that nobody will ever know

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revolutionR
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that nobody will ever know

Post by revolutionR » October 14th, 2014, 5:25 pm

I was shooting a cigarette through the black hole
they still don't know the roll of the black hole
a cigarette is a long object held in the hand like a pen
I don't smoke my pen, I smoke words with it to black out
writing is black like ink, or dark thoughts about nothing
there is a whole hell of a lot of nothing out there
and we fill it with existence, in a word we write about it
we read books to lose ourselves in the words of nothing
we try to fill it with purpose with plot with meaning
in a meaningless world we try to find meaning of existence
the more words we write on the blank surface of our lives
the further away we get from the real meaning of things
what is the matter with with you, you are made of a little matter
so little matter in fact the rest is all empty space filled with itself
when we come to think about it, we try to remember what it is
if we read enough stuff written on a lot of different things
we can begin to form some kind of picture of what is going on
there are a lot of famous people that have a particular take on the real
I don't follow any particular take on reality, but I do follow the thoughts
of great thinkers, and any person in the street can be one, the old blind
man with a guitar and a naked soup can, can have a most profound take
I spent many days and nights reading the words of people poets
I read the great ones and I read the ones that nobody will ever know

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Doreen Peri
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Re: that nobody will ever know

Post by Doreen Peri » October 14th, 2014, 8:38 pm

There are many nobody will ever know though
we shift from meaningful to meaningless and guessing
games to names which have gone down in literary history,
no matter how many we have missed or who have existed,
this is how we navigate between the ones we know and the
ones we'll never know, between the lines of philosophers and
the cries of novice poets, pens bleeding words down the page,
click clack taps on a keyboard staring in a screen, the ones who
say what they mean and the ones who don't even know what they
mean until after they write it or while they write it, if at all,
and I hear the call of nouns and verbs echoing the empty night,
watching the lights in their heads turn on and off again, off and
on again, like a beacon the words call and meanings seep in
and out, out and in, endings coming and then again they begin,
the words, the continual words, the minds of others spilling down
shoulders, through arms, into fingertips, making metered and unmetered
love to the blank page by filling it with the absurdity of words which
mean one thing to one person and another to another and nothing
to someone else and I am as grateful as an urchin finding my way home
to the metronome of phrases and thoughts, the patterns and rhythms,
the insistence of meaning (whatever it may mean if anything at all)
and so I stall for a moment to take a break between the minds which
have opened up like a book and I'm stuck looking, peering in, daring
myself to read more and more and more for to do so is to grow and
hopefully to know, after all, what it is to be human but what is it?
I don't know but I know none of us know and all of us know and so
we continue to continue.

When I discovered words, I knew not what it was I'd see
but shortly found the words were me.

68degrees
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Joined: October 14th, 2014, 7:47 pm

Re: that nobody will ever know

Post by 68degrees » October 14th, 2014, 9:07 pm

"...and any person in the street can be one, the old blind
man with a guitar and a naked soup can, can have a most profound take
I spent many days and nights reading the words of people poets
I read the great ones and I read the ones that nobody will ever know"

I spent a summer in NYC a while back. On one of my tourist treks of many, I went through Little Italy and there was a guy on his knees in the praying position. I took a table across the street with a coffee and sat and watched. He had a box in front of him. Hundreds and hundreds of folks went by the guy, some almost stumbling over him b/c he was low and not easily seen. I watched for a good half hour and he never moved. Some dropped coins, most went on with their lives. I left and went on with mine.

All of your poem is real but the ending here is REAL. It's wonderful. Thank you for posting.

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revolutionR
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Re: that nobody will ever know

Post by revolutionR » October 14th, 2014, 11:59 pm

Doreen, the poetry is you, I wrote that in about five minutes
how long did it take you to respond?

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Doreen Peri
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Re: that nobody will ever know

Post by Doreen Peri » October 15th, 2014, 12:36 am

I wrote it right off the cuff... wrote it in about 5 minutes. Same. ;)

Thanks for the inspiration!

Yours was terrific! I still need to buy your book.

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