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I came to liberate lions from dungeons
I came to share and not stare at you
I came to actualize powers within me
I intend to distribute resources equally
I came to reiterate that all beings are beautiful
I came to make an impact like mountains do
I came to create music with my attitude
I intend that symphonies surround me with their melodies
I intend that children feel safe to open up to me
I came to empower dancers in perpetual motion
I intend to be a witness to the miracles of life’s radiance
I came to scream love songs into forests
I came to hear my own voice echoed by hollow caverns
I intend to create portals that we can travel through
I came to bring back the aurora borealis at all latitudes
POSSIBLE Feb 2016
oral transmission
Modulate - Cognate- Division
Cosmic - tuned in like Cognitive Transmission

This is my mission, to

Get up out the scene Live wild as a child
Dread my head, Hear cries like the Roar  I lionize
Deviant be me, othered for free
as the Nomos creates Signifier, Signified
somewhat like a homeless child stigmatized
caught outside our commercial enterprise

but

With enterprise, there enters lies,
Never earthbound my star ship seems to Actualize
Melodically.

So let me lyrically **** your path so you can shift past the cuts
Neva drinking the wine of wrath, made sour by sour patch cats blasted by vats OF GRAFFITI splats.

Culture slipping like gangsters simply sipping at the purple incision
instead we walk Holy like the cotton we missin

Tattoo my Secrets onto skin parchment ,
thats Ink advice ---:  People Lost in Duality, man thats just thinkin twice
Surrender and self-Sacrifice be the admission price
to see Kali singing blood mantras dancing through

Dreams of Ink darshan doorways
Tantric like Siva Approaches his consort for foreplay

My face is like a thundercloud, smiles formed outta cloud highs
Now my 3rd eye, washed in blood saw how Snakes stitch DNA
up and winding
and lemme tell you bro,
its some Nauesous stuff

Transcendent reality,
ego death till its fallacy,
recognize perfection
of life in the galaxy

So I toss out my ID, puff puff, its high ME
don't be Stuck like Ego grinding, Just saving souls don’t mind we,
go Indigo like Love in the margins, Golden souls attempting to live in holy gardens, ==========

We forget though

Neither death or immortality existed in the time before time,  of day or night no sign

There was Darkness hidden by Darkness , all was water but got started quick, by the sharpness of a god spark

kick crash hit, life spit out covered in emptiness

This was it, started from the bottom, rise in the power of heat,
dance tap ta dis beat Aware tapas generates so much heat Indiscreet
in abyss

But then desire became the fire, middle ground never higher than the smoke trails of the world's creation,
Spittin om proir flash forward funeral flames tamed by Tandava siva purifier

So this poet seeks in the heart of wisdom found in the bond of existence to non-existence
Knowledge that  I’m a livewire with a high resistance
I Complete my **** Through high persistence,

Eventually though,
the Fog rolls in again , agnosia forget the Cosmic condition
till then We soulfeed lyrics in-between kissing.
I am the grand central
swirling vortex of the known universe

pathway of consciousness
a worldwide metaphysical interconnection

hub of modernity’s magnificent  metropolis
prime mover of it's empowered citizenry

eye of a Mid-Atlantic megalopolis
bridging an expanse from Boston to DC
trajectories of an Acela Express
accelerates time, coheres a region

magnetic compass axis
gyroscopic core
web of iron rails
touches all
transcontinental
cardinal ordinates

my constitution of chiseled granite blocks
manifests steadfast immutability

opulent terminus of marbled underground railways
subconscious portals to inter-borough worlds


the Zodiac streaks across my painted heavens
splashing aspirational mosaics of
bold citizens onto universal canvasses
my exhalations burst galaxies,
birthing constellations
promising potentialities of
plenteous abundance
as a right of all
global citizens

transit vehicle for mobilized classes
of fully enfranchised republicans

my tendrils plunge deep into
cavernous drilled bedrock
firming an unshakable edifice
-a new rock of ages-

rails splay out to the
horizons farthest corners
northern stars, southern crosses
nearest points on a sextants reckon

I am the iron spine
of the globes anointed isle
I co-join Harlem and Wall Street
as beloved fraternal twins

commerce, communication and culture
is the electricity surging through my veins

the worlds towering Babel
rises from my foundations
the plethora of tongues
all well understood

I open the gateways of knowledge
guarded by vigilant library lions

route students and scholars to
the worlds most pronounced public schools

beatific Beaux Art is boldly scrawled on my walls
in dark hued blues sung in gaudy graffito notes

swanky patrons sip martinis,
nosh bagels with a smear and **** down
shucked lemon squirted oysters

reason, discovery and discourse tango
to the airs of Andean Pipe flutes
with violence and discordant dissonance
deep within my truculent bowels

I am the road to work,
a pathway to a career and
the ride to a Connecticut
home sweet home

my gargoyles and statuary laugh
at pessimistic naysayers

I am the station for
centurions, bold charioteers
homeless nomads and
restive masses

I stir a nation of neighborhoods
into a brilliant *** of roiling roux

beams of enlightenment
stream through colossal windows
today's epiphanies of the fantastic
actualize resplendent zeitgeists

sipping coffee in my cafe's
the full technicolor palette
of humanity is revealed;
civilizations history is etched
forever upon the mind

eight million stories
of the naked city is bared
as splendorous tragedy
it's comic march
of carnal being
exalted

a million clattering feet
scurry across marblized floors
polishing the provenance
burnishing a patina
exuding golden footprints

I am 100 years young and
thousand years away from
the crash of a demolition ball

Doric Columns and
elegant archways
coronate commuters
each day with a
new revelation of a
democratic vista

I am the grand central
my spirit flows as
one with the mass
in the vibrant
heart of our
throbbing city

Music Selection: Leonard Bernstein, On the Town

written to mark the 100th Anniversary of Grand Central Station


Oakland
2/8/13
Mary McCray Apr 2014
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 1, 2014)

It depends upon what the definition of is is:
it being life’s legal outcomes,
is being the eternal present
or eternity.
To be or not to be:
Billy, you need to rewrite
with more specificity:
to self-actualize or not to self-actualize,
to exist or not to exist:
that is the question
if the question is
living the question
or if it means disrupting pre-
destiny. Language drunk
with the spirit of spirituality,
what we say say say
is imbued with what is.
Godfrey Amromare Jul 2016
In haste...
Behind
Our footprints
Were the scattered emptiness
Of the memories
Of them
On the shores

She left the three parties of us
Me, Samantha
And our traveler friend

They were play things for sunset fares,
She said.

