deepundergroundpoetry.com
Black Brick Seer
The moon seems to spin or spiral -
In – S-L-O-W – Motion segments
Of self consumption in shadowed/floral
Patterns – In numerous belated/laments.
Opulent window – Into – Life like ink.
Dreams & things: Past, present, future.
Let me open my eyes – In order to close them and just… Sink.
Black velvet textures in segments of verdure.
I am. Confrontations with self consuming darkness.
I am Poet. In illuminations, transforming all of this.
Making multi tiered heavens as beautified havens.
In firelight candle wax fight between me & night – Interwoven.
They say that the hair holds memories in frequencies -
In sequences of… Electricities – Moving/maneuvering – Back/forth.
Dangling locks submerged in ink – Swaying – Exquisite luxuries
Holding the times of time the rhymes of rhyme – Blossoming forth.
Black brick pathways to a palace of wisdom – Followed in forthrightness -
In search of the knowledge of inciting events in pulsations,
Pulsating, as prismatic crystalline of the seen of scenes bathed in brightness.
To a reason. To a season. O spills of ink/soul – Taking me places in pulsations.
One day they will lower me into the ground in the silent sound
Of black velvet shadows – Hermetic sealed and concealed.
The grandest state of becoming – Caressing/Crashing/Heaven/Earth/
And the hair will continue to grow. And I – Will – Continue to be revealed.
I wrote for advancement and I shall continue to advance.
I wrote to extract beauty from dark plethoras and black rainbows.
I wrote for self development and solvents to sorrows.
I wrote to become one who has seen/knows in light dreaming rose.
Scribe of the ineffable.
Surfer of the waves.
I shall take to the graves -
The vision that eternally saves.
Comprised - Of multi tiered heavens -
Expanding into the darkness of the coffins.
As the hair – Goes everywhere without a care -
Following the black brick path to the beauty that was always there.
Always there.
* * *
Some days ago (or some space of time) I was looking out the back screen door, when suddenly, I spotted movement, and my eyes went into predator mode, moving to identify the source of the movement. Once identified, the eyes became telescopic in mechanical android functions.
A strange creature landed. It was a dragonfly. (And who do you think I thought of?) (but of course.)
As I looked closer, I discovered that the mystical creature had something in it’s grasp. It was a fly, and our dear mystical creature was extracting the brains out of the thing. I tilted my head in wonder.
I immediately went to get the video camera, but the zoom did not capture the creature properly, so I went and got the cell phone and was able to get some close up shots, to the point of coming eye to eye with eyes that stared into my soul.
I think that everything in this world is comprised of a multi tiered heaven. There are an infinite amount of perspectives and insights, that may be derived from all things. What I found most compelling about this particular sight, was that it became, to me, a metaphor for the Poet/ess.
There is the idea that the fly represents the poet, being one that extracts beauty from even the most hideous of things. But… This took that to another level, a higher tier of the multi tiered heaven.
I think that the fly represents the self consuming darkness of everything, that emerges and surfaces as a pristine thing, both hideous and grotesque, in disordered states; and the Poet/ess (as dragonfly) seizes this thing and makes beauty in a state of order, taking innovative flights of progress and advancement.
Another thing that this experience seemed to indicate, to me, is that (aside from everyone in the world being connected) those in closer circles of individuals, such as sub-cultures & micro sub-cultures (like DUP) are perhaps inter-connected on a different level, a different tier of heaven. I think that when you have such a dynamic, it is perhaps desirable to cultivate and embrace the potential to exponentially enhance our powers, both on the individual & collective level. Alas… Maybe we are human all too human… Or… This world was not meant for such things. Or… There is too much darkness & disorder…
Whatever the case may be, every Poet/ess is strong enough to stand on their own, in all circumstances.
Which brings me to my final point. For me, the main purpose of writing poetry is to increase Personal Power. That is to say, the ability to endure and thrive in all circumstances.
Because shit man… One day they are going to lower you into the ground in a box… (The ULTIMATE circumstance.) And what will you take into that box? I will here say that the Poet/ess will take with them that which they made of the darkness, the tiers of heaven.
Published 30th Jul 2021
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31st Jul 2021 2:48am
dearest Cipher I really dug the message here
it's beautiful I think poets speak a language others don't know
I love the idea and i agree with you about us being interconnected...
this is a gorgeous write❤
it's beautiful I think poets speak a language others don't know
I love the idea and i agree with you about us being interconnected...
this is a gorgeous write❤
31st Jul 2021 11:31am
To speak a language, which others do not know, is most excellent.
I think that that is the highest form of existence.
I thank you for this great feeling of confirmation.
My deepest gratitude Crimsin.
I think that that is the highest form of existence.
I thank you for this great feeling of confirmation.
My deepest gratitude Crimsin.
