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 Sep 2019 Hollow Steve
When yhu fall from grace...
Death becomes love.
 Nov 2015 Hollow Steve
 Nov 2015 Hollow Steve
'you scare me,' he said
'why?' she asked.

'because i tell you things that i can't even tell myself.'
 Nov 2015 Hollow Steve
I’m consumed with the thought of the future.
It’s eating me up inside like a poison.
A poison i consume.
Like a flower that can’t bloom.

Where has my sunshine been?
Its like I’m trying,
But i just can’t swim.

Im drowning in the thought of what was,
what will, and can be.
The me i once knew has left me stranded.

I know i am stronger than this.
The demons fighting against my inner being
i must try to resist.

Numb is what i want to feel.
Because i forgot what its like
to be real.

moving forward, making the change.
the priorities i carry
i must rearrange.

I know happiness is out there.
I seek it with every deep prayer.
The love and devotion i seek
is somewhere out there.
My mentor spoke to me of two rivals,
Once, they had been friends in some distant past.
But the years have eaten their love and made grudges manifest.
|The two shattered into broken glass

To my wise master I asked only one,
One question... In all my range.
One question I asked:
“What changed?”

In the outskirts, at the home of my daughter
Where you can stare at the stars or passing cars
None more brighter than the other,
We share memories of my grandmother.
In the photographs, she looks so much younger.
Not frail, but a fighter, lover and saintly|

To me, she asks plainly,
One question, and one question only.
Sifting through the ages of years past:
“What Changed?”

At the kitchen table, feeling inadequate,
My lover screaming and frustrated,
I recall memories when we had been intimate.
Times when movement was made for desire and not duty
|A calendar of nights left in confused abstinence

I interrupt.
She delays rage.
I beg,
“What Changed?”


In the last few hours of night
The dawn reaches me at last.
I had locked moments-
Literal seconds of time as the truth.
But it was always changing
In flux and morphing.
Turning into something new
Just for a moment, and then on again
“What Changed?”
 Jul 2015 Hollow Steve
Sunny Devo
It's been said once and it will be said many more times before this world is no longer in existence: the demons in our nightmares our reflections of our own lives.
Taking in truth and lies mixed with 6 billion differing perceptions can create one hell of a gruesome monstrosity, potentially unbearable to the weak minded **** wandering this rock.
This timeline is nothing but a river; constantly flowing and moving forward,
teeming timelessly along and never slowing for anything.
Existing with the only purpose of not existing,
but a vessel for us to keep track of events passing;
never to return to, but always to dwell on,
forever until it's memory is in existence of no living person.
The stark maddening darkness as well as the blinding goodness of the light; these things exist because we have given them the possibility to.
It is because of us that we give these ideas of dark and light the breath of life. It was here before our carbon based meat sacks arrived, causing changes that WE see fit;
ignoring the higher power that obviously will infinitely hold more importance than we will ever understand.
That's why we ignore it.
If we can't see it, it doesn't exist.

But if one belief--one single slice of faith perseveres among the unimaginable number of nonbelievers can change things; turn the tables, change history...

This timeless river of existence; why does it matter?
So we can be immortalized into whatever form or idea we wish?
To make a certain history for others to either never repeat resulting in insanity--or to repeat in hopes of reliving the greatness of others before us.

If all of our solid nightmares became reality; if 6 billion individual demons constantly existed by our sides becoming physically a part of us and breaches the mental barrier, exiting the realm of impossibility and stepping onto firm warm soil and sand.

What the **** would we do then?

The river never flows over the same rock twice.
 Jul 2015 Hollow Steve
Leyla Jude
I don't know if I loved you,
or if I loved being in love.
Maybe my ego hurt more than my heart,
cause I feel like for you I wasn't enough.
I don't know if I miss your fingers on my skin,
or only being so sweetly touched.
Perhaps you weren't the one,
but just one within much.
I don't know if I was happy with you,
or just glad to be in someone's heart.
It might not be what love was supposed to be,
but in fact, simply a false start.
 Apr 2015 Hollow Steve

I bathe in milk
The Ripples along the water are as fine as silk
NO! This is not something I fancy
In life, sometimes you just want to try
In the end we just have to stop the stupid lie.
To live or die
To breathe or just drown
Seems everybody wears a crown
NO! I lost mine a long time ago.
Perhaps temporary is all I could have, so I dare go…
Grab what’s on hand
Never expecting high demand
Then I get lost, soaked
And a little broke
To start a new beginning
Is still out of reach, I’m screeching…
Not in pain but in the cloud that blocks the way
Wishing the fear will stay at bay
Never reaching my awful screeching
Oh CHOICES! I wish I ACTED ON YOU differently
NOT fearing disappointing those who support me.
But hey! What is done cannot be undone
I stand in what I’ve chosen, I never run…
I tried my best to stop my mouth
From reasoning-in or reasoning-out
For your choice is your own responsibility
So I stop blaming others for my problematic probability
I bathe again, in warm water this time
Hoping to wash away the disease that struck me
Faults of my own neglect
Laziness and Tiresome – and its ripple effects
Now I fear I’ll drown…

........... a type of monologues i guess....
partly inspired by this photo:

a friend of mine hit something when she said:

Sometimes we are all afraid of drowning in the choices we have made. But there's nothing to do but go on. The water of time washes many things away.
I pretend not to see
What it is that is in front of me
I know a lot more than I let others realize
I observe
I do see
I listen
It is sad really
How much everyone trys to hide
Who they really are
And what is inside
But this is what I see
On the sidelines
How many can bring into being at will
the fire that in the most essential part dwells?
Though the vital principle yearns forever,
it is on occasion mute and still.

In profound wonder,
on days like these,
the total
Self suffers.

So, ye must labor
towards discernment
most deliberate,
and then by breaking thru
the despondent
can the task of
be therefore executed,
(if the person is not thereby deterred but determined.)

Thereafter the lowering, threatening aspect of
terrible Doubt is cast off from within,
so as to no longer be suffered.

And when ye do lie
warmed by
a spontaneously
emerged and helpful
thence be thy own
to that restraint exercised
over Temper's violence,
and over
hasty Impulse,
troubled Emotion,
lustful Desire,
if ye do so choose.

That being stated,
the struggle is then

if at a loss for
it's less daunting and less haunting
to just ask askance;
for the one who knows
question is to seek
and he seeks to ask
by it's translation,
can therefore make
a request hence,
of elderly Experience.

And then ye
must simply
put forth the query
to the
who is in the
highest degree

So a child of tomorrow
did long ago
pose it in this way,
"How does one find, when
weak, the will to win over Virtue?"

Then the Elder, he sought to tell thee
by matter-of-fact
in this way,

"It is a false belief
that ne'er will the
weak something inspire ,
but 'tis true that the weak will
is something that ne'er inspires."

And with that
he left the poser still
with question,
and in dismay,
for he
never really answered the poser,
which is his way,
in stealth,
to posit with his own question,
which speaks for itself,

"Do not ye think ye must find that out for thy Self?"
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