The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness
  Ready and poised to wax or wane;
A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,
  Tending to pleasure or to pain:--
Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness
  To perfect loss or perfect gain.

Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;
  This world is all on wax, on wane:
When shall completeness round time's incompleteness,
  Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?--
Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness
  To finished loss or finished gain.

Standing before the masterpiece
she lamented it's incompleteness,
nothing ever gets completed in universe
thank homeostasis for the illusion

We are like two guitar picks
They are all so unique
Different shapes
Different sizes
Different textures
Different smells
Different feels
Different beings
But we
We are identical
Just like each other
And we play music that is so different
No one gets it
No one figures it why
But so it is
And only we can get what flows out of it
Strumming along in dischord
And harmony too
You’re just like me
And I am just like you
But we have our own guitars
And that is where our melody flows
The music all so complete
All so perfect
That it makes you just not believe
Coz things cannot be perfect
For nothing ever is complete
For beauty lies in incompleteness
And imperfection
And we with our guitars
Are just so ****** perfect
That it bleeds me to see us that way
If only guitar picks like us
Were left alone with each other
And never touched or disturbed
We wouldn’t get around to do anything
For the two of us
Are of the same kind
We can’t get music out of us
Or each other
Coz we are no guitars
And we won’t have them
Or anything else
But just each other
Two guitar picks
With the same lives
Touch
Smell
Shape and design
The only two unique
That no one else can match
That no one else can get
And there we lie together in the corner
No one to ruffle us
Just left to ourselves
And we lie there
By our sides
And we can’t play no music
And we can’t strum a song
Coz we are two guitar picks
Without nothing else
Without no guitars
But only ourselves
Which is just so ****** incomplete
And so imperfect
So mighty beautiful..

smoke.

the smell of nicotine
rests on my black
graphic t-shirt.

the dwell of misery
rests on my back,
while music reverbs.

my black vans are
filthy with the weight
of pain.

a wallet,
filled with little notes.
writings from her
in my back pocket.

a very lonely bench awaits
my place as i sit and
try to out smoke
this familiar mental state.

i look out into the
water ahead, the creek’s
liquid mirror reflecting
her aura.

“oh god, not again.”

a sudden and sharp spike
of sadness runs through
me, a longing tear trails
my frozen cheeks.

then i remember him,
and how much i miss him.

i remember him calling out
for me along with mom,
and how harmoniously my
heart would pump gallons
upon gallons of hot burning
blood.

hot burning love.

i take another drag to mask
the molecules of reality
that i wish i wouldn’t have
to inhale.

i look up
at the aligning stars,
and by the grace
of the god i do not
believe in
do i tell you
that i let out a cry
so loud, that he himself must’ve
felt heaven shake.

with water flooding
my brown eyes, i
yelled and pleaded
whatever being
that could hear me
to end me, because

i tell you that
all this pain,

of missing certain people,
of longing for lost love,
of experiencing incompleteness,
of feeling so ******* unable to stand up,
of combatting the poison guilt is,

drags.

at my soul,
harder
than cigarette

smoke.

-melancholicreator

below the eyelid-waves,
another iridescence grows.
currents blur the view in pentacles of light
to rhythms of the waning breath
--warping what an artist's vision yields,
the canvas of the mind stretched taut
in hues to coalesce the old and new,
absorb the intertidal volumes
with keener intake,
firmest diaphram to lift the pressure out
and sink into pelagic origins finally,
imbue myself poseidonal,
renew the birth of "love"

i am soaking with it,
open mouthed my cry is swallowed by the sea
i am a kracken echinoidea
******* up the floor
of life exchanging me with joy--
of jellyfish and snail,
burrowed shrimp, eyeful gobies,
clowns in their anemones--
my spires swirling clouds of green
to carpet spotted sky with verdant wake
and springing there,
from crest to crest,
a body undulating foam, it rolls voluptuous to swell
the bioluminescent instant... taken in the vast, full span of time...
to see her born here,
'mid dolphin song and symbol crash of tide
protuberance of shore awash in seeming pleasure of the rhythmic act--
alive the goddess comes, into her flesh--
to widen eyes,
re-establish channels to the heart
as if an aperture of cloud
were opening again,
to end an ancient overcast
and usher down to earth
the lance of starlight that would reach beyond the wrecks of ocean depth...

