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#chakra
Each time I think of you It is as if                I call down the moon                To frame your silhouette                Embraced by another It is as if                The four winds                Shall burn us both                With the jealously                Born from my nature It is as if                Each composition of                Scented dialogue                Withheld from my eyes                Became a letter                Of indiscretion                               Unleashed upon the world
0
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 2:08 PM UTC
Jealousy
Dear Diary                      It’s not my fault It’s easy to render Myself a victim Driven by consequence                                      Accountability Sheds daily                     Like skin It silently falls Perhaps I shall erase My cuttings of                     Foregone conclusions They surround a Diary full of days Each encircled                     By failure of others
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Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 9:10 AM UTC
Victim
We could bathe In physical truth                                     Perhaps we do Neat or distilled Drip fed               Like water In its any forms Placeless on periodic table Truth softened                           In our fragility         Hardened                           By others resilience Worn by the face of a manikin         At peace within the world         If that’s what you wish it to be
0
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 11:57 AM UTC
Truth
I ask You say                               “I’m not sure” Like the moment Before it snows Or nights spent Searching for Venus Without clarity Through naked eyes You knew she lay secluded In a room unused But still said                                 "I’m not sure” There she wore a pendant Engraved   “keep out” in braille I didn’t feel it We never touched Venus dims You won’t speak Words from within I ask You say                                 “Are you sure”
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Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 6:34 PM UTC
Clarity
Twenty-four elders , seven chakra spirits , four beasts , now the origins of carnal desire and the Lake , of Glass . ☆ The Key of David , controlled by spirit , is in the temple of the pineal gland and in union with holy secret . ☆ Subordinate to God's will , for thyne is the kingdom , thyroid and throat chakra -- the flaming sacred heart , triumphant in time and tribulation . ☆ The Witness and his golden sword of fire , the Seat of the Soul attacked and defended from evil . To Virtue , the final victory is delivered , true love and the Seeds of the Cosmos .
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Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 7:56 PM UTC
True Witness of the Pituitary Gland
demon in the bathroom mirror last rock of crystal went missing bulging eyes in my reflection I didn’t like that i couldn’t find crystal but i don’t ask those guys actually saved my life. two hours to billings, montana and the prairie grass glistened in the last minute Sunday morning sunlight thanksgiving day drive. designer machete and the wineberries broken shabbat demarcation line and i tried yet again to perform a task to completion without getting distracted screaming from the bathroom ‘i can’t hit a vein! I can’t hit a vein!’ water in the rig miss crystal swimming in mine Christ in the Cosmos two plantains on the kitchen island in a town house on west orange. no man is an island but I pretended that i was so i could finally climb the double helix home. i can’t be creative if i’m always in a mad rush. ‘Prove to me your value! Justify your being here, can you see me? Why can’t anyone see me? how about now?’ tongue caught in a snare pestilence in the mason jar smoked paprika in the finish water in the rig ‘Jordan? Was there even anything in here?’ i used to lay prostrate on the couch ad infinitum. one thing they don’t tell you is that when you’re dope sick you have to take a giant **** about every five minutes. the free cable in the apartment complex actually saved my life. furniture - mid century modern - had to let it go. hadn’t really listened to music in 18 months besides pop country radio stations ‘i got that summertime, summertime sadness’ ad infinitum. somehow I had decent pair of headphones and a small, black verizon smartphone circa July 2013. ‘do what you want, what you want with my body…’ Lady Gaga actually saved my life that day. demon in the ikea medicine cabinet mirror giant rock of crystal missing water in the rig ‘was there even anything in there?!?!?!’ the mirror reflected back to me a stranger’s eyes mirror is another name for a stranger's eyes. i tabernacled in the high desert plains, Sheridan, Wyoming - powder river country. i felt the God-force emerge yesterday up and outward from deep within my belly. but today i’m fussing over straw-men in plaster-of-paris suits and i ate tortured beef at a diner in Leesport, PA and I can’t turn back into the man I was no matter how hard I try. so now I sit before the most holy apostle St. Jude located at Our Lady of Fatima Grotto across the street from Kings College, Wilkes-Barre, PA. ‘The quickest way to Hell are the temptations of the flesh, exclamation point.’ i came here to reclaim my value but i can’t seem to find it anywhere. i keep getting flashbacks of the water in the rig and the screaming from the bathroom and if i didn’t tell somebody about this i was probably going to ***** 3 cheers for the Black Madonna and the big surrender. i’ve swallowed so many shadows by now that i don’t recognize myself in the mirror or in your eyes. but my body is a christmas tree and from the branches i hang plastic tinsel and crystals and broken timing chains and a cedar wood mala. I see that Christ is always pointing to his sacred heart but no one ever told me that the anahata chakra had a back door. no wonder sometimes I feel like i’m a hydrogen bomb welded inside a lead casket. someone open the ******* door and let some light in. the sun doesn’t rise from the west and there is no rest for the weary and to this day I act like that wasn’t only water in the rig.
