Liber by Twilightby MATPChaptersPrologue - A letterFluttershy’s transhumanization (Aestheticism)Fate (Ermetism)IntroductionLunatic (Scapigliatura)Celestial lesson (Decadentism)Mamihlapinatapei (symbolism)-Unnamed-Prologue - A letterTwilight, my ex protégée The world is more Than what you see, Than what you learned To know the world you must understand how to Feel. So I propose you a game, A challenge perhaps Or, if you feel nostalgic Of our past life, An assignment. It is said: “You are what you read” But feeling are ineffable, They can’t be expressed by words, But there is one figure Who can write what can’t be expressed by words, A poet With newer words Newer forms Different schemes Different rhymes. So Read poetry Analyze poetry Study poetry And you too Will be A poet. The game The challenge The assignment is this Read Analyze Study poetry Then write it. Poetry change Poetry evolve, Write me one For every genre You read, Show me all the way You feel the world. Fluttershy’s transhumanization (Aestheticism)Oh Angel bunny, I was lost in the woods, Out there where Houses and cities and money can’t reach. Oh, Angel bunny, I was lost in the woods And a storm caught me. Suddenly I hear The music, The crackling Of the woods, the leaves hit by water: Rain on the tall oaks, Rain on the narrow beechs, Rain on the thick poplars, Rain on the light birches, Rain on the delicate primrose, Rain on the soft violet, Rain on my naked wings, Rain on my face and brow. And baptized from nature I find myself reborn With a novel soul. Due to this arboreal soul I see scents I hear colors I smell sounds And scents and colors and sounds Are one And the trees speak to me Not with regular word But newer They said me their real names But how to repeat them I don’t know For their name are light are scents are sound confused as one. Oh, Angel bunny, then All at once the trees were silent And I saw colors, I heard sounds, I smelt scents, And colors and sounds and scents Are three. All I heard was the storm: Rain on the tall oaks, Rain on the narrow beechs, Rain on the thick poplars, Rain on the light birches, Rain on the delicate primrose, Rain on the soft violet, Rain on my naked wings, Rain on my face and brow, Oh, Angel bunny, Forever lost what I felt, The real names of the three Are now ineffable for me Fate (Ermetism)Evil is in what exists by fate, For a purpose, For a cause. It is the stone eroded by water, It is the wrinkling of trees, It is the carcass of a swallow. But I know that Somewhere, Just across the street Or on some distant shore, But I know that Something, A beautiful flower Or some strange fish, Rest where it doesn’t belong. Without a purpose Without a cause. So the flower in the desert, The bird in the sea are Without logic Without sense. Those anomalies Stand for a tear in The evil mechanism of the world. And I know that Someone Would listen to my cry, Would plant a flower in the desert, Would tend to that flower, Then they would come back to me, Bring me to the flower, Smile at me And say: “Look! There is your flower” And then I would call this someone Friend, Who did for me something Without purpose Without reason Without sense. And I would smile, Happy to know that This social bonding Called friendship Can sabotage The evil engine that move the world. IntroductionIt is said: “You are what you read” And that those words are true. I read I Analyzed I Studied Poems and poets too So now I’m a poet apparently and writing poems is what they do To feel the world To see through one’s heart To express with words What cannot be expressed by words. Lunatic (Scapigliatura)So tender is the night That everypony sleeps. So silent is the night That one can hear a princess weeps. So hollow is the night That a jealous thought seeps. And as seed tend to do, This little thought sprouts. So torned by this alien will I gave myself to doubt. I am sweet dream Who rest delight, I am frightful nightmare Who on wake hours loom. I am starry night Who guide the lost, I am deep darkness Who decieve in empty vacuum. I am wicked princess Who fell on the moon, I am righteous monster Who conquered the throne room. I am a funambulist Who hover between Safe nights And dreadful doom. Celestial lesson (Decadentism)Twilight, do you know why, On this ungrateful land, The stars fall from the sky? Once upon a wicked night, When the castle wasn’t only mine, A princess, second of her kind With filly’s heart, but adult mind Twisted by jealousy or rage Turned into an obscure mage. A more sparkling mare When of this danger aware With her sister dear took up the fight, This the tale of the day battling the night. So by some ancient incantation Of harmonic creation, The twisted mage was exiled to a location Where she could be seen no more. And for those who witness bore, She’s a monster, princess no more, So they poisoned her legacy To those who would come Since then the night weeps for her damnation Flooding us with shooting stars, The night weeps until her salvation For the stars remember who we are. Mamihlapinatapei (symbolism)I look at her She looks at me We don’t talk of it But in this silence There is a We -Unnamed-It is said: “You are what you read” And that those words are true, I read I Analyzed I Studied Poems and poets too And maybe it’s right And they are me, For in my poems one can find: Their words Their schemes Their rhymes, There is nothing that is new. Here it is The only verses I can make: There is not my name, It won’t shine, That’s how it shall be for I can’t write something that is mine. There is nothing of me in my poems, There is nothing of my poems in me I am not a poet, I am somepony who writes poetry.
