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Of all the fears I posses
death is not one of them
Living!
Living without a purpose I fear
Live with purpose
Jake 7d
A young and hopeful soul. Fragile, yet eager for purpose. And an aging heart, cold and taught from the tests of time. Each completely driven by the infinitely complex idea of... love. Yet, the heart and her soul see this “love” like night from the day.
    For the soul, in his ever longing eyes, seeks connection. Innocent and pure, he craves something beautiful… something to call his own. He craves significance, an endless desire to have importance in the eyes of another.
    But, tethered to the same mind, resides the heart.
    Against her scarred and frail skin, nothing has hurt the heart more than what she has learned to be the definition of this trauma named “love”. A lifetime of aggression shrouding the possibility of compassion.  Bound to the brain like its prisoners and hidden behind bloodied skin and bone lay an empty soul… and its broken heart.
I can’t force the universe to understand me
I won’t throw a tantrum, two or more folks
That refuse to travel with me on this path
There are more than a billion folks ahead
Of this path, waiting to align with a stranger:
Dancing in the same levels of energies

So I won’t force “ this few” to understand me
Neither will I succumb to their negativity
I soldier on, I carry on, on this lonely path
Knowing the sun will shine someday, on this path
I don’t know when but I carry on like the good farmer
I have tried to travel with many by coercion, later to realize my feet is stuck in their emotions. No one was born as a slave to anyone... we are here in this plain to exercise purpose freely without fear
Simon Oct 7
Frequencies are tough. Frequencies are managed. Two frequencies combine surfaces not existing in one another. Unless strips of different wavelengths are pushing each frequency to each others enlightenment. Nothing judges. Except one binding these apparitions together. A form becoming static too mutual for any compromise. Frequencies become laced with purposes. Easily definable. Never perfect enough for change. Only enough for simple practices. Practices reminding two frequencies of compromise. Compromises aren’t welcome, if one’s purpose is easily definable. If so, then why ask? It’s already staring you right in the face. Proceed with balance! Strips of wavelengths letting frequencies off chains made of static. Finally! One rippling a new focus. Releasing their time and service to entities holding them back. Purpose lays waiting, for all to see. Two frequencies happily definable now. Without change, static doesn’t occupy their purpose. Sparking a judgeable wavelength. Letting you off with a warning. A warning filled with benefits to a newer frequency. One that doesn’t hold frequencies by chains of static. Chains stripping connections between outer wholes. Sparks flying around its properties. Molding your own frequency together. Molding static between ripples of its own actions. Actions feeling the ripples of energy contracting with concern. Movements seeping into another part of itself that wasn’t identifiable. Becoming what wasn’t apart of its own identity. Surging pressure of rippling actions not belonging to itself. Stinging the outer symmetry of ripples. Frequency becoming thoughtless. Submerging into a shocked exterior. Feeling stressed without foreboding it’s purpose. Rippling the caregiver away from its own appreciation. Apparitions flowing misinterpretations. Faltered to a halt! Filling volumes of enlightenment too closed off when trying to supply purpose. Energy is a purpose. Rippling all around each spark to pledge. Pledge what? Pledging a way out! How will it turn out for these rippling fabrics of stationary purposes? Only two halves to a greater wavelength tapping into its own energy supplier.
Frequencies are judgeable when fluent practices run a muck! Only to ones staying broad within perimeters of itself. Only then will things shake moments into the clearing.
Simon Oct 4
Is like a calm standing wave of pressure less lust. Binding all factors together to gain rhythm. Molding until factors appear larger than what was interpreted at ones first breath of life. Magnifying properties of ones own gratifying claim. Properties share. Properties shape. Do they lie? We would never transpire such a claim. For it’s the pressure less lust changing factors into the way things join paces of one molded majority. The calm standing wave doesn’t take charge, as it does not need to take charge. It is purpose itself. For reasons without pleasure. Presenting itself without claims to itself. Finalizing the properties as it grows, while swaying different processes in one standing wave. So does the factors that just are. It is what it is. Trying to understand it, will take your claims away. Your properties don’t lie, when you’re now lying to yourself. Just embrace the pleasure. No questions asked. No actions wasted. Pressure less lust will guide you on a nice smoothing sway of immaculate processes.
This is the very first poem I ever written. Hope you all like it!
Owen Cafe Sep 29
When I was young, I could fly.
From thought to wish to dream to the sky.
When I was becoming, I could think.
I thought I'd thought that they were thinking,
that I was simply thoughtless.
When I was discovering, I could feel.
I could feel the feelings of earth of mind of soul,
those feelings connected though fingertips and goosebumps.
When I fell, I couldn't see.
I could not see that they could see that I was blind,
the view is up when you are down.
When I was climbing, I grew strong.
Could see the bumps in the road, the connections,
the grips, the traps, the full scale of the map.

Then I saw it. Not far now.
Just another corner, my branches are full of colour and life.
I can see the flowers ready to bloom.

Spring is coming, and I am too.
Reflective appreciation of realizing the future.
Why do I feel so lonely
Even though I'm surrounded by all these people
Is my heart searching for someone
Who can touch my soul & other parts

How can I stop this conflict in me
About wanting & not wanting love at the same time
When will I learn to feel again
All those things I forgot long ago
Namu Sep 26
For you who has seen
Beyond the spectacle
What you find
May cause isolation,
Self-doubt and misery
So cry like a little child
And then rise up again
For you have found a purpose
in the absurdity of life
Guy Debord’s book Society Of The Spectacle is kinda spectacular
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