Tuesday, July 16, 2019

While Eyes Water


Unbeknownst to cries, those undercurrent movements, where eyes feel emotion: sudden to misty, sudden to sentimental, exploring depth and wind and cadence: our futures leering, our pasts patting our shoulders, so electric, so embarrassed, needing a given opportunity: if but to redeem, while under-cultured, thither, groping at walls, or seated in pits, a metaphorical wreck: alas, a dear confession, those seasick feelings, those dreary existential vibes, or believing she might plant resurrection: those tombs, buried in catacombs, our eyes filled with fire: emotion preceding instinct, will preceding power, or existence preceding intellect: an absent table, while perception is required, else, an object does not exist: our philosophic tuns, those immovable weights, those immovable smiles: caged by existence, while debating existence, charged or unmotivated by insistence: a docile creature, a passive lieutenant, or forceful, aggravated and aggressive: to pick happiness, determined by exhilaration, while something imperceptible operates: we denote its properties, we scream about its maxims, but our best tangible reference is intuition: indeed, while eyes water, distinguished at a second glance, we inherit a conscience: those seagulls at sea-motion, swarming in herds, our eyes pierced upon their activity: so similar to existence, concerned about others, intuiting into their existential whirlwind: amazed to have breath, or dreading such breath, while determined to persist: (those shared sorrows, our shared bodies, or this permeance demanding accountability: theological conundrums, our best activities, while solidifying attributes: anthropomorphizing, or insisting upon gender, our lies, our creativity, our masculine default nouns: abandoned to perception, interrogated by conception, buried in epistemic demands: while skeptical, while employing doubt, we find this resistance to believe: we vet actions, we modify behavior, and we exist as unsung moralists): hither, a deeper claim, this need for approval, notwithstanding, conviction, in order to maintain healthy disposition.

A lotus gives light, where a brother passed away, while life was in effect: our minds shift, mind particles are in operation, and we know them by intense energy and concentration: a woman sails a current, probably trained since adolescence, where a man awakens to something extraordinary: a tide drops suddenly, besprinkled upon consciousness, where a woman in disguise offers a smile: our souls well at moments, for something bubbles forth, thither, eyes water: we glance afar, and sense a child, an adult adolescent: our hearts reach fury, our minds compute, our spirits gloss with empathy: an icon passes away, we celebrate beauty, for said icon lived a productive existence: in comes this texture, evermore, lost in operations: those playful vibrations, those leaping thumps, our dearer creativities: at whelming metaphysics, or reserved hypotheses, along with our theories concerning practical existence: those deeper conundrums, our obsession with love, as in its texture, its deliverance, its purported majesty: to need particular guidance, while instilling particular traits, where trust becomes pivotal to this axis by momentum: our souls under scrutiny, our minds unitalicized, something appears as crucial: this wealth of studies, our examined existence, while searching for ultimate exposure: this unlimited access, in this limited example, while true preparation is self-discovered: inclined to drop a tear, inclined to help someone needy, or changed by such overwhelming poverty: re-nudging children, re-studying notes, or darn near frantic concerning those small glitches: this insistence upon reality, or those deep religious experiences, seem to fall short of a loving palm: something offered by development, something embodied by realization, where souls fly and dream and scream out negativity: those positive reinforcers, our modified perceptions, where mobility restructures an idle fever.

All are Braving the Future

    If I may tell it, sore disquieted, greeting memories. Such soul-iniquity, grinding through havens, begging those last three dimensions. ...