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  1. #1
    Senior Member OptoGypsy's Avatar
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    Default Guess my type by my poetry:

    Schizophrenia
    Life is beautiful,
    Beauty is in the heart,
    The heart sings with springs blossoms,
    I will scale down the abyss,
    Of mystery and darkness,
    Overcome voices and hallucinations,
    Rather through faith or skepticism,
    I will find an escape from my troubling past,
    In the confines of my heart,
    And the bliss of heavenly rejoice,
    I will not fear the abyss known as Hell,
    The fear that arises in darkness suffocation,
    I will stand up and checkmate the Gods like Prometheus mocking Hades.

    Every second a new being is born,
    Every second an old being dies,
    The blood of the lamb washes all,
    Like a flood of Turkish delight,
    What does God want as he sends in the flood of the light,
    All are washed in the blood of the lamb,
    Elijah is coming, restorer of the church in Zion, is coming.

    Pride
    Pride is a ghastly, crazed parrot.
    A parasite that inflames the mind with the intoxicated squawking of the harlot on the brazed dragon.
    Spilling out gibberish as if it was a chicken running around with its head chopped off,
    Its scythe like beak leeches unto the air as if it was blood.
    I try to hit it, to make is stop but it mockingly encircles me with it demonic, dilated, bulging eyes.
    It looks like a plush toy that is having its life squeezed out by a pathological three year old.
    I cannot seem to be able to swat the ugly monstrosity away.
    “Honey, why are you waving your arms around like a maniac.”
    I look and see my wife.
    Where has the parrot gone?
    I stutter as I try to explain, all I see is the horror in her eyes.
    I look down to contemplate the depths of hell and all I see is my dog chasing after its tail.
    Do I wake or sleep? Was it a vision or a waking dream?

    The Flood
    The gallows of the flood drown the wonders of life.
    The drainage leaves the colorful leaves of wonderland in tears;
    one cannot help but wonder what Noah and Alice have in common.
    The sorrow of righteous indignation in a senseless world.
    God ever looks upon our hearts, carries us through and direct our ark with the precision of Eurus, the sirens cannot seduce us, we will not be stuck in the wreckage of time.
    The snake slithers waiting to bite our ankles as the once glorious king Nebuchadnezzar wails to the songs of angels.
    Cherubim swim in pools of living water.
    Madness drives poor Alice through the curves of darkness.
    Sickness suffocates her as the Cheshire Cat watches with a grimacing grin.
    Winking at her poor attempts of escaping self and finding freedom.
    The dove comes looking for the poor girl, the drowned girl but cannot find a place to set her delicate foot within the abyss of heavens tears.
    The ravens seek for her in lust, the vultures in hunger, poor Alice is in the brink of being devoured.
    Resurrection is upon her, all is not lost.
    All is under God’s watchful eyes.
    The dove will not leave Alice alone, in a matter of seven days the dove flies out again finding a fleshly plucked olive leaf, all is not lost, life is still to be found.
    Madness has yet to overtake our poor little girl, she cannot overcome darkness, but God can.


    the serpent’s eyes travel through the depths of death.
    Life is nonexistent within this night,
    I think and wonder on the edge of the knife, who am I, what great deeds have I done for the light to have visited me.
    The angel spoke of birth as I tended my father’s gardens.
    Was it truly an angel or just my imagination?
    Do I hunger to be loved, for who am I for God to have chosen me?
    I am nothing more than a loyal servant in my father’s home, the voice I heard today was the same as the royal light that possessed Balaam’s loyal stead on that faithless day.
    Am I not to have faith as Sarah did when she mocked Gods promise, no I can’t, I will not… What will Joseph think when I tell him that I will give birth without being with a man,
    yet a warm radiance warms my heart as I look upon tomorrow…
    I hope and plead that Joseph doesn’t think that I have been unfaithful.
    That this is all a lie, if he does lord please send me to Sheol tonight.
    Allow me to look into the eyes of the bronze snake for I am withering not like the fake prophet but like the crops in the month of death.
    What would Ruth have said if she stood amidst the crops of my heart tonight?
    What a knavish notion, what a commotion the heart creates when afraid of the laughter of Azazel.
    Lord please help Joseph understand – help him understand that I am loyal…
    I am your loyal servant and stand amongst those is Sheol tonight under this moonlight trance, lord you are my all – thy will be done.