0
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 1:39 PM UTC
water in the rig
demon in the bathroom mirror last rock of crystal went missing bulging eyes in my reflection I didn’t like that i couldn’t find crystal but i don’t ask those guys actually saved my life. two hours to billings, montana and the prairie grass glistened in the last minute Sunday morning sunlight thanksgiving day drive. designer machete and the wineberries broken shabbat demarcation line and i tried yet again to perform a task to completion without getting distracted screaming from the bathroom ‘i can’t hit a vein! I can’t hit a vein!’ water in the rig miss crystal swimming in mine Christ in the Cosmos two plantains on the kitchen island in a town house on west orange. no man is an island but I pretended that i was so i could finally climb the double helix home. i can’t be creative if i’m always in a mad rush. ‘Prove to me your value! Justify your being here, can you see me? Why can’t anyone see me? how about now?’ tongue caught in a snare pestilence in the mason jar smoked paprika in the finish water in the rig ‘Jordan? Was there even anything in here?’ i used to lay prostrate on the couch ad infinitum. one thing they don’t tell you is that when you’re dope sick you have to take a giant **** about every five minutes. the free cable in the apartment complex actually saved my life. furniture - mid century modern - had to let it go. hadn’t really listened to music in 18 months besides pop country radio stations ‘i got that summertime, summertime sadness’ ad infinitum. somehow I had decent pair of headphones and a small, black verizon smartphone circa July 2013. ‘do what you want, what you want with my body…’ Lady Gaga actually saved my life that day. demon in the ikea medicine cabinet mirror giant rock of crystal missing water in the rig ‘was there even anything in there?!?!?!’ the mirror reflected back to me a stranger’s eyes mirror is another name for a stranger's eyes. i tabernacled in the high desert plains, Sheridan, Wyoming - powder river country. i felt the God-force emerge yesterday up and outward from deep within my belly. but today i’m fussing over straw-men in plaster-of-paris suits and i ate tortured beef at a diner in Leesport, PA and I can’t turn back into the man I was no matter how hard I try. so now I sit before the most holy apostle St. Jude located at Our Lady of Fatima Grotto across the street from Kings College, Wilkes-Barre, PA. ‘The quickest way to Hell are the temptations of the flesh, exclamation point.’ i came here to reclaim my value but i can’t seem to find it anywhere. i keep getting flashbacks of the water in the rig and the screaming from the bathroom and if i didn’t tell somebody about this i was probably going to ***** 3 cheers for the Black Madonna and the big surrender. i’ve swallowed so many shadows by now that i don’t recognize myself in the mirror or in your eyes. but my body is a christmas tree and from the branches i hang plastic tinsel and crystals and broken timing chains and a cedar wood mala. I see that Christ is always pointing to his sacred heart but no one ever told me that the anahata chakra had a back door. no wonder sometimes I feel like i’m a hydrogen bomb welded inside a lead casket. someone open the ******* door and let some light in. the sun doesn’t rise from the west and there is no rest for the weary and to this day I act like that wasn’t only water in the rig.
