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I met a dangerous man in black at Starbucks this evening

a laptop
illuminated letters
complete with words
black on white pixels
lines on a screen
sentences vibrate cyclically;
we see them in ourselves
until these things happen again.
I break-up with you
-> breaks give direction <-
I break-down alone
with i n t e n t i o n
both unknown and known -
our home, a period,
our motion, a verb
an adjective
candles burn, wax wanes,
drips down, sputtering;
warm glow of screen
it was devastating
for our parents
who wrote with the fire of war
burned at both ends

“The way up and the way down are one and the same.” -- Heraclitus

25 May 13

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Interesting and original poem
 — larrylark

interesting dichotomy play between the keyboard and what we really say ...
 — unknown

I met a dangerous man in black at Starbucks this evening

'Fuk, she's still not answering the phone,' I curse under my breath as I slip the device into my jacket pocket while opening the glass door to the coffee-shop, stepping into a room with dark roast cloying in the still air, and look into the dim light, where I have a meeting with, 'fate.'

I’ve seen Pluto, that old black and dangerous God, at least three times. Probably more, and HE scares the shit-outta’ me too! I’m usually left traumatized and trembling from the Power I just experienced … The ferryman, I call him. He’s pitch-black, glistens with the entropy fugues of Galaxies pouring into their stuttering black holes. He was, well he surely is, but can easily exist in many Kaliterations, but way more than that, more than any human fear imaginable, he’s a dark Knight who’s a bringer of death and other blood fatal events onto our horizons.

He always stands there, at the edge of his marvelous imminence of missing matter, which roils and churns at his skin, making him shimmer in blackness and chaos; and we’re just an itch he may scratch, an unlikely event on his dark horizon.

He's kind of like a ‘Marvel Comics’ caricature of a conflicted Super-Hero whose abilities are to take succor of lost souls, eat them, with a touch of the dark dudley-do-rite knight of passion and determination. Except that makes him more approachable than he really is. If you meet him, it may already be too late.

There’s no solace in these meeting places where his creative-destruction is all there is, and that meeting with ‘HIM” is of consequence to all of manifestation…

So, at a local Starbucks this evening, where I met this very dangerous Man, a man who’d made an elixir, an elixir he exclaimed to be the 'Red Lion,' and went on to say that he imbibed it 973 years before in a Bohemian castle. He looks to be a healthy middle-aged man with eyes of steel-blue, wearing an Armani suit that ripples upon his animal physique, shimmers blackness; the Alchemist, I wrote in my Journal on my laptop.

He approached me through an acquaintance to request that I write about him, for what he later called, ‘riches that could change the whole human game.’
 — AlchemiA

Then he quoted Heraclitus, as if to give weight to what would follow in our ‘conversation,’ saying it as if it was an echo of what I already heard in my head, that “The way up and the way down are one and the same.”
 — AlchemiA

You changed the title.  Like the other better.  Have read this a dozen times.  Very unique, creative and effective.  I make up stories about coffee shop patrons so the first stanza was particularly impacting.  Really impressed!
 — sybarite

:)  I like unusual titles--they're a nice hook.  
 — sybarite

I like this more each time I read it.  Very cool piece, Alch :)
 — sybarite

enjoying the read. there's something of the code tripper in this :)
 — jenn

Bravissimo!  Good eye TOO!  :-)
 — starr

Alch!  You GO, boy!  This is one of your best and I LOVE "cyclically" in L8!  That word reminds me of a fragrant oil I used to wear:  cyclamen.  Good (orangey) stuff!  Love u always, buddy!  :-)
 — starr

He went on to say, "there's a 'disease' called 'cryptococcosis' which has been increasing in severity since Global warming and is spreading alarmingly up and down the West Coast of North America. This 'fungal' infection quickly spreads to the brain and other organs of the body, with fatal consequences."

He sipped on his 'Death wish coffee' while staring through me with those cold steel blue eyes and continued, "Before succumbing to their 'fatal' disease, the infected all seem to have a psychedelic experience, which looks from the outside as if their minds have become caught-up in nothing-at-all. As-if the infected person is seeing in everything that there is everything. That in a spilled drop of blood weeping from their eyes is the entire universe."

He slipped his hand into his jacket and withdrew a crystal vial, placing it on the table before me and said, "Every one of the infected have written this phrase in their own blood, or screamed it out or mumbled into their last breath before they died, that "The way up and the way down are one and the same."
 — AlchemiA

It's like the black hole of words - at starbucks.  It reminds me of when they get my order wrong,  Intended or not.  I would like you to use more senses than visual.  BTW - black hole of words is not a negative sentiment of mine - it is a visual compliment that can only be seen through absence.    
 — percocet

However; at starbucks, is derogative ( not miss-pelt.)  Sorry.    
 — percocet

I read the poem several times, and felt nothing but confusion.

The poem is extremely muddled, far too cryptic, and seems to have a serious case of indecision regarding what it wishes to convey, and the manner in which it should be conveyed.

