9 gate templelet it be a temple
with the senses and their objects
as oblations
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streamingI have such a beautiful disease that has shot straight past my bird-bone ego and it runs in streams of molten gold and orange ambrosia reflecting the clouds dense and black and wise and solemn silent overhead with lightning smiles and thunderous laughter and i have no idea how to spread this most wholesome infection that seeds itself a sun inside my heart expanding outward with blazing tentacles and replacing all my viscera to become more visceral and all my punctuation was sacrificed to indicate how the end never comes even when an idea draws to a close thought isn't a process its an intimate reaction to an undying cause and something in thastreaming
by ~9GateTemple
Why the Roses Died Once, I lived near an old wooden bridge spanning what was once a little stream that had gone dry some time before. The bridge was rotted, splintered, and broken up, long in disuse. But under the bridge, there was a man who kept a garden, exclusively roses, exclusively pink. I never learned his actual name, but he had always insisted that I call him Rich. There were many things about Rich I never learned, and so many more that I did. I learned that he was sane, a fact that many people contested, including my dad . But I never learned exactly where he misplaced his ambition to pick up his ecWhy the Roses Died
by ~9GateTemple
towards the gateI'm bleeding breath towards the gate there like an errant angeltowards the gate
subtle like an eclipse
nova breath meets opposition folds and doubles, fading delineate the ambiguity
all the embers I have left fleet fleeing sparks like ragged moths
vertigo at horion
dawn upon the hilltop the gate opened without protest without grating, without reservation
there are scorch marks there where the stars fell through and the widow's web could not bar their passage
my breath was dirty with earth and upon the gate are hiero
by ~9GateTemple
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deviantID
| I'm young, I'm something of a poet I suppose, and I'd just like to show people my work in addition to seeing others. Keep the art fluid and the muses singing, dancing, weaving, sculpting, and so on... |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: California
- Interests: Living in its many many forms
- Favourite band or musician: Aesop Rock? or Eyedea..or Atmos,,,
- Favourite genre of music: Hip hop
- Favourite artist: Too many...
- Favourite poet or writer: Khalil Gibran
- Favourite style of art: traditional art and poetry
- Personal Quote: Don't be afraid, it's only life.
- Tools of the Trade: THE ALMIGHTY PEN
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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I am my own Shalafi
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xx
We grow neither better nor worse as we get old, but more like ourselves..
~ [link]
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icanhasyoursoulplz?
I really appreciate it
-Isaiah
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My Art: [link]
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"...but I believe errors, especially written errors, are often the only markers left by a solitary life: to sacrifice them is to lose the angles of personality, the riddle of a soul."
-Mark Z. Danielewski
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