Underground

Ignoring his creamy fingers soiled muddy

Palms pressing on earth as fragile limbs fist one by one

Modest wishes leave him tempted of lifting substance

His innocent curiosity alerted to grasp the gravity of power

Existence watches on in rebellious indifference as

Black dirt sifts through self and back onto ground

The overhead light bulb swings in motion of the day

A pendulum of awareness forced from underground

As a child of wonder is sheltered in the recesses of a broken World.

I am grateful for solidarity ❤

Most People

Most people only ever come into our lives just to be temporary distractions. These walking, breathing, and talking amusements stimulate action to help escape the shackles of the monotony of everyday survival. The Universe perceives these occurrences as the heightened view into the inner workings of an individual human being. Two people can come together as separate entities to try and satisfy some sort of need, whether that means physical or emotional and/or both. The best result of these acquaintances only amount to brief, inconsequential encounters with their mind-numbingly, two-dimensional connections. The moments these relations afford are based more off of the selfish emotional responses to one’s own goal of betterment, instead of relating and tuning into the actual character of a being other than self. The soul, when bound into itself, enables the body and mind to regulate the creation of happiness, or at least to settle for the satisfying accomplishment of instant gratification in finding various methods to not feeling/being alone. Euphoria is met, boredom ensues, and the people disperse to find their next source of entertainment meant to be forgotten.

Most people live in debt to this life, never seeking out nor accepting in the sensations of knowing something other than self. As the Human ages, daily demands slowly attempt to terminate the innate innocence and curiosity that we inherently practiced as children. We begin to avoid the situations and the people that threaten to upset the defining factors of what we choose to believe in as “me;” separating oneself out of the collective human race and claiming stature as “other.”  But as other, we project an estrangement of disconnectedness, a thick and impenetrable essence that effectively blocks out any passing beam of light willing to shine. Refusing sensations of meeting skin to skin to the point of ignoring the opportunity for a friendly handshake or hug. Refusing any chance of mental stimulation for fear of vulnerability of giving away more of self than wanted.

Most People become static, lost in their hollows; the hollows being defined as the shadow World. This suffocating place where indifference and apathy are born. The bodies and minds found there are lost, having chosen a reality without the attachment of soul, to soul. The shadows are comforting to those who cannot handle the light or the dark. The “others” hide in the shadows, allowing the numbing embrace to cocoon them within their wished-for complacency; never inspired, never inspiring.

But what of us who don’t fit into these black, white, and gray planes of existence? What of us who can relate to all of the moments of awareness; never asking for the experiences but seemingly overwhelmed with them throughout the entirety of life. Tired empathetic souls who were fortunate enough to be selected out of the billions at random(?), whether grateful for the gift or not. What is our fate, when the majority of ‘Self’ is nowhere around to mix within the questioning contemplations floating out of our heads and into the collectiveness of our World?

We are connected, you and I. We share a bond that neither one of us has claimed, or claims to understand. Both of our souls are struggling, battling against the ailments of the Human inadequacies of mind and body. All of the while attempting to recall our past lives and their accomplishments and failures. Giving into the passions of feeling to please our insatiable souls. We do not label ourselves with the mundane and we do not settle for complacency. Our destiny was planned so that we would have the option of choosing our pathway to death, instead of living a life already dead.

We exist in this moment because we believe that we do and I believe in you. I love you. I love you in more than just the verbal classification of the word. I love you in a state of complete openness and vulnerability. I love you more than what is said between one person to another. I love your soul. I love your passion. I love you. I send this love out because it’s not said enough. We should be grateful for the intensity of love, not afraid, not jealous, not embarrassed, not hated.

What we have together, what we have experienced together, is more than average; we are above being typical. And with that knowledge of self-actualization (“self” describing the bondage of our souls into one), we can become lost within the ideals of moral absolution and the stigmas of society. After all, we have been chosen to feel for the World so feel it ALL we must. The highs become shared expressions of elation, and the lows that we connect on, push us apart.

