what can liberate me, besides
the sounds of war behind me...

the ability to hear
the drums go silent,
no more marching,
no more fighting
...no more dying...

I've been wounded,
walking,
stumbling
over the bodies.
falling of tears
I'm tired of crying
cries for help!

Help, over here!
I think
we got
a live one...!

But, nobody cares...
'cause nobody hears...
it seems they've all
gone into hiding

I placed my self
upon this shelf
for you to understand
the life and death
that took the breath
of, yet, another witless man. . .

...tread slowly
...tread slowly
...’tis unholy to see freedom.
look around you,
look around you,
see the world and all its bleeding!
say your prayers,
say your prayers,
say your prayers with your eyes open,
don’t lose focus.
don’t lose focus.
we are only what we notice.

'tis acknowledgement, more than thankfulness, that allows a being to reap all of the glorious benefits that this life has to offer.
it is seeing. it is believing. it is acknowledging
. . .
all that exists . . . acknowledge it. so that its existence does not go unnoticed.
and, notice, i am not asking you to focus on it, i am not asking you to give everything in life more attention than it deserves but be aware.
when something pops into your realm of awareness, acknowledge it;
that's how you stay aware. don't ignore it, don't overdo it.
universal acknowledgement will do
. . .
and once you've acknowledged the presence of the object, only then will you be able to decide how to feel about it.
only then, will you be able to truly understand what is going on around you.
'tis acknowledgement that is the key to our emotions.
before we know how to hate or to love, before we know how to be happy about, before we know how to be sad about, before we know how to feel indifference towards
. . .
we must have acknowledged the object of our feelings . . .
before we are able to be thankful for . . .
before we are even able to thank . . .
we have to acknowledge
. . .
i've fiddled with this idea for a while and i believe i've finally come to a temporary conclusion, just bear with me.
. . .
we pray and we pray and we thank all day long.
we speak to God, or any other entity that will listen, to send us some help or to appreciate.
yet, how do we even know what to appreciate . . . if we are not aware, if we have not acknowledged all that is present in our lives
. . .
how can I say "thank you" for a blessing I know nothing about . . .
how can I know what needs to leave my life if I have not acknowledged it as such - simply a thing that is no good for me - how do I feel no good about something I have not felt
. . .
if I keep my eyes shut long enough, will all of life disappear without ever giving me a chance to be thankful, or without ever giving me a chance to see what is necessary and unnecessary.
will things ever change if we do not open our minds, our eyes, our hearts, open up our ears, if we are not open to all ideas, will we ever be able to see what is truly right and what is truly wrong
. . .
acknowledgement. an automatic ability of a being but there is something that keeps us from acknowledging the presence of the ability to acknowledge, within ourselves . . .

step one is think but not too much,
think only enough to move the body;
think only enough to guide
but not too much.
allow the mind
the time to find
itself before you
let it take control
of your next step.
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . ­ .
step two is think but not too much,
think only enough to still the being;
think only enough to still the urge
but not too much.
allow the body
the freedom to fall
in forms it feels
and do not forget
to feel your way
to your next step.
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . ­ .
step three is here
you must instill in order to heal,
you must adhere in order to heel,
you must not chase the thrill of rush
but long for sakes of betterment.
what is concealed will slowly reveal;
just follow the steps until
it's time to breathe . . .
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
s­tep four is breathe
and breathe as deeply
as the atmosphere allows
and let the astral air
assemble your arousal.

step one is think but not too much,
think only enough to move the body,
think only enough to guide
but not too much.
allow the mind
the time to find
itself before you
let it take control of you

step two is think but not too much,
think only enough to still the being,
think only enough to still the urge
but not too much.
allow the body
the freedom
to fall
in forms
it feels
but don't forget
to feel your way

step three is here
you must instill
in order to heal
you must adhere
in order to hear
you must not chase the thrill of rush
but long for sakes of betterment.
what is concealed will slowly reveal,
just follow the steps until
it's time to breathe . . .

step four is breathe,
and breathe as deeply
as the atmosphere allows
and let the astral air
assemble your arousal . . .

s­tep four is breathe
and breathe as deeply
as the atmosphere allows
and let the astral air
assemble your arousal.

