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.

Another

Another…
Thank you. I think. I will.
Look how it turns out.
Yet the jewels say what’s real.
I love…
That is just like saying
I am.
I’m not fooling… anyone.
I do not care how gullible.
The victor doesn’t have to victimize to rise.
Altruism – Crystallized all ways true.
Pry per pi and phi.
Payed posers-
Played impulses-
Slain- resulting from psychic poison.
This world and that world-
layered one upon the other.
Hand in hand—
Scenes clear- clarity unimpaired
by desired destinies that make disappointment
of the divinely appointed.
I have been built by intuition,
humbled by former positions,
misdiagnosed by pseudo-physicians.
Something is lost in translation.
Something is gained in translation.
The essence remains in origin.
My essence retains conscious collagen.
I lay in the akashic sea.
I fetal float.
I become conduit.
I don’t allow hubris to ruin it.
Sync.
Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion

Free Read

touch it bring it near
tumescent yelling clear
cpr no vcr bring me to life
pure evanescence
your effervescence
bubbles amongst false teeth
effort evident to unleash meat
that cleaves to places unforeseen
but desired
oh for so long
over prolonged
dangled over denial
mangled composure
defiled
temple tunes
have become the blues
cpt… caribbean people terms
impressive the stoic now yearns
resistance is futile
borg bonk 69th percentile
puerile prehensile
strangling simian tail
spider monkey backed
spiritual no tat
pivotal throwback
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
refreshment dispenser
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
by Me.
Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion.

Serve.

Serve.
We are here to serve.
Serve whom?
Earth’s womb…
Amnesiac amniotic sac…
We swim blind under alien stars and cheese wheel moon.
Hanging over our heads lies, doom…
Fantastic fjords…
Odin’s fiery eye in the sky…
How dare we?
How dare we not dare…
…to soar in rightful places,
or uplift our faces just so light graces
us with sensations of inclusiveness?
Not worlds apart from the resonance that mirrors the rhythms of our hearts…
Pound for pound; beat for beat…
Sound for sound; too deep for sleep…
I am awareness lying in these sheets,
rehashing mental repast,
relieved at times upon returning to realized reality,
thankful that regret resides not in retrospect perpetually,
but fades away with the dawn.
This nights mischief leaves not a misfit.
No shoe horn necessary…
Shackle shoes return to the ethers
along with prospective inevitable bunions.
Learning again that I am not mind…
this collection and OS.
I am user not usee.
Do you see.
Matters not.
For my eyes only…
The term lonely, often used loosely…
I am ever in great company.
I take stock in gratitude in the rising.
I can’t stop. I’m a happy dude. Internally enterprising,
investing in self conquest, ingesting the best concepts…
Digesting metabolically swift…
Divesting myself of all the bullshit…
and horseshit of worship of overabundance of warships…
Might makes right in law books and spurious scriptures…
The “right” take life feeding furious predilections,
fueled by desensitization and trust in united nations.
Flames fanned by flapping flags…
Governed like scooters so as not to soar,
relegated to under-roofers and closers of doors…
Yet, when real reality knocks, stay still losing composure.
Are you choral component or co-composer?
Hmmm…
Who am I? what am I?
By what paradigm do I plot my lines?
Do I trust what I’m given or trust what I find
in places it is said one shouldn’t look
for answers for they’re all in the back of the book…
But those are the answers to their questions not mine.
Who are they anyway, for what they say to have any weight,
to outbalance what I attain in a meditative state… of mind…
in the freedom of a dance or a strenuous climb,
that dashes limitations to dust in the distance.
The drums of a far off powwow wafting
in to windows as the scent of resistance,
hinting at the power of perpetual persistence .
in service of the wisdom of the eternal witness…
One Love.
Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion

Plain paper

Plain paper… 

Name changer…

Game evader…

Visor-less Vader…

Tireless Trader…

Today’s minor’s; tomorrow’s majors…

The slightly disgruntled grow into haters.

Your mountain climbing is jealousy’s escalator.

What will you do?

Will you subsist on valley breeze,

when your soul requires crisp brisk mountain air to breathe?

Will you fly the flight of chickens; inefficient and intermittent?

Or will you gracefully soar on thermals, wings broad?

Spiritually aloft like when Mahalia sings songs…

Giving you something you gotta feel,

like the pain that make some to Gods appeal.

Seeing not just the fruit and the leaves, but the root of the real…

So I may not sit in pews with you, or have the same religious views as you.

But I know the deal because I feel.

My lines receive varied frequencies.

My God is alive and speaks in me…

Saying you shall not have any other gods but me…

So I idolize no one… and none can preach to me…

You may share experience,

but know I’m leery of the spurious,

and consistently curious,

so questions are constantly queuing up,

and all is suspect when one answer isn’t true enough.

Some wear blue lenses because their sky isn’t blue enough.

Some regurgitate the thoughts of minds that never knew enough,

to authoritatively state claims to alleviate our cluelessness.

Minds built on lies are resistant to real truthfulness.

Not just the convenient exposure

to inconvenience another and their squeamishness

for shock value, or for wickedness, or to feed one’s ego,

or discredit to best another in a pissing contest

to reap the spoils of verbal conquests.

Sheesh…

Matter of fact, shush…

In nature there are no buttons to push,

no instruction manuals, tablets, or talkative burning bush.

Unnecessary theatrics… Matrix basis factors…

Making suds in the water like rendered fat does…

Is bathwater drinkable?

Ludicrous proposition…

Limitless opposition…

Natural Zone Time.

Ja-rules always on time

The real stream flows, mired not in time.

No tic tic tic… like a liar’s eye

or a poker tell…

Just rip rip rip… strike a fire time

for unopened veils.

Even sheer material diffuses light.

Enough layers will suffuse the sight…

like the aforementioned tinted lenses.

Daiikiru Akasha maximillion

Wing It

IMG00931-20130201-1414

 

Peace page…

Deep age…

Leap rage…

Demarcation fencing…

Swords swinging,

missing marks by inches…

Sticking hearts, so senseless.

Spiral swine tales blaring from megaphones

touched by meat market lips…

Fish is also meat…

where rivers meet lakes

and lady legs meet waist…

Triangular private space…

Most stable stance state O-sensei states…

Meant to say where rivers meet seas.

New body of water still moving, yet ceased

to be known as the trail it traverses to reunion.

Baptismal baths, holy water, communion…

My water is my wine…

My structure is divine…

yet undefined by man’s malleable standards.

Waters break and love’s labor ensues.

The pen is brush stroking the canvas…

at the behest of a muse.

Creation art…

Relations spark…

These ancient parts still do their part.

Despite defamation they’re divine affirmations

of the structure aforementioned.

Find Phi…

Ninth eye…

Time flies…

fastened to feather filled fabric…

covered by cases and shams…

circular reasoning and square caged man plans…

From cave to grave…

Crazed…

craves treasures in crypts engraved by the enslaved

Collected… What’s next? Not sure… so enraged…

hence the burning of the unreadable page,

or the clamoring for the end of all days…

Roaring rapids now to tidal escapades and charades…

Yet the depths are the depths, and the heights warrant flight.

In the land where wings are outlawed….

we are winged Knights.

Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion