The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Medford, OR, US
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Perception of Perception
Where does perception lie,first,in the mind?
The eye of your eye or a trick of some kind?
Is every perception unique as it is new?
The "Eye of the Beholder",is that the truth?
We perceive what that is,is that what we do?
With senses in tow,as driven through time.
A Masters' Puppet show,or designing design?
Try as we might to know!
Uncover the discovered,will we ever unfold?
Lifes' two-fold greatest show not showing.
Showing the hand how it knows,knowing.
Senses come alive with thirst to analyze.
Sensation implies reality concocted,realize.
The Catalyst for all that we do!
Vantage point antagonist,simultaneous truth.
Are we analysts of perception?
Or does perception analyze for you?
Is perception of self how we perceive, else.
A water drop ring in the scope of things?
A ripple vibration-harmonic, stringed,felt?
If seeing is believing,somehow.
Perceiving is feeling,I have a feeling.
That you are doing so,even now!
So ,are we held in the virtues?
In the light of God's truth?
In the Righteous pursuit-might in use.
The Word through Ultimate Vision.
Perception-but law in provided provision?
The notion of law of habitual conception.
The emotional awe of perpetual direction?
The law of love-which is without undoing!
Our perception of Light needs no proving.
We exist through Gods'perception.
The Truth, unerring incessant Inception?
I perceive that when we defy God and Sin.
We deny Love,that in which we exist in.
Emotion is perception's Ultimate Truth!
Causes perception to come alive, in You.
That is where Perception lies!
Emotion is the tongue for the truth.
Tasting in awe, this law, its' proof!
It's the controller of the atmosphere.
Mantle, and the scourge of tears.
The string-puller, and the very strings.
Of bondage, and of what sets you free.
It is the aquaduct and the endproduct.
Infusing judgment to instruct, all things.
Ride and destination, wings of exhileration.
For the senses, it's a self-fulfilling dream.
Author of the Muse and Play, a mission call.
Into the fray, speaking parables, variables.
Poetry, as it deems, a veritable Changeling.
Phantom of the Opera, behind the scenes.
Frame of reference, we need, always applies.
Sometimes too much, stark and maligned.
Heralding-trumpet, that abides, tuned, being.
As the Sun in the window of Lifes' dawning.
By destroying Nothingness in its' wake.
Replacing with Joy, and risks we all take.
A Beautiful Thought
Today was a day born of imagery.
As if born from a young girls' dream.
The leaves were swirling,alive,it seemed.
The sound breezed softly,churning branches.
Foliage and sound caught in their advances.
I may have woken up predisposed,expecting.
Does it matter,at all,If I was, Indirectly?
A young girl sassy-slapped me as a walk-by.
Someone, put a warning sign on that girl!
I found it funny,the crazy look in her eye!
I think she was hunting fun,maybe squirrel!
Her head darted from side to side.
Looked to the trees, the same way as I'd.
But she was looking for a squirrel.
Crazed and blunt and full of sass-curls.
After I stopped thinking of this innocence.
I could only smile again,pleasantly.
I wonder if this young girls' relevance.
Was more than the magic that she lendt me.
Who are the masters of illusion?
Behind the madmen, on the rise.
That will do anything, that they know.
To cover up all the deeds that they've sown.
Through confusion and lies!
Are they behind the scenes, out of reach?
Untouchable,no,neither are we.
But really,we share in the blame.
Living in shame in the same old schemes.
Of violence and sex of immoral folly.
Of untruths and halftruths,damnation alleys.
Are thinktanks sought for dissolution?
Caught in the ranks of evil revolutions?
The crowning of man,a reading,a rave.
Do your own thing,what thou wilt,New Age.
Countless new horrors,never spoke of before.
Endless corridors,yet new ground,unexplored.
If you've got the time,and you do,just wait.
Spend your time, waiting for changes.
Or help make a change,before it's too late!
Natures' Chained Haiku
The living landscape.
Natures stage, showing poems.
Painting the canvas.
Sculpted in true form.
Lifes' canopy, its' awning.
A naked portrait.
Sunlight on our skin.
The kiss of destinies' plan.
Shining in fullness.
Wade through times' passing.
Wallow in magical mists.
Wishing, stoking fires.
Thinking in silence.
Smelling smoke from chimneys.
Sends me memory.
Wisps, surge urgently.
Wind carries sounds, just a taste.
As my mind swallows.