    As long as I can remember I viewed love as a chemical defect, human error, with bumbling fools such as the romantics in the forefront ‘I could be martyred for my religion – love is my religion – I can die for that” and yet here I am trying to understand my own emotions. Quasimodo comes to mind “suddenly an angel smiles at me, I swear this must be heavens light” my spirit flutters like God’s dove in radiance. As if I sit under the tree bearing the fruits of the spirit and watch as the sun reflects the glittering colorful leaves. As the tear drops of heaven glide down, creating a fragrance that can only be described as life, joy, peace and goodness to name a few marketing slogans. I am at a loss of words as I hear the angels sing, how can I explain to you my happiness, my golden blessed happiness. I can’t even write words without imagining how you’ll pronounce it, how dare I try to tell you anything in words, how does one even began to try to describe such a divine, pure, beautiful light, such grace can only come from one of God’s Queens. This is all coming out completely wrong, with you one needs to talk wonderfully. For my own health as I fear that I will be crippled by my own madness, I will once more try to explain my soul in this whirlwind… An hour with you is like a second, a second is like eternity, here is Eden, how can I focus when the tree of life is amongst the damned rats in this house of mirrors. Gravity is nonsense, an unnecessary commodity, the tears of angels as they watch a fool fantasize about the immortality in one of Gods holy daughters. Jesus Christ please help me, this is all wrong. I simply want to tell you that somehow I can’t imagine life without you. I love you, I want you, I need you unbearably… Lord I need your help – I can’t stop myself from writing – Lord please give me wisdom. Rusalka your eyes, your voice… you came into my life – not as one comes to visit, but as one comes to a kingdom where all the rivers have been waiting for your reflection, all the roads for your steps.

  2. #2
    stressed. Forelsket's Avatar
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    4w5 sx.
    now in my heart
    i see clearly

    a beautiful face
    shining back on me,

    stained
    with love.

  3. #3
    Senior Member OptoGypsy's Avatar
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    May I ask why? Any ideas concerning the myers briggs? Thank You.

  4. #4
    Senior Member Venus Rose's Avatar
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    I know it says INFJ on your profile but I am actually wondering about Fi+Ne due to the way you have written your poems. Ni tends to be a lot more structured and heavy on...'construction' part of the poem, while Ne seems to just go anywhere and everywhere it wants, very much free-form. At the very least, you could consider Ne valuing for your socionics type.

    on the other hand the strongly religious flavor of the poems remind me of NiFes' obsession with archetypes, spc. cultural and religious ones.

    Enneagram, I don't know. Maybe 4, but instincts are unclear.

    By the way, this might be of interest to you: A Condensed Understanding of Instinctual Stackings and Creavitiy : Enneagram
    INFP | EII | 4w5 496 sx/so
    Answered questionnaires/typing thread
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  5. #5
    Senior Member OptoGypsy's Avatar
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    That makes sense, so an INFP, I have debates ISFP vs INFP for a while... do you think this poem also shows Fi + Ne ? Its from a winner at my college and I personally like the poem.

    I see things that are not there,

    Cups are swimming pools,

    Laundry bins are prisons,

    Scissors are swords battling,

    Beds are coffins for the living,

    Umbrellas are bats,

    Blueberries are mini pomegranates,

    Ropes are mamas to thread,

    Doors are bars of chocolate,

    Socks are sleeping bags for feet,

    Mushrooms are swamp flowers,

    The world is just a marble,

    The wind is God sneezing,

    And old women are potato nuns.
    Likes Zhaylin liked this post

  6. #6
    Senior Member OptoGypsy's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Venus Rose View Post
    I know it says INFJ on your profile but I am actually wondering about Fi+Ne due to the way you have written your poems. Ni tends to be a lot more structured and heavy on...'construction' part of the poem, while Ne seems to just go anywhere and everywhere it wants, very much free-form. At the very least, you could consider Ne valuing for your socionics type.

    on the other hand the strongly religious flavor of the poems remind me of NiFes' obsession with archetypes, spc. cultural and religious ones.

    Enneagram, I don't know. Maybe 4, but instincts are unclear.

    By the way, this might be of interest to you: A Condensed Understanding of Instinctual Stackings and Creavitiy : Enneagram
    Ne in socionics makes perfect sense.

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