#themonkeyreview

[lebuc]

bridge

* “Thus far and no more…” at least not as currently constituted;

perhaps we may not be allowed, perhaps we were never meant to breach that which is beyond our current reach;

for we see from here to there, dimly through eyes uniquely owned; and our envisioning is but a hypothesis to the totality of the conclusory reality understood at experiment’s end. *

As hypothecated, raw materials always drive and fuel a process to conclusion, just as anothers’ eyes may just glean a more precious light in a spectrum far beyond our visible one;

in spanning a bridge too far for the likes of us - they say, we must by necessity fall short. * As a poet once said, “the wall-eyed wally of the airwaves…” and so we are - makers of and staring at  the bricks in the wall we built to perdition;

we’re secretaries of the interior of the singularity of sensations we commonly share; both bound to and bounded by present conventions and their attendant wisdom; constrained by the very apparatus which allows us to append our vision in the first place, and to project that which we cannot attain at present. *

But as another great thinker once said, “the map is not the territory…” and so it is not;

projections, however intentioned do not constitute, nor do they create causality beyond their inherent dimensional span;

and though amusing and oft’ enchanting (in a hypothetical ‘thought-experiment’ kind of way) they serve no great, tangible purpose outside of the classroom, so to speak - though they be taught and lectured upon ad nauseum in successive semesters, ad infinitum. *

Our ascension and attainment just may occasion a symbiotic relationship with matter or beings presently beyond our perceptual and physical horizons, thereby bridging the material-temporal gap our present embodiment cannot alone achieve. * Thus far and no more…” as presently postulated - is both a bracing java-jolt to the jugular of our grandiosity,  and a daunting double-dare  to the determination of our species, if the infancy of our relative history is to be any guide;

a dare which certain of you readers will examine, embrace, absorb, exhaust, let expire in anguish at its unattainment, encrust, entomb uneasily… * only to later exhume, unfold & interpret, inform & exhort to future generations, to be extrapolated to the nth of the nth of the nth degree of that which can possibly be cast seeking to span and conquer the bridge - some said was too far…

’cause that’s how we roll. * 7/14 - 8/24 - lebuc - bridge

[env0writes]

Our Souls Long For New Conquests 3.2.23 "The Moonlit Night Soon Begins"

Good hunter, oh, hunter, the evening is here For the beasts are afoot, but you needn’t not fear I am here to guide you, beside you all night Safe beneath lantern’s red flame, left alight The crowds are large and full of fearful men With flame and fury to route nightmares again How by the blood, boiling, spoiling spilled, man is made Overfull in social exchange to see good inside slowly fade Neophyte hunter, good and fair outsider, oh, foolish route Alone you now, seeking lanternal warmth, answer ill to suit Metropolitan men, make full the hunt, glimmered beast in eye Gluttonous, vile, oh, bloodied deed so few the sightful sigh Hunter, hunted, teeth to teeth will bloody taste Whose blood is tasted, wasted, seek answer ahead in haste Be granted eyes to see unseen I’m here to hold you, dream’s rest between

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[lebuc-reblogs]

Koko@Kokomothegreat

· Turkish Agate is major inspiration for me right now. Look at this!

[definegodliness]

Hi! Any tips for getting involved in the writing community here on tumblr? Thank you!

Hello there! Haha, I guess just saying ‘Hi’ is already a sure-fire way to get involved with fellow writers. But seeing as a lot of us, myself included, are introverts, going out and saying hi to every writer might not be ideal for everyone.

I’d say the best way to start is doing prompts, there’s a lot of blogs that give weekly prompts and will reblog your work if you partake in them. Because of the wide variety of voices reacting to the prompts, there’s bound to be some there which you like, and vice versa there’ll be other writers that will find and like your work. Together with reblog-blogs, they are the backbone of the writing community. Examples are:

@poetryriot, @writerscreed, @poeticstories, @brokensoulsuploads, @proseriot, @thatrandomprompt, @sarahmariepardy, @maxmundan, @electricexhibition, and my own @refinegodliness. Great reblog-blogs are: @lzlabseesu, @recognizingthevoiceless, @twcpoetry, @bitsofstarglow, @themonkeyreview, @exhalingcatalysts, @poemitforward. Most of these have played a vital part in my getting any exposure on here. So do check them out. And check out the people running these blogs too! *

If you like what someone writes, do ‘heart’ it. That little note can mean so much to someone. And if you have something nice to say, don’t hesitate to put it into a reaction. That being said, reblogs are the best way to make writers feel appreciated, the idea that someone’s willing to share your art with the world is quite amazing after all. Though, depending on how much you reblog, your personal blog may become cluttered, making it hard for people to find your original work. Which is why many of us maintain a sideblog. 

