6: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

Only the beast exist

I am above the god

There is nothing above the god

I am above the beast

There is nothing above the beast

I am below the god

There is nothing below the god

I am below the beast

There is nothing below the beast

I am

I am not

I am and am not

I am neither am or not

I

( )

Page 7: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

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Broken Man

The broken man smiled his crooked face

in a primordial grin of "bitch, please"

in a way that transcended time and space

No false bravado here, only dominance.

This broken man, smiled his crooked smile

The crooked man wiped his face on a broken sleeve

His eyes darted left and right

An ancient movement, the crooked man watching

Looking for movement, listening for high pitched noises

Tell tale signs of predators, oh but where was he now?

The man before him, knife in hand.

Page 8: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

The blade as thin as the dense wedge of guilt

sunk between the crooked mans shoulders

The hopeless man, he cheats and wishes

This blade before him, as thin as his patience

this thing that cuts one into two, magic mathematics

The posed man knows the knife he holds only halves dreams

And puts the rectangle of plastic back inside its sheath

No purchase will be made tonight, at the market square

No purchase at the square for the ring, diamond

The betrothed man realizes his date with destiny

And placently conspires to to circle the square of his life

The broken man smiled his crooked smile

In a primordial grin of "bitch, please"

In a way that transcends time and space

No window shopping here, only dominance

And the purchase is made, the diamond ring

The ancient movement, the crooked man watching

Of small metal loops and bars holding sway over our hearts

Tell tale signs of a jailor, the cage itself in sight

The man before him, jagged smile laid bare

Hands the receipt, and the numbers show only one thing

Negative. More of the soul gone. What have I done?

This thing that ties, two to one.

This ring before him, as round as his stomach.

As hungry as his hopes and needs.

Page 9: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

No change will mar this night.

No change at the square, for the ring, the diamond.

The small man bids way to destiny.

And goes home, again.

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Fire Dealer

Sometimes I wonder why I brought the fire to humanity so they could sell it to the highest buyer

Made them all from clay and mud they never got to play around, wonder why all passerby, reconciling their desires

trashing distortion

abusive aversion

tick tock chime time

Page 10: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

Desiring visions of existing

--------------------------------

Mutt

I don't have diamonds

Ran out of gold

All i have left

Is my name

And the only love

I get's from a mutt

A little brown dog

I found in the alleyway

And all we have is

A hot dog bun

Little brown dog

Please go home

But I walked to my spot

Fly that cardboard, fought

The rain and cops for money

Made a lot that day

Everyone paid

Mystery till i noticed

Page 11: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

The little brown dog behind me

My friends all did leave me

The lovers did all bleed me

Didn't know what was needy

Till I met that little brown dog

Now everythings a ball

We get drunk in bushes

He growls at crack fiends.

Page 12: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

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Man In Black

One day, a Man in Black, a completely normal man,

albeit one with murder and maleintent in mind.

searched for the human prey he sought, and quickly

approached a homely beggar

stared fixedly at the ground.

"Oh, beggar, do look up." The Man in Black said,

to which the man did not respond.

"Do you know who I am beggar?" Queried the Man in Black.

The beggar, without raising his head, studied the ground.

"No sir." The beggar replied, "I can't say I do know.

But I might have some ideas."

"I am Death, beggar." Spoke the Man in Black.

"I am here to kill you."

Page 13: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

The beggar glanced at a nearby tree, but did not

look up at the stranger, which angered the Man in Black.

"Well? Have you nothing to say before I destroy you?"

The beggar shrugged. "You cannot destroy the likes of me."

"I am a form, and forms always reconstitute.

They cannot be destroyed, only changed."

The Man in Black wasn't sure how to take this,

surely the beggar wasn't naive enough to believe

in an immortal soul?

"Well then," The Man in Black coughed, deciding to play the game

"I will change you then. I will change you so that

your own mother does not even recognize you."

The beggar didn't talk for a long while,

and the Man in Black stared fixedly... waiting.

Eventually the beggar put down a finger and

let a tiny ant crawl upon his skin.

"Change is inevitable. All things must change."

The Man in Black did not like this, and uttered

a low moan, this was not going as planned.

"Well even then." The Man in Black thought hurridely at a

retort, "It will be me who has changed you. None other. I will

own your new being, my own presence stamped upon you

like a branding iron. I will compell you to comply.

I will shape you in my image. You will do anything I say."

The beggar set down the ant, which hurridly scrambled away

Page 14: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

until the Man in Black stepped on it, without so much

as a glance. The beggar smiled at the figure, looking

at him for the first time, saying,

"And who has compelled you? Who has stamped you?"

The Man in Black leaned forward in a fury, his teeth clenched

"I WILL OWN YOU!" the stranger shouted at the sitting beggar.

The beggar returned his gaze fixedly to the ground, and said

"Can a slave 'own'?"

