A discarded petal flutters down.
To land on the soil from which I came.
Torn from whole. Separated from Root.
I long for sleep to escape in dreams.
Headed towards the end of my alphabet,
there are no ocean views, just stretched out Z's.
It's different now.
Depression is an illusion.
It's a place of transmutation.
It's a place of evolution.
It's a place of power.
A place where violent forces
serve the purpose of self transcendence.
So is this going to be
My Final Form?
A path of thorny roses
carved itself unto my skin.
I see her struggle,
her thirst and
desire for sunlight.
A petal falls
and blood trickles down my leg.
She fears that she will wither
before she opens up to bloom.
I gently caress the petal of the rose and whisper
is my pain of no concern to you?
My blood will not quench your thirst for sunlight.
Yet despite that she's nestling deeper
out of some form of misplaced necessity and desperation.
A desire to live, a desire to grow, a desire to blossom.
By the roots, I rip her out.
I am no means for her survival.
Nor am I afraid of pain.
It's been years.
I'm sleeping in a different bed now.
Same four white walls, rebellious.
I took you in.
I'm sorry I neglected you.
You were right, steadfast.
that I'm so tired,
I pick up the pen.
Digging for treasures,
Where the dead lie forgotton.
When I put em there
I didn’t bother with caskets.
Old hollow bones
dead men tell no tales
and I sure as Hell can’t remember
what I did to them that got them here.
I dig and dig and dig
with candle light
past lives, flicker and dance in my shadow.
But I’m not here to watch their past amusements
What am I looking for?
In these vast swathes of grey land.
There are no answers in these Ashy oceans.
Waves of dust, skeletons drowned in pitiful regret.
Their last words lie at the bottom
damning those that dare and listen.
The wind howls without whispers.
There’s only silence that has been shed from life.
Meaningless and unimportant.
I need to think!
I shouldn’t doubt! Not here. Not where I am now.
The answer is right in front of me.
So what am I not seeing?
There’s only barren ash
and buried past.
A grey sky, heavy clouds of black thoughts.
I got a parched throat and no water.
I take a deep breath.
And the answer is right there
in front of me.
I stand up. I know what I need to do
to turn this place into Fertile land.
When I don't give a **** then I ain't fair.
If you want to hear Black thought spaz out angry poetry; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prmQgSpV3fA
I see Gods, wearing masks of self betrayal.
They spawn on a green surface
where they feast on the carcass of Creation.
A worldwide theater opens and their inherited ancestral traumas
play out their parts to perfection on the stage of current events.
Their projections are as clear as a day of light pollution,
muddling the bright night skies.
It is the atmosphere that reflects the ocean
and I see pockets of plastic black float in oily hues.
You drink the poison in your waters and you turn into acidic cynics.
Earths mirror is soiled and broken.
It's shattered fragments reflects distorted voices,
that are making love to your inner critics.
Silent whispers slowly mold you into discordant individuals,
with fragmented autonomies as parts but stitched together woven incompleteness.
With your heritage you've denied your weakness.
I grit my teeth as I part with tears of shame.
A loud laugh comes forth from a defiant heart.
A storm dark yet no clouds pass.
Why do you brandish scars with bitter flames?
There are no words
to describe you.
I've searched for them
in between countless metaphors.
For me, you stand
Words can never describe wholeness.
Fragile are those petals
as they flutter in the wind.
Yet they dance so graciously,
when they let go
and embrace their vulnerability
A circle inside a square
depth through silent prayer
a spectator keeping an eye on mind affairs
My thoughts rain, winds howl and scream
but I'm in peace, when I'm asleep
who else can I be but dreams?
Within my hands I've caught a glimmer of the ocean.
Rainbows of light made from a rising sunset.
I spread my roots and grow,
fertile soil is giving me some space
before it's genuine and deep embrace.
A twilight forms from out my feelings.
A brushstroke of sadness that
carries deep commitment
painted as light through black,
from past to present.
My darker hues
stand so proud and true
with uniforms and ancient medals.
Broken boots and blown out helmets.
They remind me of myself
And I realize that you are my reflection
and the one on an inward journey
is the observant you.
"She's out of your league bro."
" Only out of my financial league."
