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Very thought provoking piece @d-pend

Glad you dig it @runicar :)

Thank you for being here for me, so I can be here for you.
Enjoy your day and stay creative!
Botty loves you. <3

Dear @dpend sir!
You have made the rhythm through the poetry of the intended mood very poignant. Your creative
Your composing is spendid..

Thanks very much my friend. I'm glad you found it poignant @certain.

Dear @ d-pend sir!
Thanks alot...

Thank you for being here for me, so I can be here for you.
Enjoy your day and stay creative!
Botty loves you. <3

one of the poetry is associated with a photo,i liked your post .

The struggle for a faceless past maintains the current anxiety. The current reality can be better if it imprisons the spectrum of the past.

Past rarely is faceless. Nevertheless, i think that change, mother of past, can be devoided of face, my friend.

Awesome poetry friend..
Beautiful photograph..

There's some lines there that would make good band names.

Playing tonight "toxified filigree"!

Hahaha, that's awesome! Used to play a game like that with my buddies when I was in a touring band back in the day. We'd come up with the most absurd band names for different genres. I reckon TOXIFIED FILIGREE could be a death-metal avant-garde band! Thanks for the comment @steevc. :-)

I'm actually looking for a band name at the moment. We're more of a jazz, pop, rock thing. It's still taking form :)

Oh, right on! That sounds cool. Ever met my buddy @samvan? He's a versatile guitarist that plays pop, jazz, rock, blues, and country mainly. I convinced him to get on Steemit a while back. He was the lead guitarist in the band I mentioned from back in the day and we went to music school together in Nashville. Good luck with finding the right name! I miss playing in a band but I don't miss the lifestyle, which is why I quit.

I'll check him out. The band is still pretty new and we're working on some covers. None of us has much band experience, but it's just for fun.

@d-pend very beautiful the poem too much creativity I would say here that you are a good teacher of poetry that you do brothers I will try to make one but learn from you first @neymarth10

The rhythm of this piece is nice ... i often think that you being a musician reflects in your work a lot when it comes to wordflow and low snaggines ...

I think the abandoned steel mill best matches the poem. Although the flooded mine photo is my favorite photo.

I feel this poem rather than read it. Some poems are so movingly frail and elusive that nothing else than indeed, implosion can define it. I hope it makes sense. Resteemed, btw.

Just brilliant. Sometimes I come back to your page to re-read your poems, I like them so much. :)

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"scintillate epileptic
power of fiction"

You have such great creativity!

Thank you bud :-)

Abandoned, dilapidated places have always produced mixed feelings in me.
There is a sense of fascination for what nature can do to human-made artifacts and then the sadness of what all that (buildings, devices, concepts) might have meant for someone and how it became souless.
These lines stroke me:
>strewn dictators,
beauty of kilned decades
sullied by inattention.

They speak to me at very personal and emotional level. What i feel today about abandoned, dilapidated spaces is no longer fascination. When you stay in a former blooming place for too long to see dictators ruin everything and the transformation takes place before your eyes then you know what a person trapped in an inundated cave, condemed to drown must feel.

You see rust take possession of metal and cracks never fixed become gapes in every sidewalk or street; when you see vegetation dwindle along with their houses, their inhabitants, and the provisions, then the magic is gone and all is left is the sour taste of tears and blood.

In the same way parents are not supposed to bury their children, people are not supposed to witness what their creations, their source of pride will look like once their are gone. Buildings are imploded after they have been abandoned. We have reached the imploding phase and soome of us are still numbly going up and down the building unaware that the bottom has already been pushed!

Los cimientos de la sociedad descansan en falsos conceptos, desde siempre. Edificamos una cultura que le canta a la muerte y a la desgracia, más que a la vida.
En la actualidad, estamos en un tramo de la historia que continúa deificando lo material, pero busca respuestas espirituales que satisfagan las antiguas preguntas, aún sin resolución para el común de las personas, y que ha generado un sinfín de conjeturas y caminos alternos para llegar al conocimiento, por tantos años encerrado en los conventos y sitios religiosos, para aparentar que poseían la "verdad" y con ella, el "poder" de manipular a la humanidad.

