I want you to see
that in this world of white and black,
there is color to be found.

Even if you have to look through
the cracks and crevices in sidewalks and buildings
look behind closed signs, through empty storefronts

gaze into the starless
falling eyes of the boy next door
trying to remember what the night sky looked like

you will find them
because all lost things,
are meant to be found
one day in the end.

wow! just wow~
can you remember the flowers
the cherry blossoms that were your favorite because
you thought they smelled like me

the blue blue sky
the endless ocean of tears

and the stars
that were white
but dripping with every color

and you,
you are a rainbow,
not the one everyone expects

but a rainbow
of pain, solitude, forgiveness,
love (as hard as it is to believe),
and life.

They call me The Astronaut, cause she was my World you see?
Until she needed Space, and decided she'd leave me.
Now I am just drifting, alone in the Galaxy.
The Stars I'm passing by, they don't look like Stars to me.

Hello Hello
To You from I
But who are you
And who am I?
What blinds do block
my fish eye
Digging for water
Up in the sky
I have no more urge to love until I ****
I have no choice but to believe in free will
You're laying on a comet
Awaiting certain doom
I spill my word *****
Have you any room?

The city had dark clouds above
And the streets were plain
Everyone is either making love
Or else expecting rain

.

I am the one who walks at the edge of the herd
noting and observing the crush.
The jostling and positioning, and re-positioning.
I see, I watch. As the participants dance,
desperately seeking to be sorted, boxed, stamped and labelled.
The reject of the herd, I document.
I can paint a flowery picture.
I can write an apocalypse.
But its not like that, its not black and white.
Its complex. And it is moving.
Constantly. The only true organised motion.
Infinite individual minds, racing.
Racing towards oblivion
carried by the herd.
The weak, trampled; helping elevate the strong.
The strong, elevated; trampling down the weak.
The battle for posture.
The psychology of a single entity
split, schizophrenically, amongst the countless.
The herd travels as one. Inexorably.
United and scattered, evolution incarnate.
I see the hate, the love, the conflicts within.
I see the pain and misery.
There is danger here, on the edge.
I am the one who walks apart from the herd,
finding my own path.

©Pagan Paul (20/06/16)

intuition runs up and down your core
a whispered knowing deep
planted there before the beginning of time
a wand to wave, magic carpet ride
there are things that just are
and there is no getting away from them.

Waves of music extend their roots, tingling throughout my brain
On repeat, on repeat
On repeat
They have faded
To the point where the words no longer have sound
Yet my mouth still knows their shape and meter
As if they are my own, from buried deep in my soul
And who knows?
Maybe these words have interwoven themselves into the fabric of who I am
Binding me with the others they've swept away
Pulling me deeper into the glowing furnace of human warmth
All for the price of a listen
And I hear something more than music

In laughter and static, the world flows past my ears
and I hear the promise of being something greater than what we are.