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This piece will exist in only the 3rd eye of true believers, the ones that can’t make a distinction between thought corresponding to reality, you know the “Dreamers” that can’t be bought the ones who do not think in rational thought, an onslaught of ridiculousness, the big fish storytellers & number one best sellers, the cellar dwellers- the nocturnal insomniacs that get this down just right in-fact from the lack of sleep to issues pressing too deep- the ones who keep all of that contrasted with what is imaginary, delusional, (only) in the mind, dreams, what is false, what is fictional, or what is abstract, Since we hear to listen, see we don’t know the difference from the rest of you all, so we sit down just to stand tall, our words travel to the ends of the flat earth just to fall, into the abyss with no gravitational pull to this, it just…exists under exigent circumstances of premature advances of the mundane physical presence no attraction just self-satisfaction of a single but significant, over-ration
This is something they can’t fathom for instance, causality, virtue, and life are abstract concepts that can be difficult to define, but they are only rarely equated with pure delusions. Both in existence so the realities of abstractions are in dispute, Thus this is just “Revenge of the Nerds”: one extreme position regards them as mere words; another position regards them as higher truths than less abstract concepts. This disagreement is the basis of the philosophical problem of universals or time intervals so simple to some but unattainable to most so they say “Poets” brag and boast about what they do not know or experience, just lucky publications by a depressed anti-social person with a degree- easy to see but harder to imagine, walking in shoes such as these, please help me to help you understand completely
Since time waits for no man except the immortal one this one will go over the heads of many that can’t be bargained with or bought, just to learn as we watch the world burn, its elevated or lofty in thought, language of the especially gifted inspiring the “awe” becoming the call of something greater to the reader and listeners alike when lightning strikes in the same spot twice this is the conscious subconscious of my Pen’s audacity to grasp narcissistically speaking incoherently to def ears just weakening me- like kryptonite to Superman so, I devised a plan to embed a hidden message in every one of my scribes and by the time you finish my posthumous anthology, they will finally recognize me…Subliminally
© 2016 Lazarus owns the copyright to this poem. All right reserved.
