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MB Aug 2013
Authors: Two misunderstood teenagers

(a.l) Do you believe in soul mates?
    (m) I absolutely do; I believe I may have met mine just recently in fact. I believe that two souls are destined to eventually cross paths and feed off each other's mindsets.

(a.l) if I may ask, how do you know? And what makes you believe that everyone has a soul mate? And evolving around Plato's Symposium, how does the sun and the moon become into the soul mates topic? I'm just curious to why people fall in love with people who don't love them back but claim to be soul mates.
    (m) I've found that everyone's mind is compatible with another. I'm not the one to fall for "fake" mates of the soul. Simply, if two minds are exactly identical and feed off the energy of one another, I feel it may be destine to become soul mates. The sun and the moon are the reasons for all life imaginable, they feed off each other, so I view them as soul mates.

(a.l) How do you know if someone is your soul mate? And what about the topic of "opposites attract" if one has the same mind as another, wouldn't they clash or may they be more compatible?
   (m) Honestly this topic is utterly impossible to decipher to another unless they were upon the same theory. Opposites in things other than the soul attract, thus the two souls become one.

(a.l) Interesting, i'm intrigued by Plato's mind. Simply, because ive never seen a couple that was completely right for each other. What other theories do you believe in?
  (m) The Human Matrix! How we are all somehow connected by choices and accidental collisions. This is merely the mind of a philosophy student.

(a.l) Tell me more about this Human Matrix theory, does it have to do with fate or chance? How about consequences of the choices we make?
   (m) It's a theory of how the universal alignment is caused by simulations of human minds and creation.

(a.l) So the universe is just a part of our imagination, nothing is real?
   (m) Yes, the universe relies off of human invention, since not a single soul can truly determine the creation of it. The Multiverse theory expresses that it is all a figment of imagination; the start of time itself.

(a.l) That's fascinating, how everything and nothing is real, a paradox really! Why do people that talk about and what comes after it?
   (m) I believe we are all born only to eventually see our deaths, to meet death himself. People have a mindset that after death is oblivion. Simply out of comfort.

(a.l) But isn't death oblivion already? I mean we don't truly understand what happens after it, I usually think that maybe we aren't really dead or heaven/ reincarnation doesn't exist, but no one ever knows.
   (m) I feel that those who have been able to experience a death-relevant situation are the only few souls who may know the outcome of death itself.

(a.l) So what are your views on death, and the consequences? What are your beliefs that just how humans (some) know the outcomes of their choices but still do the wrong things. What is really right and wrong, why do people fall in love with the wrong people? I'm rambling, I just like your mind so much, and I feel like people like you have a cast mind instead of the normalcy of narrow minded people today.
  (m) Death is an outcome of the suffering one endures in living. I feel one must experience pain and happiness to only add up to the altercation of life itself and the battle of dying. All human consequences occur no matter the mind state of death, its inevitable.
  
(a.l) Does death always have to be a battle?
   (m) It's a battle of the complexity of life itself, and how it strives to conquer all living beings.

(a.l) That's a great theory! Your mind is simply flawless!
Exhale Your Mind Mar 2016
If you ask me how my mind works,

I would have no words to define
No poems that can describe
You would have to step inside

My mind is a maze.
Guided by maps of conversations
Lost between walls of questionmarks

If you ask me how my mind works,

I would invite you in.
But there's no guarantee you'll find your way out.
Bon voyage.
Traveler Dec 2014
Am I a poet or a writer
Am I a wise man or a fool
The answer is all of the above
Yes it feels good to be popular
But what glory is there in hiding
The vastness of our other mindsets
I feel more than empathy
I feel pain, anger, resentment
I am happiness and sadness
Wrapped in one mind and so much more
My writings are different parts of who I am
My legacy of writings
Beautiful, messy, vague
****** up or strangely weird
As they seem
Are parts
Of the whole me
The real me...
I hope to inspire creativity
Are you trapped in a box?
Show us a piece of your mind
We haven't seen yet
LD Goodwin Apr 2013
Dancing freely between shades-of-gray thoughts,
they are not me.
I am the stage on which they act their role.
Laugh at their voice,
serene bliss-filled peace lay amid mindsets.
Childish antics
play their someday-one day game all in vain,
and would rather suffer than lose themselves.



