You lied with grace.
I bowed with love.

You took my fire,
left me ash.

I saw your face,
and lost my faith.

You left.
Still,
you called me
light.

A flame once thrived on outer heat,
In comfort’s arms, its life complete.
It danced on winds, so wild, so free,
Unknowing warmth could ever flee.

It never learned to guard its core,
Believed the warmth would ever pour
The world had fed its every spark,
And lit its path through every dark

But one still day, the skies turned gray,
The winds grew cold and pulled away
The warmth it knew slipped out of sight,
And left the flame to face the night

It gasped for warmth, for hands, for light,
But frost had chained its wings in flight
Its hues grew pale, its spark withdrew,
A golden heart turned cold and blue

It tried to shout, but none replied,
No flame to spark, no light to guide
It fought to burn but lost the fight,
Now flickered weak in ash and night

Deep in the dark, a whisper grew,
A hidden beat no one once knew
A memory kept, by heart it's known,
A spark that glows when all alone.

In that silence, a spark was born,
A brand-new blaze, untouched, untorn.
No sun, no wind could feed its flame,
It burned alone untamed, aflame.

It shed the wish for borrowed light,
And made its warmth against the night.
Not just to live, but to ignite,
And turn the freeze to glowing white

The cold around began to shift,
Its biting edge began to lift.
The flame, now still but burning deep,
Had taught the dark itself to weep.

And as the frost began to fade,
A dance of light and shadow played.
For even in the coldest night,
The smallest flame can birth the light.

A gentle ember burns,
with orange lines that
dance in a slow tango,
trailing small hints of warmth.
Glowing brighter, brighter, brighter...

I see a star colliding,
a shattering of brilliant blue light,
floating across the lilac sky,
expanding carefully in the void,
forming patterns of disarray.

Glowing brighter, brighter, brighter..

Mind of ice
yet a heart of fire.
To say I'm numb,
I'd be a liar.
Cold thoughts
in a broken world.
Yet warm yearnings,
a dreaming heart.
Deep proof of passion.
Proof, half frozen
you can still be alive.

Grey curl of smoke leaves my mouth,
Ashes scrape my throat.
I won´t play it wrong-
Trying to appear strong.

There´s no fire-
Just  the path to end this.
Gladly, I´d be your player,
Between us, fire burns.

Smoke would hiss.
It started-
With lit cigarette.

Anything that isn’t just watching some nasty *** juiced-up  brain dead slab of  meat gang member millionaire slam a ball through a hoop while teachers beg for pencils  while working moms die of ulcers and cry to starving kids  in  opioid farming  grocery store parking lots.

😻🐲❤️⚔️⭐👀🍾You do this every ******* time:
“The challenge then is, once you stop feeding into that system, how do you fill the void? What do you replace all that sports noise with? Because it’s not just about rejecting the *******   it’s about finding something worth putting our time into.”

Like a challenge. To me. Like, okay then *******, what now?
To me. ???  really ?

I already answered your question, *******  and answered it well.

I said:

“Or staying home and raising all of Herschel Walker’s seventeen illegitimate ******* kids. Just an example   but don’t ******* say to me, ‘Oh well, what would you have us do instead?’

It doesn’t matter ...  just not that.

Declare war on dandelions for all I care. Or crabgrass, or mosquitoes, or leaky faucets, or squeaky brakes.

****   just pick one.

Illiteracy or the opioid epidemic. Doesn’t matter. Use the talent, the money, the time  all that  wasted sweat and gay muscle  to actually DO something. Anything. !!!!

