The MisConcept
Treasure Mount Trash: a treasure made of trash or the trash in a treasure mount The latter has three sisters living in it — their names, the chapters: > Verna Parsan > Hesper Parsan > Astrea Parsan Each state of mind being one Between chapters, a glitch, interference from the superconscious Not every concept works in conception, though.
Memory and the Steelyard of Melancholy, a title For a couple of days, I didn’t think I would— Thinking about the concept which was structure, construction For a couple of days, I didn’t think I would be able to write the— I don’t full stop anything without a Prologue. I like prologues. For a couple of days, I didn’t think I would be able to write the Prologue But I found this in memory trying to weigh its protoexistence through the steelyard of Melancholy I found three states of mind. But I mixed them all because I didn’t have a proper concept To this, anyway I’m here, writing that truth that the ethereality — I sustained all this time up there, to ignore what was happening down my roof — Wasn’t able to convey You cannot rely on human nature One might use unfashionable social constructed maxims As an excuse to express the worst of oneself The world that is still deeply grounded in dirt breaks the magic in us. A woman doesn’t have time for ethereal contemplations When there is too much going on under her bed I still don’t think I could write a Prologue so, this is— I still don’t think the Violet Phenomenon wanted this. The absolute light takes away all the excitement No one wants their basements disclosed Reality is a big oil ongoing painting and we are the weather Right now, I’m just smoggy and messing up with words that I haven’t Reached all the clatter needed To construct a structure To unveil— The title isn’t to make sense
The Treasure-Mount Trash
I wonder if any part of my being perceives rain as tears Or if any part of the collective’s does It’s a rainy evening and all the beauty of existence I’ve found over the last few days Is gone it’s a matter of time, stardust Time seems to be shrinking as we distract ourselves from being The lifespan in a galactic circumstance I’m just a fraction of a second if the galaxy is taken as the rule And if the galaxy is taken as the rule, I wouldn’t exist And every other thing that I now take for granted Would liquesce to form the greater Your brain is a god Your body is a whole universe say the figures of the day And if I may say, I composed a joyful progression yesterday But I’m shrinking with time tonight And I see my potential future as invisible particles That will never land on tangibility If we knew how the universe works, It wouldn't be special say the mediums who are men I know how the universe works, I’m its tool You wouldn’t understand I quiesce I cesser In the dark, shadow does whatever it will When there’s no consequence, darkness takes over I see how people’s facades operate When no one’s looking Or when they think I don’t assess Or worse: When they think I assent They bear the exes I am the axis Existence is such a mistake A mere deficiency Yet, here we are, Delighting in it If you photocopy the translation of your hologram To yellow pages, you can’t ever predict life Or the collective’s reactions to you They act through a pattern that repeats on and on And I do that too You do that too
That one is the original configuration, written as an epilogue to Grunting Etiquette, which is my most confessional work and will eventually be released. I was re-reading it one day and decided to mess around with the stanzas. It became something else. The concept: intact.
Treasure Mount Trash
Thesis Time seems to be shrinking as we distract ourselves from being The lifespan in a galactic circumstance I’m just a fraction of a second if the galaxy is taken as the rule And if the galaxy is taken as the rule, I wouldn’t exist And every other thing that I now take for granted Would liquesce to form the greater And if I may say, I composed a joyful progression yesterday But I’m shrinking with time tonight And I see my potential future as invisible particles That will never land on tangibility * * * Antithesis In the dark, shadow does whatever it will When there’s no consequence, darkness takes over I see how people’s facades operate When no one’s looking Or when they think I don’t assess Or worse: When they think I assent They bear the exes I am the axis * * * Glitch Existence is such a mistake A mere deficiency Yet, here we are, Delighting in it If you photocopy the translation of your hologram To yellow pages, you can’t ever predict life Or the collective’s reactions to you They act through a pattern that repeats on and on And I do that too You do that too In Two * * * Synthesis I wonder if any part of my being perceives rain as tears Or if any part of the collective’s does It’s a rainy evening and all the beauty of existence I found over the last few days Is gone It’s a matter of time, stardust Your brain is a god Your body is a whole universe say the figures of the day If we knew how the universe works, It wouldn't be special say the mediums who are men I know how the universe works, I’m its tool You wouldn’t understand I quiesce I cesser
Love,
A
I'm with you, I like the progression of poem as poem, Love many of the lines , my favorite right now is " But I’m shrinking with time tonight
And I see my potential future as invisible particles
That will never land on tangibility " and am in a similar place with my stacks from years of writing with a few stabs at publishing here and there but usually writing and adding to the stacks/folders/bit and bots of paper images insanity of collected thoughts and words. Glad I found you :)