psychotry

[psychotry]

A scientific story of the origin of all things

The Initial Mover

The tides of earth and sun Lay testament to the will of disorder For it counters the arrow of time A map back to the grand perfection Where animosity to life arose Proof that beauty is only transient The instability that begot duality Is encompassed in memories Encoded in an attempt to rebel And climb the deep sulci of energy To arise in model of our maker Who’s indifference arose love And all of which we named In the pursuit of consciousness

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Hollow

Sinkhole feeling in my chest

Caving in between the bellows

Ribcage failing into nothingness

Bones freefall to canyons below

Is this lone place meaningful

Like the hole that makes a bowl,

Empty spokes that frame a wheel?

A gracious throne worth a bow?

Can reflection truly paint reality?

An eternal reminder of pure psyche?

At a most pure state, we are alone

As sysphean as Love for Psyche

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Halloween

Bittersweet, the new moon fog

That drapes the young aged heart

A day of luck, and night of lorn

A bet rigged to lose, a love

Halloween, a night too right

Where you're hustled, for your life

To exchange fortune from wealth

And extract future, from eternity

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Hypnogogia

An organic vehicle lays in bed at night Felt to be permanent, he fades to a reality in sleep The truth of his vitality: frail, on crutches The ongoing dance-step clock-work Flowing fluids, reactions and pulsing electricity All interdependent, all are indifferent Nocturnal fits of psychoses awaken He who grants himself invincibility Naive of his fluctuations in eternity He grasps onto what he knows A bed, dresser, pillows, sheets and health As they dissipate like grains in his vision

[psychotry]

Fin

dimensions upon dimensions unraveling from the deep, psychology from alchemy, becoming from our feet, dimensions upon dimensions they sit upon your seat, in plain sight before you, and in the foods you eat, universes come into being like bubbles in a bath, they come and go in time, as our own brewing rath

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The Magician

The entity plucks heart strings of the cosmos he is composed of he has lost himself in the vibrations of what is seen as but magic things he wanders in the harmony overall of what he is a part of naturally and so by submitting to the universe he is one and the same with the all to the layman he is a magician to himself he is but a drop to the universe he is everything in his eyes the layman is him

[psychotry]

"Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish." ― Euripides

[psychotry]

As smooth the transition from day to night lays the duality of our might to fright The unnatural tendencies that sprout freedom and a resulting sentence to fight to reap them A nature so very bright and oh so pure in its tender embrace for what is unsure The natural strayings which have led to us our deviation from nature in our pursuit to mature We must be envious of how prey is eaten yet predators are subject to the precocious heathens Who have challenged our views that all is not what is but what is is just that but the uncertain bliss For nature is not mother or king but a disembodied harmony who breathes together as one despite the shards of its totality How sublime must it be if we return from our straying as to grow the whole which goes without saying For that one day it will be sure that nature will again lay the foundations it always has when as always anew begins the day

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Atlas

He stands between the body of the universe and the heavens on the earth With the weight of reality upon his shoulders he longed return to the hearth

In the eternal torment of his own deed he pondered both space and time for atlas was forever locked in one place in all but the valleys of his mind

There he minded nothing and saw nothing yet only here at this lone empty vantage did he find he too does not live for himself and found bliss under corporal baggage

[psychotry]

Soma

How indifferent a nerve is To its own motives Astounds me in envy As if the world mattered It feels and reacts To stimuli and sensation

Whilst I read and feel One of Bukowski’s narratives Anger flows through me An empathetic somnolence Dosing me a willful sleep Where I dream of indifference

As the routine films play And realities crumble in satire Sense loses all of its meaning Where meaning never is Until the wakeful one wills it How I dread waking up

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Pleasure

Dionysus leers behind every human brain, as geared by the souls shell casing, embodying us in the worlds illusion, endowing ailments of fear and pleasure Our luring needs for insatiable ecstasy, is but an imposed shadow to the mind, of a larger drive to meld into another, and relinquish borders from the spirit For we don't know the utmost sublime, in the world of subjective materials, who serves to stray us from the truth, which there is no sense for perception A society ruling upon the pleasure principle, dominates solely upon regression itself, further blinding us from that of which we are, separating us from another and ourselves A life who reinforces the true reality before us, is not one who faces us with our bodies, but one of love who faces within ourselves, the same true Apollo who lives within us all

[psychotry]

The reality we made for ourselves

Is one where we choose leaders that will allow us to keep our guns and protect our egos, while our vote gives power to a knife-yielding entity with keen eyes on the thin fabric of society…

[psychotry]

Fluid Dreams

The dams of the day Crumble every night And in catharsis say Glimpses of the light

[psychotry]

"When a universal nonverbal message is induced over a chemical experience, it may just be one from the language of chemistry itself"

[psychotry]

The Initial Mover

The tides of earth and sun Lay testament to the will of disorder For it counters the arrow of time A map back to the grand perfection Where animosity to life arose Proof that beauty is only transient The instability that begot duality Is encompassed in memories Encoded in an attempt to rebel And climb the deep sulci of energy To arise in model of our maker Who’s indifference arose love And all of which we named In the pursuit of consciousness

[psychotry]

Prometheus

The tides of life burn As a slow combustion Intimately following time Sparked in infant breath The marvel in which we awe Over our many waking days Is nothing but the heat Of the spark of life itself The ease in which life lives Is the poetic hand to our fate The torch of wisdom and passion; The aim of the machinery within

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Islets of illusion

The violent remnant embers of war Are tamed upon the tip of your tongue Your fiery motions thrust my chest Promoting a reflective desired strike

Even though you are my lover, My lonely arsenal is not enough, Reality, truth and honest rationale, Won’t stand against tides of emotion

I am stranded in the islet of today Cornered within a dance of yesterdays In a masquerade of inflated memories I stand my ground upon withered bones