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103
I miss my old hair clippers I had them since before I got sober. at the rehab near Philly, I would trade rollies for head shaves until I learned that I could shave my own head without a mirror. that was ok with me, I saved on tobacco but I still had my cup and bowl out. like an anchorite begging for alms by the road side. some 3000 shaves of the head later and I don’t need a mirror for much anymore. I set the old clippers aside and I don't know where they went to. When I wake up the sun is going down. I do my shopping beneath the cold chalice of the moonlight, cold glistening, somehow still reflecting of the Sun even though I said goodbye from my window to the early evening dawn 9 hours before the burning of the midnight oil. I chant and ring my bells so I don’t drift back to sleep. but I can still smell sulfur so I Aum and pray and ring the bells a little louder. I found God on the carpet once. It only took me 14 hours to pick through every crystalline crumb that glistened in the kitchen light. the next morning I had a half soup spoon full of the Almighty but the hook and the plunger swallowed Him whole and with haste turned me back to dust. sometimes I’ll make a to-do list with every strike of the pen another performance for the bushels and the bones, I like grocery shopping at night. normally there are only a few souls and old drifters wandering about and they usually keep their eyes pointed down. sometimes I practice small talk with the clerk, endeavoring to exchange appropriate amounts of eye contact throughout. personalities and performances and I am so tired of caring. when I’m waking up the sun is going down but monica gave me a hand full of vitamin D and a fire in the hearth and sometimes the world Is like a seven pointed centrifuge. the heavy particles are all hitting the chalice walls and I’m spinning so fast all I can do is look up and breathe. The swallows are singing swooping for the Black Madonna and the Popes of the white smoke. God jumps from the sky to the spoon to the corkscrew and L/L research put up a new tweet: more from Hatonn about the bitter wine, and this being quite a dense illusion for the thickness of the veiling, and the chakras being tuned like strings on a harp to be plucked by the Hands of the Creator. This isn’t the density of knowing as faith is the evidence for things unseen. I’m still half blind but I can hear them chanting and I’m just this side of single pointed thought but facebook keeps breaking my ****** attention. so I stand here awoken to the sun going down over the highway and the snakes winding up my spine and a mouth full of Vitamin D.
0
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 1:27 AM UTC
Dusk at Dawn
I miss my old hair clippers I had them since before I got sober. at the rehab near Philly, I would trade rollies for head shaves until I learned that I could shave my own head without a mirror. that was ok with me, I saved on tobacco but I still had my cup and bowl out. like an anchorite begging for alms by the road side. some 3000 shaves of the head later and I don’t need a mirror for much anymore. I set the old clippers aside and I don't know where they went to. When I wake up the sun is going down. I do my shopping beneath the cold chalice of the moonlight, cold glistening, somehow still reflecting of the Sun even though I said goodbye from my window to the early evening dawn 9 hours before the burning of the midnight oil. I chant and ring my bells so I don’t drift back to sleep. but I can still smell sulfur so I Aum and pray and ring the bells a little louder. I found God on the carpet once. It only took me 14 hours to pick through every crystalline crumb that glistened in the kitchen light. the next morning I had a half soup spoon full of the Almighty but the hook and the plunger swallowed Him whole and with haste turned me back to dust. sometimes I’ll make a to-do list with every strike of the pen another performance for the bushels and the bones, I like grocery shopping at night. normally there are only a few souls and old drifters wandering about and they usually keep their eyes pointed down. sometimes I practice small talk with the clerk, endeavoring to exchange appropriate amounts of eye contact throughout. personalities and performances and I am so tired of caring. when I’m waking up the sun is going down but monica gave me a hand full of vitamin D and a fire in the hearth and sometimes the world Is like a seven pointed centrifuge. the heavy particles are all hitting the chalice walls and I’m spinning so fast all I can do is look up and breathe. The swallows are singing swooping for the Black Madonna and the Popes of the white smoke. God jumps from the sky to the spoon to the corkscrew and L/L research put up a new tweet: more from Hatonn about the bitter wine, and this being quite a dense illusion for the thickness of the veiling, and the chakras being tuned like strings on a harp to be plucked by the Hands of the Creator. This isn’t the density of knowing as faith is the evidence for things unseen. I’m still half blind but I can hear them chanting and I’m just this side of single pointed thought but facebook keeps breaking my ****** attention. so I stand here awoken to the sun going down over the highway and the snakes winding up my spine and a mouth full of Vitamin D.