Prologue - A letterTwilight, my ex protégée The world is more Than what you see, Than what you learned To know the world you must understand how to Feel. So I propose you a game, A challenge perhaps Or, if you feel nostalgic Of our past life, An assignment. It is said: “You are what you read” But feeling are ineffable, They can’t be expressed by words, But there is one figure Who can write what can’t be expressed by words, A poet With newer words Newer forms Different schemes Different rhymes. So Read poetry Analyze poetry Study poetry And you too Will be A poet. The game The challenge The assignment is this Read Analyze Study poetry Then write it. Poetry change Poetry evolve, Write me one For every genre You read, Show me all the way You feel the world.
Fluttershy’s transhumanization (Aestheticism)Oh Angel bunny, I was lost in the woods, Out there where Houses and cities and money can’t reach. Oh, Angel bunny, I was lost in the woods And a storm caught me. Suddenly I hear The music, The crackling Of the woods, the leaves hit by water: Rain on the tall oaks, Rain on the narrow beechs, Rain on the thick poplars, Rain on the light birches, Rain on the delicate primrose, Rain on the soft violet, Rain on my naked wings, Rain on my face and brow. And baptized from nature I find myself reborn With a novel soul. Due to this arboreal soul I see scents I hear colors I smell sounds And scents and colors and sounds Are one And the trees speak to me Not with regular word But newer They said me their real names But how to repeat them I don’t know For their name are light are scents are sound confused as one. Oh, Angel bunny, then All at once the trees were silent And I saw colors, I heard sounds, I smelt scents, And colors and sounds and scents Are three. All I heard was the storm: Rain on the tall oaks, Rain on the narrow beechs, Rain on the thick poplars, Rain on the light birches, Rain on the delicate primrose, Rain on the soft violet, Rain on my naked wings, Rain on my face and brow, Oh, Angel bunny, Forever lost what I felt, The real names of the three Are now ineffable for me
Fate (Ermetism)Evil is in what exists by fate, For a purpose, For a cause. It is the stone eroded by water, It is the wrinkling of trees, It is the carcass of a swallow. But I know that Somewhere, Just across the street Or on some distant shore, But I know that Something, A beautiful flower Or some strange fish, Rest where it doesn’t belong. Without a purpose Without a cause. So the flower in the desert, The bird in the sea are Without logic Without sense. Those anomalies Stand for a tear in The evil mechanism of the world. And I know that Someone Would listen to my cry, Would plant a flower in the desert, Would tend to that flower, Then they would come back to me, Bring me to the flower, Smile at me And say: “Look! There is your flower” And then I would call this someone Friend, Who did for me something Without purpose Without reason Without sense. And I would smile, Happy to know that This social bonding Called friendship Can sabotage The evil engine that move the world.
IntroductionIt is said: “You are what you read” And that those words are true. I read I Analyzed I Studied Poems and poets too So now I’m a poet apparently and writing poems is what they do To feel the world To see through one’s heart To express with words What cannot be expressed by words.
Lunatic (Scapigliatura)So tender is the night That everypony sleeps. So silent is the night That one can hear a princess weeps. So hollow is the night That a jealous thought seeps. And as seed tend to do, This little thought sprouts. So torned by this alien will I gave myself to doubt. I am sweet dream Who rest delight, I am frightful nightmare Who on wake hours loom. I am starry night Who guide the lost, I am deep darkness Who decieve in empty vacuum. I am wicked princess Who fell on the moon, I am righteous monster Who conquered the throne room. I am a funambulist Who hover between Safe nights And dreadful doom.
Celestial lesson (Decadentism)Twilight, do you know why, On this ungrateful land, The stars fall from the sky? Once upon a wicked night, When the castle wasn’t only mine, A princess, second of her kind With filly’s heart, but adult mind Twisted by jealousy or rage Turned into an obscure mage. A more sparkling mare When of this danger aware With her sister dear took up the fight, This the tale of the day battling the night. So by some ancient incantation Of harmonic creation, The twisted mage was exiled to a location Where she could be seen no more. And for those who witness bore, She’s a monster, princess no more, So they poisoned her legacy To those who would come Since then the night weeps for her damnation Flooding us with shooting stars, The night weeps until her salvation For the stars remember who we are.
Mamihlapinatapei (symbolism)I look at her She looks at me We don’t talk of it But in this silence There is a We
-Unnamed-It is said: “You are what you read” And that those words are true, I read I Analyzed I Studied Poems and poets too And maybe it’s right And they are me, For in my poems one can find: Their words Their schemes Their rhymes, There is nothing that is new. Here it is The only verses I can make: There is not my name, It won’t shine, That’s how it shall be for I can’t write something that is mine. There is nothing of me in my poems, There is nothing of my poems in me I am not a poet, I am somepony who writes poetry.
