By Arcassin Burnham
Brainwashed over time to not believe the theories,
Talking , why you speak to Siri?
For all your problems , you get weary,
I let God sort it out,
Hasn't come down from the throne,
His presence was there since birth,
But I hope he desends his physical on Earth,
So the lust and the evils will disappear,
No longer embezzling death and fear,
Do your research on everything and you'll be fine
In a world this crooked dear,
And they say,
"People take care of their phones like pets instead of really taking of themselves",
And that's why the parents nowadays need professional help,
And counseling for the love ones they lost to text messages and tweets,
Did the tax dollars really just move on their own and grew feet,
Man the devils busy just like God has funny ways of miracles,
Rope is tight for black people that America provoked,
Staging wars for other countries trying to kill us , Trump that's you?
The end is near , and they are gonna sensor this by the time that I get this through.
In the warm dark depths of you
I listen; my breath creates an echo
I have lounged in here for so long
A lifetime of twilight
Yet secure I am.
I explore my universe
Your voice creating a vibration across my feet.
Planting my foot into my mouth
Sprinkling the seeds of awakening into my heart; my legs are growing in breadth. Flesh is forming in my chest.
A harsh white light pierces my chamber.
Struggling, I cry to get out.
I lean towards an opening-
Something cradles me, the feeling uncomfortable.
I squeeze through!
Leaving my galaxy forever.
as a child i had a sense of before
i was a tenant in this world
i dreamt, i remembered
a place of light and freedom
of flying weightless
without a care
of changeless drifting
but as i got older
my astral excursions
turned to thin air
much to hearts despair
i fell weighted to this terrestrial sphere
by thickened accumulations
of hard niches and obscurations
a delicate spark burdened
by sheaths of gnawing reason
engulfed in brutish struggle
aching to go
back from where i came
maybe stepping in front of a speeding car
desperate to get home
where the dead
live it up
a strewn tangle of little limbs
on a country highway
who made a hard sacrifice
for a bigger life
where the very sensation of existence
was a floating ecstasy
like an atomized cloud puff
where the dead
are not dead at all
but enchanted children
with faces like suns
on the other-side of the looking glass
feet to the stars
in the arms of heaven
smoke emanating, sky abating,
borrowing the light, burrowing night,
chants and figures, flightless birds,
dancing on strings, one of them sings,
waving hands, limbs, droning on,
and so it was, and is, and shall be,
becoming aware, silent epiphanies,
“oh spirits,” they cry out, “take me,”
air blown into lungs, she breathes,
she laughs, she spins, she rises,
oh beautiful wisp, white of the while,
erstwhile ghost, a forest her witness,
frost from her form, billow in the stillness.
i met him last week
body cold beneath the ground
gone before I ever existed
i suppose that is a good thing
i’m downcast that i’ve never met him
but glad he never met me
he would have been sorely disappointed.