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66
She says, "Chad, **** me hard." She puts her hands on my shoulders and slips on to my ******** She bangs herself while she thinks of me. She knocks on my front door and disrobes in the entryway. I cup her ******* with my hands as I **** her from behind. Our rocking motion ebbs and flows. I kiss her neck as she pulls back her hair. My lips slowly go down her shoulders onto her chest and I taste her salty skin We walk through a forest in daylight hand in hand. We bicycle to a coffee shop together and sit down at a booth with our warm mugs. Then I read this poem to her. The words dance in her receivers, she says "thank you". Then she walks away by herself With her memory of us together. Knowing we will meet again.
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Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 4:06 PM UTC
Sacral exercise
O silver and black knight of the forest, what goal have you taken up for the castle? "I seek to slay with my beauty only..." "Slay those cries and moans from lonely damsels." "What business does an evil eye have in the land of purity and repose?" "I have many good deeds fine guardian." "Then enter secure, but let no evil in, or you will be cast out." .... "You have no business here until your wicked deeds are paid for, get out!" "Hey, that's okay," a fair damsel allows me to part from my solitude. Put on the sandy veil of partnership, for the spirit has reached into the divine female and divine male. Let those chakras make a transpersonal point, but sacral business is all I see. Maidens forever young. It seems an eunich has breached our display. But are we allowed back into the land of purity and repose? It seems the true goal of a babe's heart at the lap of his mother has entered the lair. Now is the fair damsel taken to the merciless judge. Now is a beautiful friend, waiting all this time, to exchange a breeze of heartfelt love. ****** purity is sought after, yet there is no place to hide a **** Light no longer is transferred from the 8th dimension. The male/female chakras above the crown open up again for sacral play. The sattvic essence remains, and I am held dearly at this party. The children outlast me during the night. I enter through a circular gate of pastel crystal petals into a deck of superstrength beings of all colors. A female face is grafted to mine. She puts on silver and black armor and the walls are crimson.
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Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 2:11 AM UTC
Knight of the Forest
O silver and black knight of the forest, what goal have you taken up for the castle? "I seek to slay with my beauty only..." "Slay those cries and moans from lonely damsels." "What business does an evil eye have in the land of purity and repose?" "I have many good deeds fine guardian." "Then enter secure, but let no evil in, or you will be cast out." .... "You have no business here until your wicked deeds are paid for, get out!" "Hey, that's okay," a fair damsel allows me to part from my solitude. Put on the sandy veil of partnership, for the spirit has reached into the divine female and divine male. Let those chakras make a transpersonal point, but sacral business is all I see. Maidens forever young. It seems an eunich has breached our display. But are we allowed back into the land of purity and repose? It seems the true goal of a babe's heart at the lap of his mother has entered the lair. Now is the fair damsel taken to the merciless judge. Now is a beautiful friend, waiting all this time, to exchange a breeze of heartfelt love. ****** purity is sought after, yet there is no place to hide a **** Light no longer is transferred from the 8th dimension. The male/female chakras above the crown open up again for sacral play. The sattvic essence remains, and I am held dearly at this party. The children outlast me during the night. I enter through a circular gate of pastel crystal petals into a deck of superstrength beings of all colors. A female face is grafted to mine. She puts on silver and black armor and the walls are crimson.
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41
Like a snake shedding skin, Only holding my identity to the moment You want to keep me frozen in time, frozen in space But I wasn’t even the same person a dozen days ago, constantly embrace the flow From one goal to the next, from one bed to the next Never dreaming of what's ahead, just ready for any tests Might trip up on my coolness and ponder on our past The long chats, the defined abs Abstract my memories are Glimpses in my art Fell before our hands met My heart burning up like a cigarette **** you still got your hook deep in this Pisces’ head
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Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 5:50 PM UTC
Justin's Justice
simple acts of love - given to me . . . makes my chest swell with despair. when it’s given to me, i can’t understand it.
