Books: Veritas "Ver iam"

There's no prompt, not here...
There's no theory, not directly...
There's some translation of living...
There's some approximation of existing...

Where here becomes else is
Where here coincides with me...
Where this universe is lost through possibility...

Here pages of words like spells open portals
Here multiverses are created, forever immortals.




I read these pages, these pages upon pages of texts... Each story a new world, a new reality, a universe not quite where I am, or not quite where I was. I recognize the fact that I am happy as I explore. The book closes, and I am taken away. I alter and transform the hand of reality, finding myself somewhere new. Inside of these pages I create. There are no restrictions, the world does not withhold the reader's imagination, at least until the pages close like a portal to somewhere beyond. Truth becomes an action and reaction from minds to ideas, thoughts, and creations.



Magic. Truth. Magic. Truth.

These two words are not so different, are they? The four look balanced together like a couple repeated. My pages overflow with magic. Poets recounting miracles explored, originators writing of loneliness and pain changing a world which once tried to change them, each exploring limitless truth and possibility. Escaping from a reality which refuses to accept- from there what occurs? One, in turn, refuses to accept it, altering the very fabric of reality. Some become overjoyed as this transformation occurs, as an individual grows beyond the grasp of their roots. There's a newness to this. New groups of people arise. Old groups react. Inwardly, they wish to force the other to return, to return to the mundaneness and stagnative existence of snobbery and unmagic, a world of untruth.

String Theories become a thread linking one from universe to universe, with a trail of words and pages, a trail of memories and shifted realities. Quantum physics begins to give power to a thought, where every thought becomes a thing creating, creating. Philosophy calls forth for a thinker's thoughts always proven by a prover. An author creates, originates this universe to a multiverse known only as truth. What the thinker thinks, the provers prove... Thoughts becoming things, becoming things...


Magic. Truth. Magic. Truth.

What could be more important than believing and allowing others to believe?

Magic. Truth. Magic. Truth.


A magician inquires, what sets us aside? Is it the loneliness, the pain, is it a reaction to a world which always has tried to force us to become something we're not? Is it the pain of knowing there's something inside of you which is different, or knowing there is something outside of you which is different? Is it being one who knows how to believe? Is it mere knowledge?



I listen as my thoughts collide with the world, changing, forming, morphing, creating...
I pick up a book, wishing only to learn more.

Veritas explore... iam, iam...

Sa (L'Ve) te

Two apart my heart and soul to i
to find You


So...l_ving

poems like riddles...




                                                                       






         clouds                                 cLouds
These nimbus clouds       These nimbus clouds
         clouds                                 cLouds
  
             L                                         P


                                                    R
                 A                                A
          U                                               i
              
               D                                    s
           A                                             E





Raining magnanimusly            puddles of drops...
 ...Adieu, Adieu...                    ...Adieu, Adieu...
   

"Thou Sing A Little Church... i"

Love, your embrace remains a wake
In the lake of my past. I make
Miniature ripples where I peer
Near enough to see near
Your heavenly eyes.
Distant love, nameless future,
Where am I to drive through
These lonely days? To lands of
Wishes? To the cloud guiding
Me to hear your perfect song?
To there where imagination watches
Our Lips touch as every flower
Kisses springs omnipotence...
Love, centered, you remain my core,
The altar to my secret temple,
The meaning behind my holiest hymn.

Love, where Always-Winter Warms
To Spring, comes beautifully a reawakening...

Sadness

Every Word

Every Word Remains

A Double Edged Sword

Every Thing Remains

Strangely Planned

As if I've learned to

Read the Fabrics of Fate's Illusion

With some Nietzscheian Zarathustraic fervor,

Getting my Advice from the sound of a pen

on Paper.

When Everything becomes a twisted mystery,

Am I always the detective?

Writing always turns with

Never-Ending Couplets...

Battling with the "Policeman of my mind"

Wondering how he has nothing better to do.

Sadness
 
Fleeing from emotional cloud covered eyes
My spirit travels like rain drops.
I am surrounded by the sadness of thoughts;
How was I ever good enough for you?


My sadness becomes a shield, a holy
Hymn, an eternal heartbeat, total Truth.
God, I miss these tears, this sadness,
This emotional purification- These tears sooth

So much pain, pain for me, Pain from...
These tears sooth like Rain... For me, for them....
Was I ever good enough?
Was I ever good enough for you,

For Thou...

Stretching
Reaching to my core
I find my center
Holy, complete, pure
Returning to enter
The center of my
Soul, as if exiting
My Form to walk
Within my heart.

Gazing, I look to heavens,
"Sky, how far dost Thou extend?"
Like a perfect stretch,
Glorious, Enormous, True...

descent

Been so high High took me to High
Like a God, like a Little god...
 Been so High had to learn how to soar
to descend and avoid
   a fall...
   a fall...

    like a bird, a little b(go)d
           A Perfect descent

God, I Miss You

Two

There is the one which knows

Love is always, forever,

Heavier than carrying the heavens,

I carry my love

There is two which recedes,

Fleeing your grace, faithfully,

Striving to forget you

to alleviate, not weight, but pain

Twisted exponential loneliness

Like a darkness which flees

Light's flickering recession,

Where I remain, patiently

Your always presence reminds me

Of your never presence, the way I hear

Your singing beyond my window,

Somehow apart like two halves

To a broken promise.

Magically, I Hear You

Magically, your voice pours forth,

Like a perfect dream, to caress

My Ears like a guitar playing

Our perfect love song

Transforming

Transforming

A dawning love transforms to nows...

