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Rose, Fool, or Thorn?

A Pondering of the Mind's Spectrum

By Mr. KUTZKYPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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Some things will change, and some things can never, how the hell else can anything ever be held together? Rose with a thorn, the sentence of death when you're born, bask in the beauty or brood in the certain, these and in between encompass every type of person. The roses lack of practicality can lead to a delusional reality. The thorn's ever eye on certainty can lead to a barren life of but scrutiny. Alleviate the lessening trait of each and magnificence you have breached. Living two opposites simultaneously, perhaps this is why change can and can never be. Paradox is just the word created by the inventor who could go no further, were there no indications to him that utter opposites could be symbiotic and not chaotic? Perhaps he was a thorn, a solution to his confusion could never be born. The question I think next is what would be the effects of paradoxes touching? Is there such thing as middle to their riddle, can the middle not be a diluted version of both? Can they Voltron into a Metatron? Is the Merkaba such symbolism? Such mental-ism & mysticism is it utmost realism? If you can admire beauty while hating its delusional effect, can you be an observer who also can interject? Is the delusion a certainty? Or will it ever whiter your scrutiny? Is this the genius of the fool? I am a rebel, can I outwit this rule? Is that what I am here to do? I hope I am not the only one who can conceive such conception, I'd need at least another one to achieve such perfection. The other one I hope has a nice bum, voluptuous jiggling boobs and a filthy genius mind that can over-cum this old concept of time. This has been my longing long before my learning. My rose broke and the Thorne thwarted my mind into churning. Despair and evil in once I was burning, but now it's fire has put me onto something higher where I can spot and love a liar. Some liars too much, their petals I opt not to touch, though some roses so innocent my no longer to pierce them so imminent, and the thorn though its brilliance I cherish, I watch it sway so many souls to perish. I've navigated it's nastiness with a method I made to out last it's wits. I am on a frontier now perhaps in the middle of a paradox. The wall on the edge of thorn, knocked down and here I am reborn. The Fool a favorable for those who find rose blind & thorn mind unsavorable. However the Fool a tool I could not seem to fit, so on the other end of a newly broken wall I sit. Alone for now but not forever, the horizons whisper of a certain sister, clever and in climb on way to this new design.

slam poetry
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About the Creator

Mr. KUTZKY

All things dark and strange, the beauty of complexity, the isolation of integrity. Honest articulations on the perks and pitfalls of both. Keep your mind sharp and a sword to your heart.

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