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Caspar Phraseology of Knowledge Stimulus
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Clickity Clack I suppose it’s official… I am a ghost…
No longer to be glyphs in centuries…
Ever Chosen Once, to be stuck up in
spatial semesters of a few college
certificates, skipper upon stagefloor.
It is a pleasure to be back in
It is a pleasure to be back in your gallery of daringly novel and relatable visions. Always on the vanguard of innovative ways to express the joys, frustrations and torments of our human journey, you sculpt art out of life. Each poem I read is one of the following: an eye-opener, a thrilling surprise, a cryptic treasure map, a psychotropic dream, a multifaceted gem–Sometimes all of them in one compact creation.
Here you composed a stirring and pensive statement on the ephemeral nature of academia. But, fortunately, as redbrick wisely explained: “Your thoughts are not confined to certificates or classrooms . . .“
Often your notes on a poem are as sharp as the poem itself. I was really tripping on: “Bro if Poetry Didn't Balance me...
Seriously…”
If I wasn’t so insanely busy, I would camp out here for hours and bear witness to a valuable work in progress. Please continue to be a poetic Prometheus, always reaching for cosmic fire.
My greatest respect.
Oh for enduring relevance!
Oh for enduring relevance! And even if academia forgets, words carry their own weight beyond institutional walls. Your thoughts are not confined to certificates or classrooms; they weave into the minds of those who read them, carrying influence far beyond what paperwork can validate. Hopefully intellectual transience—the unsettling realization that knowledge, once revered, will not dissolve into forgotten archives. Reminds me somewhat glancingly on some aspects of the Tolkien biopic.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
That I am Frodo Funny!!
That I am Frodo, Funny!! Thanks for the Rum In The Tummy!!
peace, pot, tequila shot
Jesus loves us, stoned or not
I'm so not yer cuppa
I'm so not yer cuppa tea!
Am I not your cup of tea?
I may not be
your cup of tea
but I am your
bottle of rum --
most definitely...
so ease up that grip:
Stop strangling my neck.
Let My liquid conflagration
scorch your lying condescension
again and again and again.... without fail.
If you but remember to be true
to what lurks deep within you
I will assail your doubts
And numb their fight,
Send insanity to flight.
No, I am not your cup of tea!
- - - - - - - - - -
And more's the better for me!
to be taken with a grain of salt,
although it isn't tequila...,
no slice of lemon required...
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver