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Brycical Jan 2015
In the beginning there was the word
and the word eventually volved into millions
and now we talk with flagrant disregard
meanings are lost in definitions
and we no longer honor the words
that have brought us this far.
Well today that stops as I invite all
to honoring the 8 sacred words.

These are the words groked after birth
inherently transparently giving us our worth,
these words are why we are here on this earth;
Feel, Dream, Creation, Faith, Learning, Light, Being and Love.

  (1)
Feel
The real deal, the one that dictates what you perceive as real, a double entendre for the body and mind, covers the basic five and the infinite emotional responses. Such nuances to each like how the olfactory assists with memory like that time I was makin' golden fluff pancakes and hominy with my Aunt and Uncle getting ready for  Sunday School at a grueling five in the morning.
I still remember mourning Grandma Ruth at my first funeral.
Certain feelings are hard, if not impossible to explain, like when a painting or movie moves you to tears, I still get choked up watching Jimmy Stewart in Harvey.
But still I remember the feeling when this girl ran some ice down my spine for the first time. Now imagine being blind-folded as the cold slowly melts and the drips trickle down and the only sound you hear is her breathing and your heartbeat as she monotonously drags the chill down Yeah, I know you feel me on that one now.
That's the power Feeling can bring about
touching our most primal basic instincts to the intricate emotions someone brings upon your being when they sing that song that gets you every time.  

(2)
Dream
A powerful word. They can change people and things, just ask one Dr. Martin Luther King.  

   (3)
Creation
Regardless if it's the idea for the Iphone or baby makin, all life originates at creation.
It's why all are god,
why we all got this reason to be
like a painter paints his wrinkled heart on the canvas,
why a poet like me let's words flow out like a dam that's broken.
Creation births ideas and people with vision, we’re all born with this fingertip power
and a joyous vibe in our voice
the brain overrides by the sacred eyes locked grinding oneness
paper to pen, fingers to guitar, man to woman
all ringing out in a deafening bliss entering this world!
Creation breeds change , ideas that shaped the way we do things
like the first aeroplane and those folks who birthed those to think of said thing.
The brain keeps spinning like the invention of the wheel,
keep thinking and dreaming cause creation is a sacred duty to continue evolving.  

(4)
Faith
Such a muddied word these days, but faith is where all beliefs originate.
I bet you believe you’ll wake up tomorrow after a goodnight’s sleep.
Even that is faith.
The fires of faith forge burning trust when hands shake
Faith is smithed to wave, but never break
And it’s hilt of hope marries the mind to the heart
Faith is NOT a shield to keep other beliefs at bay or people apart
it is inherently a bond of understanding
and accepting from all parts of one self and others through heaven or hell.

(5)
Learning
There's nothing more sacred than learning, be it about the world or yourself.
A momentary divine buzz as synapses join in realization.
Not everyone can be educated but everyone can certainly learn.

My Uncle used to say he learned something new every day, and I think that's the way it should be,
cause you don't stop learning once they hand that paper to you for graduating school, life is a classroom and we are all the teachers and students but the answers aren't simply in external digital books and slides
a lot of the answers of life can be found inside the classroom of your mind.
If I didn’t look inside I would have never realized my inability to take compliments was technically flat out rejecting kindness someone as tryin to bestow upon me.

Forgive my diatribe but I have a hard time around closed minds cause the brain's a gold mind and info is a much more powerful currency than those political carnies shuffling greenbacks under the coconut.

(6)
Light
A special, sacred word illuminating the world's mind and yours,
forget it's ability to help you find what you seek, like that time I lost my
keys under my bed after an art party or the way it startles your senses
when it first appears out of nowhere
the reason light is on this list is because you can add light to light AND darkness,
Can't ever make something more dark, it's just the absence of light, but you can always make something more bright that it blinds you even at night you can ignite a dark world
with a single flame watch it spread like wildfire then nothin's ever the same like a lightning shock to your brain illuminating your whole world cause now your paradigm has changed!

(7)
Being
Can you imagine just being? That's freedom. To be is free, free from ego judging thoughts from others and your self, free from worrying about social conventions like waiting for permission to eat because the prayer hasn't been said or taking a job because it pays well but it makes all the days melt into a blurry line. Being is now, it's living in each moment and riding that wave to the grave with no regrets. Just being present is one of the hardest things to master cause the barking past and enigmatic future keep jockeying for attention.

Like that time way back when I stiffed some friends for my part of the rent or anxiously awaiting my move to New York pondering if I should tell my parents. Being is freeing that's why I rhyme and write that's why I let my mad scientist hair sway in the wind that's why I run towards an accident that's why I always know what's happening cause I'm tappin into what's tattooed on my soul. And I know you know deep deep down who/what your being is, but it's easy to let others complicate it with expectations like continuing education after high school and labels like teacher or homeless lunatic but you gotta dig and hold on to what you know is true because being you to the fullest is all you can do.


(8)
Love

Love is.
These are my 8 sacred words. What are yours?