From the top of my head: @gracebabcockreblogs, @tafkas-digs-this, @anjo-emporium, @victimofyourart, @soulreverie, @purple-with-a-dash-of-pink, @thespians-drumming, @alexandrasreadingblock. Do check out the people running these blogs too! *

You’re bound to find mutuals like this. And if you’re comfortable enough, you can then hijack poems, or ask for collaborations; and if there’s a tag-game going on, you can tag them in it. All these things say: “Hey, I like how you do you.” Also, reblog some of those 'ask me anything / aesthetic asks / name-any-number question’-thingies that come by on Tumblr every once in a while. Or simply ask for prompts if you feel you’re in a slump. It’ll give others a really low-treshold kind of way of coming in contact with you, granting them the opportunity to say: “Hey, I like how you do you (too).”

I think that covers it. Besides from using the direct messenger and people’s ask-box, these are sure-fire ways to come in contact with other writers. We all have a love for words, so there’s already common ground between us. Remember though, we all share a love to be read too, and our writings are little pieces of us. So as much as it is a writing community, it is also a reading community. Hope you’ll find your way and have fun here. Cheers!

* I hope I haven’t forgotten any, I based them off of my own activity feed. So if anyone knows another similar blog, please add onto the list! Oh, and if you have another tip, do contribute.

[env0writes]

Passive Ingression, 1.2.23 "I will bend and dance in the wind but only break what stands in my way”

Cold wet and weary Finds the new year Rounding flooded corners Strewn with yesterday’s accidents The sun rises bright in mud puddles Damp deep doorways Guiding reflective thoughts Towards a closer skyline Hale winds pull at barren trees After weeping days Not a willow in sight to grieve A new year slides, soaked To the bone over yesterday’s roads Petulant baby-new year Playing in storm drain sinkholes Will the arctic greys give way And yield to warmer new growth? Melt like stranger’s shoulders With passerby clouds That look like snow piles in melted pools How cold a heart the coast retains Beneath weary hills rolling in their sleep Did you not love once? Felt the sun’s kiss On your permafrost horizons Warming deep into your roots Corners are for rounding Stamp out the smoking cigarette Be not idle next to sunken streets With potholes filled with well-wished rain Watch, but do not touch The wildflower burst through Frozen soil and fractured asphalt But do not touch its winter wearied petals Spring is still many horizoned hills away Burgeoning with poppies Opening their arms To embrace the morning light The first light of a new year A cold light of a new dawn

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[env0writes]

Passive Ingression 1.22.23 “From Lake to River soon Ocean”

Sea World bedroom Four sizes too small For my heart My outstretched arms Circumnavigate my eggshell world How am I expected to think Outside of The Box I wonder Who lays restless, dormant Reaching end to end Desperate to break free From inside of me The cage is tall Survivor’s eyes do not blink Soon this cage, this wall, this body Will crumble Yes YES I will get out, alive

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[env0writes]

Passive Ingression 1.26.23 “Find Me On Page 43″

Hit me up, trip me up, rip me up too Aftermath counting allies, little to no queue When bloodied ink-pen blotched the last drop What will the storybooks clean-soak with mop? Each white-paged history, bleached and blonde Will past lessons be learned and beyond? Find bits of me scattered upon every page Each line break, white wine break, and stain soaked with age I’ve been written in verses and curses, spelled all the same With books and by crooks all looking to blame Quick quips and tough lips, make for kissing just dust Leave me here dying, I’m trying to rust

Spill me in stories, just a verse here or there Whatever you deem worthy, I’ll accept what is fair Red are the letters, mistakes ill-addressed Pale are the margins, full of notes of what’s best Black is the ink pumping lines through my blood Filing the library, like a biblical flood Better to be divvied up amongst friends and foes Kept in breast pocket beneath a single red rose A name for the ages, remember me please I’ve shortened it for you, to recall quick with ease Hang me out, dry me out, try me out too I’m asking you read, just a word not too few

