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M.E and
Jacob erin-cilberto are now friends
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PAR (Paulo Acácio Ramos) wrote a new post
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Read MoreThe body rests, but the theater continues.The curtain of sleep closes,and behind it, the stage remains lit.The dream does not bow to fatigue,does not bend to biology,does not dissolve in the chemistry of melatonin.It is something else.It is the...
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Thank you, I try my best to invite everyone into my poetic adventures in PARland. 😎
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![Profile picture of Fia Naturie]()
Wow… like this
” Sleep is a gesture,
a ritual of disconnection,
but the dream is the saboteur of silence.”
Enjoyed this poem Par-
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Sending my love to you.
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![Profile picture of Damian DeadLove]()
Brilliantly penned, PAR. Into the book it belongs! Riveting imagery, written as only you can my friend. Simply amazing. Appreciate you.
Damian
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Sending my love to you, dear friend.
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![Profile picture of Visions_of_Insanity]()
Inspiring, transcending, mesmerizing, infinite. I’m hooked. PARland sounds mind blowing.
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![Profile picture of PAR (Paulo Acácio Ramos)]()
We must keep on acting to feed reality with our half-dreams.
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The liquid form is the most adaptable and dangerous of all, so we must keep our emotional liquidity under surveillance.
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Daniel Long wrote a new post
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Read MoreIt does not begin, it does not end. Never hear it start, never hear it stop. Ceaseless, present at every moment. This inner sound - an object of sense. With willpower we dominate, breathing at our will. Whereas we are subordinate to the sound of silence. An entity you cannot dominate, but...
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Daniel Long wrote a new post
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Read MoreThe voices of silence - exclamatory silence! They vent what is suppressed, articulating what is disconnected. For answer, my tongue dances to the rhythm of my whisperer, vocalizing concealed thoughts. So, this Delilah of my mind tingles my consciousness with her voice. This luring temptress that is psychosis...
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I’m sure this resonates with many Daniel. Kudos for posting this
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Daniel Long wrote a new post
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Read MorePsychosis carried in the gales, for I am surely windblown, windward from my own psyche, where boundaries of reality have eroded. With concealed hands, a nonvisual hallucination caresses the encasement of my soul, provoking verbal responses. Nothingness which wreathes around me, a curve in a state of non-existence meandering...
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“Liquid childhood” interesting what that conjured up for this reader.
I rarely remember dreams anymore and they are never about the past anymore…used to be. But now they are of some unnamed future and often I don’t even recognize me in the dreams…
At my older age, I surrender to sleep and let it do whatever it wants with me.
Really good write here PAR. You bring us along with you, but not just as observers, more like participants.
j.