Tag Archives: Inspiration

Soul of Martyr

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Image result for psychedelic art

Unknown Artist

Oh, phantom memories in their ever-haunting ways

Seeping colorful dreams that paint the chance of escape

I surrender this skin, burnt flesh reformed into something pleasant

A soul of martyr to remain a lost lover for centuries

 

Thin layers of time have folded in this simple state of mind

Senses attacked by fables now threatening to embalm hindsight

Since when did we decide to accept fate as bestowed by the heavens?

I forfeit my role in consciousness to prove my dedication

 

For thy heart, erase these foreign layers of today

We are one in the same as we were yesterday

No wiser in understanding the common assemblage

Forever incomplete in the art of mental association

 

Consume this World, learn to inwardly imbibe

There’s poison in the feelings thickening our minds

Only a few need to forget so the rest will survive

You must continue, I choose action in sacrifice

 

I am grateful for you ❤

We speak into this silence, until it’s over

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He stares out through the windshield

One hand on steering wheel

The hand guiding more than mind

As mind is fixed on more than now

The dog at his right bobs his head up and down

He drives on

Through the crowds

No one knows

They hear him though

He looks back through the rearview mirror

Eyes locked behind or, in front of me now

We speak into this silence

Until it’s over, it will soon be over?

He drives away

So much for faith

Just another day

Lost in fate

 

I am grateful for foggy mornings ❤

Monthly Archives: June 2014

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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

Ghost Horses

photo (10)

 

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?

 

Dear Child

My tears fall down

drop…drop….

 

Draining my soul

as I think it does

What can be said about

the monsters of this land;

From a time before we were

promised the mystical “everything”

and nothing but a happy ending?

My tongue’s cut out and

wrapped up in bloodstained linen

My eyes sewn shut while

my wrists are bound tight together

I tried, Dear Child

to stay alive long enough

to fight

But there are those who

choose to be the wiser

of this world

Sacrificing it all for the

perfect escape from truth

Blinded by expectations of brightness

while we all drown in the light;

begging for blackness

The power lies within the

weight of our pockets and

not within the weightlessness

of our minds.

 

 

***

‘Keep My Head’

I was looking down

one step closer and then the next

Feet light, bouncing

to the rhythms in my mind

The blue skies stretched down

their hands full of love and contentment

Kissing my clothes, my hair, and my skin

With a destination unclear, I knew that the only way to go was straight

forward, aligning myself while

maintaining my distance between the borders

Of the protective trees standing tall

with their green leaves waving

to say hello and

grab my attention at a particular

moment, my face turning to

take a look

 

 

You were there and

I knew, even if my eyes

didn’t want to believe at first

Not much taller than me, you

appeared shorter under the

massive pine trees hovering above

but that’s just the first response

to any questioner’s thoughts

Until I saw your face

and then my heart just stopped

You were happy, the happiest

I’ve ever seen

With your red flannel plaid shirt

and acid wash holy knee jeans

Just you, standing there facing me

wearing a noose tied around

your neck as you held

the other side in your right hand

Now, heart racing uncontrollably

Feelings peculiar and potentially uneasy

 

 

The world in 2D with its

shiny pictures and glossy scenes

An alien to the plastic smiles, or

so I want to believe

Unless there is still hope

but you didn’t speak and

now I regret these thoughts creeping

into every story that I hear

or think to understand, any of

These reactions that I’ve fought

Could you possibly relate to any of this at all?

 

***

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

Most People

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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 ❤

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/