Animal's House of Muse

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

Month: September, 2019

Logic, Contemplatively Complete

The sun arose one morning
To no one wondering where it had gone
All night, the world was left to the moon’s devices
Bare intuition its only guide
To self-perseverance
Nocturnal instinct prowling
Per usual
Beasts growling; pouncing; spilling blood
Nothing out of place in the dark of night
Nothing new to be known
No function left alone
Redundantly reflected
In the glorious light of day
The sun finally realized the worth of its valuing
A mere paternal place holder
Patterning from afar
A taxing order
Of categories devoid of meaning
In and of themselves
We revolve around nothing in particular
And that alone makes perfect sense
The sun grew red with embarrassment
As it prepared to implode
In the nude
In accordance with natural law
What sap is next to fill the primal position?
Who’s next in line to be king?

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What’s Numerical and Relative to Us

From across great divides the soul finds its mean,
Mean truth:

No matter your travels
You’ll never reach your end
Heaven awaits eternally
Wondering why you haven’t shown up yet
Bound, gagged, and determined
You’re free to shape reality
So long as you’re all up in it
Stuck as a stick in the mud
Soggy sweet nothings squished between your toes.

I call upon what’s immanent
I need a bit of Hell to light my way

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