so too her visage strikes the darker corners of the heart
illumes all buried hopes
of bottom dwelling wretchedness,
and draws the tide above the line,
littoral tresses falling,
steep in pools calcareous and algal
worlds remaking worlds within the contours sexing there
imagined limestone in your many perfect forms,
marble softness swimming in my eyes
awaken appetites of newfound youth again.
the ochre lines that stripe along your curves
let hidden ripeness waft across my passion-eye
and with the grassy dunes i lie, doze in wrack at once--
as arches of my sight are pierced with rays of inner sun
my seabreath muse purveys, inhaled;
i would see you as you are entirely,
disperse myself into aesthetic mist,
become the spray on coastal loam
a sundog floating in and out of forms
become your mullusk lust;
sipuncula embrace of benthic dust
and slip along the textures
of your progenation's flood--
emerge as one and many lives
becoming me, this vision
in your suds, your divination's scree
--the salty rooting of the coastal trees,
the sand, the wave and moon
upon the dancing kelp forestal out at sea...
shining in the winking foam and symbiota sand.
crevice and the length of dyads simulating one,
phallus, *****, and none--
egg and **** bed..
diatoms  flourishing  again...
in you i am the ****** my own gestation obviates
i am effluxion of all lives in balance
on an ever-swaying crestline of irruptive suds--
diaphanous array upon your porous *****'s heave
weaving in and out, continuing to blur
in riven sight and empty heart to fill
the blood containing rapid urgency
to feed, to taste and seek its nourish-all
when after having given up the possibilities of love
and having worn the incompleteness raw,
the obverse affirmation cracks the sky...
at last they burst surreal into the now
and lacking practice courting glory
stumble over habits long attuned to falsities unveiled
and drawn into your undertow,
all cravings wrung into the novelty of merging without end--
arrive, horizonal, and echo from the dawn of being more than one




.

The loneliness permeate down into the toes, walking along the sidewalk
The streets seem empty, vacant faces, hurried bodies avoiding the solace of a simple hello, their trifling stares stabbing at their incompleteness

Write pain only because the voice cannot verbalize it. We don't understand it. We don't want to
Trifling affairs taking us up, consuming us, completing us, then draining us
Walking life avoiding others, their daring greetings, their trifling

They, too, walk along the sidewalks and the gutters, getting tripped up on their own despairs Listen not to Dante's doom, that abandonment is futile
Futile fallacies, our trifling forays, our misfortunes
Street along, you masses, you unforgettable, delving into yourselves, forgetting

You cannot understand it, those trifling friendships
How do they compare to the miseries you trudge through, swamped in that which hold you back, slows you down, drowns you, chokes you

Your only connect is the carelessness of your incompleteness, contagious of complaints

That cracked sidewalk, tripping you up in its unevenness
Your shoes have rubbed out their souls, toes slamming their unending pressures
You feel defeated and oppressed. Yet you walk on

Why do you not just stop and rest? The lonely road does not end, it continues on and on unceasingly, its seasons one big blur
Year in and year out your days numbered as nothing but trifling affairs, your greetings to fellow walkers rare as encouragement from within. You have become swollen in refusing refuge from those that share that uncaring sidewalk
You balk at accepting a hand to take that lonely walk with you, it is just another pair of loneliness who seeks companionship, who only seeks to cease their own trifling affairs

Lend not your own complaints, but console and be consoled in the greeting of a walk together

Speak the truth and the lies burn out of your life, termites and dust mites shout screaming out because of the fumed existence and pandemonium of the right accord of good things coming into your life

From the time the Creator Parents disobeyed the Law of One, The Father of the Universe has set out to create an Army or Allegiance to help Him polarize back to other Creator Parents, His Brothers, so to return to the Sound and True Light of  FATHER, to be embraced in the arms of Mother, HAROON, to trade tricks with the Priest Son, RAJ.   Many efforts have been made throughout the aeons to achieve this.

This Army then, some might call the Justice League, The Thunder Tribe, The Eliminators, The Time-Travelling Angels, and so on, have been going out to galaxies incarnating as the most common life-form there. On Earth, the conditions have been symbolic with many imbalances, lies, evils, greed and corruption.

Now because these beings or soldiers had given up their own will, what is called freewill, to serve a Higher Purpose; their assignments or missions on the planets they incarnate make for a refined and rapid understnading of life and thus at most, they die very young. They return to a more spiritual state than when they had first incarnated.
There is a story about such an angel who was a reverand who incarnated into a rich human family that owned trucks. So as he grew up he had lessons learned from his home planet ringing at the back of his head, he taught humans humanistic values, to turn the other cheek which means enduring circumstances really, being selfless, earning an honest living, reaching out to higher levels of vibration through doing good deeds one day at a time and treating the body as a temple.

