A sip of melancholic Earl Grey rekindles emotion
Glancing out of my window at the great commotion
Birds whisper melodies that beckon my mind into security
But still, something feels awry, dampening such purity
I can tolerate great loss of things, but not of meaning
I am not a mere prop in someone else’s dreaming.
A life without depth, is a life without death.
“Life’s but a walking shadow”, says Macbeth.
The office is a concrete asylum, a prison for curiosity.
Glances of joy afloat an ocean of animosity.
I cannot bear all this, whilst those trees beckon me in.
Without attachment, I would be there in a whim.
But obligations borne of fear bind my feet.
I cannot cross this grey, sombre street.
Freedom waves at me from the other side.
I can only wave back from the depths inside.
If I voice my fears about this nihilistic abyss.
I will be a prop out of action, dropped and dismissed.
I still sit here with my tea, my soul in a tangle.
Do I bury these roots, leaving them to mangle?
Maybe these worries will pass away in the morning.
When I am back in work, and a new day is dawning.
Maybe I shall never act, and take this to my grave.
Or shall I reconquer my soul, become what is brave.
A man cannot hide from truth without his soul crumbling.
His mind shall return to it, despite its tumbling.
And here I am, on a Sunday evening, letting it fester.
Watching it mock me like the most honest jester.
And that is okay, for it reminds me that I am living.
Oh, beautiful Sunday, your honesty keeps on giving.

pronouncing beauty, eloquism i've dealt with,
a lit-up candle resembling a snowflake
in the middle of weary summer—
hearth, solitude, and soulmates

have particular habits,
like one i seldom right now:
never get my hair blow-dried
after having cut them down,
knowing i wouldn't go to those lengths again,
or see the styled version—
that's as real as your plains.

wouldn't be there the next day, would they,
when i wake up, a messy bedhead,
stars on my skin, nightmares stained in purpose—
guesses on that somewhere along the ride,
i accepted the chaotic messy half curls
and half waves of my dusted heathery heathens.

learn my language if you must:
private with a public intensity,
burning in paradoxes and flameproof identities.

there's multiple facets of how you live—
decisions, situations, ironies, as you will,
weaponize descent, set trademarked positions.

loathsome evil little creatures,
annoying in proof,
existing by mere chance—
i despise them all through.
but oh, do they deserve love?
perhaps, maybe they do—
from those who speak their words
and listen to them swoon.

deities settled atop the mountain of lies,
dancing in between the lines.
truth is a factor—
those eyes, they lie:
iridescent, accompanied with desires,
breathing vacuum, eating dust,
speaking their shares even as they shy.

spider webs curling upon oneself,
eight-legged creatures grinning at the fresh catch.
fakers faked their own fake selves,
hid secrets of the sacred mess in their chests.

i live for i.
give up, for you shall—
i've some offers to make.
but before, offering some tea—

oh, on the side,
would you like some scones dipped in earth, perhaps?

Look to the sky — each cloud is forged alone,
Yet from afar, they wear the same white throne.
  They drift like thoughts, alike yet set apart,
  A testament to nature’s restless art.

Likes and unlikes — such is the nature’s lore,
Be the seed that breaks its shell and grows once more.
  Stand firm and nurture all you hold inside,
  Your voice, your shadow, your unpolished pride.

Never let fear hush the thunder in your chest —
Speak storms of truth, though silence might seem best.
  Tongues will wag like branches in the wind,
  But roots run deeper when they don’t pretend.

Most trade their colors for another’s hue,
They wear borrowed skins to seem brand new.
  Yet stand apart — like a lone tree crowned in flame,
  Unafraid to bear your honest name.

You need not twist your soul to be untrue —
Be your own sky, be your sun and morning dew.
  For it’s enough — this flawed and fearless star —
  To live unmasked, to be just who you are.

The deeper i seek,
I find it harder to connect
with anyone around me.
Is there anyone that resonates
with my frequency?
Anyone that truly sees
The girl underneath
the more i speak,
The more i feel i need their
acceptance, approval of she.

Then, Klarity arises from her sleep.
The one that doesn't care who leaves,
She is my peace.  For She knows
Her purpose is not defined by who wants me, It is to set others free.

She finds comfort in the uncomfortable
For no change comes easy,
It comes with pain, maybe a bit of shame
In return, we vibrate at a higher rate.
And get a step closer to integrate.
Start to tap into
The purpose of why we came to this time space.

I am always here, the true essence
If you need to contact
Just drop out of your mind,
Into your body
Bleed out pages of ink
And you will find the alignment you need.

You are free.
Take the chances - you won't regret it.
Trust that flicker
Within your being, its calling,
let it lead
your intuition
Is the key to the ignition
The puzzle piece you've been missin'
Universe sees when you trust
And take a leap.
You will shine.
And the others who are on your vibe,
Will recognize
They see more to what than meets the eye.