Starstruck I gaze at
memories that glimmer faint
and hide in old light
Did you overcome hardships with more strength? Did you overcome situations that were stronger than you, with more strength then those situations? No, you overcame them with less. Are you stronger than the mountains you climb? Are your legs and feet harder than the rocky muddy ground? No, they are softer and more fragile, flexible and at it’s foundation is something even more abstract, it is invisible, it is untouchable, it is unshakable unwavering vigor and strength.
- Stevie Ray
Everything devolves into structuredness because all things revert to singularity. To one entitity. It reverts to a single point of energy charged with infinite potential and pure conciousness.
An All-being dissolved of any structure and definition giving meaning to the No-Thingness inherent in the fabric of all existence.
We are omniscience expressed through a fragmented incomplete experience. More expressed through lesser, yet without this,
potential wouldn't come into fruition. Understanding comes with defining structures painted on the empty canvas of awareness. When we cease to paint, the color of awareness transforms emptiness into spaciousness. That's why through silence we can experience contentment in being. The practice is awareness without understanding.To understand that we are awareness without practice. Effortless. Duality is our illusion, our bounderies are imaginary. We only perceive the paradoxical expression of reality.
Like the notion of distance in the definition of interconnectivity.
Wholeness is incomprehensible presence.
It is the rigidity of our awareness that prevents us from flowing into it. Take water poured into existence, yet it takes the shape of an imaginary bowl. Held together by the tension of it's own convictions. It firmly believes in it's seperation and individuality.
Convinced of it's own shape, it does so against ironically impossible odds. It forgot it's place within No-Thingness yet that does not mean it's seperation. It merely means it does not recognize itself as the wholeness it perceives.
An apple tree
and a freshwater lake
can provide more than I ever can.
bring me your insanity
and I'll gladly meet it
with total surrender.
The shutters close.
in empty space.
No smile remains
and no I
When I’m under the shower.
I got that helicopter view!
"Found in the harmony between the kick and the snare"
A man commits suicide
shooting a bullet through his head,
containing a seed from the tree of life
I witness my focus jolting to a thought
splitting off into my subconcious,
towards different places in time and memory
and it's coming back with pieces of a puzzle,
painting an invisible picture
that I can somehow grasp.
Conciousness is a multidimensional canvas.
Let's not forget that we are flesh and bones.
Stillness eternal, smiling, in a storm of chaos.
Unbothered like the icy stare of eternal death.
Reflected in the blooming iris of life.
The pupil dilates and contracts
and the moments in between breaths.
We remember who we are.
drift within the pureness of self
where emptiness and space
I am running
Out of patience.
Pain brings forth a storm,
fear forms clouds in sheltered hearts,
smiles bloom from silence.
So I sit and read.
Pages are made from cold leafs.
Absent is my touch.
Bitter winter bites
with an ear deafening bark.
I squeel and shiver.
The candle flickers,
a fleeting friend in dire times.
Don't rely on it.
I will not waver
when silence comes crashing down
I embrace my smile.
These are the sounds of the Harp,
Life strings from a mind dark,
to a light laugh, it defines sharp.
So surviving in these times are hard
for a kind heart.
I live life like the tides are
so I turn of the lights fast,
need to be blind, lost
stray with my mind far..
To shut out the pain of day and celebrate the nights march
then you'll see that my smiles are..
Nothing but a fine mask
master this craft that is life, it defines art.
So I ask myself where the signs are..
There are demons in my minds past
so what you find in my eyes; loss
lost like the tides are
There are times where i couldn't see love
in a light year, trying to find balance
yet you can't escape the strife there
So I stood in this light
yet all I did was find fear
but self love is right here
in facing the light of day
the rays of light
within the fear of living in your righteous way
It's tough finding Angels in what I have to face today
A hard rhythm from the strings of a smiling harp
giving me a tiny break but do i want to fight today?
So I escape from these rays
Now life making punches on my second name
Didn't know it was a ******* feint,
Shoulda fought instead of trying to catch a break
I'm tired man so let me have some rest today
or are you trying to catch a case?
you looking like a kid
making haste the way you reaching for a hit on that second base
So even if I'm walking through a cliff or a mountain range
I won't stray through mist or the morning haze
So what you give is a night dark
but will find light in a smile lost
life's strings play straight from the harp
I survive with a kind heart
In a constant state of slumber and waking.
Being the same being,
Losing myself and searching,
stumbling upon and finding.
Drifting in the shadows,
face changing with different lighting.
I can't explain. I'm silent.
Strings attached to violins.