Just yesterday
They were happy to be here
The young flowers now scattered about
This beach shore
Too young to be plucked
Happy to grow up into one party of laughter!

That's how we remember they were here
That's how to plant graveside flowers
For the dead
They were play things for sunset fares

They were not soldiers
They were unprotected women
They were not warriors
They were unfed afraid Biafran children  

That's how to plant graveside flowers
That's how we have kept them forever
In our hearts
That's how we actualize Biafra.
This poem is a remembrance piece for the more than three million civilians, most of them children who died of starvation in Biafra land as a result of the blockade policy which the Federal side adopted to cut off the secessionist's supplies during the civil war which lasted in Nigeria from 1967 - 1970. It would be recalled that the Nigerian foremost poet, Christopher Okigbo also was lost to that tragic war. It is to Okigbo, the more than a million starved dead children, the women, everybody else that was the sacrifice red water of the secessionist nation this art is crafted. Amen.
singingghosts Jun 2017
okay. so if you've been paying any attention to me, you know i've spent my entire week on ketamine (a drug i have always felt was too deep for me) and also forcing people to listen to joanna newsom. and now i somehow feel like i've learned so much that i can actually apply it to be the person i thought i never wanted to be.

here's what happened.

i have been having inner struggles against myself, feeling like i'm getting older and more comfortable with being average and just living until i eventually die in a hospital bed though i would prefer it be in my own.

this has been destroying me. not so much death as it's been dying without any significant understanding, telling people without hesitation that i am going to **** myself. and it's not immediate either. it's just a general i'm gonna die one day but it'll be by my hands.

i've been back and forth with my ego and my logic self or whoever else is here, so far that i actually considered maybe i had a split personality disorder everyone else was aware of and never told me. and it's been ******* me up.


so i had an episode halfway through joanna newsom Have One On Me album, maybe my favorite album. Ys is up there but i often wonder if it's the album that gets to me or Only Skin dominating.  

friday i got some people together. gave them ketamine. played the Ys album. what happened was unexpected as 1 i personally have never listened to joanna newsom on dissociatives and 2 i have never had anyone have the reaction to her i saw happen.  

my friend's wife is in her 40s. i'm not entirely sure what she does but she is a pianist and she likes art and she doesn't eat meat and all in all there's many things i need to discuss with her. it's become now almost a calling to sit down with her and talk to her. i am driven to her power and before we had this exchange together i had been absolutely terrified of her.  

we did not have enough time for what i realized needed to happen.

sunday i had time though with other people. i will feed my friends ketamine and play joanna newsom's entire discography, every hour giving them a higher dose of K.

by 'sadie' my friends were in holes. mind you, these are people who don't listen to joanna newsom.  they listen from post modern jukebox to classic rock. they aren't casually drawn to joanna, sober, the way i am. and for any joanna fan this is something we have grown accustom to. we don't get offended when people don't get her but when they DO get her, really get her, it's a religious experience.

i don't know what they experienced completely. i was in egypt. i was swallowed by sand, surfing pyramids, bursting through the warmth of the sun. i was traveling. trying to write this now has become difficult as i have just done another two lines and feel these hands trying to lay me down.

only skin comes on. 16 minutes felt like 2 minutes once it ended but those 16 minutes felt like 40 days while it played. i had been patched together. the sound now coming from inside my body. my body buried in this darkness pure darkness. the only way to explain what k holing is is the hypnotized scene of Get Out where the dude is lowered into his subconsciousness watching through his eyes from a well staring up at images
of what is happening. sorta watching yourself go on its own

i'm not sure if this is the case for everyone, but that scene is a real feeling and it's one i adore

my thought process was "i need everyone to get here and hear this" it felt almost therapeutic for me and to see everyone have a similar reaction to her, people who don't even listen to her, maybe people who would've just been like "ok" hearing her, be completely cleansed by this sequence.
that's what i called it. a sequence. each album was a phase and a journey we must endure together. keeping each other safe. and i could feel our panic and our madness. i could feel us unraveling and i kept us all together. taking brief intermissions and cigarette breaks.

.  

i put headphones on to get there. the sensory deprivation the sensory isolation pulls my consciousness pulls my body away. it's an incredible feeling.

i take the headphones off though i cannot feel them on my head. i am aware that is the power source. i am in bed. i take a second to remind myself where my body is though my mind is anticipating it's escape.

i breathe. i put headphones back on.

days pass. days have spent time without me though i am still here. i've been writing so much. so many things i don't remember i wrote but when i see it again i remind myself there are places unexplored in my brain. places i thought didn't exist. i accepted the perimeter of my thoughts and feelings so long that i was just this clay blob of grey without motivation. without the ability to see through it or above it. i accepted wherever i've been mentally for the last half of my life was where i would stay for the remainder of it.

i was wrong. i was so wrong.

i watched my friend watch the girl he loves at work. she's a dancer. he never came to her job before and i was afraid for her. i was afraid he would make a scene and i had to talk to him before we went in to make sure he could handle it.

he didn't handle it well. at first

at first he kept staring her down talking to some dude and i kept talking in his ear "it's okay she's just working it's okay please she'll come to us when she can. don't distract her" and he kept insisting she didn't see him but she saw us. we made eye contact and i knew she knew what i knew and that was that i needed to get him to understand he needed to let go of this bitterness and disgust he felt for her career choice.

and it worked. i did calm him down. and she did come to us. and they probably ****** like they never ****** before when they got home.

and i've been talking to people. really talking to people. listening. reading. i can focus again. i can pay attention. i can keep myself in a present moment and process it without getting distracted or bored.

i met so many people this week. so many people i would've never met even though i go to the same bars and see them i never talked to them but this week we all finally talked and we all connected and we all realized we felt the same way the way i was reading my timeline saying "it's so sad people feel like me across the world too" and they're right here near me near us and we are so blinded by ourselves, i was blinded by myself, to see who they are as people and their relation and positioning and significance. and it feels so good

i don't want opiates anymore. over a decade i've done drugs. all drugs. drinking. weird *** ****. i've been gluttonous in my pleasures each corner of them i've relished and raved and grinned about my existence to somehow feel this awful part of me i couldn't control is what made me stand out, made me better, made me more human. it's garbage. everything i've believed is garbage. it's trash.

