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dream_weaver

Dream_Weaver's Allusions

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On 10/12/2012 at 8:20 PM, dream_weaver said:

“then who is God?”

 

I stopped into the local market to pick up a couple of dinners.

We were behind an elderly couple with kindly looking faces. The cashier, who has worked there for years, was waiting for the coupons to print out, looking at our order and mentioned that the dinners came with a drink, or if we would like something from the impulse display, that it comes with the meal. I let him know that I thought he was observant, a fact he seemed to file inside himself, perhaps to be sorted out at some future point in time.

I mentioned that the gal in the delicatessen had put two sides in with the chicken having explained to her that two sides would be preferred, in lieu of a drink. She was agreeable to it. One of the other employees had informed me that was an acceptable option.

A few more coupons printed out. The clerk had more coupons in his hand than I could identify without counting. I commented that it sounds like someone won the coupon jack-pot.

The older gentleman piped up at that point about running out of paper. I replied, I wouldn't worry about running out of paper, all you have to do is plant another tree. He indicated that such things took time. I agreed, by letting him know that coordinating such events have to be well planned out in advance.

 

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A short ode to Myth:

The ancient Myths, thick swirling fog, rendered from emotion,
are guideposts for some wayward minds, set firmly in commotion.
As poets write their prose and rhymes, oft with their mystic insight,
get read and heard and spread by those, who are not yet quite contrite.

The Myths, you see, are you and me, ensconced in cryptic verse,
lest the outcome’s progeny averts and shuns off Circe.
Their roots run deep and spread below what is most eas’ly seen,
and as their years pass, turn sublime, whilst they primp and preen.

The truths to which the Myths most seem to accurately portray,
set forth with many caveats, which needed to purveyed.
The music in the background, lifts forth and lends its voice,
To rhyme and reason vetted fully, in its final choice.

Edited by dream_weaver
added link to related thread.

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The Muse of the Curtain Call

Where has the adventure gone?
When did it up and leave?
Yon future has yet still to spawn,
the past—packed in its sleeve.

Recanting tales from days of old,
grand splendor yet to come.
Whilst scales of justice mete what’s told,
causality keeps sum.

Behold the context that’s perceived,
keep it clear in mind.
Lest conceptually deceived,
make wisps of fog that bind.

Entities are presupposed
in all actions observed.
Thought analyzed and recomposed,
for clarity deserved.

Awareness comes not divvied up,
focus starts that process.
Before coffee pours in a cup,
there’s much to coalesce.

Value presupposes life,
it’s enacted on the stage.
In examples that are rife,
performers earn their wage.

The politic doth interact,
with more complexity.
Freedom to live or suicide pact,
enforced collectively.

The curtain’s up, the cast’s on set,
there is no dress rehearsal.
Ad-libbed scripts form epithet,
this play’s quite universal.

Edited by dream_weaver
Retitled

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Still Waters Run Deep

The rivers flow forth from their source,
their mouths feast on oceans and seas.
Mankind’s hist’try runs it course,
‘tween its berms of philosophies. 

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The Forgotten Path

A line between two points that's straight,
with compass scribe an arc.
Project between dependent views,
with gutter spike leave mark.

Upon a page, line after line,
filled with repeated letter.
Duplicate each stroke in kind,
while penmanship gets better.

Descript geometry's an art
programmers try to capture.
Their lines of code, while often bold,
must correlate to rapture.

Planography that's based on keys,
to truly understand,
must break them down and make them sound
to not face reprimand.

To all of this add tolerance;
a band of width that's known—
related to an origin,
to reap from what was sown.

Pythagoras, his theorems held,
for proof, one looked to see.
The evidence of senses saw,
the observed, thus, must be.

The rank and file, lest't be defiled,
should on this onus stand.
The penalty, if varied much,
deserves such reprimand.

With more to write, yet less to say,
The penalties, though come what may.
Determine what lies in the course,
But do not account for the horse.

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