…a haunted cave,

a burning light,

enchanted rock,

a dying flame,

ignite the chamber,

start again…

unending reminders that what we see is what we are
this glass reflects
that, which we see is who we are
. . . pellucid mirrors . . .
that, which we see is what’s become
this glass reflects
unending reminders that what we see is what we’ve done

Tie-dye shirt and all black sweats.
Can hippies have depression, too?
Or should we all just be much too entranced by the magic of burning grass to understand what it feels like to live in a world of dying thoughts, or thoughts of dying.
I apologize, I can’t quite get my thoughts together.
Forgive, me.

It must be the drugs.

These broken dreams can break the promises of life.
The promises that broke the wall and built the fence that still can never ever be climbed, that still can never ever be conquered...

and even though, they are just fences, we can never seem to stumble our way over them because we won’t dare to stumble near them...

because we can’t ever even see them...

I’m thinking...it must be the drugs...

See, we can’t jump,
no, no,
we can’t get off the ground,
no,
we can’t even run,
we can’t take steps,
we can’t even move,
we can’t sit still...

but we go everywhere...

...and we go nowhere...

At the same time...?

It’s gotta be the drugs.

cause see, we’re stuck in this time,
and this time...
when it goes by...
I pray...
maybe we’ll go with it...ya know...?

or maybe we’ll go against it...

or maybe we’ll do both...

...it seems, to me...
like it’s gotta be the drugs, eh?

It must be the fault of all the flamboyant Conceptions Created this Chaos, this Desolate Destruction of Emotions that are Ever so Evolving into Freedom! Freedom!
oh, we Give it all away to God for it is He that Hath the Heart to Heal, but, see,
I am not I...I can never be I...so I...Just Jot with no Joy...

so I just jot with no joy...

I am no king of kings...

I am no lord of lords...

I am only me...


but I’m guessing
that can only be
because of the drugs, right?

What is it about me
that stops you from seeing
the good in these bones, in this body,
in this skin so black
that it gives you heart attacks
to the point that you feel the need
to attack our hearts, our chests, our arms,
our backs with your weapons of hate.
"Please","stop", "wait"
are all foreign to you
when uttered by these big lips
on this black face.
Perhaps, that is all you see.
A black face.
But I encourage you,
better yet, I demand you
to expand your vision
and see through this skin,
yes, the one with all the melanin,
the one that you wish you were in,
and gaze upon my soul.
I am told by the likes of you
that my time is limited,
but we see different signs in the sky,
you and I,
for my ancestors tell me
it is time for me to fly.
So, once you unlock these chains,
or even if you refuse
and continue to televise my pain,
one day I will rejuvenate
and I will spread my wings
and I will fly.

I saw what the other side looked like...
and I didn’t like it.

So I came back.

And now,
knowing all
there is to know,
I’m ready to live life
the way life
is supposed
to be lived.

ray of color,
pierce my soul
and brighten up this hole.
~
bleed the gloom and doom
to leave more room
for hope...

if you love me then
why do you hate me as well
maybe they are truly one in the same.
maybe night is truly the same as the day
- excluding the hue of the sky.
we all still exist and
everything still stays the same
whether it is in dark or in light.

then, so should the heart;
no matter if it burns
with anger or love,
the passion should always remain.

The preservation of humans begins
when we all see each other
as souls
instead of bodies
with different skin.

Will we meet in heaven?

If you leave today,
and I leave tomorrow,
will we arrive at paradise
around the same time?

Will it matter
who really gets there first?

Will our decisions
have an effect on
how
we end up
or
where
we end up
or
when
we end up?

