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 Jul 2019 Pagan Paul
Karijinbba
few people
who tell me to forget
about the past
just fail to understand
that sometimes past
doesn't forget me

They fail to realize that
one is still in the battlefield
dodging bullets surviving attempted ******
my war is still ungoing
but as always chances are
I survive like I often do
by unseen forces
its a cruel ancestral
karmic war
that must be paid
no one is immune to it

no matter how prosperous waiges of sin generating good and bad Karma are unstapable
ask me I've lived it in the flesh

wining or losing
doesn't matter too much
it doesn't depend
on the selfΒ alone

One has to experience
cause and effect
of all actions and inactions
perhaps generational
values apply here
must perform my deed
suffer their bad karma

what can I as a recipient
do but endure

please don't say to soldier me
in this battlefield hell of mine
"forget the past! look forward!"
"Don't look back,
you'll crash and die!"

my forward might be more
of the same battlefield
****** neverending
generational type war
unprovoqued covert enemies
Β ever popping up
like agents in my Matrix did

unexpectedly
using different names
covert culprit Terminator One others wearing masks
hungry wolves
some in sheeps clothings
others smiling snakes
in my fallen paradise
many have fallen though
by my side and something
out there from beyondΒ spares me
the people of God shall taste poison and it won't harm
the Lord upholds me and I wait patiently safe
heaven is within me.
so much emvy jealousy
misunderstanding
malice greed

all around where i reside
I weave words within
an ephemeral
tapestry. a seamstress,
or a scribe of sorts.
either way you hear it;
the song remains
the same.

I understand and I do
not: a simultaneous
quantum superposition
(or superstition) for
an unutterable blazon of
infinity, encapsulated
within a granule of sand amidst
the eye of a great tempest.

I cannot claim a prophet.
no. I do not merit
such bravado.
no testament to my
works and days,
nor presumptuous air
of religiosity.

my fingers sketch out a
tempo through the
Β Β Β Β Β Β  cΒ Β 
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β u
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β  rΒ Β 
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β vΒ Β 
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β eΒ Β 
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β sΒ Β 
of letters,
a form which
sings and dances
for those who cannot.
(unfinished)

tuesday, january 8th, 2019

Β© kalica calliope
me?
how do I get to know this me?

ask my friends
     or enemies
who I know
     are biased one way or the other?

find myself in meditation
     with a guru
     or just with myself?

what if I discover
     there is more than one me
     that I have many selves?

must I accept
     all of them
or can I choose the ones
     I like best?

life is difficult ..
me myself myselves
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