Animal's House of Muse

Vibes to Feed the Hasty Soul with the States of All that Matters

Month: August, 2012

The Price of A Priori

Pain is good when you’re ‘sposed to be feeling it…

Let it pulse through my body so that my vision may live,
And eventually my thoughts will rise above it

-For it’s a sign that Reason’s over stepped its boundaries,
Left the body with no sense of Self to defend
In a bombardment of Illumination from beyond the scope of my understanding-

By trudging through time, despite,
I’ll better learn to listen,
And learn to better bite my tongue
So that my lesson doesn’t fill my mouth
With that familiar taste of blood.

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The Importance of Rubber

… I have this imaginary friend whose name, for Our purposes here, is The Entire Universe. And through more than mere eidetic relations, we have become more than mere friends; and now I have more than a mere decision to make- do I keep it, or escape into medical means of disposal so that my sick and twisted sense of free and isolated Self may live in denial Thrice times more? I’m certain there’s a way to remove this moral burden from my body while still yet letting All Ways Cross across my shoulders at Once… (After-All, I do have a memory of eating cake, Once)…

So it is settled, then. I will kill and give birth at the same time; to the result of pragmatic efficiency carried through to the max; to the result of that which grounds causality in the first place understanding its place in space-time; to the result of an end of means in and of themselves, for the Objective will have finally mutated at the genetic level…

In time, I believe I will be able to breathe easy; as soon as I process and push out the last of my confusion upon this Continuum of a Page…

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Dark Matter

In your dividing my own Being
I’ve been delivered unto myself
And what unfurls and whirls around me
Is destruction so devastating
One’s fell swoops down from his own knees;
One’s deafness penetrates beyond the ears
In keeping with the pressures of a million black holes-
The sound of a million lost souls
That had not the means of better creation,
Though a million infinities may have
Bore out of their misery
Had only the Universe allowed…
Yet allotted to me, for some reason,
Is a special attraction-
A gravity so grave that my magnetic
Force surpasses the confines of this heliosphere,
While altogether All crashes down as the Ends finally meet
And come to terms
And these terms Being my own,
Though you were the enzyme to my deliverance
(Wence bestowed unto me my power source in the form of fury)
Your million modes will not escape my wrath
All of the sufferings, scars, and scorchings
Taking tolls and taxing them upon my body
Will serve their purpose well
For they shall act as bread crumbs of Good Intentions
Marking your path back to Hell

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Intimacy

You have no confined-space-training,
So you may wait beyond the door;
Your condition is incapable of grasping
What lies there to explore;
Your conscience isn’t pure enough
To stomache what’s in store
For any demon that dare more than
Glance beyond this bedroom door.

You have no confined-space-training,
So you may wait beyond the door;
For others much stronger than myself
Have met their death here on the Floor
Of Infinite Energies, whose violent
Convergence undulates wildly to the score
Of a plot thickened with music
Created by the Framer beyond the door.

You were warned about the training,
Told to wait beyond the door
That held fast the Earth’s dark secrets,
Its beating heart, its breadth, its core;
And with deaf ears you listened
Stepped right in, breathed right out, once more;
So that your entrails splattered wall to wall,
Your pieces piled neatly by the door.

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Suspension and Superposition

The Earth is silent towards those who wish to mine Her secrets; but to those who partake in Her secrets, She sings songs of praise and glory- in the name of all creation- She is They, in full.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Escaping That Which is Only Experienced ‘Once’

God damn opiates!
Appropriate for mishaps
And all the day’s doings
But really- what Good does it make?
A break, upon the world, you say?
A rip in space and time,
A vacation from the daily grind?
Tell me, is that really where
One should find One’s freedom?
Is that loop-hole-liable?
Fashion the day’s events
Into a reason to lament
And any Being would want
To leave for a while…
But this leaving leads All
Through an endless cycle
Of woe and want-
That which goes unattended
Transforming into demons
Before unseen, terrors beyond obscene;
Possible modes of One’s own existence
Shaped by pity and fear-
Lend not the Ear,
But the Heart and Soul to the problem!
Though, if all One has to offer
Is a crescent-shaped pill,
Then why not?
Who cares?
In what sense is there a will?
For Christ’s sake,
The sun will probably explode tomorrow, anyways…

 

 

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