the hipnic jerk

the hipnic jerk - The Hipnic Jerk A Collection of Poetry by...

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The Hipnic Jerk A Collection of Poetry by Jeffrey Mull “The modern mind is in complete disarray. Knowledge has stretched itself to the point where neither the world nor our intelligence can find any foot-hold. It is a fact that we are suffering from nihilism.” -Albert Camus
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The Skydiving Seraphim To pose a question to no one. Did Morning Star jump for the thrill of the fall? The terror of being held by nothing. The freedom of being restrained by nothing. Did Morning Star jump for the thrill of the fall? Paradise abandoned for a warmer climate. The freedom of being restrained by nothing. Make the mind a god and it’ll make a heaven of hell. Paradise abandoned for a warmer climate. Rather a lord of his suffering than a slave of light. Make the mind a god and it’ll make a heaven of hell. Look to your definition and there you will see your oppressor. Rather a lord of his suffering than a slave of light. A challenge to the magician who claimed the world could fit in a hat. The emptiness of the freefall. The only absolute. A challenge to the magician who claimed the world could fit in a hat. The terror of being held by nothing. The only absolute.
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To pose a question to no one. Pulp A paper person balls up the cardboard world and juggles the pulp on his tongue, not for sustenance, just a trick to do at parties. Poor lonely paper people Cut each other when they touch Then tear themselves apart with Remorse. They can do no wrong For They do not know what It is. They don’t know their fragility So Don’t remind them They want everything Or nothing; Whichever They have less of The poet paper people claim they’re made of construction paper, but they cut their philosophies from Sunday funnies off their backs.
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Watch them wax poetic on cellophane dreams. They mean nothing, yet the aesthetic lends the taste of citrus. A paper person runs through the rain, eroding as he goes. Crumbling, tearing, deteriorating to pulp that mashes in puddles at his feet. Withering to thin strips of himself. Falling to his knees and imploring the world to read him. But the rain’s made his ink bleed profuse from his origami heart. Incomprehensible, even to himself. A mirror-eyed girl finds it, then forsakes it, from confusion. I think I knew a man who knew a paper girl. He made me see the clemency of stabbing someone in the heart with a long wide scimitar. Perhaps a farce? Perhaps a melodrama? But it burns out fast, a match, or a balloon with too much air. He was allowed no such mercy. He, the comic strip cynic, received her sarcastic kiss, left a paper cut, which festered and drove him mad. Now he sits in the sanatorium, terrified of even toilet paper.
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The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze Enter the freak show See the tall man’s vertigo Watch the strong man weighed down by apathy It’s 1985 and the geek’s insanity is outdated by Credit cards and cocaine And the sensory overload of the oncoming internet. His teeth rip into the arteries of a neck
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the hipnic jerk - The Hipnic Jerk A Collection of Poetry by...

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