Tag Archives: light

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 ❤

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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/

The Spectator

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burning-incense-2

You lighted the match

I inhaled you in as if you had been reborn as the lingering swirls of smoke floating from the flame-tipped incense sitting on the bedside table

While we sat consumed by the sentient darkness of substance billowing from beginning to end in and around our heads and enveloping my spirit

The room lay crowded of these jealous loners with their drifting extensions turning into little ghost dancers that veiled our space within my illuminated nebula

As I, The Spectator, perceived bursting bright sparks of color that stimulated my humanistic animation of awareness into a series of shadows and aromas

My senses continuously manipulating the meanings of (in)sanity while replacing recent musings to help highlight the desires residing beneath the hazy surfaces

You are here

We confronted the distorted facades of mercy through the minutes of time, acting as one soul together to escape the labyrinth of this universal divide

While connected, we forget to suffer but not merely as a defiant act of existence, we LIVE creating and changing nature to distort our sight and alter this godless transcendence

All of the while being overshadowed by the face of god hanging on the wall with his tick-tock ticking and buzzes of shrilling announcements of opinions chiming in

Little ditties of knowledge dictating the role to play during the hours of our daily lives, if only to help us understand that there is no escaping the fluidity of blood

Knowing that the body and the mind follow the soul through the discussions of self and continue to travel through the spaces of being to the heart

You are me

We willfully remain attached to the weight of the World however, finding solace within our effervesced embrace of arms and legs, heat and skin

Ignoring the sneering gestures of jealousies and misunderstandings, the many masks that can appear even from those who emphasize friendship and solidarity

But we claim each other through this built up intensity of psyche to provide each self with the layers of the emotional responses available to the soul and the body

Offering anything and everything to one another and creating our own power to pass out to the rest of this fickle place of one moment versus the next or, one person’s thoughts versus our own

We choose our fate by escaping it all within this shielding entwinement of essence floating from the heat of my passions to You as we burn together to flame the torch, turning this World blue one blaze at a time

I am grateful for the last 500 years ❤

Blue Sky to Black

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Another day has descended into darkness
Another scratch mark on the inner walls of my mind
The countless doodles and scribbles of hope, desire, freedom, and pain
Each and every separate feeling and emotion or,
what we choose to understand
Precious moments wasted on having to demand particular explanations
Only to convince instead of just believing

I heard you built your army
The Legions of Light to Brighten the Eyes of those willing to see
A redemption from the shadowy graves where we were born; Do you remember?
We listened to the stories until we could repeat the tales ourselves
And then one day I wondered,
are all of the battle epics just exaggerated myths and folklore?
Were we fooled by the heroes who were only imagined to conquer the monsters lurking in the newly remodeled foyer closets and bathrooms?
A domesticated existence, forged from misdirected rationalities
Each calculated step off of the beaten path weakened by the faltering slips of indecision
All of the while, hiding from the random consequences being thrown around;
blood thirsty vampires of fate trying to choose their next unsuspecting victim

I tried once, I tried twice
to call out and in that space of time,
there wasn’t an answer, no echoing response
Only the painful intensity of silence to contemplate
Am I forgotten, abandoned? Hell no.
Back straight, feet firmly planted into the earth below;
body stature molded to shape the orphaned philosophies that we tried/try to forget
to save room for future expectations;
Watching a blue sky turn to black with a heavy emptiness that blankets the air in a layer of cold sweat
Only the humble stars daring to watch the liminalistic transition
Shining gemstones displaying their fiery stubbornness, all of them
Laughing at the irony as they rise together in their places of effervescent power.

I am grateful for dark nights. ❤

Uninhabitable Hollows

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Everyone is asleep
While I find solace in
this empty closet
Sitting on the floor
comfortable and writing
Absently twirling a wayward strand
and chewing on my bottom lip
These habitual reminders that
we never really change
(Except maybe our levels of
awareness and perception;
intuition?)
We all sometimes feel the
embarrassment from judgement
Thoughts that solidify
forming concrete structures in
our minds
Uninhabitable geometric spaces
that appear empty and dark
Some days I want to bulldoze
this whole city down
But as they say, the sun
always shines after the night
Illuminating these hollows
within our minds
Power igniting to imagine
new beginnings
Replacing each structure with
rows of flowering trees
Thoughts that I find now as my
hands dig through the soil
to plant the seeds
Preparing myself for future
times of solitude
Just like this
Where I can spend these
precious moments
Smelling the flowers and
enjoying the beauty
Instead of closing in and
retreating to the stories that
never end

I am grateful for road trips ❤

I am a Person

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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 ❤

Want to be published? Books & Shovels

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Hello my friends! Can you believe we are halfway through the year already? I hope it has been a productive year for you all thus far and that you are constantly finding yourselves doing what you love. I am moving again! What an exciting time, minus the packing/unpacking and the humid heat. I just wanted to take a minute out of packing to tell you all about a wonderful project that is so inspiring to me called Books & Shovels.

For anyone who has struggled as a starving artist, to get published, to be HEARD, you will appreciate the hard work and effort that this group is putting in to create a voice for all of us. Books & Shovels was founded by 19 year-old Jeremiah Walton, an advocate of verbage not really seen since the likes of a Bukowski and a Kerouac roamed random cities. Jeremiah is raw, passionate, and in love with his art. A sample of this can be seen on his IndieGoGo page where he offers a brief bio,

“I’m Jeremiah Walton, founder of Nostrovia! Poetry, and a member of NYC based publishing house, UndergroundBooks.

I graduated High School the spring of 2013, and hit the road hitchhiking the following fall.  I ran a small “bookstore” out of my frame pack on street corners and at open mics.  I hoped to give art a good kick in the balls.

The world kicked back though, and it kicked back hard.  To reach the goal of broadening the poetic community, and to encourage others to sacrifice for what they Love, to dream, I realized the bar needed to be raised.  Books & Shovels needed to be launched.”

This is an excellent opportunity for us to join forces and create our artistic families together. We are writing our history for our future generations, let’s show them that we were not shoved aside and told to follow a fatalistic path. Let’s write down our voices so that they can be remembered. We can help provide inspiration for the next kids trying to fit into a society that has “no place” for people like us.

Want to be published? Books & Shovels is offering writers an opportunity at just that, with as small of a donation as $10. Let me repeat, that’s $10 TOTAL to working towards publishing your art. Not only that, your $10 will go towards the promotion of your work, as well as other artists/writers. We all start somewhere, right? Well here’s your starting place: I Want To Be Published

For everyone else, every $1 donation helps. There is not a cheaper way to be invited into a group of people who welcome anyone and everyone dedicated to their same cause of enjoying art. Follow them on Facebook and WordPress.

Join this cause with me, pledge your love for your art, and take the time to appreciate others’ works! As Jeremiah says,
“The Virus is Silence.”