I don’t want to push you away and I don’t want you to push me away. Our infantile shortcomings are at no fault to any of us, we’ve been awarded these roles for a reason. You are not just another temporary distraction in life, you have shared your soul and I have shared mine. That alone is more than Most People can say. But in doing so, we will always and forever be connected; this lifetime and the next. Perhaps we’ve been connected since the beginning of time.

You are my everyday companion, a shining light to keep me from giving into my curiosity about the shadows and any morbid thought that seeks to destruct. We are higher beings who consider the philosophy of life to be easier than surviving here outside of the mind. We are not enemies nor do I claim any. You are my family and I will always love you, and in that, always accept love from you.

I am grateful for changes of reflection ❤

insert title III

Memories and Reflections

12-12-13

Standing on the hill with a random breeze catching on
His strawberry hair ruffled and soft to the touch;
Succumbing to the force within the currents of the wind

The sun and the moon endure their usual aversion of each other
As they sit on their thrones to enjoy the splendor below;
Loving the thoughtless creatures of mortal limitations

Of this one in particular pretending magnificence

(As a peaceful representation of living in perfect harmony
and fighting the fear of indifference
while promoting beauty in the uncertainty,
or at least the everyday moments that the
World can be too busy to notice)

As the ordinary miracles catches his attention;
A man of notice and the gifts of perception

Breathing in the reality tasted by the events determined
From the recordings of the subjects in question;
Their memories and reflections of them

She’s Not Me
7-7-15

I heard all of the rumors and

The messages that she sent

I thought maybe I was her but

She showed me that we’re different

Her wounds bound her together and

Although they seemed similar

I knew that I was only myself, that

She was not me but someone else

Another drifter saying the same things

Thinking the same thoughts day to day

Except she claims to see more

As if she knows the future

Or maybe bits and pieces of our

Memories shaped together

Dagger
7-8-15

I’ve got the fire burning in my belly

My heart is pumping strong

There’s a few words I’ve been thinking

That lay balanced on my tongue

I thought you were my brother

I called you my best friend

But at the first chance you got

You shoved a dagger into my back
Supposed Friends

7-8-15

Calling all supposed friends!

Oh where Oh where have y’all been?

I’ve found myself among the wolves

Their howls keep calling me home under the moon

Have I died and been gifted a life reborn?

I woke up soaking wet and standing alone

Dripping droplets of their bitter scorn

Leaving puddles of poison on the floor

The grass is always greener in this war

Battles of greed to keep us wanting more

You can claim all of the fields of clover

A fake reign won’t live on forever

I am grateful for lost thoughts ❤

Here I Am

Clumsy animals of the wild

Asking for handouts to survive

Picking up the pieces out of spite

Accepting peanut shells able to find

We eat to count the years of life

Sustaining the body in anyway, every time

Self-proclaimed Masters of ignoring emotional strife

Can you hear me calling?

I thought I wasn’t even trying

Until the sky began falling

And now,

Here I am

I am grateful for patience ❤

Soaking Senses

11/11/14

There’s always a slowing down of time when the Universe plays its hand
Vision blurs into a drunken lapse of connection
As the last seconds of every whispering thought
float in and out
From those who pass by; gnat-like noises to buzz into the mind
Their penetrating musings muffled by the compilation of instruments composing stereo emotions and feelings
In my left ear and my right ear jointly, and separately, as I
investigate the audio stimulation (versus the intruding glances that I turn my eyes against)

Chance hollers out, seemingly always unexpected, and
Awareness is interrupted by my flustered responses;
heart racing to catch up to the unpredictability of the moment,
pupils enlarge as I squint from the commitment of answering the nagging mouth of a limitless curiosity
I’ve never retained an imagination capable of ignoring even the most unwelcomed sides of all of the angles of questioning,
for too long