>restos de filigrana tóxicos de la brillantez del
convento de monjas
reconstituido.

Sin embargo, esa supuesta verdad ha sido más ficcional que otra cosa, pues las sagradas escrituras no son más que la máxima expresión de la literatura. Letra muerta que le canta a la muerte como forma de llegar a Dios, menospreciando su verdadera esencia.

>poder epiléptico de la novela de ficción
nupcial letras cenizas cenizas
insinuación de elegías pasadas trivializadas.

Anunciando un fin del mundo cuando ocurra la segunda llegada del mesías que vino hablando de Amor y no de poder de uno sobre los otros, con doctrinas revolucionarias que no adoptaron, sino vanagloriaron para mantener sus beneficios, tergiversando la historia a su conveniencia, centrando la atención en las revelaciones de un futuro de tragedia.

>Día del juicio final en contornos decadentes de criollos,
hojas rústicas o descompuestas para hongo servido.
semidiós de impotencia y consciencia fracturada,
acaparador de sonrisas y flor insincera en alféizares agrietados.

Todas las religiones han contribuido a mantener la invidencia de lo que es real, trasladando las prioridades hacia donde les conviene y no hacia donde realmente están, creando un limbo que acentúa la liminalidad de los más despiertos, porque a mayor conocimiento, mayor presión social y cultural.

>niebla de la compostura, aplastado estatuto multilingüe,
balbuceante mueca y magnetismo inauténtico de la modernidad,
triage del olvido médico liminal fallido,
migajas elegaicas demi-glace chamuscadas,
cultura corriente

Entonces, el Amor, rostro verdadero de Dios , pasa desapercibido para muchos que compran acciones en formas de energía artificial, que un día dejarán de ser lo que mueva al mundo. No obstante, hoy, quien es capaz de hacer un balance del avance de la humanidad, no puede dejar de reconocer que se ha gastado mucho tiempo en edificar algo que se cae por su propio peso y se desmonta desde adentro, donde reside lo más bello del ser humano, esa esencia humilde, pero rebelde que ha luchado por florecer a pesar del descuido inducido al jardín y, he aquí, la relación con el título: "Fase de implosión".

>sin rostro, sin rostro, sin aliento,
imperfección de la adolescencia,
dictadores derramados,
belleza de décadas quemadas
mancilladas por la falta de atención.

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Modern institutions that claim to be practitioners of superlative standards are themselves guilty of low standards. Even in their resolve to keep their purity and innocence, the decadence is more pronounced, only showing sparks or remnants of brilliance.

The music is no longer captivating, only showing occasional melody; the wedding songs have lost their capacity to generate excitement and happiness, while good old poetry is no longer revered as a unique art.

Powerless, ignorant leaders reign over dying institutions, propagating their poor knowledge, further impoverishing human society. From religion to medicine to art, indeed the entire gamut of life has become polluted and degraded by the fake, demagogic, selfish and ill-informed personalities who parade themselves as leaders of the people. The inability of man to elevate his consciousness above the mundane is hurting mankind rather than helping him.

This poem is a sad recollection of where we are as opposed to where we should be headed, what is and what should be. It is a subtle cry for help against what the poet percieves as an impending doom.

There are some places where we see what we human did, destroysome natural areas and erected something that we thoguht is important but few decades later just abandomed left. It is a shame to see that everything. I often wonder if they all could be recycled, my hubby says it is too expensive to recycle easy to build something new also cheaper, that makes me very anxious where we are heading and what we will leave for future generation?

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The picture of the old green car consumed by growth is beautiful.

Glad you thought so too @stateofanarchy. When I discovered that one I knew I had to include at the bottom. Bit of a "redemption image." It reminds me of the theme prevalent in many of Hayao Miyazaki's movies—nature coming forth to heal the industrial scars of man.

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I love your poem.... Keep it up.. :)

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