Programs run deep
Where did your thoughts orignate from?
Are you the one thinking?
Societys brainwash embedded deeply in the psyche.
This construct
Was Built to destruct,
To profit off low self esteem

With every bell ding
another deposit to the pharmacy
They dont want you thinking.
They dont want you to be free.
You might question authority,
They thrive off your self limiting beliefs
They want you in doubt,
full of anxiety and not taking the lead.
So they keep sinking in their teeth to polite society

You are not your identities,
You are everything in between
A word thats not even defined.
You cant be.
For You are otherworldly.
They can't touch your vibe.
Know it. Feel your essence
WIthin your whole being.
You are divine.
You are bigger than time

I will shine.
I will focus on me,
On what feels aligned,
And one day,
When i let someone inside,
I won’t be so torn if they leave.
For i know,
I will always have me, myself and I.
And they will know me better than any other guy.

Learn the lessons,
And get to manifesting.
Life isnt found in over thinking, wishing and daydreaming.

Its found in living.

Kc

I laughed - not for likes,
but because the sky was kind
and the breeze felt honest.

I wore comfort,
not costume,
and danced without a soundtrack.

No mirrors.
No filters.
Just me,
at ease in my skin,
and joy
quiet as a secret,
loud as my heart.

Take the time—don’t just spend it— to watch your grind,
These dreams are brewed, steeped behind these caffeine eyes.
Still, as the sunrise scripts its golden lines, my gaze still delays
Having to put on a daily mask; trapped in yesterday’s disguise.
All of these borrowed hours lace my breath, thinned and worn,
All these seconds spent on second-guessing myself; I’m torn—
Barely paying attention to obvious life lessons due in reflection;
Skipping those lessons, now I pay with life's collection.

As for facing my many regrets, it proves facing the glass—
But not all mirrors can clearly cut clean through the past.
Truths are warped, wrapped for the present, for who peer—
Peering in, fragile as much, cracked, and smeared with fear.
We search within ourselves, as all seekers must willingly do,
Searching for a love clear as glass — one that is sharp, and true.
As peach blossoms fall, and small stones roll, know: that through
The times of picking yourself up, some dust gets stuck on you.

The world isn’t so clear, especially if man’s clarity is uninvolved;
Profiting from all our scars – given titles hanging over ourselves
So many times, that prophets need to remind us of who we are
Profits, or prophets, but it all depends on who’s worth you trust.

To hell with normalcy.
I'd rather be someone revolting.

It hurts?
That’s a fallacy.
You're a coward —
and that’s fear prompting.

Indeed, there are hierarchies.
And rebelling is... concerning.
Misusing the power to control the industry —
Rebounding on the surface;
it's redundant. It's taunting.

Amuse me!
What — you think this is fancy?
What's wrong with wanting something?
Just because some are powerless... it's raunchy?
Distrust directs the regime —
look, the balance is burning.

Excited to show them dreams —
flaunty.

Look at that smile.
Look at the face.
Full of surprise,
sharp with the gaze.

Oh! You're blushing.
Excuse me — my breaching tendency.
You're beautiful.
And shy.
That's... compelling.

I wish you'd stay that way.
But —
the farther we go,
the greater the dismay.

Subdue this malice.
Subtly play.
If you want the prize...
you gotta pave the way.

I hate it when you're bamboozled,
procrastinating as you sway.
Can't you just stop being a wuss?
Even forecasters have their days.

But in this dance of defiance...
let courage lead the way.

Shatter the chains of conformity.
Let authenticity — stay.

For in each rebellious heartbeat,
a revolution brews with a glaze.

Even a meek-looking fuzz
can become
a blasting,
blazing
wave.
                                                             -Asher Graves

In twilight realms where masks adorn like stars,
The moon casts her glow most tenderly
Upon those who dance unadorned by pretense,
Their radiance deemed too bright for mortal eyes.
Your empathy—a garden of midnight blooms,
Protected by the trellis of sacred boundaries,
Not to wither beneath harsh judgment's sun,
But to preserve your light for worthy wanderers.

Those who carved rivers of sorrow in your soul
Yet deny the waters flowing from their hands
Cannot offer reconciliation's sweet nectar.
Peace resides not in their distant approval,
But sleeps beside you, faithful as moonlight,
A companion through your darkest hours.
The distance woven between pain and present
Is gossamer silk that must not be torn.

Breaking patterns is the dance of dawn,
The first light dissolving night's heavy chains,
Your silhouette fading like morning mist
From doorways where love never flourished.
In authenticity dwells your freedom's poetry—
No longer folding your boundless spirit
Into shapes too small to hold your vastness,
Standing unveiled in your own sacred truth.

Touch not the fragile wings of survivors in flight—
Their path traced through storms of betrayal,
The space they've claimed between wound and healing
Is hallowed ground won through countless tears.
Make peace with misunderstanding's shadow,
Release the weight of constant explanation,
For your truth blooms most beautifully
When nurtured in soil that welcomes its roots.