Dr. Digital Philosophy

The Exit

By: Skinner J.Tyler

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A night for a poem I think, since reading over some past articles; I was inspired by a particular poem I written a few months back. I thought it was alright and when going back to read my entries (as if it were a journal), I find many things that could be fixed or just sound good the way they are.

“We enter the building, by some strange door; we run to the corridor, just as before”

“The classroom is empty, each room was bare; the world that’s around me, is used as a snare”

“He no longer lives here, just stands at the gate; for the night keeper lifted, a veil cross the lake”

“I was not ready, I could not let go; there was much left behind; as above, so below”

–Skinner J.Tyler 2021-2022—

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“I came to a portal, or maybe a door; the gatekeeper drifted; lifting the oar”

“My mouth went silent, as if I could not speak; he gestured me over, the nightman; the gate”

“This was the final, the ending of the road; the gate keeper silent, where would we go”

“I remember no journey, I’ve come back through the door; this time was different, like I’ve been here before“

—Dejavu Carnation

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Tonight I wanted to share a new poem that I wrote today about another aspect of death and perspectives. There are many ideas that we use to tells stories, poems and literature. Folk tales passed down through the generations and made up of some amount of fact and fiction. This is how we develop new material and build upon a idea or story.

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“This time was different, except the trip through the door; the things I remember, are not like before”

“I was going through time, with concepts of art decor; but in this hotel, was the 13th floor”

“I somehow remembered, this game played before; when I suddenly realized, I was back at the door”

“The ferryman looked onwards, rowing boat with a oar; I then come to realize, my hell here before”

–The Ferryman Veil–.

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