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.
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…
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 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.
Expand your reach.
This is not your due.
Beggars can’t be choosers
even if they’re paupers by choice.
Everything is by choice.
You did it to yourself…
Reneging on so much previous resolve.
Build it again, for what?
I don’t even need it.
I have other things to attend to.
Will my nonchalance offend you?
My heavy regard was insufficient.
Today proves much.
Too much to no avail.
How dare I bite the tongue that feeds me?
How dare I trade purpose for vassalage?
Is there more to this than stifled rage?
Am I petulant?
I am not a pet.
Out from the dust.
Ash or whatever…
Catch them all… unawares.
Yet I’m in tears.
Despite logic and justifications.
I am in tears.
They give lie to all I would let burst forth
peppered with expletives and brashness.
They give truth a chance as they wash all else from view
and find my mood matchless.
And just so all is clarity.
I want what I need…
a match for my fire.
Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion.
touch it bring it near
tumescent yelling clear
cpr no vcr bring me to life
bubbles amongst false teeth
effort evident to unleash meat
that cleaves to places unforeseen
oh for so long
dangled over denial
have become the blues
cpt… caribbean people terms
impressive the stoic now yearns
resistance is futile
borg bonk 69th percentile
strangling simian tail
spider monkey backed
spiritual no tat
to prior to programming
shift to embracing
what i once was holding in
in soaring eagles embrace whole skies
to cling to one cloud is to plummet and die
no shaking the spear over here
poised to chuck and hit several select targets
plentiful palette the lover of artists
filled with invisible inspiration
inevident ’till put into action
then it flows this favored interaction
this thought process this intense passion
for paths and pages
the math of sages
the tracks of the ageless
undisturbed detected but deferred
for my inner meter
that only I read but I share the report
as I develop a spiritual rapport
with what supports the beat of this heart
bootstrap… davey jones
deep thoughts the glory road
author was once the lowly toad
excalibur is the name of my chosen sword
to chop the heads of snakes gravediggas record…
creator namer winged healed submariner
unmasked water breather
new life no deceiver
just uplifting demeanor
internal screenplay screener
spiritual palette cleaner
request no coins or bills
but coin phrases that build
monuments for this chief corner stone
to adorn and complete…
your rejecting me was destiny
your neglecting me made me invest in me…
and cultivate the best of me
so your cursing me helped my blessing be
when I turned from you and back to me….
last laugh for me revealing facts unseen
last lap for me circular paths I leave
in favor of the life i’m destined to lead
no illusory freedom granted i take it i’m freed
Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion.
My heart is full. It leaks and it seeps into my very bones, as I beat a retreat into some heavy tome… to no avail. All attempts fail. For the role has been called asunder by the pull to pillage and plunder poisonous pleasure. I take my lumps like a fan, and play a chump’s meager hand, for cards are not my forte. I humor the gamer and await the fall of the final tarjeta. Then in the light of full moon… “See what being a star gets ya.” The prophet sighed as he prophesied. Some prophets lie when it’s profit time, and find themselves tied to desired decline. Creditors, debtors… in thrall by design. Power plays and dour dates… What seems sweet hides a sour fate… at times. Yet sour, sweet, savory, bitter and such can combine to create the most delicious stuff… in the right hands. Mine. This is what I gather as I look at these rafters. My limbs are capable to paddle through these rapids. And my mind is culpable in complicating matters. As my body rankles as repository of another untold story, my core carries on regardless. My gut retains glory. So belly laughs and confidence chaff… Sea water baths and prominent shaft… I’m taking it back to before courting lack. The universe is my oyster. No bucket to kick. Fully corrected bucket list. This kiss… Is free.