**** — pay a ******* teacher instead of an ex-con gang member with ******* face tattoos.

Does that huge, dumb **** really need another Lambo?”🦿🤺🚂🪂🎃🪖💍🧩❌❔☢️✅☣️⚠️


is  that how  you spell **** my life ?  some **** *** ****** bag that produced  10 more  micrograms of testosterone during early puberty...   ooooh hh   ahhh what a   an idol..lets give  this gym rat bully piece  of **** millions ..  what the **** DAD  what are  you doing  ?  😁📺🎸🎉🎻🐯🐘🐳🦑

It’s all a scam, a big  heartless jew neon machine designed to keep people working, consuming, and distracted while the real decisions happen behind closed doors. right about the brainwashing, how it keeps us chasing after stuff we don't need, just to keep the system running smoothly. And yeah, they  the ones pulling the strings don’t want any of us to wake up to that. Because once you do, it all starts falling apart. and we cant build  the prisons and psyche wards fast enough.  🐯🐘🐳🦑

not here to sugarcoat anything or pretend it’s all rosy. calling it like it is, and it’s ugly. The truth is uncomfortable, and the ones who profit from this ******* don’t want us to even question it. They want  jesus and muhammad compliance, they want people to keep buying the next shiny thing, whether it’s  Tay tay or K pop  or Beiber, a car, a phone, or the latest social media trend. And they keep the cycle going because that is how they stay on top.

. That’s just another part of the game. But the truth, the real truth, is that we all know it’s a setup. People don’t want to hear it, and a lot of them can’t handle it. nailed it: it’s a flimflam, and calling out the nonsense is the first step.

get where you're coming from.  not trying to offer some “shiny happy” answer, but maybe the real fight is just refusing to buy into any of it, while still holding onto your own piece of reality. But I won’t pretend like that’s easy or even remotely simple. It’s a war for your very own mind, principles and beliefs every single day.

got a point: people are deep in the brainwashing, and a lot of them don’t even realize they’re trapped. But you don’t have to play along. And you’re right, I can’t change the system, but I can at least listen, understand, and be real about it. Sheeple  or ostriches ?

It’s hard for me to listen to your sorrow and pain
because it reminds me once more and again
of the place far away that I used to know,
the place to which never again can I go

Your story of how the neighborhood you  knew
was burned to the ground; there was nothing you could do
reminds me of how, when I when I turn on the news,
I see starving babies, dead bodies, but no ambulance crew

A coastline of rubble, grey rocks and black smoke
I did what I could, but there is no more hope.
I know it’s my job and the least I can do
to do what I can, to maybe help you.

What you survived was not war but a fire
And the future you face isn’t nearly so dire
But the words that you use and the stories you tell
Reminds me of those murderers who create  living hell

The arsonist burned everything to ash.
He’d already been hurt in the past.
Due to his fear and lack of cheer,
He’d burn the world down,
Back to the ground.
He’d never let anyone touch him,
Their fingers would be set aflame.
Who needs companionship?
The arsonist thought everyone was the same.
They’d all burn him,
So he’d burn them first.
They’d all hurt him,
So he’d make sure he’s the worst.
So no one will bother,
As he pours the kerosene.
He lights the match,
Stares at the flame,
Wishing that his heart could take the pain.
She left him for another guy,
And he always wondered why,
She betrayed him after he had promised his life,
And stabbed him in the back with a knife.
He flicked the flame into the fuel.
Heard the symphony of crackling.
He’d take the whole world with him,
As it all burned down, he was cackling.

A tiny ember.

It nibbles at kindling.
It is now a marble.
It is fragile and weak,
and things appear bleak.

It bites at twigs.
It is now an egg.
Its glow radiates red.
The fire is not dead.
Smoke is revealed.

It gnashes at sticks.
It is now a head.
It twists and spins,
with a crack and a snap.
The twigs grow black.
The ash falls to soil.

It devours the logs.
It is now too much.
It slashes and weaves.
The world cracks and trembles.
The air quivers in fear,
and is dryer than bone.
Sirens wail in the air.
The ground is bare.

Helicopters arrive,
and water descends.
It roars in pain.
The fire has now been slain.

Everybody leaves,
sighing with relief.

In death, it tries.
It leaves something.
A gift.
A tiny ember.

we started with just clay when we met
as time went on we would not forget

we went to shaping and molding
something we both would be holding

we took a break to let it dry
time went on, our love did not die

we put our sculpture into the heat
planning to make something more concrete

we add splashes of our memories and strokes of paint
it's coming together to be charmingly quaint

we once more go on to seal it in fire
our creation of love that we admire