If a riddle is too complicated and also in a foreign language, chances are readers will hear nothing but white noise.
 — jArE_hAwK

jArE_hAwK you're looking for certainty while I'm giving many reflections. You're condemning the piece for being cryptic and I'm holding up a mirror so you see what you wanna' see -- the result is yours alone. Tuum-Est and you've taken the low-rode most traveled.

The French Symbolist credo that “To suggest is to create; to name is to destroy” can be util-eyes'd here: Neuroscience avers that the same part of the brain is used to either ‘observe’ or ‘judge’ and that you can’t do both at the same time. By extension, observation is the basis of conscience which begets Truth, a non-fixated organic Truth that moves with change, while ‘judgment’ is just another tunnel-vision where all the dead-ends meet…

and by further extension, Poetry observes, crystalEyes’d, making for many reflections, while Prose opines a singular point-of-view, dead inside of you …
 — AlchemiA

See, this is incredibly mentally stimulating-- it's digital and erotic.
 — Cerulise

For example, the dangerous man could quite literally be the reflection in the mirror of the sheen of the laptop, bringing rapture to word with keystroke.
 — Cerulise

thanKYou Cerulise you've looked and you've seen, and then you reflected as you are...

I'd fuK beauty at its core, you know Eris and that cosmic-whore,
voluptuous Venus who always wanted more ...
All these human wannabe's can only pretend,
hint at, be kinda' like, merely echo these
finest asses on this side of manifestation...

even the Furies with their sharper eye, and Kunts made with gnashing teeth,
I'd be the tooth-brush and the mouth-wash and the lascivious smile,
and dentist them in hollywood style.

and what of Dianna and that demure Echo girl,
with wavy hair and hunting eyes
and sweet come-hither sighs,
I'd be her Stag and fall to her arrow, bleed from my hard koK, straight and harrowed,
while echo stays in the cave, and I become her mesmerized slave
lost in the twirl of her pond, thinking how good we look as blonde ...
 — AlchemiA

A wealth of knowledge doesn't a great man make.
 — percocet

makes a greater one than a pretentious bore spouting spurious proclamations.
 — unknown

I pat myself on the back.  Thanks to me, Unknown has learned English. I am glad to teach you consonance.
 — percocet

Let it be known that, "Unknown" is a special person, and that it takes a million times more effort for him to achieve than it does us.
 — percocet

Let us congratulate his ability to type.  Oh, ye retarded child of the Lord... may it be that you are the product of incest - yay, God has forgiven you.  May it be that your unkle stuck it to your mother, yay, it has been written in your DNA, and may it be that, old unknown, was Abel un-abided by Kane. YAY.
 — percocet

It is thus.
 — percocet

Of course you matter, I'm an engineer, everythings matter.
 — AlchemiA

Engineer your way out of English Difficulty, whilst everything, even non-engineered, matters.
 — percocet

She has finally presented herself as the beast - Anthony, also known as, "Ant," middle name: Islam - French for, "Isle," known as, "he:"she, as He, has presented herself in real time as Antoneer- I have no power over her.  Somehow she has become me and my statements are hers, and my own statements aren't mine.  Ante-i-s-l-e- is the one...she leaves me alone...she....!    
 — percocet

Peace.  I do not wish to move beyond the 38th parallel or the Atlantic Ocean.  I simply want to say that I have no quarrel with you, and that I have given my peace.    
 — percocet

percocet is (as boring as) bauer
 — unknown

I read over shoulders too.
 — thechosenone

an actual poem. thank you.
 — unknown

AlchemiA -- prognostication in time is prolepsis in space, which is a kind-of deja-view all over the place -- flash-forward to the edge of forever at first-light where the beginning expands into the deep-dark reaches of the night -- sHe is the Poet who writes from that serendipitous-connection and sHe's mastered the word-image-rhythms, the forms and rituals of sound and sight, and can therefore incite these emotives/feelings/thoughts in the reader, making the whirld's turn into a synergy of observer/observed which becomes tessellated interactively with the thoughts that you heard -- she throws a pebble into the stream and watches the ripples fill the unbounded cavity of your brain, where these ripples ripple in many reflections over and over again -- thus she writes her insights with a lyrical pen that babbles like a brook of words that meander down the page while unfettered glistening fish jump from line to line seeking the source of their urgent drive home --
-- have you heard of the expression, fish-heads? -- the Doctor of days gone-by was steeped in Alchemy 'n Astrology 'n Poetic lore and would wear a floppy hat resembling the shape of a fish-head -- the principle behind this apparel was to indicate 'wholeness' and 'completion' -- Jung's individuation -- it symbolizes the sign of Pisces conjoined with Aries: Pisces rules the feet and Aries the head, and so represents that the wearer has mastered all of the stages of Arkane path of initiation and that when the fish-floppy-hat is worn upon the head it signifys that all the Signs are symbiotically in the memories of her majestically mythic mind; sHe's merCuriously illuMentated
 — AlchemiA