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[env0writes]

Passive Ingression 1.23.23 “I Had Trouble In Social Studies”

The world keeps turning I’d consume myself If left alone long enough Each executive-floor thought Stalls, worse than a skipping record Waiting for a pulse to flicker Across the flatline of my membrane The same big bang spark Inside my dendrites More neurons than people on the planet And still find room for stage fright Each night when time to sleep is past And my eyes drift towards an empty bed I imagine myself in it Some days that is enough To just imagine A body without a war But a static-electric box Staple-gunned to the back of my eyelids Eighty inch, HD Flickers between static stereophonic channels Radio waves jockeying for position And the cold embrace of solitude When a walky-talky falls silent on the other end And whose fingers rasp and pry open the door? My own unfocused precision grade accuracy Striking the mark paintless, painlessly Mowing the lawn was never my forte Yet one plucked hair, And what pinpricks for pupils I have Continue to manicure and groom Til’ no hair remains out of line There is no line remaining No forces on either side of the battle Pockmarked across my face Trenches along my arms, hands If this world revolves any faster I won’t know which chamber Holds the one shot I’ve got And I’m always afraid Walking ahead of the parade If I watch my feet I’m sure to never lose my way Only just the rest of me Consumed at each detail That I have been left to Attend two To

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[env0writes]

Forever Breezy 2.28.23, "Stay Easy, Stay Breezy, Forever February"

With weathered tears does February wear on To flooded fields with wounds, refuse to heal Tender is the time that waits on ahead Behind silversmith rain awaits secrets empyreal           For hale is hearth with little mirth With sorrows drowned in snow and swill There is still breath, beleaguered vacuous vapors           See, now believe in the colder thrill With nary a merriment past lover’s grace Beaten with a sugared cane to stomach ache Onward trudges time towards untimely ends The gallows glower like fire pits in mirrored flooded lake           Overrun and over short Crash, where snow once ran to slide upon Little more than clocksmith’s silver pawn              Counting on some wintered wise retort

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[env0writes]

Passive Ingression 1.16.23 “Dreamborne Adage, Old, And Full of Fear”

Blood seeps into my dreams Through the rainstruck window Hopeful though it seems To overflow with such terrors Each morn, ripped apart to mourn A dream is not something real But the absence of its loosened grip Is felt rising with the sun to steal Washed from hand-me-downs Is pain found in the barrel’s bottom Leaking with the orphans of causal grounds A single eyelet, will let, what is beget of slumber Knocked from hand, bow, and mind Rain to vein, each body healed From tender dreams we are awoken To face the sunlit day with dreams to wield Each nightmare bested by starlight hope Matchstep with heartbeat, slow A day is coming, not for light nor dark of scope But one where dreams will rise and follow where the dreamers go Out into warmer places where unknown terrors cannot follow Where winter lanterns guide messages with blood left still to swallow Sunset hands graduate into the gradual gradient Between dreams, nightmares, waking, slumber, oh, so grossly radiant

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[env0writes]

Passive Ingression 1.15.23 “A Burning In Our Bones Like Troy”

Achilles, I know you're impervious to peril But each stab of that arrow Each blow that you take, breaks faster upon you It takes more than its toll of your soul And the shield you've discarded Is as hard as your body Blessed by your mother in fear I saw you last night run through Full of love, and I thought This is what mothers do fear When we're pierced to the core Upon home distant shores Where the sand is shells and not stone And the spears, steady strong Held aloft prepared for wrong But is used upon you all the same Debased on your knees But a smile did I see Through the sweat and the salt and blonde sand It's the same look you ��give With chagrin when we win But you drink from the fountain of man He who knows not to yield Is prostrated I see now your spirit Unbent and unbroken Achilles you needn't not heal but will heel to the commonmost man Is this where the power, the confidence sits For each arrow, each spear, each forked tongue As they poke and they prod ‘Neath the god’saken sun Pulled along by a chariot you'd ride When the rest of us hide behind walls Made of flesh of just men Metal bent and unwell Were all battered and broken the same Our spirits unyielding but our hearts Are all wielding the weapons of our foes aflame Run us through and we're through Though our moments were few Now I see why you live life this way When the wrestling wars come to shuffling ends And the armies cry out for their king With an ear whispered word and a groan of your name I have heard you call for others the same That spirit we hear it, crackling in flame Where our bodies are burnt, send us far from this plane

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[env0writes]

Passive Ingression 1.25.23 “CEDO: Chief Executive Dysfunction Officer”

Trouble has me focusing I have trouble focusing Being stressed makes me sick I get stressed when I am sick A conversation with myself My self, a conversation Each day revolving sun and moon The sun and moon, each revolving Am I a fixed point? Am I affixed to this point? Smoke emits from my train of thought From my thoughts, a train and trail smoke I cannot write well in cursive anymore My thoughts recursive, am I right anymore? One more mental link in the chain The chain is just a metal clink Pull as I might Might I pull? Mighty I fool those around me I am fooled mightily around those When all at once, silence Once, silence when will it return? How many doors open to new questions? Questions are just doors to open possibility Possibly, that is all I need to focus Focus is all I need, possible How do I choose just one When the answer is always all of the above

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[env0writes]

Deciding Embers Vol.3, 12.9.22 “Dawning Wildwood”

   Be the forest    Be the beast    Paper cult and pulp    And find the culprit    Within the dry dead wood    Grow within corpses    Stand tall like redwood    Be the bite, the sting, the rut    Forget the city, town, and all the names    Be the forest    Run deep, unblamed    Hear the howl claw your throat    To seek your base desire    Search out a pack    A herd, a home    Like robins, build a nest    With scratching, snatching talons    Kill the man, the self, the mind    Be what lurks beneath the canopy    No more be resting foreign homes    Seeking warmth from storms    You are the storm    The lightning crack    A wild thing    Rebuild your home    With broken bones and teeth    So you can call    Out to the world    And find your way home    Be the forest    Be the beast    Untame yourself    Become unleashed

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[env0writes]

Forever Breezy 2.26.23, "Looking Up/Out For You"

Starless sky // scarless sigh Stern constellations, heavy lie Wherefor hide with curtain clouds Forsaken sight, save glimpse allows Vapors sweet and silver lined Soil to stars with stories, bind Overcast // over at last Gentlest touch of nature, fast Lightning strikes, a sudden bridge How savory, brief passing touch Alight with fury, love, and such Spark enough of fleeting feel Shelf the stories, wounds will heal

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[env0writes]

Forever Breezy 2.22.23, "Fan the Flames"

Turning blades, Like the planets, revolve Waiting for heavensward clock strike Blow, smoke and dust Ashes fall like rust, kicked up dirt Onward revolving Turning more than the other cheek Dead, who shall inherit the world, meek Pool the water, rock dropped wake Grieve the movement, ending calm Click, each chamber, room full of light Followed, breeze, exhaled of life Parting gift, sweet gift to give Untouching, gentle touch, cooling Still the boiling blood, burnt working skin Keep on spinning Ever spinning Lidless iris of great height

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[env0writes]

Freshwater Fires; Stillwater Reflections 11.27.22 “Suburban Street Sermons”

Loaves and fishes Lacquer glued to hatchbacks Catholic mass packed minivans Biding their time at the gas pump Lined up for the Blood of Chrysler Bag of rye chip for the body Aunties playing euchre with the Eucharist Always looking at their wrist Waiting on hand-me-down time Peckish at meat on Lent Packed for their rent paying children Children be damned if the river lets flow If their parents let go of the rosary Wringed around pocketed posies Moseying down the nuptial aisle Of their in-law guile and grandchild dream

Father and Holy-Ghost, known in the chalice Hand in hand with malice and mallet Took to heart the lessons of the cross Too easily crossed, pompous, pious, punitive Lost passions too diminutive, replaying greatest hits Red-lipped whine-mom night-eyed silent Gossip in the pews of the son’s political views Between choir and prayer answered on cue Pretty little liars accept forgiveness Hard to impress those on their knees to accept White-biked, summer hiked baptized Son Pass this ichthus mass, paint your skies not eyes blue

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