Selmhem Naise


Most often we write

  for ourselves

               and to our selves.

And most often  we
end up reading our own work
             much more

             than anyone else does.

Most often
our poetry is
our own  spirit's

             pressing itself back towards us--


        The  one  we want
  and need
  relationship with
                      most deeply;

                                  most often

                is our very own selves.

Selmhem Naise

Poetry is so much
more
than many people think it is.
It is
the place
where the battleground of light and dark
makes its  finest stand..

or most pathetic fall.

Selmhem Naise

In the end,  I
have found what it is
that I have been looking for--
the hope of hopes:
and a view  of views--

"God's hand in all things.."

D Vanlandingham

I could not help it,
but to show you how the moment felt,
and in the unfolding of a picture, painted;
the deepest of your dreams were unknowingly shown to you
And it caught you off guard-  having, to that day..

   you never imagined,  it possible.

But you did not yet understand that you wear your dream
somewhere within the thin-walled interminglings
of the word's first primal, urgings..  and its out-into-the-light-of-day,
manifestations... (and baby, I feel like crying right now)
but I will continue
I will continue--

You never signed up for this,  I know..
but you are the one who  chose
to allow your war-torn heart,
to keep on beating//
your flame-scorched lungs,  to keep on breathing..
and now look at this mess, my beautiful--
your beautiful-everything has bled out on to me

and  everywhere that I am..  I am wearing you

And all I do  is tell you what it feels like  to wear you
but in doing so, I made known  your dream
and somehow-- within the stretch of Love's ache's, bad luck
I have become hated  for making your secret, come true--

         the revealing of the dream,  made known ::

                                                the Unfolded you.

And now, you are raging
because you never imagined, the possibility
that there would be someone  out there
that would care  enough about you
to become able  to see..

(and a man became hated, for just being  me).


Yet, even now  to this day,  beloved;
I close my eyes, and smile
within the depths,

  of your deeply loving, hatred.

Your *******, when love-based
within their beautiful forming,
and then  glorious unfolding
are Love and Light's  extracorporeal
pulsings;
focusing   l o v e t on e d
sonic shockwaves directly at the  machine's
extremely intricate innerworkings..

Having,  through years of horror-based
survival tactics; in desperation.. slowly learned;
now ingrained-- softening up the very
innerwall-linings of your very spirit
in such a way as to unknowingly
provide footing
for the machine's  deep embedment,
and then,  permeation  of all things
previously, you..
having now enwrapped itself into
your very sinews

holding your precious spirit   captive
from the the soar

These passionate, late night forays
outside the wire with you
are not exploitative, but instead
are love-driven  deeply focused,
fully intentioned pingings of Light's
Relational sound waves
aimed directly at the beautiful you
held so tightly, so covetously by the machine
as your wonderfully  nectar-filled body
responds late at night, aligning
to the me, you have come to know..
heightening your beautiful response
to the point of screaming,  passionate release--

your own, fully love based..

      extracorporeal..

unwelcoming,   of the machine.

D Vanlandingham

"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so
absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion."
~Albert Camus


Manifestations, through metabolization--
there is a shift provided  within
their very act of being,  causing a cost
that none of those who choose to  punish

would choose to pay,

    Yet.. pay, these earth gods will:
    as that is the only world that they know

And to survive, with such a vengeance
as to provide the necessary offset   powerful enough
to bring about the very death   of death, itself

A death, not wanting to die,  but instead
made alive  within the very death
it brings about in the hearts of those  

    who punish the very ones  capable
    of causing its own demise--

A catch-all, catch-22...
a never ending, vicious cycle
the offset  made nearly null and void

    through deception's presentation of the image..
    gunfire in the air, there is a celebration--
    its Wehrmacht-like rallys and assemblies;

                                  social media at its finest.
                                       (selfies, selfies, selfies..)

But the Earth Gods;
they are an insertion in to every bit of this..
     undeceived  
     unwavering

     uncontrollable.