Poem -

YES... NEARLY

YES... NEARLY

blechz Sprans Iloquicht sprou

Kodak "Polaroid Microfische" Moment

I have the soul of a Gypsy... my nation is where I put my feet, and my heart
is most comfortable where freedom soars, responsibly.

Line from a dream sequence from one of my plays "YES...NEARLY." This is the
  first I am writing of it....I just woke up from a dream to write it....what can
  I say I work when inspired....
 
  "We are afraid you have given up".

   "Well....At least I'm giving"
  ...
   What do you want from others?

   "I want to make their lives hell unless they help me help others".

   What is the virtue in that?

   "Well...it sure lets you know who your friends are!"

   Don't you see this as a sort of giving up?

   "I've seen deceptions and games so rampant and rife with disdain all that is
  left is nausea, Sartre was right...hell is other people...isn't it by knowing
  these others we learn differently?"

   It may be the very thing that takes one's peace of mind...what makes you
  think you can bring one the hell of knowing other's purposes...unless they
  help each other....that right there is an impovrishment on freedom....it is by
  punishing each other that we discipline our direction in existence.

   That would imply reciprocation...and not all relations in nature are
  Reciprocal... How do you pacify a stone....by throwing it? I've seen stones
  turned into sheckels before my very eyes... and imagined such exchanges
  turning into armies... I've seen the mysteries of the earth make trees weep,
  I've heard the wind turn forests into sad harps...but I've stopped seeing or
  hearing people be amazed by any of it, or the clearcut seeming wisdom of it's
  carelessness, what of the REWARDS that bond us? Now now no more of THIS?
  NO...NO....NO MORE.....they'll witness the beauty of it again, else what is
  the purpose of any of it? ...Else I simply exist as a puppet and nothing more.

POEM and Image © 2011 and 2005 respectively by Peter Kaleb Theodoropoulos transitioning to becoming my writing persona Rockwell Wilder.

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author
Rockwell Wilder

In fusing the dialogue into blocks, I create a cognitive distortion, about the arena of reception, that is conventionalized even in writing by formal cues, we can infer the break in charactership only in virtue of a few lines, because there is a consensus idea about an inquiring form of mind, and the gestation of linear flows of ideas in terms of the context of exchange that offers in the form I provide no certain way of knowing the formulaic connection between formal sentence structure and the beginning and ending of thought.  This I hope creates some cognitive dissonance and confusion, because that was what I was going through at the time.  I want to recreate a synecdoche of and microcosm of my own experience in some cases in the reader.  I am seeking to build a community strictly from the desire to understand and to point our aesthetic experiences toward communal possibilities for sharing states of mind's impacts on a status of beliefs and contexts of a search through information, mere constructions, to find essences and meanings...gems in the dross...the impulse to sift, these are part of the motifs woven in the form of my constructing as I do.

Just sharing.

PKT

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