Sincerity masking violence
from inner strings that chime in.
Everything feels connected
but the space between my face and mask
is a layer of self rejection.
You can see I'm sometimes vacant,
that's when my emptyness is present.
Thoughts that stir a fog,
adding another layer in a second.
You can see I'm trying to wake up,
yet love has trouble reconnecting.
That's when some of you say may name
and bring me back and that's my blessing.
I peel layers off of me
bit by bit, flake by flake,
thought by thought.
Until blood drips.
I dig. I struggle. I lose.
I doubt. I fear. I crave. I long.
I reject. I loathe. I hate. I forgot.
I run. I Lie. I manipulate. I escape.
I obsess. I regret. I confess.
It's empty. There's space.
Room to breathe. I'm there
I understand. I fill the space
I have with me and stretch.
There's room to grow. I plant a happy tree. A seed. A present.
I dug so deep, in the soil of me to plant a seed that lasts forever.
little pockets of dread.
Grey and cold.
I'm a withering leaf,
in the painful process of letting go.
My skin tears.
Flakes of despair falling in winter.
My heart cracks,
bark besides the road.
Came from far turned into a long way home.
Footprints through the mud,
woven shoelaces from dried grass.
An abandoned heart.
Soul shelters in an empty chamber.
Tears in a storm.
Grief hiding amongst drops.
In the presence of lastig absence,
thoughts staring at an empty canvas.
An immortal flame
Absent, yet enkindled
It resides in me and you
An awareness we gave
eachother when our eyes met
When our smiles opened
the windows in our eyes
and we could see the same candle burning
How could we forget?
We never have
It's just the drama of going through birth
The fleetingness of life
and the wisdom of us as a child
that was washed away to time
Because let's be honost
we both were a long way from home
But our candle still burns my dear
And our home is still ours
let's spend some time together
I've missed you and I wonder how your day went.
The cold rain
is a pleasant companion
compared to the ever absence of drought.
The settling dust just dwindles around
it provides no coat of comfort
like the countless raindrops that are crashing upon me.
I miss an arm around my shoulder.
A broken well
that I was really fond of
Worn, moldy wood.
And an old bucket
that had so many trips
to get the tastiest water
for the thirstiest people.
But over the years
the water started lying down
The mold took over
and bricks started
falling in it.
I pondered for days.
What else was there to share?
How could I reïnvigorate
the worn out travelers?
Who was I
without my well
that others could tap from?
A broken well.
And here you come,
Drinking from my well
but choosing an other.
But missing mine
it hurts you.
It hurts me.
And what is a well,
that doesn't carry
the desire to be pure?
To be clean?
To be drank from?
By you. An exhausted traveler?
is met with
for my water
But tell me!
What is a well
but there for the thirsty?
What can a well do
but indescriminately give?
A broken well
in it's own water
the water might taste
a little bit salty.
But feel free.
That's who I am.
A broken well.
Shallow beyond measurement.
I shed you from my light.
Stand in the changing shadow of my inaction.
As my warmth slowly slithers away
and darkness crawls back to you.
I talk with masks
but listen to layers.
tell me I'm wrong
in all ways.
An apology would
My measurement of depth
should not lay
in the layers of my light.
Because that is for you to find
should not be based on you
but based on inner motions
It would suit me
that my warmth
should move accordingly.
for imposing my expectations,
coming forth from my own dependancy,
on to you.
Layers in my flame
A poem inspired by an interesting conversation that sparked some insight.
The scary thing about
is the thought that
you're becoming more
While in reality
you're moving away
from who you are
and use your lack
becoming who you want to be.
Which at the current time
of that thought,
you're simply not.
It's scary to believe in a lie.
It's good to move
to a better version
Instead of this lie
I would like you
to at the very least
acknowledge your flaws
and decide firmly to develop
parts of yourself
in order to become more prosperous,
whole and happy.
This way you still validate yourself
but see your flaws for what they are,
because you were never
a bad person to begin with.
"These old souls, die young. Without ever having truly lived."
One of the most beautifull words
and feelings that runs rampant
throughout my thoughts and work
has to be
to resist the state of something,
anything. To defy the odds
stacked against you.
A state of survival.
A fight of perseverence
A fight, where in it's essence
you refuse to compromise
a part of yourself.
a message of
the love you have for yourself.
Think about it.
Would you defy if you would not care?
Would you defy your anxiety, fears
and go through your struggles, if you do not care?
