Tag Archives: heart

Robots

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Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

we are all robots with our industrial legs and arms

emitting static data through chained sprocket mouths

chewing down on metal teeth while spitting out sparks;

tasteless words to condition into subjection

the accomplishment of production as day’s profit

obtaining satisfaction in facilitating the genocidal submission

with one’s own expiration date stamped axiomatically;

one by one we live, work, and die

I am grateful for the heavy hearts ❤

Monthly Archives: September 2013

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Monthly Archives: September 2013

Dancing

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Muscles relax and unclench
Stretching out past the movements of the day
Music floating, strobing electronic symphonies of post modern instrumental harmonies
Synthesizing feelings, connecting to the slightly monotonic pumping beats
Gathering and interpreting thoughts Classifying wisdoms to the count
Of the sound, as if nothing else matters
All of the everyday chatter and the confusing banter, not relatable to anything remotely rational
Senseless noise fades out into the translucent wavelength of a vibrational humming
Gathering together and tickling tiny antennas attracted to any audible sensation
As long as we’re listening
A mournful ending of a connection severely shattered by the limited time of evaluation, appreciation
An attachment to something almost tangible, or as defined by the tangible like addiction for more
Until the first few seconds of the next cry out for attention
A battle for the extreme devotion of claiming soul
Moving body to follow the drumming heart intoxicated by the challenge to go faster, harder!
The satisfying reassurance of head once thought catches up:
This sounds like a promising song to get lost into.

I am grateful for my love of dancing

The Ultimate Experience

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Another interpretation of the

ultimate experience and

To feel the response of true

compassion, passion

in return.

Your eyes, your stare

The slight tilt of head and squint;

but the intent is what drags me in

The undeniable force of penetration

of moment that seems too intrusive,

too good, to be given the thought of

forgiveness

An interest in a woman, with the

same pattern of every traditional

love story told to all of the listening

children:

The lore of a hope and a faith that

tempts the daring hearts, what

We’ve grown up to believe.

Now it’s our turn

I am grateful for random encounters.

To die for our freedoms

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To die for our freedoms
What a damn conundrum!
Of willing participants offering their heads for stacks of receipts
Little pieces of paper more powerful than life could afford, displaying out
Barcodes ending in the bold: The End
Another number scanned through by jagged lasers flashing in a bloody red
Checking off the last box on the chore-list and hiring the gardeners to plant fate and grow fields of strawberries
The most profitable crop known to man
Each weak seed plucked from the soil and forgotten
Never learning how to grow old and juicy:
A fulfilling plumpness of tasty satisfaction, wanting touch, to be eaten willingly, those
Finding religion in the sensual pressing on lips and being awarded the flavor caressed in mouth
A strawberry for a life who doesn’t want to die but to live until living has been enough
One by one, or however connected throughout those should be
The little receipts become pages in novels, thin sheets of memories kept in history to beg for understanding
Describing the time and the place of each printing of ink
When monsters become heroes because it’s easier to believe
But the harder reality only validates that violence creates the evils of mind and the many faces of man; sets the theme for the future plans ahead
So why must one fight for freedoms of life; gifts of ordinary ideals worthy of battles that vary from the most opportune prize?
To be free is to live but to die to be free without living at all doesn’t seem like the rational response to anything threatening
Or awarding devils mercy as they hold out skeletal hands in wanting:
Either complete surrender or the key to the soul.

I am grateful for a day of exploring with good friends.

Nights and Days

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Skin inflamed in sunshine, radiating in a pinkish hue of fleshy human porcelain reflecting in the summer’s glow
An intensity of warmth penetrating beneath the layers, traveling into the very core of being
The sun of the sky can shine so bright
As a lover of light to humble the moon
The trading of their roles of ownership and authority; balancing out the shadows of the world
Giving motion to the flow of life and the days and nights one is awake to see;
How one perceives the random life lessons, how we are all forever learning
Continuing this idea of education and exploring the different methods available to express,
Whether hidden behind a writer’s language and his or her own estimate of the ways of the world,
As if the sun shared his insight by burning, his fiery touch placed upon our heads
A kiss of passion based on the personal inflictions of an emotional soul
Infecting the minds and tightly embracing each tongue
As we wait for the chill of the night to cool a swollen mouth
For the Bella Luna to cover fire and temporarily snuff it out
Clearing the smoke and shaping air
A willful mother offering whispers on the wind of hope and encouragement
Speaking of a loyalty as consistent as the transition of the nights into the days.

