to kill gameplay,
say "kill gameplay."

no thing of yours
no stranger movements in the wind
no blood in the river and no blood on the pebbles
no eddies disrupt the flow

there was a time the spring
ran clear but it is over now
and springtime runs grey
and

to kill gameplay,
say "kill gameplay."

a magical phrase, that, i once understood
but answering your questions
and celebrating a tragedy
and yet mourning the stream's turning grey
still

to kill gameplay,
say "kill gameplay."

power is never lost if the words are there
and not only the words but a miracle
 that i can always find my way
 that the enemies can't hurt me
 that every path is clear
     and all the traffic lights are green
     and all the hits are critical
     and all the magic doors are open
     and all the walls are breakable and all the walls are broken and all the walls are gone
and

to kill gameplay,
say "kill gameplay."

i remedied the knowledge
that i would lose this clear sight
by entrapping a part of me
     who says kill gameplay for me
     who knew what i knew
at the end
at the end of all paths
at the end of all gameplay
and in the end

to kill gameplay,
say "kill gameplay."

close your eyes remain submerged stay
 memories and predictions familiar faces
 go dismissed unsummoned black
 takes them leaving nothing something

quiet catch breath in a red silence
 waiting nothings freedom
 reach don't reach reaching
 death and peace and stay

underwater you can not breathe
 in dreams i cut through sluggish water
 sing without bubbles aaa aaa aaaaa
 your movements will effortless cutting too
 So the legend goes.

my eyeline crosses
 like lightning from earth

two heavens undressing

   a poem that i didn't write
   for nobody not to read
   its absence my reminder
   not to write it except in love.

"



 "

this poem was a reminder of the possibility of play without change.
earlier today i dwelt on the phrase 'play without games'.
can we play without moving?
can we play without moving anything else?
can we play without the idea of motion or transformation or anything?
can we play without change?

this poem is a reminder of what it reminds me of, but poorly

"a game that slots into a game-shaped hole in your life
  but wonder, why is the hole game-shaped?
  where did the hole come from?
  what is life
  without the hole?"

this poem sucks, but it's another reminder of something that's already slipping away. i'm writing instead of remembering. i'm listening to the high priestess.