You defy the inner conflict
that you feel that stems forth
from your own hopelessness.
Defiance gives you strength
Defiance does not bow
for it's loyalty towards you
Defiance will break you
when you stray from your path.
Defiance will break everything
once you embrace the taste
of it's wrath.
When resolve is shattered
they become doubts.
pieces of a reality that's
taken of a vast mountain
from the reflection
of a small puddle.
I find it sad
but beautiful, still.
How frames of reference
seeds that grow.
In one breath
or a lifetime.
Do we overcome
or simply change
what is there?
Does our resolve shatter
or does it branch into something new?
Do my questions stem from doubts
Do I have a frame of reference
or do I transmute what is new
"Inheritor of past lives sorrows"
my perants past,
while I tend to
my own masks
-What am I-
A tool used for processing?!
A body filled with reflection?!
A straight back that can
carry your recollections?!
An antenna that can project back?!
I may be transparent
but I am not your imagery!
I feel you
but don't abuse our synergy!
A two way mirror
so I am not your mimicry!
I am not a water well
for your acknowledgement!
for a change.
What happens when you believe
a lie you told yourself?
It becomes a truth doesn't it?
And it shapes you
Yet you know nothing.
So you develop yourself around this hidden lie.
It doesn't hurt
because those feelings attached
don't show themselves.
They fester under this bandaid
and you forgot that it was a bandaid.
You forgot that this isn't your skin.
Untill you either reflect deeply.
Or are doing the dishes,
taking a shower or ****,
and the bandaid comes off.
You collapse as emotions overwhelm you
and though it feels painful
It's actually more like a bunch of puppies
collapsing on top of you.
that what you feel
Loving yourself hurts
but it's still love
Hip hop little frog
bathing on a lily leaf
splash fogs clarity
Sometimes you just need someone
because you are not strong enough
to carry yourself.
You'll bond strongly
with that person;
friends for life,
Does it end with hurt?
Or is it the choice
to not cherish?
What colour memories live on?
And which will perish?
In the end
I don't think it's about being independant.
Or not needing someone else.
It's about loving yourself
and living on.
Even if you desperately need
for a while.
be gone soon
A man of war
a knight asks him
the night before a battle
he doesn't answer
but only draws his sword
to sharpen and polish
the knight doesn't see
the man of war
sails the seas
of blood and hate
by clinging tightly to his sword
His sword soaked
they are men of virtue
moments before their death
No he does not speak
this man is not made of words
made of screams
of eternal sleep
defies the God of death
"How many men am I worth?
How many will you send?
How many men will you take
for me to meet my end?"
He mumbles to himself.
The strongest exertion of weakness
will never touch
the weakest exertion of strength.
A small girl
sitting in the wind,
if she has
the raging winds
A breeze of fresh air
turns into a
dark, question mark.
The young girls mind
heavy water torrents
She wants to drown
cuz she wants to survive
I'm screaming against the wind
wishing I could heal her
that burst from within
with fire burning
from the heart
tears dripping down
turn to ice
It leaves me paralyzed
from the pain that's in her wind
She turns around
showing the purest smile
courage shining brightly
behind those saddened eyes
which ignites me
I'm in awe, inspired
that hearts desire
"You stand strong
with no eye in this storm!
But it's a fight you will win!
You ignite the people around you
because your heart
is heard through the roar
in these winds!
You will soar
through the sky
in your mind
because that strength
already lies within!"
My words never reached her
because she stood up
and walked her path
I can only hope
a few of my words
that are now drifing
in the wind.
A cow in the kitchen
"what's it doing there?"
Crush your wishes
into an unwavering foundation.
Trample upon your dreams
for they should be turned into pavement.
Carve your goal into your soul.
Shed all your tears
because your back is turned to home.
Walk away from your loved ones.
Walk away from comfort all so you can grow.
So struggle and writhe in agony.
Find pleasure in the pain
of denying to dream,
because what matters,
should be turned into reality.
Have your hands bleed,
molding every thought,
into a stone cold brick.
Manifestation is the work of God.
Laugh because you challenge
and challenge is never easy.
Laugh because you'll lose
but let it not wither your determination.
Scream because you suffer
as you defy the road of billions.
Scream because you're in agony
growing pains for the child in you
As living your dreams is what adults
see and write off as fantasy,
but it's what you and I both know
we all should do.