daxi

i am neither the wearer, nor the worn but the wearing

[aljedaxi]

sonhood.pdf

The edgiest thing I've ever written. Worth the read for the formatting, however.

Prose-poetry. About humanity. Sex, gender.

It's a rejection of humanity. Sonhood.

Birthèdness. Geworfenheit.

It's exceptionally concrete. Brutally concrete.

[aljedaxi]

Weltschmerz 3

from silk on the skin:

i long.i long. silken,i sink:

down into, __headlong.

______________reality, always,is

_____made in the mind. where_ is

___the grounding,but _ here _ in my i?

[aljedaxi]

Weltschmerz 1

from silk on the skin:

i long.i long. silken,i sink:

down into, __headlong.

____ outside is riven.here.

_____________________ outside

____________ is wrong.outhide

______ and dissappear.dissapate.

________________ gone.

[aljedaxi]

all the hearts_ around

bleed.__________here is _stained of lack

___of sanguinity.

___it pains me,how kind_ you are.

___i have no blood left _to give.

[aljedaxi]

the sea floats down, all

foam on the waves of the wind

too close to seem blue.

28

i curse my seemings, that say

„this foam is a wave ; count them,

_and you'll know the sea.“

_one;one;one;one;one;one;無。

so:i see the sea,clear as air.

[amour-de-starlette-deactivated2]

To all who have been looking forward to the change of the season, I wish internal flowering, inspiration, new beginnings and love. My spring does not come, the cold does not go away, and the winter is eternal.

[aljedaxi]

snowless December

settles__on The City_____like

snow_____on the desert

suffer not__The Sling of Cold

but____the dull crawl of deathless life

[aljedaxi]

________when the snow met ground

____what did the cloud in it say?

___________forlorn piece of gray—

_____do not mourn the darker sky

you are____where you always were

a__drop_______in an off-gray sea.

[aljedaxi]

gotta get down to the bus stop.

For Oliver.

Time is now my cruel mistress,

my poor master and fate;

Time 's a dread vintriliquist,

from whence there's no escape.

❦

Time's to Time as Void's to Space,

as 1 is as to 3,

Time's The Movement and The Grace,

The Falling and The Leaf.

❦

what is Time devoid of space?

a wave without a sea?

within,Time's but a lifeless face—

a corpse cannot conceive.

❦

Time's a vague and fickle thing,

whose speed does oscillate,

and that,my dearest Oliver,

is why i am now late.

[aljedaxi]

god i'm old

[aljedaxi]

Announcements

The Saga of the Operatione Solis

, edition 2, is now finished.

The Saga of the Inductione Solis

, the sequal to the Saga of the Operatione Solis, is also finished. Lastly,

:PRO HWI:

, a poetry collection, is also finished.

check them all out here, inshallah

[aljedaxi]

Requiem— in lieu of a caw

The bird is frozen — in its stead: Those that have no tears to shed, bite back their sorrow for the dead. The bird before it pecks its tail, The bird whose alchemies did fail: Those who cannot color pale, Bite back their beak and precure nails, For the coffin, the dying, the dead. The bird before it warbles woe, The bird, its Requiem in tow: Those whose songs can smite no foe, bite back their tongue and watch their toe. For living, those living, and dead. The bird behind it flies away— The bird behind, Mid-flight does say: Those who's respects are all payed, have no excuse not to seize the day. For the mem'ries : the living of dead. The bird in my eyes, cold as snow, The bird whose years will never show: Those who have no tears to shed, Bite back their sorrow for the dead. Melancholic in passing, and via that vein: Requiem Aeternam—heu, paceque; Ave, Avis! May the frost melt away, & your body decay.

Still not quite finalized.

[aljedaxi]

[remind me to title this]

What gender am I, When all my world's the give of a brush, And the flow of ink? {What, who, when} is there To be , Worth being, Save the focus that lays the ink?

[aljedaxi]

Been a while. I do post calligraphy on here, right?

[aljedaxi]

[Working Title] Flag Tune

Oh flag of red, made of plants now dead, how alive while waving you look! As the wind flies by and waves your form, I feel my soul is shook. Oh what thoughts are spurned in the minds of men, when the drums swell and you fly! If only their march was to canvas or parts, and not to the fields where they'd die. Oh flag of red, how you dance in the head, with a beauty unknown to the winds! If the skyline could know such a marvellous show, we would make such a sight corpulent. Aye, the thoughts, they grow even greater when they are needed by those deemed above! Whither, flag of red; do not speak in their stead; do not speak for those dead by your love. Oh flag of red, just what runs through your head? Just what makes all the gears down there turn? Do you wonder of what, should we trace 'round your rut, we might make of a mind with you spurned? O flags of reds, do you claim to have heads? Do you claim you've a mind of your own? When the sky's black as hell, and our eyes are all dead, do you ponder the blood on your throne? You do not. You are dead. You are cloth once stained red: And I pity a cloth in a clothflyer's stead. {Avast, ye flag of white and red, As if blotted by a soldier's bled, Again, again, you scrape the sky! Against your name they never cry.}

[aljedaxi]

the saga of the Operatione Solis

is finally complete. Bask in its glory.

Get yourself a copy of this monumental work.

[aljedaxi]

I will nae sacrifice one piece of art for the sake of the other.

I said, as I snatched up his camera, to take a more pleasing, but less informative, picture of the platter of sushi for his brother.

[aljedaxi]

Some poetry, Some visual art.

Some hoctoc, Some trad con.