Love, your ever-forever mystery,

Years of staring into your almond eyes,

Sorting through beginnings and medians

And futures where endings mean never.

Where evers become forevers become promises.

Best friend, where joy and happiness

Remain, always.

I am here,

Waiting...

Always your surgeon with words as my scalpel.

Your surgeon, your healer,

Your builder of castles,

Your crafter of fairy tales.

I shall love you as deep as blossoming

Prarie-Winkle Lillie's gazing through infinite

Stardust. I shall love you always and forever,

Through thick and through thin.

To cherish, to wait, to promise,

To stare into your pillow eyes

Of almonds....

My Hand Guides You

My hand guides you, seed of infinite growth,

To a small hole, where my tiny fingers, near

To your miniature formidability,

Cover you with

A quick gesture, where your birth begins with

Earth. Impalpable soil, your luscious dew filled

Embrace sinks to the core as blood pumps to give my heart a beat, encompassing, complete...

Here, almost suddenly, you spring forth, a statuesque pillar, a tower of earthly power.

I watch you comfortably extending above and outreaching my longest stretch.

One instant the size of a dew-droplet, the next, a

Ship the size of my love.

Where wind blows

Leaves like sails....

Her Smile

I found one moment complete

Reviving my heartbeat

A touch of softness, her hand

Reviving my heartbeat

My heartbeat, a renewing land

Reviving my heartbeat

Complete.

One touch became my return

From Heroes Underworld

Reviving my heartbeat,

Complete

Complete

All I Have Left Is To Love You

Who...

From Number Two

As the tempest in my soul shouts out and screams…

Rain falls from my eyes as I dream of your face

I search through my heart as if crawling through space.

With the sound of your voice an internal ear

I sort through the memories of all of our years.

Your face dances through my mind, yet it haunts me each second,

This oblique thing called love wasn’t one to be reckoned.

As this feeling of trepidation reaches my room,

Our love gets refined just as a rose slowly blooms.

I remember when I first saw you, your words captured my heart;

They filled me with happiness and joy from the start.

So the expansion of our hearts will unfold to renew

Love will be my compass as it guides me to you.

These quietly reminiscent days pass

Slowly, softly touching delicate glass

Stained cathedral ligaments set above 

Holy altars. These creations of love,

Monuments to ancient figures, crafted

To celebrate perfection perfected.

These long stained Sun enhanced holy windows,

These blooming colors, hues amber and rose,

Await breath from the holiest angles,

Breathing with colors like gifts from Angels.

Holy creations smooth and crystaline,

Elegant images ever-blessed to shine.

As Faith's sapphire irises create

Moments untranslatable, holy, pure.

i am the who who cares the no one who is there for you truth is i am true truthfully

points of nothingness are nothing with something for nothing knows not whether nothing is nothing without believing still exists

i begin entering a Google of paradoxes, where foxes cleverly

dabble through mythological philosophies, quadrants

of modernities oxymoronical electronic tetra religious mythologies,

wh

                e

                                r

                                                                                                e

pace

                s

                              l

                                                o

                                                                                               w s

                                then rapidly begins typing quickly again

                                                i am who knows

                                                                                                too

Shall we explain?

i am who i am

Google responds to:

woo2lovee woo2lovee woo2lovee woo2lovee woo2lovee woo2lovee

Without results...

I i T(w0) T(w0) T(w0 two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two two twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo twoo

with 2+2=5

Free me.

My tears have washed away like a storm

A storm where nature thrives to release

Where people long for fresh skies.

Next, nature pauses, softly, perfectly,

Wondering who to thank for tears.

To Imagine

There is some worldwide governing body

Where numbers are given, such as one

And Two... Imagine being one of them,

Explicitly deemed "Smartest Genius

of Geniuses."

You provide them with solutions,

Solutions trickle through an information

Storm drain, like a google search without

A response, or a library section without

Text.

"You're the only answer"

You hear them telling you.

You solve entertainment,

Global food,

Weather,

Peace (if only they would listen)

Jobs, too.

Oh, and theories... Theories which

Are Facts when Philosopher's wish.

Oh! Number one, and number two...

Who Knew, Turning

"I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance"

Who Defending a Chicken

"Happy fourth," she says to me,

walking into her house.

"Yeah..." is all strength allows me

to utter. Though, it may be

a beautiful moment of historical

equality;

A bird begins singing to me;

"Hear a song about my sisters;

They have been in captivity

for ages, and with the echoes

of revolution screaming through

the sky, I implore you

To think of my sisters."

"Some are crackling

after a life of prison (remember: to live

and to die)

There is a boom

and there are crackles

With an explosion of flames

fluttering in the firework

covered sky.

My mind focused on a bird,

struggling without hope

in this,

America, land of those

who say free.

"Līberōme!"

"Līberōte!"

they cry, and sing,

and crackle.

 I Turn

As a frozen chill slices through my body

I feel the sun upon my skin.

Repelling the warmth while digesting the cold,

I begin to shiver once again.

Teeth ch ch chattering from deep within my soul,

Cl cl clattering like a spoon on an empty bowl,

Cr cr crawling through a empty hole

Left inside my heart.

Too numb to feel, too dumb to think.

Too cold to move, too bold to sink.

Too weak to hope, too bleak to pray.

Too in love to die this way.

Cold hands move in front of frozen knees,

A warm sun shines through an icy breeze,

A cool wind blows through snow covered trees,

And I crawl on, too in love to freeze;

I'm too in love to freeze.