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Jet 1d
and in the 12th my teacher grade tenderly grabbed my wrist
and said
what is this
and
I said
me
But
that was the wrong answer
he wanted me to say
my —-wrist
he wanted me to say my
MINE

He wanted me to take ownership
of my body
he wanted to acknowledge
Or
He wanted me to acknowledge
that I was
An inside
of a body
And
Not a body
He wanted
Me to think what I just
“mistakenly”
called “me” was just a vessel
To hold “me”
That is it was lent to me and would return
from whence it came
that I was barely or merely or some other kind of “erely” visiting
and
that me and mine were different when it came to body

Such a kindness and autono-motive restoration to remind a person that they are
More
That they are not their looks
or their actions
Or even potential ambulation
I know what he offered me was a kindness

I declined
I said no in my own way
If you’re wondering
What I said was “you are what you eat”

I still don’t know what I meant
If I meant

and I’ll ozymandius myself
If I claim to be more than this

I am crumbling, but I will stand tall on these broken feet

As soon as I can fix my posture
Originally performed at iFell Gallery on November 30, 2019
preston 1d
D Vanlandingham

Boundless, in its ability to extend beyond all forms of containment;
the big circle contains within it, the little one
and if it is true relationship through genuine volition of the beloved
that is to be desired most of all,
then spirit, wrapped in flesh is the autonomy most needed
in order for the dream to become true.
Spirit is being.
Spirit cloaked in flesh is being--
feeling its relationship with its own self.
Spirit, mastering its own flesh by reigning in  its emotions  along
with the synaptic-firing of every one of its nerve endings into full
submission of the spirit's own core nature, is the root-basis of all true volition.
Spirit, in its raw form is perfect-- wholly unable to undergo
corruption, or decay..

but the flesh..
the flesh,
Always needing to substantiate itself through its never-ending layers
of self-promotion  apart from the realities of its own spirit's  core.

Yet,  pure love--
wholly unable to see itself as that which is to be rejected,
enters in to the very act of the rejection, itself;
that autonomy may  continue to contain the uncorrupted core--
     and the smaller circle becomes established:
     smaller.. yes.. but in truth,
its parameters self stretch all the way out to those of the bigger one
And so, with the necessary advent of autonomy
into the relational equation,    comes also
The necessary advent of God's wholly-volitional
self-depletion of God.. entering,  in to it all
so that, in time, God alone might take the full brunt
of rejection's unjust hit--

in its autonomous movement  away
from its own incorruptible core..
away,  from its own true self.

So, follow the smaller circle, if you will, my beautiful--
either way, you are still following God.


"where can I go from your spirit?
or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Hades, behold, you are there.
If I take the wings of the dawn,
if I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,
even there your hand will lead me,
and your right hand will lay hold of me.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
and the light around me will be night,”
Even the darkness is not dark to you,
and the night is as bright as the day..

Darkness and light are alike to you."
~The kingdom of Dave
James 3d
I stood up and left the fire that burnt my touch,
though as night falls I grow to miss its warmth.
Saudia R Nov 17
I decided to give you back

I know now



I thrive with those who see
where I begin
Brian Yule Oct 6
You found me at the point
Where resignation had shaded,
Quite when I don't remember,
Into contempt
The spiteful joy of being that bit better
Standing just a little higher

& contempt was in your eyes too
The urge to rise above me
Cradle yourself in haloes

Yet you smoothed your face out
Your I could never go there's
& started asking questions
& truly wanting answers

I stood against
Denial was my brother
Knowing I simply had to

Still you persevered
A prison door ajar
A fulcrum steady levered
Help me guide my own hand
Logic to the dissonant, confetti into flames
watch it turn to ash.
The disquieted don’t want comfort,
they want to protect their definition of purity
and simply, for the complexities of the universe
to serve them solely.

Dissatisfaction becomes identity,
a vice to sate,
just one more redemptive hit
and they’ll sleep
dreaming of their idyllic reconstruction of reality.

Everyone’s a visionary
blind to the piteous state
of their mass-conformist unity fantasy,
forgetting that autonomy isn’t only in the mind of the beholder.
Billie Marie May 1
Will you stand and be counted?
Not for anything but my God.
Try to force me to declare a side?
They never bothered to claim me.
Why do I care to defend their way?
What happens when you muddy the *** too much
with the wrong kind of pepper
and overkill on salt?
Give me curry or himalyan seasoning
for a fuller taste of being human.
I raise my hands for the drenching rains
and blinding skies.
Nothing else stirs in me the roots of eternity
I knew before they called me
a word that rhymes with Italian ice cream.
Will I stand for a lot of their silly mess?
Hell no!
Give me freedom
from their categorical failures
and strategic mishaps.
And give me a dignity in life
plastics and fashion trends
never acknowledge.
No, I will not be counted
among the zombied 1st world elite
as a byte of data.
Give me liberty to be free
of mass media manufacturing.
And give me autonomous anonymity
to die as humanity promised
when I inherited the genes
that doomed me to an identity
as narrow as a sliver of light -
blink -
now you see a steel door.
Inspired by the memory of those labeled less than human because they were born with the wrong mixture of human DNA.
Clay Face Feb 16
There’s nothing to interpret in defiance.
Once you find a set, put place, position and stand.
Work up the vitality to speak in brutality!
There’s no point to declare without defense.

I want to **** in the wind, because *******.
Replace my mind with a button.
Press it, I’ll regurgitate your rhetoric.
I bet you get off to that, stripping autonomy.
Just tickles your ******. Makes you giddy.

I’d starve myself.
But I would eat a bullet if you had your way.

Without a situation, your just without motivation.
Writing in clear ink,
paralyzed in double think.

There’s nothing to interpret in defiance.
A set, put place, stand, or position.
Dissent should never be conveyed,
unclear, blurry, or in repent!

Opinion shouldn’t be followed by different!
Just stand in on stage, speaking sense!
Those that matter will respect,
others will fall to the aspect...
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