Conversation 3: Finding the Monologue

So sad when someone asks
‘Why exist?’
and this is where
one is abstract:

ideas lead to deceiving for
societal and controlling truths.
One is one more tag than
that one, and the lame position

is somewhat like life.
We are poetry
and language is too, writing and
putting it on a desire.

That meaning shouldn’t explain
comfort zones for storytelling
is an argument about need,
the horrors imposed on quite

shallow pleasures.
Others, reading it, find their catalyst
in belief, whether it is yada yada yada
or a shorthand view.

But we have lost sight
of the poetic discussion
and if this is the last one, the one I write,
there’s no need to abhor what isn’t.

Conversation 2: Found, Fun, Family and Friendship

On the fundamentalist disposition,
almost apologetic,
love isn’t poetry.

Is music?
Or the visual to find our oblique
yangs?

Try fun, family and friendship
for purposeful lives
and perceptions of this

or when a positive comment burns off
matter, this
untenable escape of a word.

And in informs, i.
In informs,
i.E.

That is, I’m actually ‘poetry’
meaning I can, like,
I can like!

Make it mystify referring to a lovely word
like
atheist

and: do not exist to end death.
Language, in reality,
takes atheism positions.

Therefore, how a theism became the narrative is what
mystifies, found there in the
shifts,

a reverse in the figuring out of words
word
love

when we don’t know how to communicate.
But the discursive truth
cannot know consciousness.

Words, intended meaning –
their own accord
sounding intentionally experimental,

and we meet shape to be respectful,
emotionally, and that is
space pressing for a finite disposition.

Conversation 1: Found, Form, Meaning and Purpose

soothe, pacify, terrify
and again

meaninglessly engaged
of course

discovering art is poetry
but the text anew

is as a process
language just a collection

of the composed
to suggest form

in‘form’ing
especially the boundaries

and in-form-ation
chopping

to make it of life
yes, experimental

lost or buried
too much: alive

like imagination
it pushes for interest

the complete chaos of
meaning and purpose