As we stand here,
our feet entrenched
in wispy billows,
barely keeping us afloat,
we hold our breath
so we don't fall,
then take off running
at our different paces,
in our separate ways,
and at our different times,
and make our way
to the same location.

Will it matter, then,
just
how we got there
or
when we got there?

Will the question be about
where...
where is it
that we've ended up?

Or...
will it be
about
why...
with our different paces,
and our separate ways
and our differing times of departure...
have we arrived
at this same location
at the same time...

" . . .that a person
from my walk of life
is able to dance amongst
you fine folk, untethered . . .

that's what I hope to prove."

yet, still, I wonder
what it takes for us to travel
from a place of false contentment
to a place of honest bliss.
one day soon,
hopefully, I'll find that out.

we are given so much leniency, naturally, from life itself; it just gets broken down and separated into categories of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and ‘ok’.

look, what is allowed is what is allowed.

we must allow the nature of freedom to take control and leave the rest alone. or suffer a life of quieted disappointment.

what is allowed is what is allowed.
(that statement does go both ways, of course; but, for the purpose of this conversation, let’s focus on the non-restrictive connotation for a bit)

the forces that are currently sitting atop the thrones control the flow of the day-to-day and do not implement the rules that follow the rules that were given to man, by Mother Nature . . . they try to follow Father Time as though he really even exists

“you do the crime, you do the time”
is what they all say . . .

but, who is it that taught them ‘right’ from ‘wrong’. and, who taught them. and, who taught them. and, who taught Adam and Eve. and who taught God. and who taught Zeus. and who taught . . . Mother Earth? and who taught . . . the Sun? and who taught the other dying stars? and, tell me,
who. taught. the dead ones?
did they not get proper instruction?
who. is in. control. here . . .

what is really allowed . . . ?

and who taught freedom            
how to have        
                      a moral code
in the first place . . .

Dressed in all black with a spirit to match.

Brilliant scenery trapped
beneath the  surface of obsidian.

a haunted cave, a burning light,
enchanted rock, a dying flame,
ignite the chamber,
start again.

—————————
Ok, wait, hold it...
start again, dude, c’mon...
But this time,
give a bit more detail, will ya?
Geez...
—————————

Ok. Fine.

A young man dressed in all black,
with black skin...

that part’s not really important...

I just want you to feel me this time.
Ya, feel me?

This dark soul is deeply disturbed
by the devil, dude...
...or maybe...
simply disordered by the darkness...
either way,
the dysfunction has a depth to it,
I’m telling you.

Are you listening?
Ok, great!

So, moving along
beneath the surface
there is no light.

That’s it! Ok?

But there’s more
upstairs...
oh!
there’s so much more
up top!
on the ceiling!
bulbs are blooming
with brilliance!

I’ve lost you again, haven’t I...?

————————
...ya think...?
————————

Well...
all I’m really trying to tell you
is...

Life has beat me down, man.
Inside and out.
But more so on the inside...
It turned my soul black,
made me depressed,
made me dark.
Inside and out.
Equally...

But, for some reason,
somewhere,
something within me still lives.

and I just wish you could see it
like me...

“at this pizza place, all they got is cheese with no crust, a little bit of rust mixed in from every bolt and every nut, at every table is a **** that’s ready to . . .”

grow up . . .

“serving hard knocks with a side of familiarity opens up a path for the freaks, or something like that . . .”

throw up . . .
spill guts at tables, overstuffed, not able to feed themselves, unstable, and to the stables they wander . . .
must be food time again . . .

“whatever fills me up with what I lack is what I’ll indulge in, praising him/her to stay above ‘sin’, o’ here I go again . . .”

throw up . . .
spill guts at tables, overstuffed, not able to feed themselves, unstable, and wandering . . . and wandering . . . unable to stop and . . .
grow up . . .
serving hard knocks with a side of familiarity opens up a path for the damaged, or something like that . . .

I really shouldn’t talk, while I’m eating