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 Oct 2 JoJo Nguyen
maria
Like a weightless, wordless mime,
like a baby bird watching mother fly,
I’ll follow your lead like a dancer,
copy your moves to avoid the red laser.

New to this world and in over my head,
you’ll hold my hand as we walk the thread.
You’ll explain the rules and guide my hand,
as I hold my breath and remember to stand.

Weak in the knees and warm in the heart,
I can’t rush the finish before we even start.
I’ll slow my pace and keep the tempo
and caution what feelings are prone to grow.
With an old secret
I sank into her endless eyes
Pondering over laws
That effected such marvel
And leased me to madness
Words were melting in my mouth
She, refraining her turn of phrase
A tear rolled down my cheek
Stirring passion's tongue
A tear rolled down hers
Wielding my soul ablaze
I rejoiced in silence
Lest i betray my confidence
She handled my eyes
Spotting my inference
I could no longer bear
The fruits of my fear
I leaned over and touched
Her sculptured nails tenderly
Freeing my emotion
She smiled coyly
Sealing my devotion.
Dig deep poet;
You too reader;

Commandment One:

Both must obsess to possess,
Air the curvature of each line
shape with two hands, creasing and
no ceasing not till the air waves have filled
your flushed face with compressed comprehensions

You weep as you compose!
Good!
The well of tears where hid
the pool of emotions
in cavernous reservoirs
in the center of your
gravity,
needs a daily tapping,
a draining, a purification,
a quenching sweet and
raucous

where you dig, salted water will come

in the soiled, imperial but imperfect body/mind cappuccino,
there are swirls of treasures, sins and histrionics
that need discovery, expiation, expulsion,
when~then, object is surgically removed,
accept surging water will desoil,
and you can revel
in the revelation
of honest effort

Debate Commencement:

reveal, which, what and how
much, how much? how much?
(this reverbs)
what must be shared,
what must be reburied,
what must be refuted,
what must be reconstructed,
refurbished,
and what must be
demolished & deconstructed

ah, but as soul judge,
you hold yourself to a higher standard,
but in all of this but two constraints rule:

the quality of the recalled data,
the quantity of storage space delimitation

do not tease us with rivulets, nor bury
us under thunderous rushes of memories
spilling and cresting with a reek of abandon,
unless, you’re abandoning the memory en tout,
giving us your newly orphaned all innermost,
then, we must accept the product of your labor,
whether it be spoiled fruit or glorious
                            truth

Tuesday Apr 16
8:32AM
(the year of pollard, a/k/a 2024)
inspired by dancers and choreographers speaking about the sources of creativity @Guggenheim New York
 Apr 13 JoJo Nguyen
avery
All of your music is in my head
So today I’m listening to streets you don’t walk
And people you don’t talk to
I’m hearing nothing but your voice
So today I’m talking over it
With no hopes I won’t bore it
I’m turning your fumes into flowers
Your screams that are fueling my noisy head
I’m walking faster and farther
And you are filling in a grave you dug yourself
Toxicity bring about buckets of words
Dreams of a lovers skin
Speaking of defeat among men
Pride
Bodies in the woods
Again feeling pure wounds
Sold
Crawling from a womb
Songs
Weight
Asked
Fallen power to collect
A ruined dress
There are memories missing from you that one day will be stepped upon in thoughtless falter
The past me is a bit haunting
Struggling to believe that I could ever be
Always hitting the wall, afraid to fall, yet always failing for my dreams to come true at all
Pretending that I’m strong enough
Brave enough to not feel the pain
Yet, the past is haunting me a bit
Like a broken,  damaged frame
Unable to hold the still picture in my mind
Freezing up like old times
Black and white
Snowy and pixelated with fear
The past me is a bit haunting
Struggling to ever believe that someone like me would ever be
But, here I am
Stronger than I ever was before
Stomping down all the doors of the past me…
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