Is it too selfish not only to matter, but to belong? Despite how guilty I feel, how much sin I’ve committed, my failures, my shortcomings. Is it so wrong to devote myself to myself, to find my own meaning, my own cause, my purpose, my drive, to look for my own happiness, my truths, to **** my desire so I wouldn’t feel that I’m missing out, to find something to fill my void, so my soul wouldn’t live out throughout my day wounded? Even if I seek in external at times? Is it so wrong to be poetic, to be romantic, to be thy. Even if I turn to people like Aleister Crowley, to be inspired not only to think rational, to be passionate. Is it wrong to read philosophy, reject the thought of being complete is in the search of becoming complete? For I’ve peered into myself I found only sadness in the despair I saw & I don’t like. No matter how dramatic this is written, it is my truth, my burden, my curse & it’ the price I’ve paid for originality for wanting only to be myself & I find hard to smile realizing what I could've been by playing it safe & been without to what’s internalized in me. I’m meaningful to you, but a paradox, because I’m without you. I’m only on the brink of your life. As long as I’m on this earth, in this life, I am, unable to & able to live, alone & with others. I weeping now, but you weep when I’ve gone.

(glory under silence is pointless,
don’t puff out your chest, come alive,
use a vest, fire back)
Poetry intended to be written over Heaven,
but it’s everlasting in Hell.
Eternity to eternity.
Shadows without a face, nevermind, if I left
tell your friends, natural causes is a
serial killer.
Discolouring of magic, paganism,
it ain’t even easter.
Scene one, coming out crying, not on
the stage, I found myself at a table,
with divas & bunnys, with their dealers,
pimps & bankers,
I’m on the guest list, giving me bourbon
& *****, cause it’s how they wanted.
Mortal wrenching,
easy to commit to vice than to virtue.
Wordless language in both morals & evil.
The ones who
can transcend, their soul
is waged over.
(I’m cliche, cause I can obtain traits
from ideals, resulting in being original,
I’ve been told before that
I’m special, few had ever thought about
it, rub my tummy, get your fix, smile for me now)

I don't understand the want
For an absent parent's pride
I'd rather plot and plan with the one whose been at my side.
You can't be proud of trees you didn't grow
While you were off sowing oats
I was sowing stories as a way to cope
"Ryan, understand it's a mutual hate"
I've rerun that line in my mind a couple times
Then realized even your explanations are fake.
In my court, you hold no water
you should do what you do best
And don't bother, I'm proud of me.

All the kids who use to mock me in school
Use the same lame names for every kid
Cheers to Matthew, they called me Harry Potter too
I guess we just stupified them with creativity
Only to see those people grow to be losers for their longevity
While we can turn this water to ***
They still sit stunned.
Give me my cape back, I'm not done.

They tell you not to conform
Then they fight you until you make your own lane
Im playing the same game you chose
But I'm button mashing Konami codes
Until I can make a march of fifty men
Let's hear the backlash of my actions then
All the sudden it's silence until they all cheer
While I'm doing my own, everyone is living in fear
Am I the only one really living here?

What is intelligence? Is knowing what to do when one hasn’t been taught?

Education often relays on history and a repetition of facts. Rendering people not creating new things or thoughts, even if education can be a bedrock as something one can derive from. Thinking without writing. Not all philosophers are dogmatic. Despite their sole education or speciality in a branch of philosophy. For most ideologies derive at a finality. Where actions can viewed as applied knowledge. But education itself can be a prevention from someone discovering themselves, laying a path for ignorance. Facts can prevent people from thinking for themselves. Every structure is to be thought of as a particular form of equilibrium, more or less stable within its restricted field and losing its stability on reaching the limits of the field. Language is often the key to any intelligence, from the narrative of the mind, to the spoken or written word to the receptive person. As philosophy just question or self-thinking. Reading is only partial. Documentaries only partial. Dialog is partial. Experience is everything. The present is the problem. No one ever use the present as a parent.

Everything is incomplete.

Exposing oneself to thinkers, Sarte, Plato, Chomsky are only a few. Ignorance will always plague humanity and be told throughout history, public or private.

Making the Bible public, gave the common people a reason to learn how to read. Accidentally birthing both interruption and criticism outside the professional network. Despite intentions, duality will exist. Marcus Aurelius put forth what we do now will echo eternity. The exertion of will over reality will provide a conflict in the domain of reality, affecting the person exerting, whether it’s good or bad, will be based upon the reception.

Every truth comes sooner or later. Long term and short term self always around.

I know they say
I’m not less than in view
But I’m bursting at the seams
Of being told

        What I can be

I'm more than that pretty thing
        hiding in the corner.

When can I state my view?
Decide my own timeline.
Fight as a peer
Instead of a squalid sequel.

I’m more than that pretty thing
        gracing your arm.

When will I be seen for my intelligence?
Be introduced as my accomplishments
Not just someone’s pet.

I’m more than that pretty thing
        reading beside you

These walls are filled with work;
Teeming with the outcomes of edification
Twists and turns in vivid inspiration

I’m filled to the brim
Yet more will emerge

I’m more than that pretty thing
        dancing next to you.

I’m an artist
With a vision all my own

A writer
Spinning words of chaos across a page.

My body can bring forth life
But it’s worth more than that
Yet your say is better than mine?

I’m more than that pretty thing
        sleeping beside you.

Yes, I wear lingerie
But bring those eyes up
It’s not for your viewing pleasure.

I’m more than that pretty thing
        silent in acquiescence.

I need to get out
Before these walls cave in
If I get any more
I won’t claim what to do.

        It can’t take a lifetime
        But I’ll fight one true

I’m more than that pretty thing
        wading through the crowd

That’s the way it needs to be
Time is running few

Running out of walls is not the way I plan to be.

I'm more than that pretty thing
        marching down the street.

I’m that pretty thing
        emerging from the shadows.
I’m that pretty thing
        taking care of others.
I’m that pretty thing
        using those walls.
I’m that pretty thing
        running for a change.
I’m that pretty thing
        awake in passion.
I’m that pretty thing
        screaming to be heard.
I’m that pretty thing
        pushing through the mud.

I’m that pretty thing marching down the street.

i am tired of being the passenger in my life
watching it happen while not being present.

i want to steer my own destiny towards a happier and blissful place.

taking action instead of waiting for nothing to happen
waiting and waiting
then complaining
why nothing is right.

you do not wait.
you should not wait.
you should take action.

-D.L.