Audio version can be found here...
https://soundcloud.com/brycical/8-sacred-words
Brycical Jan 2015
Quiet slip the crazy ones that are
safely disappearing
down to the
place that I love that they're expressing
yet no-body's reality doesn't seem to be
some part
in boxes,
the one whose hair color
changed the weather and had duct tape all over
no one looks
of the one girl in elementary school
that existed the crap out of me, then smashed
quietly creefree. I think she had a crush on me.
House was the ultimate rebel sexpot. She
to carry on sooty, cynical. But then
in the quiet ploring me one day and we haven't spoken since.
Found a slice or normality in this.
Conversations,
but of frivolous nothing became of it & I was
the talk that encountered this girl who
earthly posses fanatic liked telling everyone she had
her past life as a wallaby.
How rude, the girl from the newspaper. She never
hid secrets, always a woman yet she was a year
I should show while we've seen each other rarely
that was.
But I don't other by phone and email.
She ran away.
Her last story was to be published.
I pass by the
to carry on
I know this poem sounds slightly schizophrenic, but it's actually an experiment in a new way to write. If you're curious about the experiment, just ask.
Brycical Jan 2015
The ideal woman is one who's willing
         to strip naked with me
in her parents house
and roast potatoes in their fireplace.

I haven't found Her yet.
Then again, what do I have to give once
I meet her? I've lost track of my heart
because I've given so much of it away
               to music, gaiety and seals.
My eyes have been worn many times by my brothers
and my hands were given to High Hat; a horse
who wanted to learn the secrets of poker.

Words are for amateurs!
Maybe I'll just skip over to her and shove my tongue down
       Her throat.
I'd let her caress my shoes, run her fingers through
          my wig, lick
my tie... and then perhaps She can squeeze
               my honking cane.

That should distract her enough so she doesn't
suspect I have nothing of value left to give.

What would She say to me?
Would She want to hear beautiful music from my harp?
I'd have to borrow some of her hair for the strings!
What would She eat besides kippered herring?
I know a divine place we could go for dinner.
You can roast potatoes by a fireplace there. Then we could go
to a museum and look at paintings such as The Burning Giraffe
and paint mustaches on everything. I'll bring the bucket of black paint
I keep in my coat jacket along with the candle burning at both ends!
Wrote this in college, maybe around 2008?
Brycical Jan 2015
Must run-don't stop, keep on going, fast
through towns & woods, o'er mountaintops of snow,
let the gracious wind push me forward, past
friends and animals, keep going wind, go!
Don't look behind, pace me like water flows
about the creek, where people drink, just let
people forget me poco a poco*
I'll fade away, like a gray silhouette
shadow dancing a calm, graceful minuet.
I wish I could stay & explain my ways,
but I can't, must press on. So please don't fret,
just forget me like a bad matinee.
I've forgotten why I keep going on,
But that's the way life is, I am the pawn.
*poco a poco is a musical term meaning "little by little"

Found this Spenserian sonnet I wrote in either junior or senior year of high school, which was 10 or 11 years ago.
  Jan 2015 Brycical
Fah
I am a medicine unto myself
from the earth I rise
bringing down the airy heights
living side by side
inside I am alive
in me life breathes!

I beat feet
to the rhythm
that lives within silence,
where all begins.
Brycical Jan 2015
there sits Father Time
drinking a 50 year old scotch,
neat.
His compatriots
Sister Life and her Brother Death
sit close by,
the Sister sipping *** on the Beach
while Brother blows bubbles in his Shiraz.
All served at the cosmic bar by The Great Spirit
nursing a big 'ol Long Island Iced Tea.

I'm thinking of creating my next masterpiece,
Brother Death said.

"Maybe this time, don't use a bucket of paint for just one blade of grass,"
Father Time chuckled.

Sister Life spun around
and round on her spinny stool for several decades
until she hopped up atop the bar, proclaiming in French,
I don't make the best hexadecimal frittatas in the seventh dimension for nothing!  

Suddenly all brought their glasses together in a supernova clink
as they cheered
"May we continue to move forwards in the trajectory to wherever the hell we're going!"
Brycical Jan 2015
Down
     Down Diagonal
                 Down
We go--
passing depths of rabbit holes
& looking glasses
into the     c  r  a  c  k  s    of our own          
              ((((souls))))
where we've built
            {{{[[DAMS]]}}}
that stopped and stuffed
the F           o
            L              W.

Down
     Down Diagonal
                 Down
We go--
to watch
               ))))undulating((((( rings ))))
of wood form yonis
while liquid tapestries                reach    out      to us
blinking their (o)eye(o) puzzle picture patterns
                             <^>
                               +
as we dance in a cosmic trinity  
sticking cosmic key post-its with doodles and words
on     doorknobs     and    shimmering    ///iridescent walls.\\

Down
     Down Diagonal
                 Down
We go--
in-out-side our minds     g r a y     r/o/a/d/s
skipping down fractaling water crystal      s\t\r\ee\t\s
under cover of night
in a dream as the trees vibrate in frigid winds
tickling the  stained glass fuchsia vermillion navy skies.
1/3-4/2015
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