J.C. Whitfield's Blog, page 60

MiSeRy/YrEsIm

MiSeRy/YrEsIm

Poem: Harlot

your crisis will approach

and what lies before you are so many conclusive decisions

you keep fighting the war

but that shit has already dissipated

then i watch your puerile archaic beliefs

and it's only gotten you nowhere

driven you into disconsolation and squalor for another answer

fortunate minds don't sink to desperation

just who do you think i am

i need no guide, therefore i care for no direction

then i watch your puerile archaic beliefs

and it's only gotten you nowhere

driven you into disconsolation and squalid for another answer

Poem: Apocryphobics

I'd never thought i'd witness someone so self-virtuous that i would feel so sick. like needles treading down my throat in a march of soldiers i can feel this disgorge approaching, like a storm. self-desensitized by your own involvement in this world has loomed you into belligerence.

Your beatified expedition's perfervid color has been repudiated within this absurd ego that you have conducted in your dogmatic vestige.

In the contingency of your self-perseverance, you aim for absolution. But it's something you'll never achieve as you reach for it above the surface and you find it's something that will soon suffocate you, giving you a yearning that will leave you in isolation.

As much as you'd like to, you can't befriend this self-fulfillment when it's only promoting such supremacy rather than the result of self-innocence.

Was the anticipation given up in the discernment that you could be wrong and that your fellow doctrine may have been an aspersion to draw you away from that sublimity.

What compromises the knowledge of death in singular harmony?

Have you at all been pragmatic in the permission of this amity or have you still been mitigating through superior beliefs.

Your self-virtuosity doesn't lead to any superbness, rather than it does to mediocrity.

I know how this works. I've grown well acquainted to this dormancy and how it interacts with those around me. This is all credited to my eye of understanding and seeing through it all.

The source of my suffrage i have kept bare for quite a while, like a shadow and like an anchor it will drive me down in the pits of ignorance that have been the attributes of my own concern.

like a mirror it shows me faults where i had once deceived myself and my conception of what had once been laid out before me.

i take the lesson willingly and treasure it until i am finish with it all. then, like a gift, i share it with those around me.

letting them know, your exclusive singularity consists but only in the singularity of consciousness.

Poem: Bizarro Bastarda

Our interaction became unwelcoming like a looming virus corrupt to the affect. Eluded by ambiguous walls and murky doors colored by blood and rust disseminating a liaison that isn't suppose to occur between the likes of us. portioning oblivion by a vain urge that will contest the clause between the individuals.

I become aware of the line and what stands in it's integration; the patina and sheen of this sign that should have shows a lambent empathy even if i can't do much to persuade you

Confrontation in this increase of intolerance hasn't been mislaid for it's own good. Besides, the girth has left a insincerity of superiority rather than individuality and equality. But I can't still come to understand how this has become so managed when you preach of such things. Just you're still accustomed to this stark relationship.

I become aware of the line and what stands in it's integration; the patina and sheen of this sign that should have shows a lambent empathy even if i can't do much to persuade you

You're nothing more than a child, vestal in mind but otherwise promiscuous. insistent in this enmity in means of devotion of some inconsideration. keeping some refuge. you want someone to rid you of these things that have abandoned you as you bastardize everyone else

beyond man I have grown pardoned of this dependability through supposition of reason, finding my own self-regard

Confrontation in this increase of intolerance hasn't been mislaid for it's own good. Besides, the girth has left a insincerity of superiority rather than individuality and equality. But I can't still come to understand how this has become so managed when you preach of such things. Just you're still accustomed to this stark relationship.

I become aware of the line and what stands in it's integration; the patina and sheen of this sign that should have shows a lambent empathy even if i can't do much to persuade you

i am already fully aware of this exemption and know i'll surpass with it. i know i am of a grand privilege when i owe only to himself.

We watch the lambency commune with desire

Dreams and desires are mask every so often like conveyance

We watch the desire commune with lambency

through the eyes of your son

I discover the paradigm, in all it's segregations and divisions