The love on the vein of my leaf// it lets me go but never leaves// each branch of tree, has it's own way of bleed// that stream of the century was thought to flow with the mermaids// with the ocean being the moons mirror, I sit between the crease and reflect my tears// ...an outcast willing to cast out// a straight line to the stars... An energy letting me surrender my love for the focus and concentrations of many// to the plenty who watch from above, I'm at the edge of the moon holding roses for offering// a truths to many wonderings// you could smell the forest from here, actually you could touch the end of the redwoods// earths figure once pure, she still stays loyal// community of rocks, the clay welcomes my feet// I took the shaman with me//

I'm tired of being told what to believe in, and what matters in life. Constant bombardment of stimuli, telling me what makes an artist, what good art is, who to elect, what to wear, what cause to take up. I already have my 20/20 vision, had it checked, verified, took it beyond the threshold and came back sans t-shirt. I don't need someone giving me the play by play 24/7 when I can already see this world, unfiltered and pure as it is.  I could mystify this sentiment further by adding in abstractions and platitudes signifying nothing, but I don't feel the need for my catharsis to waste anyone's time. You don't need me giving you advice anymore than I need advice or commentary.  I don't need backseat drivers or neologistic buzzwords and fortune cookie wisdom shoved down my throat to taste comprehension.  I know what I want. I'm not ashamed of that.  I grew up knowing only self doubt, and it would appear the Millennial M.O. is to float through life praising the "art" of self doubt. As if it is something worthy of praise to be crushed externally and internally, instead of working towards bolstering from within.  With the chaos of the modern era, systemic inequity, and politics as a fashion statement, I keep my inclinations for the most part buried until my voice reaches beyond masturbatory passive aggressive self aggrandizement.  It is hip to give a ****. But that's the problem.  Giving a **** has been reduced to a fashion statement, it's how we decide who we let in, who we talk to, who we ****, who we praise. If you keep up the right front you can make superficial fair-weather friends do for you.  Therein lies an acquiescence to societal woes and whims that counter-cultural kids always know exists in the back of their minds with a beleaguered smirk and a reminder to themselves that they're really just playing the part as they clock in to their jobs and message their friends about anarchy.  It's all a big game, depending on who you are determining what kind of game it is. Some people play the lottery and leave their existence up to chance because it's all they know.  Some people play a mean game of poker and act like they've got enough ability to bluff their way through this knowing they've got nothing stacked.   My game is chess.  I don't tell anyone what moves I'm planning, but I'm five moves ahead and I'm aiming to topple ****. I have to, it's the only thing that drives me, keeps me motivated. Self doubt is praised as a tool to spur on growth.  I don't need to doubt myself in order to grow, I have had enough people doing that for me.  Until I reach a precipice, until I have unmade myself and pushed beyond what anyone, (myself included) deems me capable of, I am an unreliable narrator, and my voice will carry no weight.

Nobody kills her footsteps in the after hour...
She follows a light to the dark sky...
No stars out tonight...
Purple gloom with a scent of blue and black...
The reason she screams at the fire...
She is the wolf, one with the moon...
One with the dance around the tomb...
The nights noise joins in softly...
How the light brushes the walls of the land...
Corrupting the skies with flames, couldn't smell no better...
The shaman of the village controls the weather...
But the moonlight dance, ends never...

The natives talk of the shaman at the hill...
Too many seasons passed, where no leaves fell...
They say he's responsible for making the panther blend in at night...
For the moon giving you opportunity to see passed life...
To realize that death, is nothing but a stage...
A process in every living thing not just man...
The flowers dance, the flowers nap...
The buffalo graze while the Indians laugh...
Peyote dreams, ancient rituals, where the blood is worshipped...
Where the pyramids align with the ideas of the star man...
An astronaut before the astronaut...
A spaceship at the ancestors eyes...
A sun god, earth, wind and fire...

Who dreams about the rise from failure
Pavement cold and beautiful at the same time
Perfection inside imperfection is high in itself
Black sand, under overcast emotions expand over the soul
The sol, the fire we need, to burn our guts with dare
Devils eyes inside your heart, but only you control it's release
From the moon they arise, for the dip to earth
Who will avenge the sacrifice of America
The blood inside the desks and all over the papers
Only if the outside could see the real freedom in her
She stands proud, majestic in disguise of disgust
Hands high for the wealthy and fortunate
They preach that the belongings of the native, belonged to them
That the buffalo were meant to die
That the green grass wasn't meant to lay in
That man and wolf couldn't hunt side by side
That we, would one day become superior to those not civilized
When indeed, it was we, who took that away from them
So preach on America, tell the beautiful lies about how gorgeous the moon is
When you know well enough, The face of things always please
How do you sleep at night?
Lay the real foundation, pull the sheets off the youth
Preach the real story, this land is not you

Hold your posture high, the tallest of the confidence/opportunity never tasted this good, with the ignorance of falling for the same exchange of goods/services overrated cause they were delivered by the desk job/brown and proud we fell from the family tree to reproduce/offers from the top, we turned em down, instead to learn on our own