I compose a prose of rows of flows that arose from a mystical - TopicsExpress



          

I compose a prose of rows of flows that arose from a mystical sorcery; No-one knows where it goes, still it grows, and bestows an ancient force to me Fragments of phonics sign streams of sonics which mutate with each mind that holds them like Gaian tectonics mountains emerge and morph to an environment that eventually molds them the courses diverged in fractal formation forthwith from linguagenesiacal conception. Politicians obscure them to weaponise worlds with tools of blatant deception. Poets nurture neologism to put to the people, but witch doctors use it to hex them Time progresses, black magical spells become curses cast from a four letter lexeme, If a statements triggered by external stimuli, its no doubt derived from motions on the fluid continuum, or physical collision, or waves on electro-magnetic oceans, passed along parallel tissues, geometrically branching, weighted by mutable relevance, based upon muscle growth from chemical potential, it cascades, or inhibits agains. So the simplest utterance, is utterly immense, and its influence unfathomably intense, hence we build a defense to guard from offense, a fence in a sense, at immense expense. When we catch a sentence we may close ourselves off incase it strikes hard at our heart, Then under false pretense we may think were hardened but we were strongest at the start. Mans not his cells but their configuration, and god manifests through our communication in the rules that govern our connection and relation, so I propose that language is the manifestation of higher order beings, and were just their cells, thus all expressions are eternal spells, permeating the mechanical, electrical, chemical, biological. the cultural, philosophical, psychological, sociological. So dont harden yourself to the impact of a statement, no never, it essentially dampens your echo through the halls of forever watch your words, dont harden peers, pay close attention to whats said, if we knew the power of conversed contraptions, we may not speak ’til our deathbed.
Posted on: Sun, 31 Aug 2014 13:31:46 +0000

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