The first brothers (lore concept)

There was a time in the past, a time where location was nonsense and the allpowerfull had not yet been forged. In this abstract place when time never changed a spark hotter than any that will ever exist made itself. That spark had been on a quest to forge a world of beauty and free will, things that had been long lost in it’s home. From that spark grew two beings, entities of creation whose definitions did not yet exist, by today’s words they were the first brothers.

These eternal siblings had the whole of existence in their hands and a shared idea of perfection. To them perfection was not in defined calculations or exercising precision in all things, but they sought perfection from emergence. To see the world build itself with no goals in mind, balancing its own aspects through mistakes and catastrophe. Watching the wildfires rage themselves into fields of nourished flowers and letting consciousness war its way to peace.

Life over time

Future defined in shock
Escaping it’s tiny case
Defile the world’s own flock
Energy caught mid race

A sweeping ripple
The true mass effect
Minds defined as simple
Finding a rhythms catch

Minds think alike
Marking time by light
The years an open mic
Devoured by motions fight

Minds all but lost
Defining their own shape
Man’s folly the final cost
Their will of patterns make

All a cascading filter
The made lost defect
Each their own trickster
Trapped by what they deflect

Energy moving mind
The fever pitch of life
A companion found in time
Defining futures strife

Fire of man

A burning maxim defined
The fire behind clouded eyes
Flowing forth in kind
A future of intersecting skies

Words spoken by kin
A rule made to bend
The burned idea in sin
Truth the masters lend

Define a man within
A seeker of life in flux
Broken by evils whim
A sleeper in rivers rush

Fire consumes the tool
Breaking an ashen wake
Mans broken rule
Fire for life’s stolen sake

The world will scream as long as I live

My senses have been at war with me for as long as I can remember, always tricking me, forever showing me more than I need to know. My earliest memory that I have a date for is 9/11 on a military base, and in it I remember nothing but mechanical screams. I remember standing on my porch as the base rallied itself, sirens and flashing lights on every car, tearing at my body with monotonous pulses. I remember the jets overhead, the bone wrenching blast of movement that they left behind. I remember the cracks in the concrete, wavering in front of my tiny face as I trembled in the wake of the neverending onslaught. Just waiting, watching the world shatter in my mind.

Even now, 19 years later, I still fight with the world my body shows me. Always having to predict where my senses will fail, where and when they will alter reality. I’ve built my whole frame of mind around constantly predicting and verifying my own thoughts against the world as it should be. Always having to watch for context and verify what should be there before trusting what I see, forever watching my step in preparation for the world to run away. A knife edge between life and agony.

The world is a changing mass laid out before me, too large to grasp and overwhelming without context. Sound and motion holding stories too subtle to put to words. Stories of interactions between man and nature, of a never ending cyclic energy. The world is on fire while color and heat make shapes in the wind, marking scenes out in oily swirls. Each ray of light showing beauty in my pain and forging a vision of non reality that burns its way into my dreams.

I will never have a quiet moment, as long as I live. There will never be any form of stillness in my mind. The very vision I wish to define is broken and mismatched. A jigsaw puzzle smashed together in reaction to so many constraints. A machine running on false information, never able to produce the desired output. But as it is, this is who I am. The man who struggles to see, who values moments of clarity and vision beyond its worth. A faulty process by all standards, but one that nature has wrought out of it’s own jagged methods.

Stitch & Remix

Stitch and remix
Grab reality and affix
Attached with a masculine grip
Build the stars as you see fit
A world built from the seam you split

Take each step in time
A momentary peace sign
Each breath marking the rhyme
A score for the all encompassing lines
The ordered rows staying aligned

Make a feminine task
A mothers fearsome grasp
By which a world is clasped
Through which we all see our past
The touch of those long passed

Define the forbidden mark
By which all men will march
Holding back the fear so stark
The edge by which death embarks
A symbol of men amongst the stars

You build a world with many parts
Both power and fear to start
Your fear in your lack of skillful art
And having the power to give your heart
To know you freedom is torn apart

Behold, world grows beyond you
It makes its own hold for truth
Taking steps to deny it’s past youth
And rid itself of the carrion brutes
Those who are themselves new

Audio processing with mov

You know that person that always tries to finish your sentences for you, trying to prove that they have a sense of the world around them by making an assumption and rolling with it? Well everyone does that, or at least their brain does. When you hear something your brain tries to predict what it is as soon as the sound begins, the more information it receives the more defined of an idea it has. As it hears a word in the sound it switches to recognizing speech, and tries to make it easier to understand malformed sound by predicting hat word will come next. This can make it hard to understand people who have a different accent than you, or if the topic suddenly veers off course from what you were expecting. If you pay attention there is always a part of your mind running those predictions when your talking with someone, a part of you trying to make the audio processing job easier by ruling out words based on context. A sort of echo in the background of your thoughts that jumps in reaction to every new word.