Now, focusing in on the details of the shape
A picture that’s ironically freeze-framed into my view
There are no “Hi, how are you?” or, “My name is…” awkward dronings
There is only the inconsistency of time when two consciousnesses collide into one
A few seconds of riding the tidal wave to shore within the ocean of reality
Soaking senses with the intensity of the change in the air
and how it feels

Everything stops and
we stare

Calling for the willpower of concentration, while maintaining gratitude for the fortune of this gift of an intangible absurdity
Meanwhile,
Memorizing the particulars to mentally store the answers to the questions not quite thought up yet
The discovery of another or, at least something like it
Until time speeds up with the blinding state of determination
Its eyes glazed over as it greedily attempts to account for its precious lost minutes

Such a finger of fate trying to erase any trace of remembrance of the two people who stepped outside of time;
confused into accepting the responsibility of understanding that we’re not alone…

…even if we become lost and forgotten after the weight of acknowledgement disappears into the normalcy of the continuation into the
seconds to minutes to hours to days to weeks to months to years

I am grateful for the good times ❤

I am a Person

Titles and labels

Insignificant one or two word liners

that create six faces of intolerance

 

“Who are you?’ they ask

when “What do you do?”

is more applicable

 

I am a Writer

I am a Woman

I am a Liberal

I am an American

I am a Christian

 

How appropriate each response

seems to fit into each individual’s ideal, those

digging for classifications so easy to understand

Can we be so conveniently defined?

 

I am ME

does that count?

 

I am Nobody

According to the other unknowns who

consider their days worthless

without the comparison to a

him or her

 

I shed these definitions like

a snake, picking up and eating the scattered

bits and pieces of debris falling off

Just a common creature

vulnerable to attack or

persuaded to defend,

if necessary

 

I am a Person

Living in a world of other people

Focusing on the similarities

of love and compassion

Instead of the boundaries

of differences to hate

 

I am Human

Who are you?

 

I am grateful for diversity ❤

Bite into the Onion

I said “bite into the onion!”

Only because of a memory of

sitting at some stranger’s apartment

feeling hungry:

 

The countertop was an aqua shade of blue

But not the good kind of blue that
reminds me of Caribbean waters

It was dirtied with specks of black and green

a form of modernism that some

person imagined ideal for eating

 

I was analyzing the marble

only inches from my face

Instead of focusing on the objects

and shapes alive and breathing, those

dancing around in their frenzied confusion

There was a chef of sorts, making his

claim to fame from the hours spent

grilling at one of the downtown bars

 

He was watching me and I only

realized because he told me and

I looked up, saw his affront

Staring intently, as if he were challenging

to inspire embarrassment with a shade of

question, for me to offer an explanation

Or, maybe both…people always

tend to think more thoughts than

what seems plausible;

An apparent stereotype of my own

relating on close mindedness that only first

glances can conceive

 

His stature was clear

The game was on, without both

players realizing when it had started

A chess match apparently already won, seeing his

daggers slice and tear through the

layers of vulnerabilities on the surface

Wearing his best victory grin, he

came closer thinking the game was

over as he thought about his checkmate

King riding Queen in complete

dominance

 

All of the while keeping his hands busy

pretending to cook something and

almost abandoning his own disguise

to celebrate his achievement

Peeling back the first few layers

of the onion, slowly and methodically

More interested in appearances

than anything substantially filling

 

That was the story, the tale in my mind

When I tried to explain myself to a

different person later on in life

As if I could relate the feelings and emotions

of one moment and transpire it

into the next

“Bite into the Onion!” was met

with distracted thickness and

judgment of appropriate responses

 

A different chess game, perhaps

With no victors or losers to give

attention

Only me and my bad breath

with the pieces laid out on the table

 

 

I am grateful for challenges ❤

Ghost Horses

 

You think you have us all?

