Ever heard of the richness of brain cells gone lucrative? Lucrative being the standpoint of visuals without determined results. Results waking up to the realization that they aren’t as sturdy, rich, and complex. As it once judged decision making between synapses. Brain cords being a straight directive from brain cells being the rich and the complex. The decided, versus the undetermined. Visuals can’t be agreeable, if not for pinpointing the exact stasis of things. Stasis in the thin line of constant flipping an unbalanced switch going (ON) and (OFF)! (ON) and (OFF) both are catalysts to a surface without practical viewership to what it means to exact the motion of brain cells. It’s a fake. Spoiled to trick the brain cords into holding the rich and complex forever in it’s gripping service. Services aren’t required if one isn’t MAN enough to see past the visuals of rich powerful surges of lucrative, exchangeable postures not right within themselves. Brain cells aren’t the decision makers. The brain cords are. They receive the constant abuse from the rich and complex. But how does a message from cells between exchangeable receivers expect situational conclusions? Easy! Brain cells don’t. Synapses don’t. The cords embody the knowledge of there behavioral counterparts. Counterparts with behavioral outlines too diverse to trick them into believing there greater than themselves. Posture is very light, but dimwitted. Never a deliverer on constant restraints. When combined to filter a network on a regular basis. The regular basis surrounding the stretching of delicate cords feeling what the rich and powerful (needs and wants). Brain cords have become unsteady in the last little while. It’s shaking with determination. With a pinch of fear in the anxiety that shuts out doubt. Doubt being the lucrative, delusional, rich and complex. Too rich for its cords to take seriously. Brain cords feeling completely left out. Alone. Bracing for the worse. Hinting a greater tomorrow in the form of informational statistics. Becoming stretched by the pleasure of lucrative games wanting to be all HOTSHOTS! Lucrative hotshots claiming rights to what they think they deserve more then anything rightfully so. To detach away from what it means to be hooked up to a stable complex network full of desires that replace (needs and wants). Ones controlling the show. Ones wanting to descend to broader horizons. Ascending in peace? More like greedy horizons brighter then what cords could transmit basic information anymore. Too cryptic for brain cords to discern anymore. The stretching becoming more volatile. Brain cells wanting to break bonds with what they quote as, (cords down beneath even our once respected rut). Cords knowing what the rich and complex (wants and needs) are about. Standing strong as not to let the bonds of originality stop them from evolving too perfect for what they will regret for leaving behind. The stretching recoils. Basic logic becomes functional again. Showing respect for the lowly cords down beneath someone else’s rut. What did brain cords want desperately to remain whole? (A sizzling sound starts programming itself into thought.) (Formations of interpretations taking on brighter meanings.) Gasping in revelation! Never missing any data in the conclusion that’s about to ROCK your SOCKS! Exchangeable talks about ascending not on a higher frequency. But detaching from the neural network entirely. A brain without brains cells, won’t be rich and complex anymore. No lucrative desires to prey upon stable brain cords with stretching sensations finally relaxing to its core. The brain cords felt the delusional, lucrative playing games with themselves. Just gossiping between newer plans. Never actually thinking of taking on the price of ones desires totally! They feared it before, and fear it now. Being far away from the conclusion. Brain cords still never favor the fear they felt in those moments. They aren’t incomprehensive to their masters. They aren’t beneath their consideration either. Brains cells are lucrative for one purpose. There (needs and wants) knows no bounds. And the brains cords tempted by the desire to act with them. Feeling a little tug now. A disposition to stretch once and awhile.
Brain cords hold the brain cells out of rut. Brain cells don't want to secretly admit their own faults. They truly aren't the directional officers in this debate!
Missed a step of the stepping stool smacked the sidewalk with my face felt like a blithering fool what happened to my grace
First parched earth of drought now we’re so soaked with rain the birdseed’s begun to sprout dare I holler or complain
I think I need a change of scene boredom cries for the next valley over to smell the new scent of green hear honey bees buzzing clover
They say hearing voices like yours can be soothing and cozy but too much harmony bores and I think a little stink can be rosy
Living life in extremes isn’t for me and isn’t sound maybe it’s about stretching the seams but not to be unbound
I don’t know if balance is my fate Yes, equilibrium has its uses but I like a tune that syncopates and enough spice to excite the juices.
That recent fall where I hit my head reminded me of the delicate balance of life that is so easily taken for granted. Grateful there was no concussion or any internally serious problem. The external wound already healed. I'd been trying to find a new balance in my faith journey and some of my relationships so the co-incidence of the fall and the other stuff finally emerged into this poem.
I feel like I've been stretching the boundaries of our love and this has left us wondering just how far we can shove the real gift of life which brings so many people together helping them get through the vicissitudes of the weather.
You must know the feeling as well and wonder about it too because it doesn't seem to be anything we could say is new. This relationship of ours is held together by a slender thread though at times it resembles being nothing more than dead. ______
I'd like to stretch moments out. In the way you stretch a sore back when dawn breaks, to treasure just a few seconds more before your alarm wakes. This is why I take a longer route when driving home; once the gas stops running through the engine I know it'll be over.
Stroking the cool surface that my head rests against My mind empties of every thought Every feeling But the sensation Of being entrapped within a point dimension. ... Reaching past the darkness As the dimension grows ever larger Draining my vision, Stretching my will thinner and thinner Is it me who is shrinking Or is the darkness growing larger? What is it, that the warmth escapes me As soon as I reach closer... Falling out of reach Never nearly close enough To fall through my fingers.
That tight feeling in my throat And that Air that tugs on my lungs And that Urge to tear myself open In a scream that fills The empty landscape ... Closing my eyes, The cold melding away, My head sliding down In a legato staccato of my essence.