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Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 11:59 AM UTC
heart chakra
Fluttering my orange lotus Flooding from the inside out We barely move at all Drenching in creation Hungry with a passion He has me like a gentle song Warm whispers on my skin Dripping growls down below Staying still Swaying Until my existence is no longer made up of matter Exhale
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Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 4:33 AM UTC
He asked me to write this
Brilliant beams sent by the moon to me Always understanding my perfect remedy Whenever the world is too chaotic I can always come to you for peace And serenity Guaranteed that I will feel better and at ease The orange flower birthed in my subconscious The bud was never a tracked process Like a rose that grew from concrete, we grew from doom From trauma and drama, it conceived me anew Get me my broom, let me taste the sky Get me my love, let us dance all night Put me underneath your tongue, show you a joyride Love being in love with you, so different than what we knew
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Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 12:50 PM UTC
Orange Flower
ME: Access your root There lies your pain If you could just clean This chakra This stain Then this time’d be different. ME: Then why, why, why? Is it the same? ME: Maybe that’s all we’re allotted, intermittent relief, that’s slotted twixt rain. ME: Nah bun all dat nonsense, this time I’ll switch grain. This time will be different. This time…
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Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 10:52 AM UTC
ME, ME, ME... and ME
Wings still down I thought flight could come to those on the ground Don’t wanna walk around I rather fly high But without the confidence to span You’ll never see the sky. Don’t wanna be the type of guy to waste talent. But the soul behinds these eyelids Needs balance to walk the fine line between genius and insanity. How can it be that my canopy is litter dollar signs but I never dream of cents just a few problems of mine. Wake up with no repentance.
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Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 2:48 PM UTC
Untitled
How can somebody be so beautiful. Do they know their wealth that I have felt? Look into the eye of them, are they sought from Bethlehem. A spirit so pure, or is it me who is insecure. Skin as soft as the morning glow and connection which seems to flow. Try to grip on what is next, searching still for more context. Chakra points are burning bright, every form now feels tight. All I want is to pursue but in the end will likely lose. I am him, she is her and we're not meant to be together.
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Jan 19, 2020
Jan 19, 2020 at 2:13 PM UTC
Krásny
Like a stem floundering through muck Just to blossom in the sun, I will do my everything to make you feel at home. When December ends and the sea Reconnects to its frosty coat And we stroll over pavements Icey as opioded eyes I will try to fix myself Into your fantasy For I know you could never Be mine and I know I have nothing left to lose Apart from your physical presence.
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Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 11:17 AM UTC
[Like a stem floundering through muck]
Words are forms of vibrational starts Pure white light increases Downward I feel healing
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Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 12:09 AM UTC
Words
I want to be the potter and you the clay I want to work you with my hands My fingertips pressing now....against the keys the board stiff under the sensitive pads as I feel you press back against me imagining your lips soft wet tenderly pressing into me. The clay soft and supple under my hands forming you, widening you again and again my muscles working against your stiffer aspects as we spin together wetting, re-wetting and smoothing my hands against your silky slick foundation strong and yet pliable seeking relief from standing strong and unyielding need. You are a deeper container than I anticipated and I, a roaring flood threatening sweep you away. but you hold... steady. What Joy! What Relief! we never expected to contain one another without harm! without fear! Peaceful now our lines flow together the potter the clay the hand and the wheel we come together. I love how we feel.
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Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 4:32 AM UTC
Hea(r)t Expansion
When my sun is hidden, I must rely upon on my moon’s shine. When my chakra is askew, I must realign. Learning the things I already knew. They flew over my head cause I’m cuckoo.
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Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
Head Nest
where I am right now is where I am meant to be I'm firmly rooted
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Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 12:48 AM UTC
Rooted
it’s as if I grow taller as the sun grows colder as the world stops for a second as I fall in
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Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 9:08 AM UTC
sun and earth
should I do for me or should I do for commonality?
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Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
commonality
My girth expands, as I inhale into third Chakra. A tickle erupts, bonding breath with moment. Guides stand attentively weaving their wisdom onto heart making Girih patterns of beauty. I feel empowered, blessed, grateful to release old for the new. To align, ready to do journey of my awaken soul.
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Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
Moment In Time
There's no need for this never ending doubt. Be the first and the last of your very own devout. Clear the clouds of those who surround. Your mind is stronger pound for pound. For you are you and they are their friends. Realise this and all your fear ends. You are one, now light the flame, your doubters gone. Do you see what I mean that it doesn't matter where you've been. 'cause now your all knowing It's about where you're going. Poetry by kaydee.
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Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
Where You're Going.