Your hardened eyes of intimidation

Gazing out past your mind’s view being

directed by the tip of your nose

Egotistical, sprouting seeds of hate

that wilt in sickness in between every

sidewalk crack and old pavement road

of the crumbling cities

Spreading across the earth with the poisonous vapors

catching on the wind of all of the mouths;

breathing out silent screams of hatred, lust, and painful sorrows

Perfect white teeth, once braced, now

shielding the sharpest blade this place has ever heard

Twisting, rolling, folding, until truth is created

We ride tonight

We ride tonight

(Two times for the dramatic effect as it clicks in your head, remembering similarities)

Do you ever feel afraid at the repetition of intensity?

Snapping you out of your purchased complacency

brought to you, kindly, from advertised drugs

We’ve always said that our Ghost Horses

were better for riding through the clouds

I bet you look over your shoulder and

wonder that very thought

Do you see me coming for you yet?

Everyone loves to live and forget

Perhaps you’ve misplaced the lines that trace my face

As it’s gone absent and has been replaced with the

disillusioned and treasured pictures that you see now

Moving on to the next distraction of popularity

Changing looks, bodies, and thoughts

Each day passes brings us one day closer to reality

(I am he as you are she as you are me and we are all together)

What is the ultimate plan again?

I’ve repressed the madness building up

within your contemptment

General Cronie I am at your command!

I’ll drink the poison sold at

your 7 Day Store

I’ll gulp it down as you howl

“As You Were!”

Swallow Swallow Swallow

Three sips and I’m still thirsty

Come on, come On

I’ll cheers on the last drop;

we’re all a little bit crazy, right?

 

I am grateful for 25 cent fortunes ❤

Memories

We were talking

as we always tend to find ourselves

Midconversation, without even realizing

we’ve said anything

Words of explanations to escape the pain of

dealing with it all firsthand

A discharge of the unhappy breath of

a man known as nothing, and me observing;

what is it we claim to believe, really again?

He looked at me with an intensity

that only he could seem to produce

The words spewing from his lips in

a disgusted contempt

A snarl changing the shape

of his face;

as he thought about what he was saying

“NO!”

I said

The only word I was brave enough

to interject his vent

To disrupt his train of thought and offer an

attempt to break through the brick wall

of his layers of strength and of sickness

Overlapping and intertwining

intermixing with the drugs he’s been buying

In result, the mind turning on, off, on, off

A familiar repetition to anyone who’s ever been

afraid to feel

I saw it then, the look in his eyes

The flicker of fire

Somehow he’s managed to

still have a shadow of smoke

burning inside

I couldn’t breathe

As if he needed my breath then

sucked it into himself

to fill himself up with the thoughts

running around in my head

and the feelings that I’ve felt

A quick gaze into my soul to

continue his practices of exploration

Never thinking that he could

open himself up to me

As he stood there vulnerable to comfort

facing in my direction

As if we somehow forgot the threaded string

roping us together

Chest to Chest

There was never a mirror, nor a piece of glass

There are no fairy-tales nor explosive tragic endings

 

There are only the imprinting golden lights of

memories shining in our dreams

Who cares what to believe anymore

 

I am grateful for live music and talented musicians ❤

Eldorado

How long is an acceptable

timeframe for one to attain

his or her prize for the life

that is hoped for and wished?

 

The CEO sleeps in his

10,000 thread count silky sheets

Head on pillow while sweet

dreams fill his eyes with happiness

Remembering from a time

of beginning, when wallet was empty

Now, blessed from earning

his ultimate happiness of affording any luxury

 

The sister of spirit sitting in her

house of god reading her psalms

Dedicating her life to holiness

and many moments spent “alone”

Waiting her entire life to finally

compliment herself in her

obtainment of Heaven;

loving everyone and everything

 

What of joy, what of this true love?

A mission to accomplish for any

foolish boy or girl, romanticizing and

getting lost in the many lovely fairy tales

Or, motivated by goals of self

Whether selfless or not

Words are not to be trusted in

circumstances such as this

 

Four seasons depicting times of change

Flashes of life and death celebrations

Individuals interchanging ideas of an Eldorado;

Mine, has always been the same

 

I am grateful for rainy days ❤