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Embryo

The speaker decree aim and appetite to subsist, gratefully bounded

centrally, moreover spawned thus spun, begotten indigenously

in Aeternam Utero Umbra, the speaker urges with resolve and

intention, aspire, arise, awake, scale, surface, slither

ascend the speculum, transcend the imager.

Page 15: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

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Fever

I'm getting the fever dreams

where your time is gone, instructions light up in dreams

You wake up, and your head feels like a glass pitcher

Full of beans and rocks.

Also your balance is lost.

Flowing to a halt, you'd wait it out

if only the damned room was not so chilly.

You lie down and try to re-enter

like a man to a child to a gamete

The cosmos is as thick as you plus a blanket

In the womb, where you wait for your head to feel smaller.

So you can walk without falling backwards.

Fuck gravity.

Fuck the patterns because I'm on a bad turn.

Page 16: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One
Page 17: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

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Silk Pantaloons

grandiose boasting further than most

the sensible thing is not to go

frantically frenzied blending bended

hungry hips and grey'd great hair

blunders, benders, drunken parties

alone indoors and drums empty

siphoned pistons beat shallow beastly

ballooned billboards bring saloons

frolicking dunces pilfering silk pantaloons

Page 18: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

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Woodcutter

Once upon a time there was a small village in a faraway place, where the people were happy and they lived simple lives.

One day, a man named Bob was busy in the forest, chopping up logs for fire wood so that his family could cook and be warm, when by Chance a splinter shot from the log and into the man's eye. It caused him much pain, and running back to his house he told his wife to call for a doctor.

They soon found nothing could be done to remove the splinter from his eye, and soon the man had to chop wood with only one good eye, which caused problems with his aim.

The man however could not simply accept this slower rate of chopping, so he got to work inside his shed and after many long days and nights he invented a wood chopping machine.

The woodsman's fellow villagers were quite taken aback by his invention, and soon began to come to him whenever they had a problem so that he could invent for them a tool or machine to solve the problems they faced. Not once did they decide to invent their own, but the man was pleased and soon stopped having to cut wood altogether, his inventions had made him that much money.

Soon the man who had previously been too busy working to socialize with his neighbors was in constant company with others. To his shock they began to emulate him, to dress like he dressed and to talk about inventions and innovations. But never once did they seek to invent or innovate anything. His fans soon donned woodsman clothes and cut their bears like his, wore glasses like his, drank alcoholic drinks like he drank and the like. They soon started holding special times at the pub to meet and discuss inventions and the like and started calling themselves "Inventors", a sort of club name, though the original woodsman didn't normally go to these meetings, because he found himself too busy with his inventions and the ever growing amount of problems other people offered to pay him to solve.

One day, a rich business man from another far away city came to visit the town. He had been told specifically to look for the woodsman with the long beard and glasses, who was now known as an inventor.

Stopping the first man who resembled these things, the business asked "Oy! Are you the inventor?" And the man grinned wide and bowed low "Yes sir I am an Inventor as sure as the sky is blue and there is a God in Heaven." However when the business man began to explain what it is he needed, that he wanted a specific kind of machine that he planned on reproducing the world over, the man who claimed to be an Inventor looked confused, made an excuse, and left promptly. This happened many times for a whole day until the business man was frustrated and left the town completely.

Hearing this, the original woodsman figured out what had happened, and turned to address the so called "Inventors'

Page 19: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

"YOU!" He shouted at them "I thought you were my peers! My allies! My friends! But all you do is dress like me! You talk like me! You claim you are Inventors like me! What have you invented? What obstacles have you overcome? You do not wish to be LIKE me! You wish to WORSHIP me like a misbeggoton idol! I will have none of it! From now on, invent your OWN machines, solve your OWN problems!"

This did not go over well with the other villagers, and soon all retracted their business from the inventor, their pride was too bruised to do other wise, and he was again forced to resume chopping wood for a living, though now with ease from his own machines, to heat the home of his family and provide warm meals, and this time the woodsman was content.

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Scale

Its easy to ascertain the image of the magistrate

begging indifference to needless states

illustrate the barter chip of enumerate

interstates, escapades of fundamental real estate

reality and public working

fraternities, endless lurking

Transitory aftertaste of berries taken

not in grace, but ineptitude of certainty

that nature is rightful property

marketing and algorithmic seizing

capitalization on human seeding

Feeding what? Mouths on repeat

Endless, infinite genetic creeds

Enforced through sanctions of the soul

Binding explanation debt.

Examples given, that don't represent

Page 20: Poetry and Parables (and Stuff) Compilation One

Decision made through suffering paid

The toll some take to begin,

Its the price of being seen.

The first wifi was human eye

bounding wavelengths enter sight

encode upon the tabla rasa

the blank slate might be mind's own father

Progenitor of regeneration

One whole man is a nation

A Solar system, a particle

Gravity bound, decision are due

Stem the tide of fallen water

Might not be clouds,

but at least can spot them.