I hope those beautiful flows,
Flowery verses, and deep prose
Always help me find my way home
Whenever I am searching these roads
For a place where humanity
Can finally see what I see
And celebrate the success
Of setting world citizens free
From the tyranny of greed

I hope those beautiful flows,
Flowery verses, and deep prose
Always help me find my way home
Whenever I am searching these roads
For a place where humanity
Can finally see what I see
And celebrate the success
Of setting world citizens free
From the tyranny of greed

It begins here,
Undecipherable death.

The dying of the light
With tearful glazed eyes.

Here the soul is at a pause
Waiting to be set free,
A hurried rush to Awaken.

- the body fights to last breaths

Drowning in the world
Drinking life's waters,
The soul swims free.

Far ahead,
A darkness in the light...

And the soul has eyes that see
All things all at once in the lives
Lived underrated and unfulfilled.

-the body wants to live

The shadow grows deep
As sky black becomes a fertile
Ground upon which the soul
Glides watching a piece of everything.

Upon the immensely empty darkness
The light surrounds it,
Suddenly the soul realizes the abyss
Is within, calling itself humanity.

- the flesh craves life

Like a forest of insomnia
Suddenly awakened by a fire,
The soul sees all its lives lived.

The life is dried up,
The river has no source
And the living waters are dried:

Vanish soul,
Awaken in the corridor of wombs,
Be born again and fill
The bottomless being,
   The pregnant life
Of a tired soul awaiting the depths
Of understanding, confusingly conflicting.

- the body wants to feel

This is the bottom
Where souls meet and find
That the darkness resides inside them,
A silence befalls all-

Become the ocean that fills itself,,
Contemplate the premature death
Of stars that we constellated to
Our hopes and dreams,
Piece together the eclipse of understanding
That had escaped you until
Now,
The spiral concludes,
Immortal soul that cannot find
The light,
Children of the Master,
Return and fill the void,
You will hear in every life
That you have filled one cup
At a time,
And when you realize that your
Ordinary was extraordinary
Then the void is filled
And we return to our celestial navigation.

-the body wants to live

I can’t be delicate,
small, sad-looking and innerly folding,
my legs will never oragami-fold themselves
over my tired tired fat chest   .

I am blessed to be big, though
my *** is a curse, how it juts and forces
itself to be known by peoples’ eyes and
rudely introduces itself to chairs, knick knacks,

anything unfortunate enough to exist
within its gargantuan wake  .

I am blessed to be huge but small,
I am blessed to warmly ******* and spill
my flesh over everything I touch & taste;

I am forced to give myself up to
the world, to give my huge body up as
comfort to the multitudes of humans
I love and crave and want and dream up

because they will never find me small and cowered,
will never offer their bodies
to comfort mine, assuming instead that
my huge warmth can sustain its
own flame .

My own body can’t contain the
sad swells and lovely lakes that surge
and bash against its own hide  --- - ---

that’s why my stretch marks
leak and tendril their way
around my arms,
my belly folds,
my underloved thighs,

and I wonder why we both want
to tender my fire
to a low smolder
and let it fade out

do we
think that trees with thick
lush, curved and pink
foliage are somehow
whole-er
than trees with paperthin leaves?

my bark still craves
the sun, which sometimes
comes in the form
of human flesh

I can’t be delicate,
small, sad-looking and innerly folding,
my legs will never oragami-fold themselves
over my tired tired fat chest   .

I am blessed to be big, though
my *** is a curse, how it juts and forces
itself to be known by peoples’ eyes and
rudely introduces itself to chairs, knick knacks,

anything unfortunate enough to exist
within its gargantuan wake  .

I am blessed to be huge but small,
I am blessed to warmly ******* and spill
my flesh over everything I touch & taste;

I am forced to give myself up to
the world, to give my huge body up as
comfort to the multitudes of humans
I love and crave and want and dream up

because they will never find me small and cowered,
will never offer their bodies
to comfort mine, assuming instead that
my huge warmth can sustain its
own flame .

My own body can’t contain the
sad swells and lovely lakes that surge
and bash against its own hide  --- - ---

that’s why my stretch marks
leak and tendril their way
around my arms,
my belly folds,
my underloved thighs,

and I wonder why we both want
to tender my fire
to a low smolder
and let it fade out

do we
think that trees with thick
lush, curved and pink
foliage are somehow
whole-er
than trees with paperthin leaves?

my bark still craves
the sun, which sometimes
comes in the form
of human flesh