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 Aug 2015 Jeremy Rascon
irsorai
I live constantly between reality and Illusion.
I don’t know where ends or begins the other.
What’s reality? Isn't illusion part of reality?
Or is reality part of illusion? But what’s illusion after all?

Between thin lines,
I see the shore of those broken ideas.
Along the springs of my heart,
I see flows against tides.

Where do I belong?
What do I seek?
It is me or does everything seem blurry?
I am a capital energy of this passivity place.

I am real. Am I?
Copyright © irsorai
 Aug 2015 Jeremy Rascon
ryn
Lend me your eyes.
So I could fill them
with the bursting stars.
Telling tales of the spellbinding universe,
singing songs of exploding suns...
and of splintering quasars.

Lend me your thoughts.
So that if I may,
write of them.
Fantastical scribbles of love
and praise.
Meticulously lined
and carefully stitched...
with immaculate lace at the hems.

Lend me your breaths.
I'd catch them as they fall...
between the words you would say.
Merging mine with yours...
introducing colour...
and vigour
to my monochromatic world of
black, white and grey.

Lend me your heartbeats...
for mine thumps erratic.
As if beating in silent mock.
I depend on the steadiness in yours.
So they could usurp
the ticks of worldly clocks.

Lend me your hands.
Palms up as a sign,
perhaps as an invitation...
for me to take them.
And maybe...
hopefully fill them...
with mine...
 Aug 2015 Jeremy Rascon
Ysabelle
You are the bee
And I am the flower.
You cling, and sipped
My nectar.
Sweet that is bitter.
Because with no words,
You just left.
It's a sad, sad life.
  
Going through days without worry,
                                       without fear,  
                                            of being judged by someone in the sky you've never met.

It's heartbreaking and pathetic.

Following morals that feel right,
                                       felt in your heart,
                                           instead going by ancient word in a "holy" book.

I am stupid, I am ignorant.

I believe differently than you, and I shall be outcast,
                                                      condemened to eternal hell,
                                                         because you disagree with me.

Is this what your "God" really wants?
I usually don't go bashing religions, but today I've felt particularly upset and offended, especially since my own mother told me I was "stupid" after I told her I was an Atheist.
i'm not religious,
not even in the slightest way,
but when i look into your eyes
i see heaven.
and the streets are
paved with gold,
just as the flecks around your iris
in the light.
i taste redemption on your tongue.
i drink it up.
if there is no heaven,
there's no hell.
but i have been there and back,
for this, i am sure of.
the heat rose from the tip of my toes
to the scalp of my head.
i have seen demons.
i have seen the dark.
no light. no salvation.
but i'd pray,
if i prayed,
for a second chance with heaven.
sew on the pair of angel wings
back into my shoulders.
open the gates.
i have been on my knees for you
and don't think i won't do it again.
Through the eyes of an artist the world is transformed into a magical place
Nothing is as it seems
The only limits are within a dream
But if their world becomes mundane, the darkness seeps in
Running like a hamster in a wheel
So fast, so hard but going nowhere
Every day chores start to cloud the mind
Mindless zombie moving through life
Reliving the same day over and over
The beauty and magic fades away
Work, Home, Sleep
Work, Home, Sleep
Stuck in the twilight zone of routine life
Slowly becoming blind to the mirage of wonder each place or experience may offer
Existing not Living
is a death sentence to an artist of any kind.
It’s ridiculous to try
To comprehend whether you tasted
Bitter or sweet in my mouth
All these years.
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