I am grateful for laying out on a beautiful day!

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The Rejects

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The rejects of a militaristic society
Graduates of a unified humanity, ostracized for their unique scholarly ambitions
Motivational questions?
Of knowledge, regardless of time and of place
Condemning the thoughts of these thinkers and establishing such creativity as the cultural group of a cliche form of crazy; or, identifying masculine as losing his “identity” of self
Their image reflected only from their own facial reactions seen from a glance in the bathroom mirror, oh the horror!
But what is right, that which is based on the very concept of what defines the plural wrongs in life
These views of the everyday normal and how awful that can be
What of this movement?
To live within the means of abnormality and the standard of the current teachings of normalcy and how it is expected to be, to mean
To understand the hidden meanings of the gifts we’re given in a time where anything is possible, or impossible not to believe
Any group of believers can learn enough to buildup empires of memories
And share them in glances of experiences and guidance.

I am grateful for a few days away

Hard to Tell *New Music*

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I love to sing but it’s even more fun jamming with my boyfriend Tim Coughlin Jr. We had a lazy day yesterday of coffee and music. I hope you enjoy 🙂

If you would like to check out more of his music: https://timcoughlinjr.bandcamp.com/

insert title III

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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 ❤

Heart

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Heart don’t fail me now

The room’s spins are keeping me facedown

Looking at my feet planted on the ground

Ignoring everything trying to stay calm

My own thoughts screaming out

You’re stupid, you’re sick, you’re all on your own!

Oh heart, tell me something else

I’m feeling disappointed in myself

Even with you and your love around

I’m better than what I am and what I know

I’m stronger than what’s left of me now

Desperate to cash in my promises to this World

Beat heart! Shake off the dusty rubble

Open up to purge out the damages done

With a butter knife slice down the middle

Its jagged lacerations driving the blood

Separating the pieces into two parts of myself

One half for my soul and one half for my love

Heart don’t fail me now

Feeling the look of those pair of brown eyes

Staring back at me with only love and life

Ignoring everything except for us

My own thoughts screaming out

Don’t fuck this up girl, this is what you want!

I am grateful for night drives ❤

The Mother Weeps

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The mother silently weeps

The tears echoing her pain

as Mother Nature imitates her misery

The women of the world;

birthing heads and

giving life to us all

 

She gently rocks

Backward to front

The figure engulfing in her

sorrow, to witness it all

Empathetic motions to offer

her own condolences

Where her words could never mean

anything worthy of mention

 

In her head she screams

Shaking from the force to try

to keep it in

A haunting loss of control

that bounces in between the dark

corridors of her mind

A plea for mercy

A penetrating message for anyone

who understands,

those who can relate

 

Begging to a land beyond the frame

that she’s currently hovering in;

the ideal representation of grief

Feeling alone instead of connecting

to Father, Mother, Sister, Brother,

Neighbor…

Protected from the world from

the very source that keeps us allied;

even if some refuse to see it

 

She gazes out

With her wrinkled wet face

through the rain-splotched glass

Seeing past her garden,

The land where she was born,

The places she has lived,

the cities she has traveled

 

Ignoring any boundary laid upon

her memories

Only feeling the mourning and the fear:

 

Skin vibrating, tingling feeling

Hair standing straight on arms;

the first responder to the

aching hollow

burrowing beneath her pariah chest

Carving away flesh until heart is

discovered, hardened to the

blackness

Heartbeat

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The echoing last seconds of a boom of thunder lingered within the waking moments of memory
Flashes of light blinding, even through painted eyelids, afraid to open
A storm of importance, demanding to be heard, to be seen, felt
A single dance partner impatient to start moving
I collapsed into awareness, jumping out into the blackness;
For the moon and the stars had shed away their shine to give all attention to the flashes that penetrated the night
The white explosions of blue, gold, and green;
Shards flying off into the fragments of the living; Earth
The Storm, expressing its determination of telling a story, trying to be heard
Given the brief luxury of the creation of wind and water,
Binding air particles that recklessly spin faster, upward, to start a rhythm that’s trance-like,
Blinding; pounding: the lover’s heartbeat.

I am grateful for living. ❤

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