Clark Scribe

I used to write poetry on here for some reason. probably not doing that again.

[pretentiousguy5000]

Even more art, frfr

[pretentiousguy5000]

Other Art

[pretentiousguy5000]

WIP

[pretentiousguy5000]

I AM BACK ON HERE!

FUCK! SHIT! GODDAMN IT! STUPID FUCKING ELON!

[pretentiousguy5000]

I Don’t Believe Your Heroics

A bitter imitation means nothing. Soon to be overrun with all of that which we bare in our icy solitude of self. We merely externalize as well as replicate the growing societal mold of soured human experiences. Continuing esoteric trails of uncompromising belligerence. We make an enemy of our cause; sacrificing, in our satisfaction, anthropological salvation.

We are trying to plant a new garden with the old seeds of our world only changing the process of our productivity. Creating, faster, another generation filled with the same deformities of our multiple decrepit sides. Like a beast of never ending horrors and an infinity of sympathetic flaws.

We can see our home before our venture but no longer clothed in fabric of eternal memory and transgression. Abandoning lessons learned in hardship. Repeating and continuing in our hours the hopless referendums of our scars. Isolated in our perspective living; feeling no other heart beside our own.

I can no longer call on you to be good. I can no longer believe in progress if we are going to believe in the same mistakes of our ancients. I do not give up, but I no longer take my bets to the stream. I merely fight in solitude away from solitude. Hoping to be joined by you instead of joining you.

I hold out hope only for the last second. Then it is all but a faltering ghost. My side is new antagonism without flesh.

[pretentiousguy5000]

To Hug the Silly Sun

In the ever mounting clarity

I puncture the filmy grime ceiling

to view the black crowded sky

and upon bleeding through

the blanket of sunlessness,

I feel the source become eternal.

I do not want to sleep.

They cannot force me.

I live in bountiful weary-alertness

as I wonder if the sun

will come back to me.

Tomorrow is a paradox

on the midnight peak.

[pretentiousguy5000]

How the Left was Won...

You are already dead in the impossible threads. Living a torn portrait trying to tape its dangling heads.

Making enemies out of shapes every shape is a problem No difference is relevant but every difference of option.

Beauty deformed into ugly was always ugly to start beauty gone, it must be the sign of an 'awfully'...

[pretentiousguy5000]

No Further I Go...

I'm floating on the eastern shore,

wishing to push away from the sandy cover.

"Just a nice creep away and I'll be fine".

I see it from here, the open waters

not exactly inviting but allowing

ready for me to enter...

I'm floating on the eastern shore,

wondering about the push away from home.

"Is there really more land out there".

Water turned to the nothing that I see

no landing to be found, to be scored

by the rough wood of my thoughts...

I'm floating on the eastern shore,

I'm floating on the eastern shore,

I'm floating on the eastern shore,

I'm floating on the eastern shore,

I'm floating on the eastern shore,

I'm floating on the eastern shore...

[pretentiousguy5000]

Night Nothin’

Stumbling with the bumbling free throws had a chance but no key notes you see those new tree flows. we need rows, no sea though. flying with the merry poppins. Took a dive and now I'm lost in this mess of rhymes I'm talkin' you best resign, I'm noddin' time plottin' lime rottin' find robin. Night, nothin'.

[pretentiousguy5000]

SFSP

Stupid fucking surrealist poetry cool calling everyone else out like you don't know me.

I'm a big hypocrit with a little bit of riddle bits get those hits shit knows this fit moses doses.

potions perpetuating flowin per step relating goin stir webs no hating like I get a fifth no myths. just next, your making, Jerks faking.

[pretentiousguy5000]

A-Void-Dance

Not really getting far I see all these people stuck in a-void-dance three point stance,

it's equal. it's evil pit steeples sticking in the dumb life its one night

get lethal. we eat though. we meet bone this treat home neat beat chrome.

stick needles... sick people sic people stick needles...

[pretentiousguy5000]

Disconnect From Us

You closed your heart. It always rotted against your spine; leaving you confused about what you wanted from everyone else. So, you decided it was time to silence the damn thing. Easier not to attach. Easier not to provide. Easier not to leave it open for everyone and risk the dirty feet of someone who in all honesty is like you now.

You think it is impossible to reach this level of love but your perspective has been bent by the very echo of its previous owners. The population of which keeps the blood pumping through the liver but not through the screaming begging pleading heart you left inside.

