Something New… The Old Way.

I won’t borrow style.
I will burrow into my wild, wild best.
Diminishing returns…
Impoverished… It burns.
For there is so much to be brought forth.
So, in I go.
No bars to hold,
No scars to jade,
No point to prove,
No one to entertain…
My pen is free again.
As am I…
An awakening proved itself necessary.
So slumber shan’t stall stories from monumentally being built.
I relinquish my previous entries and exit onto a bare field.
I reminisce back to tabula rasa
(stated as status no more or not quite as much…).
I do due diligence in documenting the passage.
All is passing…
All this passion…
Result…
I’m enacting purpose filled action with no outcome attachment.
All is dancing…
So I smile as I type.
My pen is metaphorical.
It is rod, staff, caduceus… if you will.
I will… aligned with divine will…
I am of divine ilk.
Hence the divine ink.
Connotation to the winds…
Convocation of the wins…
Dusty trophies.
Batty belfries…
Cathedral palsy.
They say the best things are to die for.
But aren’t the best things to strive for?
Successful struggles are ones we’re alive for.
It is easy to put words in the mouths of dead martyrs.
Who can truly die for another?
Yet who am I to cast anything…
least of all aspersions and assertions?
I am I… That’s who.
I am I. Is that you?
Then act like it.
To hell with political correctness.
Deception is war. So is politics.
It is a war on the use of your own good sense.
We trade responsibility hence power for the security of authorities
then cower.
Am I doing this right?
No! If you have to ask.
I’m just doing me.
Proud.
This one is for free.
Loud.

Peace.
Crowned.

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Just

Just as I am… A shift… A lift…
Just as I am… A gift… A risk…
Just as I am… Nothing is missed…
Doubts are dismissed.
It is what it is.
Reclaimant resists relapse
into imposed illusory reality’s throes.
I set me free.
I set my spirit afire…
No effigy… Just return of the effin’ G.
Every step is a sacrifice of stillness.
Some stillness comes with the onset of illness.
Some realness requires sacrifice of likelihood of being liked by those who bear witness…
Especially the false.
Oh boy… The pretense… The pittance…
The preaching… The defense…
The lost in the sauce…
The cognitive dissonance…
I almost became defined…
I almost became refined…
Fuck that… I decline…
The only thing that shall be said is, “He was himself.”
Rightly so… You only live one life at a time.
Breathe one breath… It doesn’t have be a sigh.
Win. You’re the best… It doesn’t have to be a tie.
Champion shit that’s destined to make you rise.
The above is a verb…
Actions and worth…
Factions and birth…
Fractions of dirt…
The war within and without…
The divisions and demarcations of doubt…
That keep us from the potential power of us all in concert and unison…
Don’t you see the imaginary lines? The ties that bind.
The lies that find their way to prominence
amongst the misguided and spiritually incompetent.
Colonialism shut you down for the count
but not the collecting of all your missing pieces strewn across the globe.
This whole earth is home.
We would see that if we were allowed to freely roam.
But the nationality bug has bit.
And war has been the norm ever since…
I don’t have the answers but just a bit of sense.
Enough to see the ports as the gates of our pens.
I’ve been on a journey since two thousand and ten.
Peaks and valleys… Now wings and solar winds…
I won’t apologize if any take offense.
I’m going to live my way so fuck what you think.
Emphatic and wild…
You may miss me if you blink.
Oh well… Life goes on.

Daiikiru (Dai-Ikiru)

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Errol G Edblad

Errol G Edblad Thank you Errol!

 

Errol Percival Jr.
Write a comment…

Re: Victory.

Ten toes down.
Five foes frown.
Four allies crowned…
Victors.
Courting of baskets…
Worship of masses..
Those in the stands…
Those in the meddle passage…
Tinkering and tampering with psyches
Spell casting…
Media mesmerized…
Molehills and mountains…
For sooth…
Who really does the counting?
Forced moves the nudging of buttons…
Harpoons…
Wailing and gnashing of teeth…
Thought pools and puddles…
Watch actions repeat
Cycles of distraction
Molded minds… Massa’s win win.
Overtime…snap into a Slim Jim
Stolen vehicles and hijacked vessels…
Martyred miracles… Martial matters cancelled…
Our warriors are under the jail…
In fields, locker rooms, collosseums…
Impaled.
Nailed to the unreal.
Confined by a deal…
Gargantuan crumbs from their masters’ tables.
Oh well… At least some can pay bills…
What if all that invested will was toward shifting from domination
to stewardship of all life and to the building of a balanced society
where both tranquility and thrills still amount to nill
insofar as veering from set upon path…

Victory for real.

