I tempt upon impulse
Push, point-to-point
As putrid
A meat, sinew of modern times

A value, zero
Like weathered stone
drying, wearing to none

A needle,
Softer than air
In the morning

Placing my stone
still weathered
stilling a path around the drying lake
To evening call

As holography
As a Parallel action
Circled reaction
Ending upon this image

As an Unremarkable child
Famine of spirit
Of sorrow, and its opposite
Migrate from birth
The after

To find the Oort cloud
Nixed by the darker travels

To walk
To be born under the knife
Reflection of the underdark
The perpetual screen
To Walk still of silence

A scene, this transition
In the cubicle in the hallway, swinging pendulum
Mannequin Incarceration

Autumnal immanence
Of Salt and water
A mist-covered Grave
Carpathian basin
Plains of Eastern Danubian
Slicing capgrass

This symptom
A writ of genes
Nothing Is…
Nothing is not…
Nothing Becomes…
Chapter I
With no script…

Supreme, Abstract, Essence
Frozen Cells
A Fall
Axis of the Caged Choir

Crumbling Asbestos
falls in to the mouth
As the Immaterial voice of the Fathers
Elevated Alcove
Formless Sphere


Where no light hath shone

Drifting on a Celestial ocean
Adrift you may term
A sentinel watching
Pulsar wings

Obsolete Protocol
Reprise Elements
Equivalence system

Ether void
Deo, Ex Partum
Entropy of Noir-like, as of thermal ethereal tide shifts

Tanz am Feuer
Parting the seas
Devouring waters
Deus et monde.

Виктор Сеймур © 24 ноября 2014

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The Muse of the Wanderers (for those displaced by greed)

Showered, wet
Rainstorms and lies
A continent with dead eyes
Falling to depths that we never knew
An empty Ice-Hail Thors Day Morn

Solitude of Humans; the mind oddity
The ring that was never accepted
Nightbirds, gentle, those only to listen to conversations

Piercing droplets, upon this mountain, shredding at my skin,
Startled; empty stores
Watching the calm of capitalist inaction as the night sears
Of long borne lies, cowardice over many waters, river, to lake oceans divide,

I hear the voice, those of Ancients, of trees, to hear, as i heard hers 3 years hence, pulsatinf spark
Of innocence and freedom

Our Son, Brother, Kin
Owls call, citadella glows
A poverty that greed and ignorance not knows
Even; with acidity; acrid air is pure by the lonliness of fighting foe breath

We wander

Of hatred from she, stood above, and afar
Of the lone, the missing child,

To know what it is to be of an artwork, of the blade and misplaced anger, shimmers…

Wishes still shared

Bidding a final farewell…

As midnight finally strikes.

Виктор Сеймур ©2014

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Protoform Futures

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A Draft of my current ideas

Ashes cover the rain
With Corpses more dust
Do wordlessly sleep
Ashes cover the man
Played off by a distant drum

A look outside to dream
Introspective, awakening
A lighting strike, a drop of dew

Whence we come
Fore the man goes

To the hilt of Foreign choking
Awoke, still in a dream
Nothing familiar
Just the chain of a name

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Haiku Flow May 2014

A falling raindrop
You were standing to the wind
The song of the woods

Meadowlark at dawn
It is shifting with it’s place
The sound of the earth

Sleeping blue heron
I am whispering with the tide
The whispers of the rain

Swans in the river
The dawn glowing from this place
Returning to them

Two water Lilies
Sending you east from the dawn
The sound of the air

Ripple in the sea
Taking you south for the Earth
The sound of Sunlight

Cloudy Riverbend
It is rising from the air
Whispers of the Night

Winter trees at night
The dawn Shining like the stars
The song of moonlight

Raindrops in the Light
The dawn moving from the Sea
We are close to us.

Ian V. Seymour
May 16, 2014

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The raindrop tears from the weathered face
Pull apart it surely miss
A liars brevity bears no bounds
A missed touch
A fading smile
Of her Noir his Blonde sweetness
Ache for the moment we are…

May 14 2014

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Diminished Days Pass

Why do I diminish?
when cage is violence,
when chain is broken,
This poem shatters.

Scream finds forgotten poems.
I sleep.
Bloodbaths drift away.

Why do I die?
when cage is hatred,
when razor, an edge is tormented,
It perishes.

Grave curses hateful chains.
I seep.
Caskets shatter.

the innocents drown in a foul shadow.

We perish.
We dissolve.
We shatter.

Some hate heartless death.
We drown in modern emptying days.
Torment screams of them.

Why do I shatter?
when the bloodbath is torment,
when a murder is inexorable,
wounds pay screams.

Thus ruins spoiled screams.
I sleep.
Razors decay.

On each passing day…

Ian V. Seymour
May 9 2014

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The Winds Of War

The winds of war
In this, a paradise postponed
Given a year of summers
Breaking a winters tragedy
A bedridden land
That walks through exits only
A nation not fit for consumption
Not even to Poseidon’s wrath
1000 year prelude
A liar, his darker funerary despair
They wither.
We float.
We transform.
From black coffins to inexorable truth they pass.

Ian V. Seymour May 8 2014

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On The Mountain At Dawn

Vibration of the field

The sun descending…

Flight toward the new day

To through darkened sunrise tomorrow

On the elliptic flight to high ascending

Into the field descending…

It dissolves the final waveform.


Look out to onto red; blood red sun the ellipse is seeding.

Accretes the ground; nerve-skinned Intersected.


Into the field, climbing the waveform of decent.


Ascends the Black Swan, toward sundown

Breathes endlessly drawn, inward of life deliverance.

Elliptic motion sets finally unveil.



Grid substrates at decrepitude…

Winds grieve for thou…

The living codex walks toward the grey.


Striates toward the skies.

Under orbed, the vermilion sun.

Migration upon, cast to the wings of dissention.

Summit upholds the canopied skies of a new day.

Into the waveform, a form of the theme

The Anchorite beacon, cast, set unto sentient ground made of embers.




Ian V. Seymour ©2014 (January 18th)

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