" Dreammembering" Awash in the 8th sea of prelimerence as endless as the ocean Dreammembering a time of life defined by love's devotion creating moments that feel as real as now yet out of reach We held hands then and walked upon a perfect golden beach Golden light on the curve of cheek and your mane's dark chocolate strands We redefined "ourself" with loving eyes and touching hands Thoughts between our heart-minds making promises unspoken All our times of life on earth we hoped to share as one unbroken Reality cleaves our dream's edge as consciousness reawakens a sense of dread, the pang of loss, as love's left there forsaken prelimerence merged low on Wildcat beach by high tide it's enthralled We leave it weep-singing love's parting song like Alamere falls
Alamere Falls is a wilderness falls that empties a lake near a California coast that is accessible(Officially) only by a trail on Wildcat beach, that beach trail is submerged during high tide. It seems fitting the waterfall makes a weeping song, or the 8th sea would be of sea of pre-limerence and the freshwater mixing with the saltwater at the falls could weep a melody and the sound of parting from the lake and merging with the ocean itself could cry as they do in the dream theme. Weep-singing seems fitting to me. I referenced the beach trail here in this poem as the symbolic shutting off ( submerging) of the dreaming-remembering love state when awakening. I invented some words and places here combining dream with remembering and the nonexistent 8th sea which I define as an almost subconscious “emotional sea of hearts waiting to fall in love=prelimerence..” The term pre-limerence I've tacked together to describe the state of being in love with the idea of being in love, the state people are in before finding someone to be in limerence with. "Ourself" as being two people defined as "Two combined consciousness's of one self" Heartminds refers to the neuronel cells in the heart that communicates with our minds, and I suspect other hearts and minds as well. leaving it here before I destroy it all with overthinking,
I was born from my mother yet I’m still self made. I’m the way that i am now, today till my grave. I can change my ways but my path is already paved Life seems to be simple no need to explain. Whatever is left it’s left to be remained. February 9th I was born, so it’s my birthday! No party for me just another work day. The Adult Life! Bills must be First paid. Before happiness and gifts are exchanged. Life is sometimes sudden or prearranged. Life is just full of abundance or it’s plain. Yet I’m still me inside this brain. So, I give God all the glory as he reigns. My story is not over after the 9th more remains. If you didn’t know Aaron L. Osgood is my name. And February 9th 1986 is when I came! Although in my mother’s womb is where I became.
sometimes i think of the people i knew then people who no longer think of me, but i think of them and those few experiences i had with people and things that changed my perspective on life forever i remember feeling alone as alone as i feel now? that's something i can't answer in 9th grade, i wanted to be someone else i always did but then i met a girl her name i'll not say because then it will feel too real, and it won't just be me glorifying the worst year of my life into poetry this girl will never be erased from my mind she doesn't know the impact she had on me she doesn't know how much i secretly hated her but i loved her, too it was bittersweet i had wanted to be her friend since the 7th grade and then i was and then i wasn't i smoked my first cigarette with her well, not really i mean, i tried to i felt awful disgusting terrible and a wannabe then, in the sticky heat of june, we smoked **** i can still remember it so vividly i remember we got back to her house and that's where things went downhill i got paranoid and she started to ignore me does she hate me? yeah. and that was it next morning, she didn't really talk to me and then i left that was the last time i saw her i wasn't sad but i realize now that i'll never have a friend like her ever again and i'll never experience something like 9th grade ever again because now i am numb and alone i just want to be a regular teen go to parties, have fun, i don't know, whatever happens in the movies i guess i want someone to love me i want my first kiss i want things i'm too embarrassed to say and i will never get them i'll never get them goodbye 9th grade i want to forget you but i don't think i ever will even though it was so long ago all the experiences i had that changed me forever never again and then i will leave this town and never see anyone again and it hurts to say for some reason all the people i used to know our memories will stay with me forever but i need to go, i need to go i will never forget any of this, and the nostalgia of my entire life will always stick with me and it will be sad sickeningly sad because that's just me, thinking of people who never think of me
If there are wonders of worlds unknown it wouldn’t be found in this missive. All ingenuity and innovation of tenders and obscure precarious peasants in town are forgotten. A tailor-made war machine ingenious to no purpose, but disassembling of pragmatic purpose driven people by torts in similitude to lay-flat bacon with no flavor. Style was not the first itinerary as well, as reason and intellection more likely found slung out a window in the dark grey burdensome MOCO morning clouds to dry than the vestige of its unrecognizable token. At the day of the making of the great ingenious monstrosity of marvel the crown and the crowd were all in awe, awhile the people gathered in the halls giving pittance and lamenting what they saw. They were counted with their many items that they made not similar to the machine that they stood in obeisance for.
October 28th broke darkness to a drab MOCO morning as brilliant light gives way to long pale grey cloudy skies of foreboding obstruction. What has come to pass fills the streets with unfriendly noises. Obnoxious street sounds of trucks and rude commuters in the morning melting *** of the county seat steered a drab venture for the driven. For some, the events of the day couldn’t come too soon. A sober male erected himself in an uncomfortable bed, eyes raptured into a day fore lorn by prophets of paisley drapes and trinkets once despised. Little left to vacillate upon he strikes his life for the fare he will need for the day without a meal and those owed are far greater than he can afford to pay. He deserves far worse. He makes his early drink in one thousand ways and questions the preliminaries that compulsory routine has degraded to utilitarianism as he is burdened by health of the sort the homeless are afflicted.
Sitting undisturbed, busy rifling through an ordinance of papers, the judge peered out over his bench checking occasionally to appear meticulous and still aware of off-guard court officers and clerks. It’s a wonder how influential the long satin Khaki painted walls aligned with disheveled faces of the father’s of the 9th District were in forming his disposition. It might not be obvious by the look of his sparse schlocky beard or furry eyebrows but, his portrait was as predestined as the grain on the gurney he rode in on. A paladin in white, a fury fine form, ready to leave his post modern imprint in-line with the greats. This wasn’t what he loved to do; this was what he was born for.
The tight soldier-course front-line of blue and teal is disrupted by our pocky pitched Siren dousing more among the brown of cross wood than the grain that red oak can display. Cordial banter in the echoes of the hall were far off despite the close good mornings and whimsical felicitations exchanged wittily without regard to fairness. Framed words are hard to come by in the sentence seat of the unjust. The fake philanthropic mating calls our Siren sounds before the wind are so grotesque in full sight they are only left for a sailors burial song or dirges in the dark by wearisome travelers and laborers neglecting the fear of their next day as they did the day before. Singing is a requirement in the back minds of the proud. of the proud.
Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqdeer sai pehlay Khuda banday sai khud poochay bta teri raza kya hai
Raise yourself to such heights so before every destined act God Himself asks His creation, what is it your desire
Kee Muhammad (S.A.W) sai wafa toonay to hum tairay hain Ye jahan cheez hai kya loh o kalam tairay hain
If you are loyal to Muhammad (S.A.W) we are yours This universe is nothing, the Tablet and the Pen are yours
May it be Saadi Or may it be Sherazi Mansur or Sachal Sarmast May it be Rumi or Shams Rabia Basri or Ganj Bakhsh Bhatai or Baba Rehman Ghani Khan or Allama Iqbal All these God-gifted saints went by giving the same message Spreading the same thought The one and unique The message of the Truth Under a million veils lie Behold, The one and only Allah...