Tag Archives: poet

Short Stories {3} ~ Paradox Diffusion

Years after searching for God in psychedelics, Rumi had not wavered in her quest for knowledge. Without the benefit of a prescribed social role, she did what she wanted, when she wanted, which was to learn without regard for convention. Today, paradoxes were circulating around her mind, determined, she would not sleep without finding her answer.

At other times and in other places, Rumi would have been burned at the stake, hailed as a prophet, or stoned. The present time simply ignored her. Normal people treated Rumi as a public garbage can, light post, or stalled car, as an obstacle that could be moved but numbed by her surroundings.

“Take your pills NOW,” shouted the nurse down the corridor, from Texas’s renound mental hospital for the “insane.” Rumi rolled her eyes as Nurse Truchin’s sharp voice echoed and bounced off blood stained walls, she was sitting in room 23, her white washed room “gifted” to her by her parents, they could not cope with her cosmic mind anymore. Rumi had been in Senora Texas Mental Hospital for two weeks and she felt on edge, this was her first time in an asylum. Rumi paced up and down her abode, she had to take those dreaded sleeping pills or else they would force it down her throat somehow. Reluctantly she calmly walked down the hallway and was handed her pill through the dorms pill shutter.

Rumi swallowed the pill. “Good, now go back to your room, checks are at 11pm, make sure you are in your bed or you know what will happen,” said Nurse Truchin coldly. Rumi said nothing, she would achieve nothing by responding and quietly returned to her room blocking out the screams from the room beside her’s.

Shutting her door, relieved, she lay on her bed staring at the white washed walls that had become her friend. What were paradoxes? How could two opposing propositions exist at the same time? The sleeping pills were making her more and more drowsy. Lonely and with a heavy heart she pulled the duvet above her head. “A paradox is a statement or problem that either appears to produce two entirely contradictory (yet possible) outcomes, or provides proof for something that goes against what we intuitively expect,” Rumi reiterated inside of her mind.

Hallucinating as she usually did on these pills, she saw imagery quite like her visions on magic mushrooms a few months ago. Warping geometric patterns danced in a trance with eachother as her eyes flickered going in and out of consciousness.

I will sleep on this Rumi decided in her mind drifting off into the astral planes.

Upon awakening her answer had arrived, getting out her notebook she wrote “Paradoxes lead you to God.”

On her day of release, after all this time pretending to act normal to get out of this hell hole of an asylum, Rumi saw Mrs. Truchin as “insane” and Mrs. Truchin saw Rumi as insane. Rumi quietly knew that duality breaks down into formless consciousness; she was sane in an insane world.

“I know one thing,” Rumi said to Mrs. Truchin as she left the asylum doors. “And that is that I know nothing.” Rumi remembered studying ancient Greek philosopher’s such as Socrates years ago. Mrs. Truchin took one bewildered look at Rumi and walked away. Rumi smiled to herself and smelt freedom once again, her taxi was awaiting to pass through the doors into the insane world.

Time is a construct of consciousness and in higher dimensions has no meaning. but, in the lower dimensions it is used to measure changes and in the multitudes of parallel timelines all simultaneously existing. Paradoxes melt into the all, Source, Brahman, Allah, whatever name you stamp onto formless ether.

~DiosRaw 01/04/21

Poetry By Pooja & Amber {1} ~ Monsters Out Of Men

Clipped wings, our world grips us into a firm hold telling us a decision for our life needs to be made, bought and sold
Like a caged bird we sit and sing
and wait for the decision to be made, In our songs remains a saddened ring
Manipulating their fellow beings, writing upon this canvas for them, stifled, creating monsters out of men, mayhem
These special monsters are nothing more than broken souls assembled amiss
Worn and ground down to the bones by life’s burning; spiralling, submerging, deepening into the abyss
The constant changes continuously confuse their mind till they no longer know right from wrong
Up until a bodhisattva soul extends a hand, tells the monster they are beautiful and to take their grasp, a lasting impact; lifelong
In that one moment everything changes and all the built up negativity starts to seep out
Recollecting who they once were, the Bodhisattva shines a reflection, the mirror leaves no doubt
Once again we are human, we are not just living but truly alive
The shadow self lies buried deep in us all, capbable of morphing into angels and monsters; which wolf you choose to feed that is the question to revive.

~By Pooja {LifesFineWhine} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Poetry {69} ~ PALINDROME TENTACLES

Am interconnected civilization hypnotised on drugs

Conversations, substances, materialism, ideas, hidden in coffee mugs

Society has decayed from drugs and abuse

The crime and tragedies that stem from their abuse

Transforming pure souls people into additive behaviour

Spinning us away from our true saviour

The organised crime with their tentacles reach

Corrupting, sucking life force leech

As personalities mutate

Into reaching an ever disappearing high state

All the drugs in this world won’t bring back your past

Some try every high they can touch, hoping it will last

Living for the addiction

One high after the next high

This sick addiction I’m living for

Without it emptiness ensues

A medicated lethal concoction

Telling yourself freedom will be tomorrow

Left in the shadows of sorrow

Trying to escape until something touches you

All the highs in the world won’t last

They won’t bring back your past

An angel trying to grasp home

Cycling round in the circus hypermind palindrome.

~DiosRaw, 20/05/21

Poetry {47} ~ SINGULARITY CACOPHONY

Conjoined in the infinititude of cyclical rotations

Embedded within every molecule, quark and energetic spark

An absolute of indivisible

We are the hearts of stars, interstellar coalesced into vastness

Part of something far beyond our imagination

We are ants with cellphones, beyond third dimensional comprehension

I became a peculiarity, my own totality, freed from the cacophony

Together with you, I am you and you are me, you see?

I yearn to be the singularity

I strive to be free again, free from polarity.

~DiosRaw, 29/04/21

Poetry {39} ~ INFINITE DREAMING OF DREAMERS

Waking into a dream

Sleeping into a dream

Living within the dream

Awareness of being the dream

Dreaming whilst dreaming

A dream within a dream within a dream

Dreamers dreaming the dreaming dream

And one day we wake up and drift down stream

The dreamers aware of the living dream

Infinite patterns and shapes

Dimensions and awarenessses

Spiralling into cosmic expansion

Dreaming something by being a dreaming nothing

You cannot write my poems

Just as I cannot dream your dreams

Dissipating away in a whisper.

~DiosRaw, 22/04/21