Simply – [Prose Poem]

I’ve genuinely been pursuing calmness in this life because I finally detected the chaotic pattern of my many histories. To keep myself busy in the lives of others and let them rule my ambitions, to hold to anger and revenge as a permanent resolve to my misery; these are the patterns of my self-perpetuating pain from refusing to face the emptiness inside me. That emptiness is a different chaos that simply is; a gateway to my deepest inner truth. I am empty like a room that was robbed, a blank slate. Tried to paint the walls with bloodlust, but the rage doesn’t stick. Revenge just wears the walls down. Letting other people come in and paint the room only upset me and I tolerated it because I kept blaming myself for being robbed. Everyone left when I remembered my power, my worth, and my ability to forgive. I have no more rage to paint with. I am still, like the room, empty, blank. I simply am.

It’s time to relish in the calm and keep things simple. I’ll fill the room with who I am. I’m going to embrace this vulnerability and paint with my true colors. I’m not worried about who comes to stay or leaves. In this calmness, this different chaos that cultivated my freedom and autonomy, I’m going to pursue an environment where I belong; a home. The love of home can never be robbed from me because it becomes me, simply.

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Website Changes and The Mission

Hello friends,

A few changes to the site.

The Welcome page is a little different. Information about my novel and other projects are now on a page called “Authentikei’s Work” along with the Music page and the Poetry Readings page.

The Philosophy Study page is a work in progress, but it’s there.

Regarding The Mission

The mission on the front of my website is what I’m transforming this platform into. Although this started out with just a home page and blog for me to write about the progress on my novel, I became inspired to create a platform for creative spirits with philosophical minds (like me) to have a community to connect with and a place to cultivate their artistic visions. I started this for myself and as more support grows, I aim to return the favor by finding resources and promoting their work hoping they’ll inspire all of us to reinforce our personal philosophies and the desire to live a life that benefits ourselves and others.

Many thanks to those who have supported my creative projects and research so far. I look forward to supporting your endeavors as well.

Elemental Magic – Earth – New Article

Earth is home. Home is where reality takes shape, where we start planting our roots. We start out as saplings looking up to the full-grown trees who are familiar with Earth and her nurturing ways. They seem proud of how far they’ve come. They seem invincible, so we believe them when they tell us that we will grow higher than they have, that we’re destined to be even closer to the sun.

Then we learn about how stressful growth is. Our sapling form starts protruding from the soil; our roots are deeper, but also farther away. We go through these strange phases, learning what to do with our new branches, leaves, petals, fruit, whatever you may see yourself blossoming. It’s a strange time, and it gets stranger when you see the other saplings growing differently. It leaves you curious, maybe terrified, but you’ll inevitably compare and contrast and wonder about reality’s most common questions: What is the right way to grow? What is the wrong way to grow? 

Read the full article here…

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The Rot – Dark/Gothic/Horror Poetry [Explicit]

It’s a pit or a grave.
Whichever, I tend to stay
when the sorcery of love dances
on my corpse day by day.

But something died
and love isn’t necromancy.
Eleven ounces of flesh
rotting, barely breathing.

Many tried to revive her.
I welcome them to the grave
of a lost cause, damaged goods,
a bleak, paradoxical save.

Faint beats of my flesh
responding to a loving touch,
but a kind of suicide captures her
because she’s never enough.

“Would you fucking try?” I ask,
“Would you bleed so I can breathe again?”
She’ll bleed herself dry, drown my eyes,
to assert her choice for death.

She wants to die with the lost love,
though it’s not so lost on cosmic paths.
Stars confirm love’s sweet blisses,
its harshness, its beauty, its wraths.

I plead for more beats; she rots,
resenting me six feet under
because I drank poisoned beliefs
of shallow loves, faux thunder,

an alluring ether seeking prey,
necrophiliacs raping my weak-beating flesh.
Perhaps I’m the abuser, the poison shame,
for demanding her strength in weakness.

Am I the sickness? Am I the rot?
Yes, I’m deepening the grave,
barely trying to leave, not taking her with me
though she whispers, “I don’t want to stay.”

But we stay. We rot. We bleed.
We concede. We cycle. We mourn.
At a loss for a remedy, though considering necromancy,
I’m unsure, dear heart, you’ll ever be reborn.

How have I done this to you?
How have I done this to myself?
Love was once our native currency.
Now I’m convinced she poisons our wealth.

Reoccurring, this poison, this dread,
this seemingly infinite sorrow.
It won’t kill itself or let us die.
It bleeds us–I bleed us–every ‘morrow.

How, how did I get here?
This damning, infinite fear.
Why won’t you leave me,
you mirror so clear?

The rot won’t leave my reflection.

What is foregrounding? – Literary Terms 101

Foregrounding: “Calling attention to something–a word, a rhythm, a character, an idea, a viewpoint–by placing it in the foreground against a background. Taken from painting and the study of visual perspective, the term is used more broadly to mean setting anything off from its context or creating something that stands out from the ordinary…Interpreting a novel as if it were being read by a woman foregrounds the woman’s viewpoint,” – NTC’s Dictionary of Literary Terms (1991)

My Take On Foregrounding

I know this term is basically the writer doing their best to make sure a certain word or statement stands out from the present context, but I’d like to add a quote from The Routledge Dictionary of Literary Terms (2006) by Peter Childs and Roger Fowler:

“In literature, foregrounding may be most readily identified with linguistic deviation: the violation of rules and conventions, by which a poet transcends the normal communicative resources of the language, and awakens the reader, by freeing him from the grooves of cliché expression, to a new perceptivity. Poetic metaphor, a type of semantic deviation, is the most important instance of this type of foregrounding.”

Peter Childs and Roger Fowler – Quote found from thoughtco.com

As I’m studying this term, I feel like I’m overthinking how it’s used. Metaphors are common nowadays and there are other types of linguistic deviations where the writer aims for something to stand out, but I think if you’re going to break certain literary rules, you should make sure there’s solid coherence. In other words, it better be damn good because many audiences are used to this and a poor attempt at foregrounding could either blow the mind of your audience or underwhelm them. Perhaps I’m worrying more about the negative results. I’d hate for my audience to be underwhelmed. I’m not objecting to chaos, surrealism, or randomness in literature, I just think it could go from symbolic to senseless real quick depending on the intention. But whatever…here’s to the rule breakers and those who become icons as a result of their rebellion.

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Why does this literary term give me anxiety in a way where I’m laughing about it to?

You know what? I think it’s because I found a new challenge in my writing. I like it ’cause it terrifies me.

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Witchcraft On Your Eyelashes (Poem)

Blink, you begin to see
the world as a mirror.
When you look around, you paint with fire,
and dance in the ashes.
Your glares are necromancy
raising passions once dead.
Your irises, an endless color palette
capturing your technicolor heart.
Your stare transform into screams;
music to the spirits.
Sparks in your sight
bring hearts to burst.
Witchcraft on your eyelashes
fluttering with the impossible.
Blink,
magic becomes incredibly possible.

I may submit this poem into a contest. What do you think?

Do you read poetry or listen to it?

I’m so grateful for those who read the poem from the last post. I’d love feedback on the video I made where I read the poem aloud along with the ambient music I’ve made. But I do wonder if anyone besides me still likes to listen to poetry.

Do you?

I hope to post more content, starting with this poetry series. Music covers, art, and my novel are still a go, of course.

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