Blindly walking down the gravel road
Outlined in wavering oak trees mixed in with pines
I count each forward step, grateful for the movement
Thankful to have the strength to be standing at all
The random rocks scattered below foot
Offer an uncomfortable pathway to travel
Carefully avoiding sharp edges protruding from the dirt
Sucking in breath as one quick glance fails to notice the pointy canine of a monster
Fangs out, hungry for flesh
Bloodthirsty stranger claiming ownership
Gouging the arch of my left foot, leaving a trail of blood behind.
Passion seeping, seething to begin to tell the story of an introduction of the most extraordinary kind
A kinship of identity, feeling apart of something at the very first discovering of voice.
A master of the call patiently carrying out thoughts and creating thinkers who long to continue the traditions:
Of thought provoking, mind boggling, completely ordinary phrases that trump any trained structure taught to little boys and girls;
Who paint pretty flowers that represent the generics of an underground world, but not him.
Disregarding the perfectly placed soapbox and stepping off into the crowd, emerging self to penetrate the barriers of the weak mind
One of the brightest stars known to our eyes,
I can still see him burn, burn, burn
Igniting the fuel in those who feel alive.
A picturesque display of the 2D sideways view of the
stick figures climbing
The stairs into oblivion
Is this transition so modern, so irrelevant
To anything meaningful at all?
Patiently we tremble
Buckling from the strength “borrowed”
for the good of the people and all of the good that will do
Masking consideration with indifference
So as to not draw any unwanted attention
Of what he said/she said
Have you heard what he said/she said?
Would it be alright if we could
replace uniformity with a new kind of thinking;
to save lives?
To promote the spiritual awakening within the familiar
memories of everyone gazing at the stars,
Those curious enough to see past the barriers and restrictions
of our world
and forget the basic math of 1 + 1
Making friends with the little face in the blanket
An onlooker with a friendly smile to offer
at just the right glance, to see the full bearded grin
Knowing me, myself, deeper
perceiving all of the idiosyncrasies to claim, that I navigate
Giving in, to someone
Anyone relatable to vulnerability
An abstract being committed to acknowledging
every ounce of the commitment to waiting
Even if I dive down into the deepest depths of the ocean,
just for a quick dip, every once in a while.
To find balancing minds that comprehend a particular understanding
Those who challenge all of these pent-up frustrations;
Every building block balancing on the last square’s sharp corner
Escaping face, running away
Blaming those who claim to penetrate the thought
but then falter when the war horn starts blowing;
Cowards that brave the training but abandon the reality
Of it all, if this is all
just a daytime act of the fairytale world
Who are our warriors?
Where are the heroes?
Soft humming, whispering through the dark
A song that carries a familiar melody,
a voice that I hear often
Deep, harmonious onto itself, splitting moments of sound into a stereo
speaker of what is being said, sang
I understand what it costs, to be yourself and forget
the thoughts that project, interject
from everyone screaming around
The intensity is loud, overbearing, uncontrollable
What of this awareness if there is no one to see it?
Time always proves the existence of man
To see him stumble, fall, and still rise, to lift himself up;
True will; impenetrable determination,
until light is eventually extinguished
Is this the song, the meaning behind the feeling suggested;
An introduction to the power of what rules the world?
The angel sings, echoes softly within the breeze
Catching on the particles that reflect off of the moon
They flitter, flutter
Dancing to the flow
Little fairies of a fraction of light to behold
I hum out a wish to further push the troops along
A breath of exhaling frustrations searching for the mutual understanding
and what that means, if I could believe in everything,
or in nothing at all.
Someone I once met, was an advocate of shoes
“The most important aspect of walking,”
Said an older man with a learning soul
Enjoying the day, enjoying the people
Showing off a younger brand than expected;
However, they were all white,
I’ve heard that’s cliché?
But he didn’t know, and if he did, he didn’t care
Happy as a satisfied customer invested in selling his satisfactions with another
Who happened to be me, as I reflected on
The time I first put my shoes on my feet
One year, maybe two; my disregarded
necessity of almost everyday wear
Mostly gray with a rubber sole of neon pink,
Perfect balance of my kind of fashion, comfort
If I have to be convinced of buying new footwear, it must be easy to find the replacement;
This, coming from a skeptic
I’m hesitant to admit that my shoes are old.
Laying back, ground warm and soft
Wrapped in your arms, on the comfort of an old quilt
Pretending to care about the stars shining overhead;
Making that a reason to be here anyway
Whatever works, I’ll take it.
