anger is felt in the stomach
the core of our bodies.

it eats your heart
and feeds your body fire.

our rose colored world becomes red hot
and we see flames atop our enemies heads.

our words bite off heads
and cut through spears,
we seethe with danger.

we feel ultimate control
and power.
power to tear down the others.
power to eat them alive.
power to destroy the sun,
and become it with our burning heart
that turned to ash when we forgot our human innocence,
that we gave up to let out anger drive us.

however
forget not that the control and power
is an illusion.
a lie to keep yourself in check
when you're the most insecure person in the room.
let your anger humble you.

anger is felt in the core,
but is driven by the soul
and stems from betrayal.

"HOWEVER."

Even though we're
so much
quarrelsome, but
nevertheless we
like
us and yet
always loves us
dearly so much.
She's far
away from my arm
to touch, but she's
right therein my
heart to reach. She's
easily
offended
he's highly sensitive.
By her humility is
necessary.
Patient
is required of
him. She loves me,
I loved her more.
#C9_fm

Alight from your throne,
reeking of superiority.
Cast the first stone!
It no longer bothers me.

Spewing impotent venom,
your willfully caged mind,
conditioned, doped, benumbed,
cradled ideology; you're blind.

Let us meet as equals.
A dialogue must be fanned,
or the cycle of upheaval
will regress the promised land.

From an ornate podium
the orator spoke words--
..extraordinarily elaborate ones..
as if,
as if

But those who know..
we who have  laid low,
down in to the trenches
as grunts, both  outside
and inside  

    of the wire..

Those who have  quietly
done their legwork..
who have accepted their
difficult fate  as that   borne  of
and in to,  a training..  an equipping;
lay low,
lay low

.   .   .   .  

The throngs
at the foot of the podium--
mesmerized by their own  need
to be mesmerized,  never even
   noticed the children
who  in their innocence,  peered
out from under the crowd's legs

to better see the 'magnificent' podium..

The oldest of which, ran back to trenches
trying to describe what they saw.
Two of the quiet, unassuming-ones
made their way back to the podium,  
and in blocking out the orator's voice,
(which  to the  knowing,
was  as that of a clanging bell..)

Now observed up close, the inner-workings
of the elaborate podium
and sat in  wonder of its expenditures--
wrapped around such  slipshod,   weak
and hastily assembled framework..

And in having become interested in the
structure's groundedness to what one
would hope would be  a solid-built
foundation, placed onto solid, earthen ground
They instead gasped as they saw its
legs floating upon nothing..

"What the **** is holding this thing up..?"

War-trained and battle-hardened,
they remembered their superiors speaking
in hushed tones that even ******, with all
of his blowhard oratorical *******,   at least

had a semblance of the podium's fastenings..

Albeit, partially assembled by our own country's
stupidity within certain provisions brought forth
in the Treaty of Versailles,

   but this
   but this;

This oratorical misleading of the broken-ones
this empty illusion of a presentation,  borne
not  from a suffering  leading to true regeneration
but instead, a distractive short-cut into the Realms;
   This counterfeit substance..
as if borne in power,    as if..  as if.

    .. But the realms.. they know

It is only those down here on earth,  spirit
cloaked within the deceptive misgivings
of the flesh-- so aching to establish itself
apart  from the necessary legwork needed
to humbly become a part of Stream's flow:
(borne,  solely from the inner Wellspring--  deep
within the bowels of Love's True Ache)..


It is here.. on earth..  that you will find
the reward you seek..  oh wondrous orator,
oh magnificent 'smither' of fine words..

   Your podium, a whitewashed soapbox
   floating upon nothing..


--And therefore meaning   nothing
within the Substance-Based parameters  
    of the Realms.

Change is constant in the impermanence of life.
This transcending realization strikes as the sky stains yet again with whispers of blue,
A new season dances into the horizon,
reminding all to grace its arrival with humility and fortitude.

What a great heaviness it is

to be an empath

surviving in a world

that is often discovered to be

egocentrically brutal

as well as incessant.

To be a collection of reticent voices

in this world full of such

powerful shrilling white noise.

To be determined as weak

by those who know not of

the very resilience required

that can only be formed

out of true humility.

POSITIVITY

"Positivity
creates possibility and possibility begot prosperity. While humility makes prosperity durability till eternity."
#C9_FM