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In Dreams

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  #1  
Old 08-18-2017, 11:03 AM
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Default In Dreams


What to make of the seemingly endless dreams that came night after night though never did repeat?

An unyielding sense of sacrifice that only seemed to stop at the ultimate price of death. I awoke alone and uneasy.

In the daytimes I meditated and sulked and mulled while shackled to the time-clock. What was the root?

Amateur psychologist I was, I started to tease it out. It was a flagging sense of autonomy, a constant need for reassurance from an outside hand that could never, in true faith, belong to me. My ego was bruised -- this strong sense of independence, freedom of will, of action which I had hereto prized as my apex, acknowledged as my Achilles heel. Nonsense. The drivel of self-importance constructed over the course of twenty-odd years. Castles made of sand.

It occurred that nothing belonged to me, not even this bigoted notion of self. That this stupid, purple heart was but an agent of the tides, the tides enslaved to the phases of the moon, the moon betrayed to the inner-machinations of a dark and voided universe that no human eye could ever hope to see.

In this realization one tasted something familiar -- the sense of freedom, of independence. Nothing really belonged to one and one sincerely belonged to nothing. An extra set of hands for harvest, a body that resulted merely in fertilizer, for future hands, for future harvests.

Tonight I would lay to rest this heavy brain of gas and lead and I would dream of nothing, nothing but peace.

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Old 08-20-2017, 03:43 PM
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Originally Posted by beefheart View Post
What to make of the seemingly endless dreams that came night after night though never did repeat?

An unyielding sense of sacrifice that only seemed to stop at the ultimate price of death. I awoke alone and uneasy.

In the daytimes I meditated and sulked and mulled while shackled to the time-clock. What was the root?

Amateur psychologist I was, I started to tease it out. It was a flagging sense of autonomy, a constant need for reassurance from an outside hand that could never, in true faith, belong to me. My ego was bruised -- this strong sense of independence, freedom of will, of action which I had hereto prized as my apex, acknowledged as my Achilles heel. Nonsense. The drivel of self-importance constructed over the course of twenty-odd years. Castles made of sand.

It occurred that nothing belonged to me, not even this bigoted notion of self. That this stupid, purple heart was but an agent of the tides, the tides enslaved to the phases of the moon, the moon betrayed to the inner-machinations of a dark and voided universe that no human eye could ever hope to see.

In this realization one tasted something familiar -- the sense of freedom, of independence. Nothing really belonged to one and one sincerely belonged to nothing. An extra set of hands for harvest, a body that resulted merely in fertilizer, for future hands, for future harvests.

Tonight I would lay to rest this heavy brain of gas and lead and I would dream of nothing, nothing but peace.
Thanks, this is really cool!
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Old 09-18-2017, 10:28 AM
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Cool yeah, until you look down and see how high you really are.
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Old 01-06-2018, 04:07 PM
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Originally Posted by beefheart View Post
What to make of the seemingly endless dreams that came night after night though never did repeat?

An unyielding sense of sacrifice that only seemed to stop at the ultimate price of death. I awoke alone and uneasy.

In the daytimes I meditated and sulked and mulled while shackled to the time-clock. What was the root?

Amateur psychologist I was, I started to tease it out. It was a flagging sense of autonomy, a constant need for reassurance from an outside hand that could never, in true faith, belong to me. My ego was bruised -- this strong sense of independence, freedom of will, of action which I had hereto prized as my apex, acknowledged as my Achilles heel. Nonsense. The drivel of self-importance constructed over the course of twenty-odd years. Castles made of sand.

It occurred that nothing belonged to me, not even this bigoted notion of self. That this stupid, purple heart was but an agent of the tides, the tides enslaved to the phases of the moon, the moon betrayed to the inner-machinations of a dark and voided universe that no human eye could ever hope to see.

In this realization one tasted something familiar -- the sense of freedom, of independence. Nothing really belonged to one and one sincerely belonged to nothing. An extra set of hands for harvest, a body that resulted merely in fertilizer, for future hands, for future harvests.

Tonight I would lay to rest this heavy brain of gas and lead and I would dream of nothing, nothing but peace.

Son of a bitch.
This woman's shit still slays me.
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Old 01-06-2018, 05:05 PM
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post
Son of a bitch.

This woman's shit still slays me.


Yeah. Shes a scientist of introspection. Shes not just high, although she may be that too.


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Old 01-06-2018, 05:27 PM
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[QUOTE=brianpatrick

Shes a scientist of introspection.

[/QUOTE]

For you.

For me she is what hugs and releases my heart facilitating the flow of blood.
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Old 01-06-2018, 05:37 PM
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post
For you.



For me she is what hugs and releases my heart facilitating the flow of blood.


Well, I hope she keeps doing it then. Its good to have you around.


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Old 01-07-2018, 05:09 AM
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Originally Posted by brianpatrick View Post
Well, I hope she keeps doing it then. Its good to have you around.


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No worries there, mate.

Sometimes when the jonesin' sets in and she ain't put up nothin' new I read her old stuff.

Kinda like a weak water hit from the cotton but it keeps me goin'.
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Old 01-07-2018, 05:12 AM
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[QUOTE=Nick Pierce

a weak water hit from the cotton

[/QUOTE]


Yes, kiddees, an obscure metaphor referencing a type of sixties activity for it's base.
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Old 01-07-2018, 08:53 PM
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Originally Posted by beefheart View Post
What to make of the seemingly endless dreams that came night after night though never did repeat?

An unyielding sense of sacrifice that only seemed to stop at the ultimate price of death. I awoke alone and uneasy.

In the daytimes I meditated and sulked and mulled while shackled to the time-clock. What was the root?

Amateur psychologist I was, I started to tease it out. It was a flagging sense of autonomy, a constant need for reassurance from an outside hand that could never, in true faith, belong to me. My ego was bruised -- this strong sense of independence, freedom of will, of action which I had hereto prized as my apex, acknowledged as my Achilles heel. Nonsense. The drivel of self-importance constructed over the course of twenty-odd years. Castles made of sand.

It occurred that nothing belonged to me, not even this bigoted notion of self. That this stupid, purple heart was but an agent of the tides, the tides enslaved to the phases of the moon, the moon betrayed to the inner-machinations of a dark and voided universe that no human eye could ever hope to see.

In this realization one tasted something familiar -- the sense of freedom, of independence. Nothing really belonged to one and one sincerely belonged to nothing. An extra set of hands for harvest, a body that resulted merely in fertilizer, for future hands, for future harvests.

Tonight I would lay to rest this heavy brain of gas and lead and I would dream of nothing, nothing but peace.
Wonderful!!!

erhapmma
i mean.

wow.where am I?

dizzy. this was a dizzy readaround. Bravo Beefheart

maybe when i find a reason to color it, i'll be back, but for now. it's a golden ticket. .what.? Free write?

Keep going.hahaha
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