This is how I would imagine it
if you were here today…
A festival for summer to gather the thinkers
Collecting names and creating futures one by one
Marching them in like cattle to be herded and sorted
Ironically matching identity of self into what self stands against
Creating an image, creating a challenge, creating a burden?
As a child I wander; not searching, nor pretending
Was this to witness a gift or a plot of destruction?
Another thought added to the list of doubt and pessimistic questions;
But I think everyone has some of those
Whether locked up in the moldy storage trunk, long forgotten in the attic
Or, burning in eyes until question mark ink blotches stain face black
The melody is soft, playing slow,
harmonizing air to produce the flow of sound
With vibrations thundering through to the heart, keeping beat or count,
of how much life costs
A transcending thought from artists to listeners, connected by the
shared moments of understanding
One medium yearning to strip naked of bodily self and
give soul to all;
the other, open to enlightenment and
characterizing feelings and emotions,
A satisfying gift to witness, to experience
Assisting in quenching the thirst for inspiration by saving the full glass of motivation
for the dry tongued, those of the communicators
of mouth and word;
conducting phrases of letters and
weaving them into various
sequences of belief(s)
Only those worthy of
interpreting voice should ever
listen to music at all.
Searching the crowd
Dedicatingly scanning faces for someone, anyone
My body as self-aware, before mind could respond;
maybe humbled by the overall feeling
Foreshadowing that any particular day may have an outcome
that defines the rest of life
Sometimes fate leaves the harder decisions up to the Universe
But not always; sometimes one’s given the chore of deciphering
choice from careful consideration
Although I find balance best, it’s harder to be patient for the motion to end
Carrying the weight of the world and assessing the burden of mankind against
the sky and the trees, the prairie grass and the seas, or the mountains and the river streams;
The natural magical wonders that feed the curious,
tempting retreat outside of any kind of stressful physical means:
I envision an oasis of pine and oak leaves bordering out
green edges against the blue summer sky
A slight breeze to shuffle the air and freshen the mood,
to create energy and movement
When I picture myself standing inside my utopian safe-haven,
I am not alone
But with you, a new lover of heart who
answers to the call of the beat when heard
Imprinting empathetic minds, living in the world anew.
If it is song, then we can sing
If it is prayer, then we can pray
If it is silence, then we can think
Too many if, then contemplations to consider
I find myself remembering less when I focus on trying to figure out more, details
Of this and that, of her and him
Faces that shift shape and illuminate questions of recognition
But are we that familiar?
I ask for forgiveness from the deep vibrations of my bones
Can you hear the echo bouncing off of the muscles and tendons
digging down into the deep, dark edges of my soul;
Hiding from the reaper, seeking within?
Belief seems fake and brittle these days
But I’ve never understood the belief in the falsity of placing so much meaning on
any particular word, words, to outline:
Some definition of phrase to listen to or compose for a muse’s kind of gathering
Would you listen to the voices calling out random names,
Quiet whispers dancing on the erratic changes of the wind?
The identity of a character determined by the mind of the reader,
And who hears, what is being interpreted the “correct” way;
to trust in communicating and giving up on all other
interpretations to shuffle through.
If it is song, then we can sing
If it is prayer, then we can pray
If it is silence, then we can think
Glancing down through the storybook
Fumbling through the pictures and stopping on a familiar scene of intense contrasts
Background black but outlining a lone figure illuminated by an opened door’s light
Just a shadow caught in-between the different realities and wondering how to connect
As the true self opens up, the metaphorical sharp teeth grow into a snarl
The monster within scaring away the person who finally solves the riddle, whatever the answer may be?
Understandable resentments that pop when squeezed hard enough,
And ooze a tainted green slop of contemplation; not that it really matters.
I feel a sense of understanding; wondering why darkness seems so stereotypically engulfing?
This liminal body, reflecting curiosity into the story
Always tempted by learning, perhaps addicted to the questions asked as chance happens
I try to focus, least of all, on the other aspect of individuality;
That we often find ourselves exploring these thoughts alone.
Should I cover mouth and smile,
Through eyes so as to cause less discomfort?
What child stands upright at the break of learning how to walk?
There is no one who can blindly lift themselves up;
every pathway cannot be claimed, walked
We are a body of matches and pairs
Silhouettes of shadows and meaning
To disgrace oneself by judging the unknown;
no one is good enough to predict the many faces of the future
But if you have opinions to share
Please let me offer;
if you can’t believe than get the fuck out.