self-imposed, Sightless - MINDed Poets

self-imposed, Sightless - MINDed Poets

A Poem by RuseInex
"

paradoxical phenomenon surround us as is the example of creatively blind poets' creations

"

 I.     

strip all human flesh an’ we are mind
invisible spirit ethereal, in flesh encased
metaphysically: take a look with night seeing goggles 
also seen with infrared light, human form’s color yields
either whitishness, whitish green, or reddishness and bluish
race is skin deep, culture is skin deep, we are Human
got off the same boat: Noah’s in his families’ genes
left: Eden’s garden in the genes of our ancestors
i’m given no grounds for respecter of, pertaining to judge of persons
like you ’n me, transparent, have nothing to hide
when we’re most feebly vulnerable under scope of truth
willingly yielding to love other skin colored suits
in our skin deep birthday suits
even in light of skin browness, tanish, yellow beige, beautiful brown
light peaches ’n cream, whitish pink in between
without blackness, darkest shades of beautiful black
earth tones all skin tones even pinkishness, 
derivative of lesser melanin of human skin pigmentation
II.     
mind meets mind over transatlantic distances
minus physical appearance only texted electrons transmitted
e mailing, texting, cell phoning communication interfacing
without facing another human or human face
like with Prose meeting online never seeing physically being
far ’cause may be geographically near yet light years apart
near ’cause may be geo far yet close in Cyberspace
electronically, not with physicality, still mind meets, walks with, dances with, breathes with, thinks ’n shares with: 
mind presence of one other, more others of: humanKind
with whom you commune 'n grow with, yet vastly different than watching an image
on Skype or Face Book anything with physical image like as on Tele      VISION
mystical phenomenon only for those Posting their Prose for Those whose Physical Image we do not see, 
purposefully, some prefer it that way
III.
enjoy sending, receiving commentary, traded pieces of writing
noblest of human inventions for connecting with, trading pieces of thought
trading feelings, things exceedingly valuable and precious,
considering the intimacy involved; the mystery surrounds you and me, 
giver to receiver to giver, Meeting of the Minds trading emotions with prose 
be it flattered, angered, frustrated, joyed, or mix of blends of humans’ senses
in the Written Piece all wonderfully human, 
Spirit psychically intuitively touching, interfacing Spirit
akin to self imposed blindness, choosing bypass of pupil-retina-brain-mind
mystery guess enchantment curiousity 
never really knowing or caring to know the other ever
only meeting minds’ resulting outcomes: 
fruit of our minds = feelings writings poetry
IV.
all Poets’ Senses honed to ultra sharpness ’Cept for sight
like a blind man’s hyper accentuated ability to play music instrumentation
like to see with one’s ears by producing clicking sounds in the palate of mouth subconsciously, innately determining sonar 
Mind Interpreting distance of objects between the blind poet and  objects
like a psychic person gifted or ultra sensitized by physical or mental beatings 
drawing upon spiritual strength from within survival’s suffering stigmatic trauma, 
producing in victim’s escape, works of raw beauty, artistically 
like Van Gogh, et al, (you ’n me), paintings on canvas, 
paintings of human minds’ sensitivity by love in fellow humans, (animals too)
like those who would quietly stand 
in place of others, (or another), endangering life for sake sacrificial of love
like sacrificial time spent beyond drugery of life (existence’ demands) to create
blindly in collaboration with other Prosers on Prose
“there is no greater Love than one willing to die in place of another” 
there is no greater love of the poet than willing to write in place of others

© 2015 RuseInex


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Added on December 14, 2015
Last Updated on December 17, 2015

Author

RuseInex
RuseInex

Fresno, CA



About
I was born in obscurity Outside a small country town’s limits In a plank shack I kept a few memories That come into my head That i still carry around That i visit now and then The dust .. more..

Writing
schism schism

A Poem by RuseInex


the world the world

A Poem by RuseInex