LOVE

To be put in a position that rips at your heart strings and beats at your LoVe drums.
To juxtapose an addiction in an enigmatic embrace of your undying passion!
These things are said and written to confuse, when LoVe is simply a pure representation of your inner muse.

Never be ashamed of the LoVe you find, you will know its true it will reveal itself, no matter the gulf.

LoVe finds you it always has....it always will...it always does....regardless

Note what i say! LoVe is a creature too beautiful to be erased, misunderstood and abused, a secret, a clue.

LoVe will eventually find its way, no purchase and no pay, one day it will lead you along the right light , bright light of tomorrows
promises....
Today.....

The pain inside never stops it just becomes a comfort for a fool,
a a fool way down on his luck.  A desensitized part of me that I get accustomed to, like a tattoo, or punching a brick wall, till the anger stops.

Sometimes it takes a day, sometimes its feels like an eternity,
I will never lose this pain that ways heavy on my heart, It has become a part of me, like a scar that still hurt me, or a demon tormenting me......
which sadly I have accepted and draw into my darkest depths of my scarred and scorned heart.

I’m not upset, but forever impartially saddened,
accepting it is a part of life that must exist,
to fulfill that which I was from higher functions;put to enlist.

At least that’s how it feels......
Why is it that this must be a part of me?
I always wanted to just have happiness and good Karma around me, but in a world where violence corruption, hate angst, vindictiveness,
negativity, depravity
and general loss of respecting another persons perspective of his own unique reality.

You have to learn to appreciate bad to be able to do the little good that you can, with the little good that’s left after you are tainted by the hate in this world,
from other people who try to make you suffer so that you seem a little more normal, like the other members of our wonderful hypocritical society.

When its not the rest of the world you generally interact with,
that’s crushing you down like a ten ton hammer on top of your naïve papier mache crown;
You have it from within, from your own ****** vessel inside!
With a whim so strong, it could lead you in a beat!, to start lamenting to a beautiful stranger your deepest -  secrets, desires, wants and thoughts in a very badly written mating song.

All for what? wonders the reader of this terrible rant;
Well!, your in luck I’ll tell you and all it costs is your faith in lady luck.....
simply put – Just to know you did, rather than always wondered, even though in the end you knew way before hand that you were ******!....but your emotions empower you without care, and you think from your heart instead of your head, you go strong and true, to your melancholy demise into an infinite sadness……
that thing called love….
I Wish you a Bon Voyage!, you dumb struck, down on your luck, cupids tamohawk missile through your stubborn Heart; PUTZ……1 LOVE…..…..9-April-2012.

To feel this passion again, as natural as blood flow the electronic rhythm in a pen.
My fingers tap-tap, click-clack machine gun attack as my imagination blows away at this crazy syntax.
heading throbbing again mind flooding over again where is my pen?? where is my pen!!, over and over and over again....
This will be long, much like an over played song, but the vibe is there the rythm jagged but strong, undulating like a soca song, but so much farther along........I have to go in this written song.

Where does the fuel come from at the end of the day? so i say , so i pray....... the fuel to push along with each tumultuous day. Look around! everywhere is a mess! and civilizations are crashing down, half of them relaise even less seem to stress,
Not a political soul, but a humanitiarian? i would like to think.... as far as my darkness inside allows; unpredictablility in oneself and in what lies ahead, but headstrong enough to go through knowing its a must rather than a wasted doubt.

I think its time i lent my pen down another 40 days and 40 nights, all ten of my eager companions;i shall rest them now, so for another day lies more interesting tirades of unrest.

Sleep well my daughter sleep well my child. Daddy sleeps well knowing your right next to him sleeping tight in snug innocence, oh what a forgotten delight.