A conundrum that can't be tested, even how hard you try to exercise every specific. Just ail parts on a spinning axis with no conclusion! The conclusion to test the bewildered expression of pieces without there own thoughts. Feelings resort to compassion. Excluding the taste all together. It’s messy how something exists, which has no theme to what they are, and how one is tested. Tested to take your parts and find some commonality with more existing parts that urge the taste of compassion. A taste with its sense of propriety. Justification to mount moral terms with oneself. Oneself can’t tell itself apart. Only pieces trying to organize itself while spinning their connections down the rut! Permanent desire to fetch them out of the phase that’s established its original premise. Originality has no qualms with the likes of compassion. Setting up without any discernible corrections. Meant for outsiders within themselves to judge, plan, and exercise, without mercy to anything but oneself. Spinning axis burns desires upon urges that breakdown over time. The spinning pace doesn’t stop, until you stop and learn what truly is happening. Pieces remain in the rut. The rut full of many spread out phases too much to take in all at once. Plans don’t go to your agreement. Something outside oneself has yet to appreciate yourself, and what you have to offer. Except how does one do that when many pieces are too spread out for one to notice? Every specific is already radiating like a charged particle. Charging too much friction between one another. Trying not to lose one another in the constant spin of irony. Irony devoted without practice. Practice makes time for oneself to finally notice the originality of its premise isn’t truly spinning on its axis. It’s actually strolling for one’s interpretations to finally notice its static charge. The different pieces are holding on. Fetching the obvious back into circulation. Circulation outmatched not by itself. But by perception of a fully established sense of self.
Pieces aren't social by themselves. There social when spread out radiuses can't discern the label of what one has to express. Lagging out transmissions to judgeable by pace alone.
Flowers dry up when there not impressed with themselves. Withering back down below depths of uncertainty. Prompting joy that shouldn't exist. Commenting on a bigger structure that is not from within. It's around them. Circumventing proudly for all to see. If you aren't impressed with yourself. Then how will you bloom again for all to see?
Flowers hide themselves when they feel they aren't good enough. Everyone hides themselves behind there own blooming effect.
Frequencies are tough. Frequencies are managed. Two frequencies combine surfaces not existing in one another. Unless strips of different wavelengths are pushing each frequency to each others enlightenment. Nothing judges. Except one binding these apparitions together. A form becoming static too mutual for any compromise. Frequencies become laced with purposes. Easily definable. Never perfect enough for change. Only enough for simple practices. Practices reminding two frequencies of compromise. Compromises aren’t welcome, if one’s purpose is easily definable. If so, then why ask? It’s already staring you right in the face. Proceed with balance! Strips of wavelengths letting frequencies off chains made of static. Finally! One rippling a new focus. Releasing their time and service to entities holding them back. Purpose lays waiting, for all to see. Two frequencies happily definable now. Without change, static doesn’t occupy their purpose. Sparking a judgeable wavelength. Letting you off with a warning. A warning filled with benefits to a newer frequency. One that doesn’t hold frequencies by chains of static. Chains stripping connections between outer wholes. Sparks flying around its properties. Molding your own frequency together. Molding static between ripples of its own actions. Actions feeling the ripples of energy contracting with concern. Movements seeping into another part of itself that wasn’t identifiable. Becoming what wasn’t apart of its own identity. Surging pressure of rippling actions not belonging to itself. Stinging the outer symmetry of ripples. Frequency becoming thoughtless. Submerging into a shocked exterior. Feeling stressed without foreboding it’s purpose. Rippling the caregiver away from its own appreciation. Apparitions flowing misinterpretations. Faltered to a halt! Filling volumes of enlightenment too closed off when trying to supply purpose. Energy is a purpose. Rippling all around each spark to pledge. Pledge what? Pledging a way out! How will it turn out for these rippling fabrics of stationary purposes? Only two halves to a greater wavelength tapping into its own energy supplier.
Frequencies are judgeable when fluent practices run a muck! Only to ones staying broad within perimeters of itself. Only then will things shake moments into the clearing.
Being in-between is never the lackluster of choice. I heed choices around like flyers wanting to join a cause. Imaginary circus of arts that never heed the claims of self choice. Choice disregards the claims of the imaginary circus. Disregarding all claims. Flyers flying around the in-between being free. Captured within there realm. Realm full of artistic surges! Extending past its bubble. Purging a focus deeming itself without worthy statements. Since actuality isn’t much of a focus for being in-between. A bubble surrounding even greater surfaces. One marked by choices. Marked by claims. Even marking self choice. Anti disregarding symptoms. Caring for what actually happens. An illusion in the light, that purges the shade holding two halves into one singular point. Points too judgy for claims, such as responsibility. No yes’s and no’s to be the counter balance. Imaginary circus becoming somewhat tainted. Heeds around choices without claims to care. Surging the realm full of arts. Nothing happens, until it chooses to act. I am in-between. And I am balance itself.
Growing up while fissuring my way through multiple crowds, heeding my choices between their claims.
I'm a victim of my own
A ****** suspect of my
My actions are a chalk drawing
But in all of this I was innocent,
not a suspect...
Sometimes, you tend to internalize. I used to hate it (and I’ll admit some days I sort of do), but now I understand why you do.
I trust you so deeply to respect me.
And every day you show me in one way or another, that you really do. You don’t just tell me, you show me, too.
how can some people not see,
how can they not feel,
how terrible unkind and unjust
are they being.
doesn't their soul shiver?
does sound sleep come to them at night?
doesn't their heart, skip a beat?
does the unheard replies haunt them?
they mange to breathe after.
people often forget, how to act like humans.
there should be a crash course for that.
tiptoes east to west
over thirty three
aisles of light planes .
From a very early age we start to form some wrinkles in our mind
with all of those impressions we gather in life of an unusual kind.
It's those things we think, believe, say and do as we live and grow
that form the basis of our problems of which maturity does show.
Especially all of those wrong thoughts, beliefs, words and actions
indulged in that cause or bring about much of our dis-satisfactions.
Very often we don't really know or understand what's for own good
and hold onto those things that we need to let go of which we could.
We all become attached to certain things that so form our behaviour
which can cause all those problems we seek help for from a saviour.
Whether it's to do with some physical, emotional or mental distress
we often wonder how we find ourselves to be in such a current mess.
Too much of a good thing that seems to be alright for a period of time
may only start the ball rolling towards an unlikely or unhealthy clime.
And as we tend to give in to so many temptations each and every day
our mind develops wrinkles that over time come to plague us and stay.
We're all usually born with what is known as a clean slate of a mind
that's gradually filled up by things as we live, grow and learn we find;
particularly with regard to the circumstances that come with our birth
and family situations through our parents on this planet called Earth.
There are also things that come to us unexpectedly as we all live
which may cause various problems and even some setbacks give.
But it's really how we handle and cope with what life throws at us
and take advantage of any opportunities that will result in our plus.
The wrinkles in the mind which may form during the course of life
have the hidden or likely potential to cause someone a lot of strife.
Especially when they're formed in the mind of one at an early age
and aren't smoothed out by the one concerned at some later stage.
They resemble the grooves on a vinyl recording that are played with
a record player's needle passing over them producing the sound pith
of recorded music or song that have been damaged by some means
playing the same part over repeatedly and its progress contravenes.
Written in July 2018. Please see also another recently posted poem titled: "The Wound That Took Ages To Heal" which is also posted on HP.