I believe

I believe in existence, in the finality of death
Of what it means to by claimed by conviction
Or the battles raging in others’ heads

I believe in love, in the wickedest of ways
Empathetic to the hostile touch of abuse
Anxious for those who never get away

I believe in forgiveness, in changing one’s thought
To break the barrier between the “other”
Learning to understand instead of finding fault

I believe in magic, in the wonderment of mystery
The want to appreciate every miracle’s deed
Even if the desire seems trite or silly

I believe in science, in the progress of humanity
I believe in learning facts before claiming Master
I believe in more than what’s reflected of modern society

I believe in hope, what’s created in happenstance
To the excitement of being happy
From the relief granted by chance

I believe in now, to define past and present
Because there’s nothing greater than this life
Other than the finality in the death of existence.

I am grateful for the rest of the World and humbly apologize for America and her stupid ego ❤

see no future in the present

….As we continue to ask the near and far

Who are you?

When the response is always

Me…You should have known by now….

 

Shadow fingers buried in mind, persuading thought to dream beyond the edges

Lemonhead wishes squeezing out juicy substance until there’s enough to drink;

With his sour mouthed staining back of hand to wipe away the taste before grabbing pen

 

A golden tool for a dedicated scribe, a powerful King of the abandoned

Irony lives on in the dead as we continue to play pretend in this fucking shithole;

Extra flutterings to penetrate those of yesterday who see no future in the present

 

I am grateful for art ❤

Soul of Martyr

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 ❤

February 15th

There are only so many days in the year

They float by like dandelion seeds in the wind

Being tossed violently about without a care

Until another sunset passes to perpetuate the cycle

 

The journey: never satisfying a linear destination

The soul: equal to the sums of time

 

We process such thoughts seeking out balance

So that mind and reason fit together as a puzzle might

Because believing that we are one as substantially stable

Makes us feel better from the turmoil in growth of mind

 

The journey: never simply a task in sequence

The soul: equal to the observance’s progression

 

There are only so many days in the year

They float by like dandelion seeds in the wind

Today marks the moment that proves we exist

To solidify our memories by tomorrow

 

I am grateful for today ❤

Insert Title VII

I’ve taken out my pen at least ten times within the last ten minutes

Every time I set out to write a profound line or statement

The ink dries up and my mind wanders to numbered lists

 

Vibrational tinkering

Jingling

Repetitive nonsense

Off-key but

Playing its own

Dramatic melody

 

Been here before, balancing on the tightrope

Obsessing about answers when I don’t even know

I have really enjoyed perusing your train of thought

 

A little boy fell off of his bicycle

Scared and all alone

He grabbed the sidewalk for its warmth

But ended up getting burned

Crawling around on all fours

He forgot how to walk

Abandoned, hurt, and sick of himself

He never made it home

 

Scraping out the ash from the bottom

Lighting up and hoping for one more

Fingers burning but still I don’t stop

Finally, there is something to feel

If I were honest with you

Then I would have to believe myself

There are moments when I doubt everything

With too many thoughts to figure out

It’s always the last hit that

seems better than the next

 

The sun sets on restless minds

Attracted by shiny gems glowing

Ambers in the eyes of who’s looking

Momentary distractions demanding attention

Versus simply enjoying the moon

 

If dreaming were easy than more people would have less to believe

And less to think of as real

Even if reality is never something we understand

 

There’s a special price to pay for

Being above all of the rest:

Creatures hovering through the rain

But never getting wet

Watching the animals below as they scatter

Shielding their faces with the backs

Of their hands

No attention to what’s overhead

As they run for cover

 

Even if the rain falls

Creating sad, long lines down the pane

I can still find myself

On the other side looking in

 

I am grateful for fluffy snow ❤

Midwest Winter

 

 

Devoting self to voice for a moment

In trying to interpret this introspection

Noticing the land ahead lays bare, dead in winter

With memories of golden shoots of grain to haunt the road

and the passengers within the constraints of the pavement

It is here that our World becomes isolated within the embrace of Love

As ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’ plays on the stereo

Adding to the absurdity of contrast in us versus everything else

I find myself loving you more with experience

Perhaps it’s only when I stop thinking to take notice

That this is what happiness means to me

I am grateful for being on the road ❤

Hope

​What of this light?

Golden bright as a reflection of the heavens

The creations in the stories told to our children

These realities of blood, of fear, of greed

Of whatever we make it, if only to ignore the present moments

No thinking!

Forgetting more as a wish than wanting to dream

Mental distinctions of anything, of wanting, of nothing

Of whatever we make it, dead thoughts to protect the living

Who is the ascended?

Lifted guides of the ‘all-knowing’

Those holding the weight of the celestial message

Spiritual saints of our modern world, of one force, of Gaia

Of whatever we make it, we become who we would like to be

We accept the beggars of trust

To ridicule the hearts offering love

When the light gets too hot to bear

When the skin reddens and cracks in the third-eye stare

The teachers grow old in their destined comfort

Burning themselves in their endless summers

What of this life?

An individual in response to everyone else

Not what’s felt

To exist of the mind, of the heart, of the soul

Of whatever we make it, believing that we can make it

Despite not knowing the secrets of hope

I am grateful for dark winter nights ❤