I don’t belong here.
The lies abound and are well tended.
The imposed imposes and closes walls.
I dare not crumble.
I will not grumble.
The attacks on my psyche will meet staunch defense.
This doesn’t feel like home.
This is a heated tomb.
I have been here before.
I once felt so low.
My spirit rankles at the overt oppression.
I see some knuckle under to it.
I will rise.
Only truth shall leave my lips.
Henceforth I am that.
Programming falls away like dead skin.
I am renewed in the ash.
I write myself out of despair’s depths.
I settle not.
I leave that for the dregs.
I am the water.
I don not the cloak of society.
I look past the farces.
I look past the trees.
I look past all fauna.
I look into the deep.
That’s ten eyes, five faces, five aspects…
Each face has a tertiary facet.
Home base looks like a house.
That’s my first time making that connection.
Quiet like a mouse.
Shake the farcical foundations.
Fruit falls far from those trees.
Planted on hillsides… The thievery trinity.
They have stolen the world and turned it on its heir.
What cannot be owned cannot be stolen.
So the stealing is naught but illusion.
It becomes real if you accept it and make it true to you.
So does balance.
So does equity.
So does reciprocity.
It could all be so simple.
But they’d rather fake it hard.
They… we… whatever.
Thinking we are clever…
Much is beyond the strictures of framing thought as we do.
Many be on their tip toes standing on a box sans the soap.
We need cleaning…
Gemini… Appears Rastafarian…
Yet there is more.
There is always more.
Roger that silly rabbits…
Splits harm the kids.
What is it that we shall build…
…five lion alliance?
Bluespyryt steps out on the right foot.
How dare these shorn arms attempt to box god.
Have a thousand seats or make a thousand steps.
The Watercourse way awaits.
I have no choice
but to look down to see you.
No ego vibes
as the eagle flies.
30 Seconds To Mars…
Dirty weapons to Wars…
The jaw drops.
I love rock and roll!
Hmmm… Tune to 432.
One of these things is not like the others.
One of these things is not the same.
Dune dub me…
Tune lovely… yet.
Her berth frankly is underground.
Drum and sip a hundred rounds
with loved ones ’round.
Bed serves as desk.
I work to shorten breaths
moments of motion
Waves are steps.
Sun, moon, and scars…
Consuming hearts is pastime for some.
They rend. They rend.
They say they give.
They rent. They rent.
All is deposit with hope for withdrawal.
They capitalize on flaws.
They fabricate if they find you unflawed.
They castigate one’s very being for being.
Or their armor is rather…
Crafted of fear that another lover
will do them as dirty as another lover
or as dirty as they did another lover.
So when the going gets tough they go to another lover.
But hey… At least they’re gone right?
Hmmm… Not quite.
They linger in lives under a guise built of lies.
These scars are recent.
These lines I present
Are evidence of healing.
No scabs to pick.
No nagging itch.
Just return to innocence and conscious breathing.
Enigmatic winner by skill and not cheating…
This is what I do.
This is what I am.
This is how I move.
This is how it was planned.
I engage in art.
No master but I.
No push. No pull.
No power plant.
Just pens, points, and counterpoints
plus poetic flair
and morning gratitude air.
Billion dollar brain…
Priceless as the rain…
No pressure. Make it plain.
Martin X and Rosa Drives…
Love my ex. I hope she thrives.
I have a new muse.
On wings she flies.
She’s no angel either baby.
No cupidity. She’s no fairy.
I treat her well and she treats me fairly.
So I do more.
I do myself disservice.
I do not take my worth in.
absence of focus…
Yet still the light builds.
I’m thrilled that my will has regained rightful space.
Now I may venture.
Reality and nature…
I yearn to master the language of notes.
So I go where the knowledge of such flows.
No days off… Persistence pays off.
I endeavor to do it myself.
I resolve to not let resolve waver.
No more danger of such if I heed the call.
I rise each day and play.
This is what I am here for.
I’m thankful for the clarity.
I’m a divine drawing gallery.
Grace and gratitude abound unbound.
I’m not adequate. I am superfluously talented. Excess in excess… What do I deem success? What would be purpose fulfilled? There are none to ask. I have come to bask in uncertainty that I may think and grow free. I dare not shackle myself again. This sovereign reigns in perpetuity. I grew tired of what it was said I should be. I am that… The unfathomable by the shallow human conceptions of time, space, and disjointed beginning and ending.
This infinite spiral… This intricate mind log… The triplicate dialog of “I”s.
How can one understand if the mind is a slave to childhood fears of rejection, lashes, and damnation if one doesn’t obey? I am a rebel with no pause. A saint with no clause… No sanction… this is between me and the me that is making me. I won’t drown in this tragic turpitude tended by those passing themselves as incorruptible… It is kind of true as they are indeed already corrupt. Are we fixable though? Are we mixable with foes… in the end? Many see an end where there is actually a beginning… Truth be told… Neither are different they are but marking points along the ever-present now. Today marks another Begending. I embark. I purr on purpose… Herbie the love bug. Dig. Nothing I do is as you do.