Now because not all humans are the same or at the same dimension and process of spiritual evolution, some students who had been respecting these teachings that stem from the Law of One were progressing in spirituality and were basically living their dreams, it was then up to them to warn about disregarding those laws. Because humans have flaws, some members of this Higher Learning were growing jealous and some dropped out and stopped attending, resorting to having money to salvage their insecurities, having lustful engagements with multiple women to avoid loneliness and the worship of materials to absolve their incompleteness.  

Others were unfair such that they suggested that learners who had earned their colours or accolades be stripped off or not duly compensated and recognized and instead work for them so they can complete their own missions with which they were struggling. See it is important to stress that while these angels were selfless and generous they did not come to wipe the buttocks of impatient, foolish, selfish, irresponsible and greedy men. Those who were done, it was good for them they moved closer to the heavens and experienced the paradise the best parts of their hearts had always dreamt.

It was not a competition of sorts but for like of understanding, it can be seen as a race, drivers, runners or combatants on a track to reach the eternal lap where they live their destinies and eat from the fruits of immortality in the secret garden of heaven. In a prospect it can be seen as an attempt to find Eden. Because it is not a competition, merely a progress taking place at different paces, places, phases and environments. Those who had done well and were competent to ride at the next wave and dimension simply went there to continue in their learning, a cascading journey of life, on Earth or in the Afterlife, once they were done they became immortal and lived outside of time which meant they then waited for those who were still coming.  Oracles have it that this angel-soldier, Julo, chose a truck family because this family had an influence to change the way cars would drive, ~cars being the wings of angels in reality~, not only that but roads would be preserved so the riders would see clearly where they were going and how much length or path and time they had left; the awareness of this creates an urgency to learn about important principles and values in life, so then creating gates to divinity and pathways for the life-forms of that realm to live out their purpose and find refuge which is the home in heaven.

With this understanding it was acknowledged that when lovers become parents, the children weren't obliged to be the replay of their parents' lives, in other words props for their parents to act out a story until they could find perfection. It was a wave or energy field that would allow humans to experience divinity throughout all 14 dimensions, transforming into angelic beings once they reach 15, this was a re-Genesis of Heaven. To finally find the Resort and learn the mistakes that occured when Cosmic Mother, Callia was preganant with Artola. It was about the Ark of the Covenant, The Challice, The Holy Grail... Divinity, Beauty, Love. Liberty of Lifelihood

There are many gifts in God’s great creation
All part of His great economy of the order of things
The gift of breath
The gift of song and of music
The gift of life, of image, of love
The gift of all things
The gift of even --dare I say it-- death
He gifted all things that are

All is gifted unto us
All is given by the Triune God
In all gifted, there was still incompleteness
There was nothing to respond to God
So constructed into the image of God
Comes a gift better than any gift before given
With the breath of God flowing to our lungs
Wearing a crown of the honor and glory of God

This gift, these people- Us
He says to explore
He says to see the world that we have been gifted
To unwrap the gifts given
To gift our gifts to the world that we are exploring
But there was this problem, a tree
It was not a gift, in fact it was forbidden
Yet still, we unwrapped it, we took that which was not ours to take

We were overcome by death
Overcome by udder sadness
Overcome by sickness, and hurt
By this torturous, terrible thing
This terrible stolen anti-gift
And for it we paid a hefty price
We lost all we were
We lost all we were meant to be

No longer did we fulfill our meaning
Where we were to be gift givers
Where we were to be life to the world
Where we were to bless all things
We took that which was not offered
We broke our relationship with God
Not only did we suffer
But all creation suffered with and due to

Then came a new gift
A gift to restore
A gift to be freely taken
Yet a gift of great responsibility
This gift would set free
But also bind
This was a gift of all gifts
This was a gift to end all gifts

God Himself became man
Offering Himself unto death
So that all things could be made new
So all that was sad would become untrue
Now, as we were once to be
We could, ourselves, be gifts to the world
Blessing the world
Giving life to a lifeless

Our gifts were joined with Christ
With this gift, we would become like the gift we were
More like it than ever before
For Christ makes us more human than we've ever been
Where we would offer the world to The Father
And for the life of all things
Our priesthood would be restored
All things would be restored
All things would be made new
All sad things would come untrue
The world would be restored

Prepare the way!

I know wot steps not to take caused in me the previous mistakes

I have driven swiftly down memory lane, I have  now misled the old habits of incompetence, incompleteness and intolerance into isolation.

I have now become a thing of substance ready to be filled again but this time around I take responsibility for my choices.

In my head is the lyllaby of SPECIAL FRIEND singing

I oppose the feeling of remorse and hug tight love and self forgiveness.

U HAVE NO IDEA WHAT DIS MEANETH COS U HUNGERETH TO LEAD NOT