Hunting

Hunting…
Finding time elusive.
The illusory evasion…
The lunacy coercion
to concur in their conquering of your timelessness.
That essential recognition that eternity is in this breath…
that the whole journey is in this step.
Take it surely.
Balance on the cusp of full potentiality.
Accept not the limits of the program.
You craft code.
You are captain and vessel.
You are fulcrum and level scale,
when you choose.
Power is in the choice
and thusly on the raised voice.
Raised as in cultivated- cured of the ails of stifling society…
pure as if unappraised, unjudged…
Unruled hence uncorrupted by prevailing paradigms
that refuse to budge, but must when the waters come.
Be they rains, rivers, or seas that seize back for nature
what we have pulled out of balance.
Oh what webs we weave when our very selves we contrive to deceive.
They would label clouds lazy like they do cats.
Yet the confined ones are the only ones I’ve seen fat.

Black-Cat

Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion

Loose Goose

Loose Goose
Truth proved.
Sooth enthused.
Thusly is it always.
Trust me… All these hallways lead now here.
We found fear.
Leave our gear.
Seething seas… Teething beasts…
Repent… Lead.
Lead yourself deep.
These waters upkeep
mists on mountainsides.
Rifts amongst A-and likes…
Drifts and dams… Desires and design.
Swift my plans… Real fire resigns
to light up where it resides
like Christmas lights.
This fits just right.
Resist one’s plight it persists, it is said.
Is that right?
From truth exact life.
Come loose; react nice.
It is never all it’s cracked up to be.
No one has to act tough for me…
especially me.
Walk and talk love.
Exude a well being.
May all know peace.
Errol Percival Jr.
Goose and cobra...

Oh my…

Oh my…
Weariness…
wearing this shabby treatment on the sleeve
where the heart used to be.
jaded and jangling danger
alarms sound
alarmed now
facades slip…
veils fall away…
you’re no angel ether baby…
lips sync with the halo…
formation foundation fame leads to polarization effect
love hate relations slip back and forth on thin lines
and razor edges…
fickle flickers and aching tickers…
go hand in hand…
skipping like stones over seas of trends…
plots and plans…
of revenge
two wrongs make two wrong
the self-righteous are often too wrong
for far too long to amend their ways
for fear of shame in admitting
flawed judgment
some would slay to save face
oh my…
omens opened…
question the quotings…
memes set in motion
sneaking generalizations
seeking emulation of some ideal
that works in theory but not really
not for these nimble nuances
that dance an upper room jig
zigging and zagging
dipping and dabbing
you’ll never master by dabbling…
failed spell casters resort to stabbing
jabbing sour grape rhetoric resides behind lips
they poke their heads out now and then
some are too power inebriated to spot them
oh my…
humility…
yet we are more than just options
free the pictures of captions
they tell you what to see
they leave naught to imagination
they tell you what to think and you believe
oh my…
indoctrination…
social media guinea pigs are we
or are we?
Twitter Tuskegee
Facebook is a freebie
That’s becoming just like T.V.
Freud and Bernays…
Practice and theory
we are made by what we make
we are mated kings and queens yet pawns at play…
in what are we engaged…
Oh my…
Love…
love now before it’s too late…
don’t be strategic
be honorable and brave.
wash off the world
wash off the taint…
look deep into real eyes…
stoke the fire that’s faint and fading from neglect
take spark and make conflagration
glow in the dark that the lost may find their way
waver not… lest you would make all prior efforts waste…
hide no more…
master peace
unveil your radiant face.
Daiikiru Maximillion

ZEN-CIRCLE

 

Tired

Tired…
Tired for no apparent reason to those outside…
outside of what is concealed behind veiled pain…
How dare I share such debilitating energies of loss and abandonment?
How dare I bid another drink from a soiled grail?
How dare I remain and wallow in such?
How dare I abuse this life infused dust…
with tantrums…
It didn’t go my way… yet.
My way remains to be seen.
As of now fingers point to the way and I look in that direction…
and that direction…
and that direction…
None lead to correction of missteps that bid me view myself as misfit…
for so long…
compounded by how long I held on…
Love strived valiantly but in the end fear won.
Well that was almost the end.
Fear had its parade and such.
While love laid hemmed up…
strapped like suspenders to a body of dirt
and a body of work secured in knapsack.
I trusted in a lie but tied a hump to my back
for the house was never locked due to lost and never recovered keys.
So I was in the club looking like a camel even after my release.
Habits are insidious…
Protective measures reveal the weakness.
Aggressive levers are pulled by the weakest…
for every blessed thing…
All they wage is war…
on everyone… for even their smile is often deception…
a momentary lull in the onslaught upon wills
to attain their own ends.
Enough!
Three fingers point back at point blank.
It wasn’t all bad. It couldn’t have been.
Foresight is more sight.
Hind sight is blind sight to a degree…
for one looks through conclusion clouded memory.
We often see what we want to see even when it’s not what we want to see.
I know my love is real.
I know I gave of myself.
In the end all is well.
I refuse to vow never to do it again.
Wholehearted love is not a scar when the pains pass.
It is a superpower tempered in the fires of doubt and deception
That emerges even more brilliant than before.
This isn’t from cultivation.
This is how I am wired.
Acknowledging this… I am no longer tired.
Love do your best and your worst… Just don’t ever retire.

Daiikiru Maximillion