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

 

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I…

I…
I don’t know what will come of this… yet.
I’m facing my comeuppance… blessed.
Karmic aggression… quick…
Stone… splash
Spit… slap…
Slip… crap…
Gift… rapped…
Split tabs…
It… tagged…
Game! Bragg.
Is that not a fort?
We cannot afford more mechanics of war.
Through machinations madly devolved…
to base beings… in haste bleeding…
what we could be seeding.
It seems our dealings constitute a beating
of oft’ dead warhorses
and death knells
we dance to dirges…
What is the purpose…
What is the proper pose
some propose if not groveling?
On the surface triumphant yet cowering…
cowering from the reality and the harrowing
notion that delusion, illusion, and deception rule the day.
What are we empowering when we let such and such hold Sway?
I’m far from having all the answers…
or all the questions for that matter.
Don’t know if it’s me or the world that’s madder…
We are the world…
Some say there’s no matter…
as such…
Ask us when we’re tranced up…
or martyred or hemmed up by charges trumped up.
First world problems…
How many worlds…
How many pictures?
How many words?
What is not scripture?
What is not scripted?
Who’s not conscripted?
Where does conflict live?
Where does it knot?
Where does it stop?
Where does it start?
Where do I start?
Where does the world end?
There is no when.
All is movement.
even unseen wind…
The winds of change
blew someone’s hat down the street.
Chasing it, stumbling, them and Cadillac grills meet.
Ludicrous… liberal application of elbow grease.
to the wheels of the beast’s conveyance…
shouldering beliefs contrived and given
to achieve an end…
Perceive what is forbidden
and what remains unforgiven.
Redeemed is just a shift in perception.
What you deem yourself you become.
Some seek possession.
What possesses but demon?
What corroboration but seasons girded with trappings for reason?
We go with societies flow.
Contrary to nature,
we mold ourselves,
culling our souls for these nations,
committing spiritual treason.
The well of ancestors is deep.
Even the genes you don’t wish to but must keep speak.
Are you listening?
Or has the world’s noise drowned them out?
Many walk in shame but sound devout.
Who’s that whistling?
What’s word of mouth but needless distinction
for wayward diction
best geared to fiction by omission?
Hearsay I dare say is heresy of the highest order.
I speak universally…
Not under the auspices of the Holy See to no degree.
I seek to dispense with deception totally.
I won’t concede to any attempts at holding me
to words that didn’t come through me.
For these are the only verifiable divine conduits
upon which to base congruency.
I’m only true if I’m true to me.
You all are me.
We all are I.
I love me…
Open your eyes.
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.