But you continue on not hearing any of it. That room in which you threw it into is too far down for the bones to carry it up. Your thoughts just continue on to the next generation who will feel weird and gross about their inadequacies to fulfill their heart's wish to compensate.

[pretentiousguy5000]

Flow Like an Ocean

"It is like that of an ocean" All of it mixed up and pushing, Unforgiving and confusing, never to be explained! We will die, all of us, without the explanation. And if it be that science and reason gives at least one man the explanation that we all slaved over to learn... Then I pitty that man because now, for him the game is over. Checkmate. No more moves to be made. Here is your empty life. Love it.

[pretentiousguy5000]

Did I Fly

Is he tired? I imagine he thinks a lot He is too bothered by all of it buy all of it. I know he ignores a lot which is just as difficult as when I try to take it all in. How is it that it seems that he has more comprehension than I do. I open my arms and nothing comes to me. He closes his eyes and they watch waiting for him to open them again I am the same... And maybe that is what I have a hard time seeing that it is I am waiting and those who wait are not spreading their wings, they gain atrophy. They become old and crippled, continually saying "I can fucking fly! Only if they would give me the chance!" but pray they never give you the chance, for at that moment they WILL be watching and you WILL fall to your death. But as long as he is watching... I will make it the most gracefully fall I can I will try to die as quietly as possible maybe saying just one thing as I go but only if I know he is listening. "Did you see me fly?"

[pretentiousguy5000]

Flip That Frown Upside Down

I am a drawing, chemical, Both in a physical manifestation, as well as a conceptual translation. I can disappear but not be destroyed, only changed. But changed to a point where I am unrecognizable. You can't see the "Me, My, Mine" But I survive and exist Under the changes in my composition. My lines still exist, I guess. I can't die.

In an existential sense, The memory on time, The determinism of future, I am and was the thing I am soon to be.

Maybe there are no changes really Maybe I am just realizing What all I am supposed to be. Maybe I am not a drawing, Maybe that is just a collection Of details forcing me into an idea. Creating a misconception For the plot of completion.

The best art is the most complete of ideas. The best people Is the most functional in the system of a complex completing society Which is an idea Completing evolution Which is an idea Completing The unbreakable existence, The unchangeable existence, The never bending, The never destroyed Existence.

Maybe though, The idea is in itself That it doesn't exist. that it never can be changed Because there is nothing to change. Can't be destroyed Because it was never built. That existence is the idea Of a bunch of details Of non-existing Coming together To form the idea Of Existence.

But in the end, All that I know Is that I am a drawing Even if I'm not. It has not changed yet. And so it will remain In my thoughts Because it is the idea Which are the only things That exist for sure.

I cannot die, For I would first need The idea to live, That I lived.

[pretentiousguy5000]

Selfish Imagination

I don't quite believe in love... I don't believe in love because my ideas of it have been mutilated into a concept that doesn't exist.

What I wish for isn't love per-se, but an unachievable self-satisfaction through someone else's attentiveness. Love me so I know I can love myself...

I want to be a character to love, to be loved by a character in return. That it could only make sense, so that I wouldn't mistake it.

I want it to build up like a song, an organized rise to the crescendo. or for me to be prey, unaware of a pounce, to be gently captured...

My awareness kills me mostly, for I know it to be a travesty and such things are a sweet poison but I will never stop wanting it.

Things are much drier than that, things are much less apparent, things are more-or-less real. What ever that chooses to mean...

So, I don't quite believe in love... I don't believe in love because I was dumb and started to understand it. It is scary that it might just be chemicals.

Not a choice, but an instinct of nothing important...

[pretentiousguy5000]

Mineswept

Hours of Minesweeper, Yet I feel destined to never finish this game of numbers and hate, but that is fine by me.

Because if I ever did completed this trial of thought, then I think I would be that much more empty in life and mind.

It would be one less goal for me to achieve. What would be left would be the goals that I am not so sure I could do anything with.

It is something that I am not sure I could take to know this was the easiest struggle that I had to deal with in my journey.

Maybe to a point also I am hoping that when I do finish this that it will teach me how to be that much better.

That the numbers and boxes will translate to the difficulty and obstacles and that these very hours weren't a distraction or a waste.

games might be games but they can also be visions, excerpts into the puzzles of our ever expanding lives... maybe practice is the wrong word.

Though people are in no way like minesweeper because no matter how much info I have I always seem to land on a mine not knowing not to click that.

24 by 30 with 200 mines that is the standard I set for myself in such a game ...while I sit on this coach happily avoiding everything else...