*Cavatina:
The Italian form consists of a ten (10) syllable non rhyming line alternating with a four (4) syllable rhyming line, at least three (3) times and completed with a ten syllable line couplet.

I had some help with this one, I borrowed some phrases from E. Tolle
Harrogate, TN  April 24, 2013
Randi B  Feb 2012
Transit Jungle
Randi B Feb 2012
the urban ecosystem
breeds the urban beast;
the two-legged feral brute

they board their clockwork motorcages
the young ones in predatious packs
the old, too weathered to care
animal autonomy
born from sweatshop routines

i imagine myself
as a metropolitan jane goodall
observing and assimilating
taking note of the cacophony of
hoots and and hollers
the city-born mating calls
the high-topped courtship dances
******* civility born from enslaved mindsets

a young, dark-skinned boy
let's rhyme flow freeformed
to the rhythm of a young girls dancing feet
stomps and claps excite the celebration
of abandoned social etiquette
and of my foreign presence

i resemble some exotic missing link
a mix of this, that and the other
my skin, a rare quilt
and this draws more attention
than a gold-dusted african queen

i place myself in the back
peering through the windows of this transit jungle
feeling my heart skip beats
boom...boom...shhhh...
i must've left my rhythm in my other heritage
because i can't catch the ancient flow
but my neck leads my head in bobs

my brain rattles with old soul memories
and i see these young folks on the train
held back by centuries of black struggle
but forever rejoicing in african pulse
forever embodying our ancestoral pride

and i think, how peculiar
on the outside looking in like a fishbowl
exiled from my own brown-skinned tribe
with my oppression fitted like a glove
my blackness a mere disguise
my blackness camouflage
my blackness
not quite
black
enough
La Mer  May 2015
Gem; en; i
La Mer May 2015
The darkness upon your face is beautiful
while the world is vast; winding rivers take over the nightfall,
I think about your face during the night,
when the moon and owls sing; while I am the moon
Mountain peaks are covered with snow; the world turns endlessly
yet I am still a Gemini by birth; my thoughts are forever changing,
A semi-colon representing my thought process,
forever endless and a constant stream,
like rivers at the nightfall, of dissimilar mindsets.
Hannah  Feb 2014
Moving Muscles
Hannah Feb 2014
I'm barefoot in 46 degrees and I must remember that my perception of things must not encapsulate how I truly perceive. Soldered commentary  is bleak but is all I've left, all my years have given me and my years have been few.
To be constantly bombarded with the question, "what is it that I really want?" is fervently exhausting and consistently hypocritical and I'm a hack. The conclusion is always that I'm a hack without a win to present or a failure to fall back upon. As a hack, I've left myself with very few plans to alter or hungry mindsets to feed.
After glistening the only thing that remains is to burn out and the thought of extinguishing so prematurely provokes a physical falter and frequent respiratory failure.
Ask your brother if he lingers at times. Ask your sister if sometimes, she means what she says and she should always say no. Ask your friends why you should be anyone's friend and whether or not the chance to swing into hyperbolic criticism ever affects how they make their choices, hoof their steps.
Their answer should always be no and their input should always be invaluable.
Ask yourself if brain power should always be set to alter mind power and ask yourself is alteration is ever even possible. The answer should always be no.
The conclusion to draw should always be his. The choices you make, always expert and ground out by consistent respiratory failure. Ask yourself if you'll always be an animal and when will that stop. Ask yourself if time will determine whether or not this "thing" is worth doing or this "thing" is worth composing. Ask yourself why you're not the young girl who sings soul on the street, whose tremble sets off car alarms and inner requisitioning. The answer will never be the same.
Daisy Arcos Oct 2015
We were born into a world of shallow minds and deep disturbances of young millennials mimicking mindless mimes because we were told to stay in line but be yourself but follow me but think "originality."

A generation full of copycatting individuals with monotone mindsets mulling over social ladders and trends dictated by invisible monarchs of industry inviting and spoon feeding insecurities masked as improvements.

