Salvador Dalai Lama

Salvador Dalai Lama

A mind well fortified
by ill-advised convictions
is no more than a prison
inside a prism; refracting light.

The convenience of coincidence
bemeans the underlying theme of
a self-ordained saint who preaches
the way an angel would reach for eternity;
knowingly already in it's grasp
yet unkempt,
keeping imperfect time.

I've learned which watch to trust
when each clock stops and Armageddon's
right hand man etches the indefinite collapse
into a rust colored sky.
Too often the design which creates itself
develops a sense that, more or less,
equates to a third eye.
Life is only breathed into those who seek
answers to the questions beyond "Why?"

Yet we still ask.

Sequestered inside the habitual
degradation of a morality placed
too high for the eyes to abide.
It's a synthetically formed habitat
that aims to perpetuate itself;
too symmetrical for the lines
to bleed reasonably between
hate and it's esteemed colleague
...an emotion no longer relevant.

We work as opposites,
attracting what congregates in the balance
like a checkered flag.
What had gradually replaced
the inner-most thought,
came from a place
supposed to be lost.

Wisdom is not brought upon,
it is sent unto those who
wear the melted truths,
relative to the integrated faith
proclaimed as a triple helix spun from
a spherical fate that revolves
around us; lingering like a Sphinx.
The defiant empirical proof
soothes only the civilized pride
already condemned and entombed.

But such as a faint touch,
any contrite claim is consumed.
In so much as it is right,
wrong has long been justified -
hiding openly in an Omen's opus.
O Holy Knights of Columbus,
slay this native sin;
a requiem long since dead,
remembered again in the candid
half-mast handshake from a kinship
killing itself into perfection
after each critical mass
hits indigenous Manhattan.

You and I contradict the contrast.
We concede the spiritual debris.
What's left after the exodus
happens to be the confusion of existing.
The common man (God damn)
cannot abstain obscurity.

-as curated by the illustrious unseen.



© Timothy Edward

ATTENTION Moniker,

This automated notification is a friendly reminder for you to provide (2) links to other member submissions that you left adequate feedback to.

http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/show...Pitiful-Pretty
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/show...81494-Untitled

*Poem above was written in September 2013.

I tend to make it a point not to leave feedback on poems I truly enjoy. The whole idea of feedback on poetry in general has always been a touchy issue with me. I've always felt that what makes poetry great is the individuality and uniqueness of it. Who are we to judge what comes from or at least should come from the deepest places of a person. That being said RB has taught me that not all poets write for themselves. I also feel that once a poem is publicly posted it is no longer the poets poem. I still don't feel comfortable judging based on content. That's why my feedback generally consists of fixing grammar and typos, or other issues that could make the poem better without changing anything the poet actually wrote.

I rambled. This is basically an excuse onto why I'm not giving you super detailed feedback on your poem =)

Your word choice as usual is specific and powerful while still somehow being delicate. Your use of big words fits which is something I still struggle to do. It read fine, nothing to say about lines or syllable counts. It brought me back to the glory days of RB. It's nice to see your style is similar to where it was when you started. Sticking to your roots and strengths.

You, atti and even Mantra *gag* are the poets I have always looked up to and admired the most so it's really sweet to have us all semi active again. See ya around dude.

saved for feed later tonight

I'm going to have to agree with Ben when I say I can't really leave feedback on this as I loved it from beginning to end. I'll just imply that the wording... originality and flow was just off the fucking chain. Even read it to my girlfriend and she was like "you're right, he's a genius." So I'm gonna do two things then ask you to return the favor on my SSP poem. I'm gonna nominate this for hof and legends.

I don't have time for this now. I'll come back to it.

Moniker, what a lovely way with words you have.
The story teller in you tells exquisite tales intricately laced with quality wording and beautiful atmosphere.
The imagery you portray is divine.
Words placed with precision in a graceful manner, gentle and elegant.

My favourite lines:

"...I've learned which watch to trust
when each clock stops and Armageddon's
right hand man etches the indefinite collapse
into a rust colored sky.
Too often the design which creates itself
develops a sense that, more or less,
equates to a third eye.
Life is only breathed into those who seek
answers to the questions beyond "Why?"


Stunning.

Great read.