Made

These are the days.
This is the hour.
This is the minute.
This is the moment… of power.
I return to unadorned unembellished isness.
I balance the earth on the balls of my feet.
I lay upright in the ethers.
I am a satellite of divine orbit.
Blues- favored hues.
Soul pulling tunes.
No mad dash to prove what you are.
This is approval seeking.
Do not seek it.
Do what you are.
Existence deemed you worthy at birth.
Don’t argue.
Don’t demonstrate.
Do the actual work.
Therein lies worth.
The reins lie north.
The horseshoes lie south.
Clovers lie lasting at center of attention.
I make luck and time… love.
Selah
Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion

Advertisements

Pinnacle

There are ways and means to approach.
There are parameters to reproach.
All must be balanced.
All must be challenged.
More than just talent…
You must fully invest.
Build upon your foundations.
Leave no stone unearned.
Leave hoes unyearned for.
Leave those that would smother…
and pour sand on your fire…
We came to be conflagrations of consciousness.
We came to dance in joy.
We are among the pretty lights of sky.
We populate Dreamlands
and propagate reel plans.
I wander and the deal stands.
No wonder I seem wan when freedom rings.
This is life…
This is where release leads…
Solo yet surrounded.
Total zen no doubt in…
Or out…
Surroundings… redoubt
Proudly reroute…
There’s more to see.
There’s more to be found.
Testing the waters
Quit being a cliche.

Daiikiru Maximillion

Anew…

image

First time type direct to page via app.
Bended knee; a stage in the step.
I smiled at the moon.
I think she smiled back.
It was three am this very moon day morning.
Clouds veiled her face a few times between intermittent kisses.
Magically lit the lot where I sit to jot upon my spirit.
It felt almost like day… this reflected light of Sol.
I am smitten.
I am smitten by the  heavenly bodies gracing my consciousness.
Blurting out… Subtlety to the wind…
It seems I would marry the moon.
Constant cycles would have me name her Constance…
and kiss her every night we are free.
Our lovemaking would yield penned progeny on paper…
Or as data…
Or perhaps I should just date her.
Perhaps…
Perhaps there is still oat grain to be sown…
prior to oaths being taken…
I’m richer for the cosmic comedy
that the toxic parody I’m tempted to term tragedy
taught me about selling self short or settling
or selling self at all.
The self is to be given of not given up.
Either way my smile now erupts from depths.
I reclaim both warrior, lover, and scholar
from the intellectual and emotional squalor
engendered by those that not so secretly hate themselves.
I love them still.
One day understanding will dawn.
As for me I constantly clean and cultivate heart.
I gave my last shirt…
No sleeves or collar now.
I’m also dating the sea.

Errol Percival Jr.

Excerpt from daily freewriting…

None of me discarded just brushed away tarnish and tempered mettle. We are made of much. Pushes and pulls caresses and thrusts. I place trust in what supports my existence. I make up this mind like dough for daily bread. I make of my time that which sits well with my solar being. I detach from all that would have this trail behind any lost leader. Intuition and synchronized inspiration abound so prevalently in my every walk. Dare I sit still… stagnant? Wasting away like some recalcitrant recluse. Afraid of own shadow and brilliant light. How dare I not shine as I am called to by the very nature of my origins. I have trained myself to see Heru in me and all I do wholeheartedly. Damn their crafted terms… short for termination… encapsulating the ineffable in their paradigm prisons… As if this isn’t paradise we live in. Do as we bid and you may buy what is already your due. Is this not the height of over-handed hubris? I say their yet I’m tempted to say ours… I lay no claim to that shitstorm though. I strike out for true life outside of the four based square they title diamond. I will not run in proscribed circles. I am no scribe… I am a decanter of light encased in dark dreams of ethereal virulent tendrils reaching out from the waters to silence the trump tarjeta of creation… creation that sits in no pocket of time. This transcends. The rabbit’s whole. You’ve found the right… All is… (Alice). Errol Pervival Jr.