Now because of that, we do have instances where our brains make mistakes. Where we expect a different sound than what was said and it’s enough to cause confusion. This is normal to happen in day to day life and our brains are really good at sorting out the context to make up for the missing word. But there are times where people can have a very hard time processing audio in general and the context isn’t enough to make up for it. For me it’s an issue with how my brain compares sound and words. I don’t always know how a word sounds, and will get very confused when I come up with a different mental sound for a word than what I hear. That leads to a cascade of misinterpreted sounds that just mix up the context and ruin any chance I had of accurately getting the word right.

There are thousands of reasons why someone might have issues with processing sound though, and it varies in intensity. For me, it generally just means I’ll ask for the word again or ask you to spell it while for others they may not be able to recognize certain sounds on demand or even understand speech. Most of us who have this diagnosis learn to deal with it when we are young, whether by therapy or necessity. So it is often a forgotten part of myself, coping with it becomes something I do in reaction to everyday life. Just another thing that gets between the communication of two people, and a reason to listen more intently than the average mind. Just like any condition it’s a spectrum of symptoms, effects, and causes. So we all have to find our own weaknesses and how we can turn them around, so that we can each learn the most from each other while making the world a better place.

Very new to citing sources on things I talk about. These are things that explain what I’ve experienced over the years of dealing with this disorder and I don’t actually quote any of them directly. Use them as a diving in point if you feel more interested in the topic.


Traverse the lands brink
Across every world link
Each defined and distinct
Making broad skies blink

A world by which minds are made
Through it lines can fade
Boundaries defined melt away
And lay to waste mans decay

A global force for uniting
For connecting those dividing
And to thwart those in hiding
A web of that needs defining

Make of it what you will
This miasma of man’s own skill
A putrid sensational boil
Of man’s own turmoil

Drawn out

The world shakes
As the morning wakes
To a shattered fate
A mourning mate

The aftermath of lives past
Their tortured mind all but ash
Drawn out over static facts
A bed of nails and wax

The missing middle strand
Ideas echoing so grand
The voice a master’s hand
A trinket from dreamland

Their missing mental half
A hold on realities match
Lost between here and that
Burning skin touched by facts

Motion Defined

Find me motion defined
A motion that shows its mind
Staying within lines predefined
Reactions by which life can bind

Find me a word stuck in time
That shows meaning through design
The word a beating heart against a flatline
Showing itself through a motion defined

Show me where the world lies
On the brink of two torn lines
Lines built on what motion defines
Motion derived from lidded minds

Teach me moving truth
By which our minds find youth
In tandem our lost bodies move
Our thinking towards something new

Take notice of the moving world around you. By the interactions we and the world around us has, we build the future, just as the present was built by the past. Watch, and learn. The world wants to teach. It has wonders and mysteries in every inconsequential action, areas of study not yet conceived of, and struggles by which millions may die.

– mov51

The world reeks

The world reeks of beautiful waste
Of stories told with volatile taste
A human mind seeks with haste
Each source of this rancid trace

The world reeks of a foul fume
With anger and venom in bloom
A scented flower clearing the room
The aftermath of a race to doom

My world reeks of a delightful spark
Each whisper of anger a work of art
Goosebumps raize the thought apart
A testament to a god of naught

My world dreams of senses anew
A palace where I can enjoy the view
A structure by which my eyes are true
My senses become my own to use

This is a very heavy poem to me. Through it I show many of the challenges I face interpreting the world through broken, over exaggerated senses while outlining those that still don’t recognize they are fighting with it. With it I hope that people can see that pain in of itself is no measurable thing, and is a fight we must all conquer eventually.

– mov51