A generation spending more time pretending not to care than on passions stifled by our peer pressuring playmates who are all prescribed Vyvanse, Adderall, Ritalin for their incurable imaginations deemed "learning disabilities."

A generation of temporary friendships because no one can connect with each other but we can connect to the internet and chat with strangers and share thoughts, photos, and secrets to a virtual audience that loses interest in an entanglement of wires forming a noose around our sincerity.
Inspired by "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg.
Black girl roots.
Black girl magic, stemming from their black girl roots.
From their magical skin, full lips and hips, beautiful roots of their hair
Is the genetic anatomy of a black female that incomprehensible?
Full lips on display lined with collagen filled comments,
the peanut gallery of social media filled with distasteful outrage by the same things they inject to achieve yet,
riots on social media streets over the distasteful cultural misappropriation of all that is black yet,
It's distasteful to live somewhere, to live here, beautiful islands bathed in sun and filled with black people that aren't even conscious of their background...that aren't conscious of their 'blackness'.
To be so ashamed of their blackness. Their very roots.

Ashamed of their roots.  What a time to be ignorant Trevor.
Black History Month is now, yet there’s a rampage to eradicate the very aesthetics of blackness rather than appreciate them.
Dear colonialized principal of C.R. Walker High School, quit.
Dr. Claudius Roland Walker, the school’s namesake, built a hotel for blacks who were being discriminated against and
I imagine he would build a coffin for your revulsion of all things black,  
We’ve moved past your self-hate and the disdain you have for your very roots.
Black hair is beautiful and can never be unkempt. Let me say that again.
Black hair is beautiful and can never be unkempt.
Black hair is a statement that you and nobody that inhabits
this dying planet has the authority to deem untidy or inappropriate.
It took our ancestors far too long to comb through fields of complications
the root being wearing their natural hair and through natural hair movements
to have some nescient minded leader deem it disheveled.
Our roots have permitted our black skin magic, we absorb the rays of the sun,
magicians, and for my final trick, watch my skin glow like gold
dripping like wet paint onto a canvas of unfinished art
left behind by our old souls.

Oh my black people,
a juxtaposition of media sensationalism led by governmental lies, descendents of slave owners insisting that our black hair is something to be ashamed of,
it seems we have our heads so far up our own *****
we're getting too used to the essence of sh-t.
Then the chant goes up, the battle cry,
"This isn't the United States, there's no misogyny, there's no racism, there's no-"
Shut-up.
"Are you angry?"
No, I'm black and I'm angry!

Our mindsets rooted in the prevalence of self hatred, leaves of mighty oaks desperate to remove themselves from their very roots,
requesting emancipation from the very ones that have us enslaved,
begging to be cut loose from the European hand
consciously and subconsciously unshackling the left as we tie the right.
but where are you going?
When has a plant ever survived without its roots?
How dare we neglect the nutrients our ancestors left behind and chase the suicidal pesticide made to eradicate our total being?

Dear god if you're listening, as the cry of former sages went up I also cry,
emancipate yourselves from mental slavery and take me back to my golden home,
where I belong.
Take me back to the very roots I am taught to be ashamed of,
so that I may feel the energy of what once was.
Take me back so that I may cultivate my roots. Take me back so that I may live to tell the truth.
Just take me back.
My people deserve the truth as I find them in the lie,
smearing the proverbial “creamy crack” on hair and skin,
My people deserve more than a painted picture of Cesare Borgia Son Of Alexander Pope 6 as Jesus.
My people deserve to know that Jesus was black and that the Catholics were snakes in the grass abusing their power during their time of reign. Uh oh, the snaps got quiet.
Oh but my people deserve to know that perceived infallible Bible they see today has been edited and destroyed to hide the secrets. Why?
When mama and grammy worship pictures of “Jesus”, why wouldn’t white be right?
Jesus in the pictures mama, he’s a white man, he has straight hair, he’s the savior,
aren’t we supposed to be just like him?  
but
Little black girl with your, black girl magic and your,
magical skin, full lips and hips, beautiful roots of your hair
your crown, your skin, is beautiful. Your roots are strong.
Got excellent help from a friend named Gail on this piece.

— The End —