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.
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.
wearing this shabby treatment on the sleeve
where the heart used to be.
jaded and jangling danger
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…
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
some would slay to save face
question the quotings…
memes set in motion
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
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
social media guinea pigs are we
or are we?
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…
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…
unveil your radiant face.
These are those days. What worlds do our beliefs build? How dare I walk where they would have me walk and flee the divine spark which clamors for undivided attentions? The span of my mind is unknown for the darkness ever recedes and then reclaims what I draw away from. These alchemical processes will no longer be stop and start. Completion is godliness next to cleanliness. I know. I don’t know. I act. I don’t act. I am… I am… I am… A trinity.
Pages turn like seasons. Sages burn like reefers… at times. Balancing we keep up yet sometimes fall behind. Behind of what we chase… Refined is not our taste We must cleanse our palates and paint. Paint new habits over follies of old. Ever horse before carriage… We must carry our own codes. Sometimes create them as we go… Fleet of foot when we should stand still… Standing still when by all accounts
we should have fallen where the weaker go. It was all good just a week ago. So although the sleeper hold is administered by politicians and ministers, some seemingly sleep with one eye open. I’m cool until touched. Then the fuel just erupts. I then transcend… we… us… them. Distinctions and dissension eat dust. I see trends come and go. I see friends come and go. I count none as enemy, despite betrayal or enmity. I will admit that some tempted me. But I did not taste or take the bait to such extremes. I did fluctuate mentally… but balance bore me through. For honesty I stand thankful. For now I know what I knew. I hold myself accountable. I resort to being responsible. I call myself on my own B.S.. Basic Simplicity is intricacy implicitly present. B.S. is a gift to the farmer. Man your posts all ye fathers. We need you. I needed you. I had other needs that superseded you. They were met. Yet… The ache of absence remains… as I grow into realization
that we always have a choice. I have chosen change.
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.
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.