Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
To say that the metaphysical mystique of the human race
is an imaginary condition is a gross denial of evolutional
principle .  What then is the nature of problematic prosthesis,
the personification of sartorial perfection , or the picturesque
visage of spectral grace ?
Impertinence important, inadvertency inaplicable, initiate innate interpreters intervene intricacy.  Inane inerte, inertia innate: carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character chrisma, harpy harsh hast severities, emanate imminent perdition asperities.  Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness, estranged ensemble orchestrations and all.  We are even into the various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness.  Similar states of analogous contusion and ancillary subordinateness.
I don’t want to be a princess.
I prefer to be a wall
or a shoulder
that some one can lean on
I don’t want to be spoiled
I want to
fight
Get dirt on my clothes
Clean them
search more
fail more
know more
see everything
Try everything
I want to share the road
With some one
Running not carried
I want to look behind
And see MY footprints.
I want to be free
Don't worry mum.
I'm worse than you think
But no way near as bad as you fear.
A world slowly woke from slumber
Stumbled through a sense of Deja Vu.
Free from sheets of sleep and dreams,
Borrowed stitches pay the seams
Of patchwork quilted promises,
Forgotten threads of make believe.
I sit, listening to you talk about
our hair brained scheme
to make me a writer.
All you do is support.

Every phase meets your unwavering love.
No fear in my latest poison being forever.
No scolding me
because you worry
I'll never get better.

Instead you proof read,
plan,
love,
and support.

Never do I feel as if my failure
would cause you to be
disappointed
in me.
Never do I worry
any success
would make jealousy burn
between your ears.

Instead you listen,
you love,
you cultivate.

I am not a thing to you,
I am a small sapling
you water,
and trim the dead parts off of.
I am an investment,
you already accept
an unknown ending to.

To inhabit the space  within
oneself,  to such a degree
that the skin, thins itself out

    in order to leave  room
    for that which is  to occupy--

An indwelling  
of self,  to such a degree
as to stretch the skin
to full capacity..

    leaving no room  
    for ambiguity--

All cells and atoms, within
now  fully occupied,

   fully inhabited

by the most beautiful  
form of indwelling  of all--


   That,  of the self.


She is ghosting me
I ask her why
She says, "Because you're so big."
I don't know what that means
"Whenever you come in,
you fill the room..
there is nowhere for me to go
no shadows for me to hide in
You walk in and they all go away."

Ok.. so why ghost me?

"My silence is the only thing
I have left  to hide in."


In my love for you, my beautiful
that is the service I provide.


.   .   .  
Access into fullness, comes only
by facing the pain--
it is suffered, into.
Grace   buys us time
for to become  able
to  take  Love  in.
Truth  is the green
umbrella-like canopy-covering
that makes possible, growth..
for  all  jungle inhabitants.
All.
.
i have been trying to make
peace with some things
i have been trying to
let go of lately
i have held on so
dreadfully/delightfully
to the essence of all
that becomes you
it sits in my heart
the place i go to
when i think about the end
a rocking chair on a quiet
porch
this momentum will
last forever
you’ll have the version of
me from last october
until loyalty becomes
a conflict
i want shared custody of
the versions of us we bore
together

Subdued,  into a constriction;

Young  adolescent spirits
were meant to grow..

meant  to  breathe.

The "Fires of Hell"
are the doings  of man
based  on the fears of man

and the need to control.

Little child,  running wild
"Forever"  is a stick
to beat you down

(Until the  wild  within you
no longer  makes a sound)

It is for Freedom's sake
that you have now  been
set free,  child

.       .       .

  In the "name" of the Father,
  you were first
  thrown to the ground


Yet..  it is  
in the Name of the Father
also

that Love came to town.



Ice,

Your only rivers run cold
These city lights,
they shine as silver and gold
Dug from the night,
your eyes  as black as coal

Walk on by, walk on through
Walk 'til you run
and don't look back
For here I am

Carnival, the wheels fly
And the colors spin
Through alcohol
Red wine that punctures the skin

Face to face
In a dry and waterless place

Walk on by, walk on through
So sad to besiege your love..

So,  hang  on
https://youtu.be/CEgxfUoquYU

<3 <3 <3
.
Next page