and now i CARE. for the first time in my life i actually care about things because i WANT to and not because i'm told i probably should, finding myself tossing about looking for the right words and actions to give the illusion i know what i'm doing. i had no idea what i was doing. i was just doing things because i wanted to imitate what everyone else was.

it feels so good to finally experience people and life the way i thought people just fabricated to sell books and movies. all of the things and life i believed were shallow and disingenuous, i was wrong. it was me. i was shallow, disingenuous. i was selfish. i was cutting myself off from life and blaming the world around me for not seeing things my way. i was a perpetual child and ketamine has finally made me grow up.

i'm not saying throw away your meds and eat better but that's what i am gonna do because i hated when people would say **** like that. like, no. *******. eating raw broccoli won't cure my depression. it won't but having the experience i had this week, having the tools to actualize my mental instability and now, god, somehow now really believing in myself and my goals and lifestyle, i have this unknown drive and faith in my ability as a person that i would get when my meds actually did work. but this isn't something i have to take every single day for the rest of my life. this is something that gave me insight i never realized for myself before, just heard, just read. like am writing this now and there's people who felt the way i felt before i did this saying "oh god" because honestly a few days ago i would've felt the same way. i can't believe the things i'm saying are so real to me and this IS new for me and it is something i want to explore and learn more about. i'm researching clinical trials and reading articles and experiences and seeing.... this might actually be the future of mental health and well being and if it is, i need to learn how i can take my experiences and have someone way smarter than me figure out how to make use of it to benefit everyone from my family to people who aren't born yet. i lived my whole life in such a bad place. no one deserves that. we deserve better quality of life. i've been on so many different meds and lifestyle paths and drugs and everything they tell you to do and NONE OF IT WORKED FOR ME. therapy didn't work for me. cleanses didn't work for me. love didn't work for me. running didn't work for me. water. greens. positive thinking. but i'm gonna figure this **** out and i want this experience to be beneficial to everyone who has ever known who i am.

my only fear is that when i start to sink back into my murky brain it'll be hard to get back here. i've been somewhere close to where i am now but i never made it over until now. i don't want to go back. god please don't take me back
so weird reading other posts where i had close realizations to where i am now. i was so close.
Nora May 2016
I’m bigger, but better
In all senses of the word
My old clothes,
Tight, taut, too tiny,
Abandoned for I have
Outgrown them
growing both physically and spiritually as I continue to conquer my eating disorder. Lots of love to those who are fighting as I am!
so
people say that there are things
    objects
    abstracts
    other people
    earth's natural boundaries and bounties
that urge  or maybe converge the mind
into action - though most probably think the act,
they reverie in what they dream as exceptional.

so
here is an ideal,
a prototype esteemed
like that emblazoned scrap of paper
with the birth names and letters
dotdotdot etc ...

so, tell me
are you aspiring
or laying deep
in the molds ?
will it buy you a ring for your trophy ?
will it make you prolific ?

we would not know happiness,
if only for the grand stories
told to us of our entitlement
to enjoy our senses. well,
look at this container,
you were perfectly crafted
to roam
with intention, across all spaces
conquistadoring and
expanding and
'destroying to create'
whatever the **** that means

and never learning not to rear our ugly heads
to the paradise
breastfeeding
us,
or to the processing
keeping us bred
nice and tidy.

so
there is the ambiguous person again,
and is there something wrong with monotony,
does it imply a good in consistence
does it lend translation to the static
     (coming up and out of your roaring mouth;
           he is an angel, i grant it worth.)

so
be inspired by feeling.
that dumpster over yonder is what it
is, as your lobes transmit
and lucidly self actualize ::

i am not here to convince anyone
but myself.
788

Joy to have merited the Pain—
To merit the Release—
Joy to have perished every step—
To Compass Paradise—

Pardon—to look upon thy face—
With these old fashioned Eyes—
Better than new—could be—for that—
Though bought in Paradise—

Because they looked on thee before—
And thou hast looked on them—
Prove Me—My Hazel Witnesses
The features are the same—

So fleet thou wert, when present—
So infinite—when gone—
An Orient’s Apparition—
Remanded of the Morn—

The Height I recollect—
’Twas even with the Hills—
The Depth upon my Soul was notched—
As Floods—on Whites of Wheels—

To Haunt—till Time have dropped
His last Decade away,
And Haunting actualize—to last
At least—Eternity—
AA Phi Sep 2013
first,
a raccoon wrapped within its own intestine.
the asphalt is its grave; i swerve to miss it.
we shared the same air, maybe even a
common ancestor.
someone moved too fast to care.
its the ones with
fast cars and slow minds
pretty faces and ugly intent
artificial kindness but genuine hate
i'm not your friend
just a similar sense of self
it is
fat priests playing golf
lottery ticket paradises
restaurants
embellished mechanized slaughter
fake laughter and even faker love
shopping mall environmentalists
lexus-driving christians
paychecks, TV, lawn mowing sundays
drink yourself to death
please.
the least among us in control
deprived of the mind
the stench of their egos
and their hypocrisy
the gasoline, the cash, and the forced smiles
as i write people die
children die
i'm like many
the fool who knows
but does nothing
the one who doesn't know
that's the good person
the moral person.

second,
a rant, a ******* rage
the days are stale, self-actualize, the Earth remains the same
dry and motionless
middle-class frustration, planetary confusion,
the ***** of the Earth,
capsized like dying branches
in a wal-mart state of mind,
stupid slobs, rodent minded social egoists
over-organized, clean freak object fetishists
the evolutionary dollar sign
they bay at the moon, it's made of cheesecake
phase transitioning,
you blood clot, Earthly blood clot,
you don't know art
now there's ancient blood on my hands
smokeless, plantless, Earthless blood
detached from Gaian consciousness
stain on the mind
confused, clogged pathways,
clogged with
self-righteous mind flood
piles of ***** tissue,
waning and waxing
force feed me your ******* please
because i have no idea how to answer
in this cultural blood bath
it is the
end of time
the end of mind.

:aaphi
Jon Shierling Jan 2014
Today, sitting in the library waiting for it to be time to go to work, I've decided that its a good time to write about some things that I've been keeping to myself for a while. Victor Frankl has convinced me to live as if I've done it already and now can make good on my promises and make different choices than the last go round (which was one helluva doosie). I should be looking for a house instead, or maybe hunting for that second job I need to take. But what's the difference between one house or another, or even a cardboard box out by the mall if there's no eventual destination one has in mind. So I'm going to write down my dream for the future, a wholesome dream I keep very close because its so real to me. There are other dreams of course, other lives I'm tempted to seek and have tried in the past to actualize, mostly out of a desire to escape, to be somebody else. But this dream is the real one, the true one that is all the more precious because it can belong only to me, whereas sailing the high seas or tramping through unexplored jungles could belong to anybody with a mind to do it. My dream has more to do with minor things, things that don't take herculean courage or a doctorate in linguistics. Things like taking the kids out for ice cream on a hot day. Or piling everybody into the car for the drive from our house in Floyd up to Woodstock for the Shenandoah County Fair. Singing all the old songs and some of the new as we wind our way through the Blueridge. Maybe somebody has a summer cold so Charlotte and I have to hunt for tissues in all the places where they might be, and then find them in the back with the kids where we put them in the first place. And then finally getting there, late probably, so that everybody else is already at the grounds and we can hear the announcer at the cart races as we unpack the car. And then there they all are, my Mother and Stepfather, Uncle and Aunt and Cousins and the Grand Parents deciding to come again this year, though its getting hard for them to make the drive from Virginia Beach. So we all head up to the track to catch the last of that days races, covered in sweat and bumping into random people, a four-year old perched on my shoulders, not just because it's fun for him but also so Charlotte and I can keep track of the other children easier. I can see the magic in their faces as we waddle around the pavilions full of animals for the livestock auctions. Our six year-old daughter gravely points out to her mother that there's something wrong with that turkey in the pen, it's the wrong color. She has only ever seen the wild turkey's around our place, never a domestic white. Charlotte shoots a quick smile at me, trying hard not to laugh as she explains to our daughter why not all turkey's are as pretty as the ones that live near our house. And then before ya know it the sun's going down and it's almost time for the live music to start. So we all wind up in the bleachers again, listening to old country singers whose songs I haven't heard in thirty years, sharing funnel cakes and singing along while I'm wiping powdered sugar off of little noses with my shirt. I could go further, talk about how we decided to keep heading North after the fair, up on to Skyline Drive and Front Royal, and visited the old Firestation where my Great-Grandfather volunteered in the days before there was a McDonald's. But I won't flatten things with too many details. They're not that important sometimes anyway.  What is important, is that when I see these things in my mind's eye, they're clear as if they've already happened. As if I'm remembering the night at the fair with my Family last summer, and writing about it now after I'm done grading papers and the children are getting ready for bed. There's splashing and laughing from a bathroom where it sounds like there's less bathing and more tickling going on, Charlotte laughing hardest of all. I write of this, and I know deep down inside, that I've found something I lost a long, long time ago. As if a lost civilization's Golden Age is sailing out of the mists, building's putting themselves back together and beautiful trees growing right before my eyes. I've got to go now though, I need to help Charlotte dry off the kids and then show the youngest how to make the best PB&J; sandwich ever, the same way my Dad taught me.
JLB Feb 2012
It's amazing,
How words will only actualize our realities
                                        Fully                   ­               
               When they are uttered
                                   Aloud.


And once those unspoken realities transpire,
It's as if the all the air in the world gets caught in a primordial vibration,
                
                   And those vibrations                                                       ­                     
Break the internal balloon                                                
Detaining­ veracity's ink                    
Painting our insides like the canvas of Jackson Pollack.
                                                        ­       Seeping through soft tissue.
                                          Spilling into chest cavities.
         Sloshing around.
           Saturating the hues of our flesh.

A single utterance
Resulted in irrevocable emotional
Infiltration:

"I'm in love"

*******...
Damaré M Apr 2013
Relay the message
There's something I'm detecting
I promise to respect it
But if he's being neglectful
Let me become careful

Caresome
Deceitless

Excuse my grammar
Im speechless

Broad day
Thinking
Dreaming
Wishing
That he's slippin

Falling right off the edge into the ocean

Leaving your heart open

Right? Open ?

When he become irresponsible and lock his keys behind the closed door; tell me that he's the only one who can't access room in your heart!!!

Ocean no!

I hope that you don't dive in behind him and allow yourself to sway from captain to captain

I hate to be captious
But
Mermaids aren't meant to be captured by a man who's heart is fractured

My net is full of caress

So while the both of you is near the cliff; I'm somewhere onshore

Ready to reel you in with so much lure

Tell him
Tell him now
That when he clown
Which results into your frowns

Let him know that I'm in town
Right around the corner
Right up the street
No where far
On the same boulevard

But if you're smart
This is where you'll start
Where you'll Start To finish

Just end it !!

I know I don't have your heart, but I'm still in it

You know how I know?
Because of his senses

His senses, make him ask you; who is it?

Who's the guy?

"How is it that I make you feel low
And somehow  your still  high"

His blemish
My good intentions
His senses
See how tense he is
Makes my wish list
So I'm whispering
"Do it, do it, do it"
And you are listening
But your lips isn't twitching
You kno he'll lose it
Your eyes are glistening
His eyes is blistering
I wish I was present for witnessing

Strange because I'm smiling for your cries

Waiting for you to tell him goodbye
So I can actualize on his lies.

Capitalize on his disguise

Tell him
Tell him that it's me, who he thought that he was when he was not being truthful

His creativity and imagination

Is ambiguous and hellacious

Let him know that he have your heart, but it belong to someone else

Also make it clear that he antagonized on someone else's prize

And while your eyes are teary; you laugh and tell him that someone else has come to title him as your last

At this point He knew this wasn't gonna last,  but he must ask

And ask
Again and again

Who is he?

Then you tell him ...
Tell him that he met me before and I looked him dead in the eyes like a man but didn't shake his hand.
...
Tell him that I basically told him
Dear Feb 2013
WILL THIS HUNGER EVER SUBSIDE?
I don't believe I want it to..
I paint my insides and drown them in ink
Leave them at your door to be smeared on your walls with the hope I have create something you cannot forget.
Something that will craze you in manic love once again.

I like it.

The ache so strong in the depths of my core
Eating away at the lining of my being until there is nothing more.

ARE YOU NOT STARVING?

Indifference is a mechanism of defense
Stowing away only the most intense.

I will play pretend I am whole and free until I actualize it to myself that I am indeed
And I will hate you for making me believe to feel as such, it was you I did need.

WE SHOULD NEVER HAVE LISTENED TO NERUDA!

Tied hearts in the dark get tangled and the knots end up in your stomach
The independence of the sun will make you sick as you realize your worldliness.

Together we are heaven
And therefore I must believe we made an illusion.
Reality brings about things we believe we could have only imagined.

I adore the desire of you.
Only the dreams are screaming it is beyond merely you that I desire so lavishly.
And you are just as those allusive dreams I feel the importance of but cannot quite recall so am endlessly trying to figure
(like the word that escapes you when it is the only and perfect one to translate what is in mind)

We could give each other all our love
A piece of overly buttered bread is what we would end up.

Too rich. Too filling. Too much.

Though some would argue there isn't such a
thing.

I AM DISCONTENTED WITH NOT UNDERSTANDING THE MEANING
Sensed as abruptly as the scent of humid bodies and patchouli

I cannot believe you to be but a distraction God threw at me to see if I could  deflect that which might hold me from some spiritual duty.

But if so, I'll cut myself loose.
I'll think of you as the pond I once rested against in my travels as a wild goose.
Filled myself with the life that surrounds you an flourishes beneath your surface.

I'll trust I will come upon your easy waters
Or some as tranquil when my wings need rest to further soar.

I always knew you were a challenge to overcome.
And I thought the challenge was to be with you as your greatest lover
When I just got the idea..
Maybe the challenge to overcome is being in love with you at all in this time of mine so ripe
God is not static being, but dynamic becoming.
Without human participation,
God remains incomplete, unrealized.
It is up to us to actualize
the divine potential in the world.

*God needs us.
Ryan James Mar 2016
She tattoos scars
Down her arms
And up her legs
A roadmap to the bleeding heart
You'll never see
To actualize the pain
To make it seem real
She takes a blade to her wrist
And finally feels
An exhalation of sorrow
Of hopelessness and doubt
Perhaps only for a moment
But a permanent route
A roadmap of scars
Tattooed on her skin
Hieroglyphic memoirs
Of the story within
Hudson Taylor Feb 2011
This is a letter addressed to someone
Though I do not know their name
I hope that one day we will be together just the same.

This is a letter for my lover
One whom I do not know
I only wish I could put a face to this message that I wrote.

Nevertheless I think that I worry way too much
About things that don’t concern me, or at least not yet
But they itch and they scratch and annoy me, they are biting at my neck.

One day I will be man enough to face my problems, or at least I hope, and I do hope.
I hope that I will not have to face these giants alone.
That I will have someone to hold in the comfort of our home.

And although you are just a faceless, nameless person whom I have yet to meet,
I can’t wait until the day that I can actualize defeat,
And know that I can’t stand on my own two feet,
That I can’t sleep, drink or eat,
Without you.
I.
from one direction a voice is heard
the Word pours forth from the mountain
i hear the language of the birds
truthfully we converse often
they recount tales of passion
beauty and satisfaction
our mutual attraction is gaining energy
i feel the pressure building
its all consuming
like a waterfall it threatens to engulf me
and dissolve me in its intoxication
her scent is everywhere
a constant reminder of the divine
i am taunted by her essence
her fragrance and her spine
inflict mortal wounds
dare to hold her tight
if you do the energy of love
will overcome her
sweet innocence
bound to the intellect
essential qualities
of communication
sensuality
actualize presence
in feeling and form
i freeze
her beauty is numinous
surreptitiously blooming it almost fooled me
she took hold of my insides
it lingers near me
i sleep within her memory
can i shield myself from this surge of music
hunger and inclusion
an institution of feeling

II.
her eyes are furnaces
her breath vapor
never less than the totality
of liquid light crashes
fast and than slowly
the rhythm laughs at our feebleness
saturated innocence
bursting out like steam from coal ovens
simple ecstasy is my only hope
form is pain
a prayerful reminder of our impermanence
swiftly **** me and i shall dance on your grave
sledgehammers finish off the drudgery
some moments are pounding
others are cool like the crystal ocean
a depth and vision is necessary
i am in need of shelter from her fire
a muse that burns all that she inspires
a silent lover of beauty
furthering her art
between the spaces of dreams
our fingers slip into everything
and become tangled like twine
rest here and unwind your heart strings
the scintillating heat
is blinding yet rejuvenating
if you are my love then uncover your soul
give naked silence a chance to grow
surround my faithless jungle
with your vines of hope
i am conscious of the lack of rope
for happiness is binding
like kindness climbing invisible ladders
shatter the silhouette of your perfect idol
sneak a peak at a photograph you have kept hidden
silver visions destined to uncover
the lust of beauty
smiled in my direction
if we wish to dance then circle around the fire
aspire for magic to abolish your name
switch places with the shadow
and feel the earth with your skin
give us a reason for you to be here
or you better start swimming

III.
what is this feeling
of loneliness and shame
as it arises i witness our pain
like flaming eagles
it circles high in the sky
our instability gives rise to flight
you gave me the impression
that you were alright
now i know the difference
between the darkness and the light
as featureless women
become a formless sea
of instant gratification
is this the medicine i seek
our trials and tribulations are tripping me
every which way i reach
i feel you chasing after me

IIII.
never quite on time
we run always behind
i am dancing in flaming spirals
a feather high up in a tree
i am a shepherd and i am a chief
i am the river, the mountain and the sea
life gets hectic and full of noise
in the confusion we reach out for toys
to anchor us to reality
yet it never works
these childish games remain shallow
and keep us narrowly awake
barely alive
what a dismal dive
into lakes of cold liquid
refreshed by the water and the ice
somehow our humanity survives

M Harris May 2017
With Wings Of Mayhem Covered In September Dew,
She Flies Under The Autumn Sun On An Holiday Overdue,
  
Through Holographic Designs & Trumpeting Ecstasy,
She Transmutes Her Photographic Lusts Into Riveting Intimacy,
  
Lightning Visions In Her Empyrean Eyes,
Dreamscaping She Drifts Through Ethereal Skies,
  
Of Toxic Sanctums & Pulsating Screams,
She Titillates The Trance Up In Her ****** Schemes,
  
Myriad Stories Of Her Sonnets Divine,
Constructing Fluidic Reveries In Her Comic Design,
  
Like Chemical Dispersals Veiled In Her Digital Stains,
She Formulates Aphrodisiacal Elixir In Her Lyrical Rain,
  
Through Dimensional Shifts Of The Fractal Waves,
Her Cosmic Prophecies Actualize Into Sacramental Raves,
A Genomic Felony Concealed Inside Her Superficial Caves,
  
With Acoustic Muteness In Her Green Shaded Eyes,
As She Gleams Through The Millennial Skies,
In Melodious Echoes, She Whispers Of Arcane Lies.
  
- 05:28 AM
David Jun 2015
I'm uncomfortable  

And always tense
In observational
Desire
From my corner coffee shop
Spot.
Unnoticed,
I see simple embrace
One for which
my body aches.
My body breaks
I realize
I'm alone and
In doing so actualize my own fate.

People are aliens
Foreign and speaking a language which seems eerily  
familiar but forgotten
years ago.
It seems I am not getting
better at conversing
just daily Rehearsing
The same rhetoric
Stoic lows
recycled and recited
to a new day, a new ethereal face

Inadequate Inadequacies
Inadequately Inscribed,
,described and, imbibed.

Please, oh Lord,
Let me imbibe
before subscribing
to speak to you, me, every and anyone.


Send Help!
Send Anyone!

A person
to make my lips feel
a little
less caustic.
Casual conversation
by the wayside
I want what I had
Not what I can or could have.
I don’t want love.
I’d rather have a dog to put to sleep
than no dog at all.
IrieSide Nov 2014
Hey man listen, it’s not at all what you think
There’s so much more you can do and be
The question for you is, why is it that you’ve stopped?
A climber can never quit so close to the peak

An invisible journey, a growth towards the sky
Like a tree in the field, as the sun passes by
Taking each opportunity, to achieve some growth
A relentless being is the tree, who never cries nor hopes

We are merely seeds, in the whole scheme of things
To self actualize is the prize in this divine disguise
For divinity is, the sight through the dark and cloudy
look around, is what you see a beautiful reality?
Demons are born in
the venn diagrams of who
you are vs. who
you want to be.

Eclipsing the hell
portals is the only way
to seal the gate to
mental illness.

the only way to
lasso your planetary
pie charts is to self
actualize.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2018
~for Henessy J. Beltre and all the new Observers of the Universe~*



“my goal is to develop a more personalized meaning of beauty, love, and self actualization through my writing.” Henessy J. Beltre


each word, chewed upon,
individually and collectively
as I drive from Roma to Firenze,
long drives in unfamiliar scapes, olive shaded greens,
umbrella trees, and thin thickets of the vineyards planted
in the years notated as B.C.

are life pauses, asking, admission to the clarifying blankness
that commands rifle shots of riflessione (reflection)

your words, goading foaling, are all our goals,
succinctly refined,  for doesn’t every and each poem
asks through our eyes what are the visions of
love and beauty that is the actuality we ceaseless seek

avanti signorina!

unleash the wild words that will make your mission
burst from the ancient to the revitalizing, knowing this,
that the universals you seek to dress yourself within,
to share here, to create, to *actualize,

are products of your truths

be unaffected by stale mores, conventions dictates,
spill truths, soiled and used, cherished and recycled in
new ways, so that each of one of us
blesses you with one word:

exactly!



31/10/18

on the autoroute to Firenze

read https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2793919/universe/
Universal Director: What is that you want?

Me: A life I can die enjoying knowing that I've lived in my existence

Universal Director: How does one achieve their dreams if they keep sleeping in the day and living their dreams in the night?

Me: I try to stay conscious of all that I have dreamt while my body slept so I can carry it through the day. But I am unsure of what is real and what is fantasy.

Universal Director: Life is but a dream, a dream you have to seize while the tick of time does sneeze. For with every breath you take it is an awakening moment

Me: So I have to grab the pendulum of chance and hope its o'clock for my time so I can be the poem of my life?

Universal Director: You have to keep an open mind and a vehement heart, that is when you catch the train of manifestation thoughts.

Me: So I have been loafing, thinking that the more pressure I put on myself just dreaming so I can attract my dreams into reality... Has all been a fallacious fantasy?

Universal Director: Understand that you have the hands to hand the future into your grasp if only you keep fists where you fight, leap where you might then in rumination at the palms of your rest station you will gain foresight. No longer hiding behind the hiding of hindsight. Only then will you be riding the steeds of success, to be quite forthright.

Me: In retrospection I make an inspection that I have neglected an election of eloquent selection to move forward in my perfection. Only an illusion in its protrusion would cause confusion to a longing soul trying to avoid societal pollution. So grabbing the moment at its most potent is the remedy for excellence?

Universal Director: You are quite right with a left mind of calculation. I can only admonish you to polish the parts that are left unattended so unnecessary mistakes do not have to be mended.

Me: Such evils have signs portended, I can rely on my wisdom to avoid my woes being extended. I should apologise to all those I have offended lest I be unfairly contended. Should I achieve my dreams will then I be most contented.

Universal Director: You are ambitious, your ideas are nascent but your soul is ancient. There are many obstacles so you have to be patient. One cannot be without knowing the self, the self cannot come into being without knowledge of the universe from whence it came and within which it resides. Just like an address cannot exist without a house stand and street name, and to which town or city would it claim its fame? So ride on in the ethereal and art thoughts surreal to actualize deeds every soul can feel.

Me: I do so agree with what you decree, how can I argue with thee? I have vision but you open my third eye so I can see. And you sharpen my cognition so I can conceive. Light and sensors from the ligaments of the Universe should I receive. I have been unkind to think I am a god in a world of giants who rule the world by being thieves. Wisdom begins in the heart and is discerned by the mind to be sustained by deeds that the future self is oft proud of.

Universal Director: Hah! Now only do you see that the heart has vision in a dark body that receives its fuel as blood. Let that be ink then to write you into existence so your immune system can fight off pestilence. From this scripture of live-and-defend ascend into tattooed immortality in the stones of time and be a rhyme like a spell of magic. Live on to be the truth of your entirety and cry out for eternity in your mortality.

Me: Like an art-er I should martyr my purpose to my very being. Quite a deal but better than to have  my soul loose for any to steal.

Universal Director: To you the truth I bring. Fly with wings for your weight lives not in your ego but in the mass that keeps you grounded. So fly at the speed of thought and hover over beautiful things to cover them with your wings so the covert can be overt and the dumb will think, the blind will blink, the deaf will listen and the mute blow the whistle. The Universe is ready for you

Me: I am humbled, my apathy has turned into symphony. All the melancholy have been composed into symphony. All my  maladies have played themselves out to be melodies. A picture now do I see of what movie life can be... If we find the right seat, a perfect view does yield. If we can learn to write the suitable script, better fates can we wield. And our friends can help us in production as crew, casting our multiple selves. If we're lucky we get a blockbuster and knock on the doors of life once more.

Universal Director:
If you should find the secret window of the preview, afterlife is yours to receive as due.
JP Goss Aug 2014
4
The sun does arise
In that aubade way
It spills out over petals
Infinitely
So silent but a discourse:
A camp of brook and pale-freckled
Leaves,
A clamor of engines
Escaping the scene
Too busy, too distant
To actualize their hum.
At the intercession of wood and modern man
I stood dutiful, tenuous,
Apt to standing still
‘Tween what has my calling
And what, my will:
This aesthetic simplicity, resplendent awe
Stays with the punch-card
On my way to work
But I know I’ll stand at the edge
Once more.
(W = Anonymous Elderly Woman With Sudden and Severe Dementia)
---

W:

"I was an evil little girl".
I used to stick my tongue out at little boys. They would say,

"SHE STUCK HER TONGUE OUT AT ME".
Then the teachers would always say,

"Young man, she is a respectable young lady and has done no such thing".
So I'd put my thumb to my nose and make faces as they sat".

"My grandmother always raised us to be "GOOOD" "GOOOD" and I was goood.
It was so boring.
They used to get so frustrated with me".

"I was so proud of my father.
Everywhere he went he had to fix people.
He changed things
nomatter where he'd go. He always said

"I CAN MAKE IT BETTER FOR THEM.
IT CAN BE BETER".
He never loved me. Didn't have time. I should call him.
I want to call my father"


Me:

"Did he ever self-actualize and realize that he was making their lives /his version/ of better? Before he died, did he realize maybe what he thought was better wasn't better for everyone?"


W:

"No.
He was a tsunami that changed everything he touched. We girls
respected him.

Listen to me, hah.
talking about such things, on a toilet.
I have no dignity left.
We have to laugh.
Am I crazy?

Me:

"You're no more crazy than I am.
Who wants to be sane? That's no fun".

W:

"That's right!
If you can't laugh,
you die".

Me:

"Earlier, to describe yourself
as a child, you said
you were "Evil".
Do you beleive that part of the reason you were so "evil"
was because you were beautiful?
And you knew it?".




W:

She paused for a moment and pursed her lips in contemplation.
...

"Yes."

The woman nods a slow turtles nod, with both eyes shut and squinting and a pouted mouth.
Her puckered lips fade into a smile.

"Yes, absolutely It was".
Kolawole Zainab Sep 2020
Heavenly downpour is here
To wash away every fear,
Cleanse the impure souls
And actualize unachievable goals

Heavenly downpour is here
To make the leaves and flowers
Bloom by her superpowers;
The birds dance happily and stare

Heavenly downpour is here
To carry the burdens we couldn't bear;
Enthrone the gloomy slaves
And enliven corpses in the graves

Heavenly downpour is here
To drown faithless failures and sins
And celebrate the lasting wins
To prove that she truly care

Heavenly downpour is here
To announce another harvest year;
Farmers till and toil the land,
Hoping for bountiful harvest as planned

The cloud cackles and tickles
As she sent down her blessings
To the deserted earth in trickles
Touching the trees by caressings

Children play hide and seek
Both the strong and the weak;
The pitapats of hails on the roofs
Invigorate homes to sing and hoofs

Couples savour the blissful breeze,
The scented moment drew their lips
As their hearts and mouths freeze,
Holding hands and waists in grips
glass can May 2013
antagonized, sullen, and unshakeable,
I rest under the shade of a heavy tree,
a crepuscular creature who lives most
at edged breaks of sun, dusk and dawn

my stamina grows in strength, as does my patience and durability,
but I know my insatiable pursuits will fade, or they'll be yielding;
if I want things, I will get them, I will have them, and they are mine

I look over, past the horizontal thing, "edge"
with all the weariness of a battle-scarred lion,
silver-striped with the accumulated congealed
****** flesh of foes under my scuttling claws
that scamper down the ridges of the slower,
quieter animals that I have singled out as mine,
until I am done with games and rip out spines

I am not long in tooth, but I am experienced enough,
to the point, where I do not want to fight very long
for what I have earned, and for what is entitled to me,
and if I must fight long, afterwards, I am vindictive

I look at the horizon, with all the prowess possessed
in my being, in my breeding, ingrained in my bones
I have a greater strength than I have even begun to
even actualize, and I just only started flexing, slowly

I am greedy for the world, every bad beast and cur,
with marrow in their bones, I wish to tussle with,
I will be ready for you, I await you with a sly grin,
come call me at home, for I will be biding, till then
In terms of metaphysical well-being,
do not attempt to find external solutions to internal problems.

Though external solutions may, at best, catalyze opportunities,
they tend to serve as a temporary comfort or distraction
rather than a cure for the nature of the problem at hand;

A "bad mood"
is a great opportunity
to tune your Consciousness.

Life is full of those moments;
the purpose of them
is to learn from them
and grow.

Look outward for information.
Look within for understanding.

Actualize your Godself.
Sa Sa Ra Jun 2016
Funny tickles thinking abt ur rebuke if ( I m) not correcting (one) here or there as she, u wonder to what degrees I care or can..

lol

Ur one multi msg...
tweeting
*you're (Glowing star)
So ur (Glowing star)
U r (Glowing star)
And U'r (Glowing star)

Whatever concerns and preferences.
R u more beautiful than u can feel at times between some flattering ego toting...

Not a question I prefer specific answer to.
It is a topic however I offer, entertain and or am willing to be open too.

What must be undone, overcome;
to feel, reveal, accept and actualize a living platform;
to exude the beauty u see and;
(only) lonely
wish to feel;
(for real)
Max C Styles May 2016
Understanding comes mid-sentence
Understanding comes
Division of meaning
and characters
On pulp

No words express
No phrases actualize
What they intend to compress.
What use is it?
If understanding comes

Like markings on sand
Tides change
Characters in minuscule rock divided
In
Fading
Out
Gone
Misunderstood
Misdirected

What use does it serve?
To feel?
To teach?

Only goes so far.
Must realize for self
Must interpret
Must click

Understanding co
John Roark Mar 2011
What’s with this
Antediluvian Delusion?

While I concede that all men were created equal
You clearly didn’t read the prequel.
You must actualize your potential.

It’s detrimental to a democracy
To be filled with such hypocrisy.

Don’t be proud of who you are
Be proud of who you can be.
However it must be, just me.

This notebook doesn’t care what I have to say
And society ignores what it can’t explain.
I might as well be talking to myself.
As a matter of fact, **I am.
Nasira Nov 2017
No, my heart did not beat faster
When I caught that glimmer in your eyes
No, it is not a home for secrets masqueraded in laughs
Nor a drunken love in disguise

No. My pillow is not a rainforest
Holding my tears, my cries
And I am certainly not enamoured enough
To suffer the low lows, climb the high highs

Of course I do not expect the universe
To let your whimsical words actualize
No. I do not whisper your name in the dark,
When the fear intensifies

No. I do not want to hear your voice
Your cheers of victory or exasperated sighs
The tears keep rolling down my face
I guess I'm good at telling lies.
DRPQ Dec 2014
There is no love
where we try to find it
My voice has grown hoarse
just because of this course we have taken
When will the skies ever admit that you are going away forever?
All you ever were
and you ever are is an illusion
You will pass
just like when I asked
"Will you stay?"
I am forgetting the days we thought of us with an irreplaceable value
when my heart would flutter
and my eyes would squeeze out fresh juices of sparkle once we touched gazes
Ah! Such endeavors lead to errors
ones we have not dreamed or thought of yet
ones you never seem to realize
ones you never seem to actualize with to try and at least warn me of?





Maybe you do not mind losing me at all.



Yet where our tiny pieces of happiness lie,
there is a draining void---a blacking seeping through
******* in every source of hope or trust in what has happened being eaten by the truth of change and nature

I should never expect
shant I ever have,
I should not
Melissa Mutch Mar 2012
this looks like a good point to begin the end of my apocalypse
pointless or forbidden meaning seems to me, always eclipsed
always hidden from my view or understanding
i thought i was falling, but i feel my feet landing
and as i slowly approach the beginning of the end
the synapses are awakened and the curtain starts to bend

sleepwalking thru this nightmare is a test we'll see
if every puzzle piece falls where it's meant to be
and it makes me dizzy as i sink
that one day this imagination will cease to think
that the ideas growing will stop dead
and that every thought floating around in my head
was wasted and never captured with the pen

unwrapping covers and revealing the under current
that sweeps me away as memories stay recurrent
the mask i wear that smiles so bright
won't fall off without a fight
and it seems the battle has been tight
for eternity the armies shed blood, day and night

And as the end approaches me i realize i have stopped dead in my tracks
subconsciously solved so to me the meaning stays dormant
but my feet actualize what the mind is whispering, and then act
knowing the end of existence is the end of dreams, is torment.

So maybe this isn't a good time anymore
tingling feet can't feel the floor
rediscovering as i am uncovering the layers of my existence
i find that this body just might make it that extra distance
that i thought was impossible to get to before
because before i wanted to walk to those shadows
not to that light, see, now i want more
lust for life rekindled, dreams now a juice that overflows...

2011
M.Mutch
Zero Nine Jun 2017
For once I think I'll speak clearly. My hands are a megaphone.
I feel like my legs are buried in paper up to the iliopsoas.

                                                                           do you feel it?

I am improper syntax incarnate. My hands are up to my mouth.
I feel like I call to you and you won't visibly position yourself.

do you feel it?

What a tragic life to be terribly lonely so overtly by my own design.
Words I should easily speak disguise in the esoteric words I write.

                              i feel you.
               i do

in fact like an acid trip dusted over days i hang onto every letter

and in the subtle twisting of the pen your vibrations enter my eyes
and in the drumming of your zealous fingers against the keyboard
and in the tapping at the glass as you ignore your text messages

your affecting verse travels my arterials and fills my chest with life

     are we alike?

I can't help but ask it. I sit puffing cherry pie,
feeling quite abandoned. You know the story.

Do you feel absolutely sundered by your insides?
Can't stop the gnawing unless you actualize your leaden brain.

     well adjusted to deep addiction to discord.

and i join your audience in admiration of the grace absent in myself
The End

I appreciate the **** out of you all. I wouldn't write if I didn't read, and all your words are worth repeating. All of you. Your words are a ******* blessing to such a casually deteriorating, increasingly dreary world. When I'm feeling dead, your words connect, and I want you to know that. It's a home away from home. Spill it, spill it.
Though use of line breaks is art,
it needn't use them at all to be so.

Punctuation isn't necessary, per se,
yet some tend to opt for it anyway.

Sometimes rhyme serves only to detract,
but it can also catalyze familiarization of the abstract.

Meter is a byproduct, but it can be deliberate;
some people like pop, but others jazz or prog;
rhythm means more to some than others,
and some recognize in places where others do not.

Some find it unnecessary to consider; a waste of time.
Some find it to be balancing and are compelled towards it,
and would have it no other way.

Whatever it means to you
is what's truly important;
you have to feel something
so you might as well express it.

Those who will understand
will truly understand-
though that is a different group
than those who may well say so.
Be not jaded: they overlap!

The Traveler does not so much choose the Way
as the Way seems to Shepard certain Travelers;
how is it that can be?

Call it:
God, Tao, Zen, Consciousness, or the Universe itself;
it is all and nothing; inside and out,
it's neither a thing, nor nothing,
so tread lightly and embrace the paradox
because it really is irrelevant
how One chooses to effigize it-
it's what One has within already
that will serve as One's salvation,
and that's really all that matters.

Should we seek to harbor that of others, as well,
we could become as we've seldom been known to be.

In any case, we'll meet in the light;
whence we've all come, to begin with-
whence we've been ever since-
whence we've been blinded
seemingly of our own volition.

Be conscious of what makes you Live
and then help it to actualize,
all the while seeking that others
may do the very same.

Blessings upon thy Path-
Basically became a prayer.
Adonis Yerasimou Apr 2020
-So what do you feel?

I just can’t get rid of this feeling lodged so deep inside of me, which tells me that:
“I need to be seen as someone in front of people’s eyes”
It’s unfathomable. It’s too difficult. It’s beyond me.
Like a black cloud it’s hovering on top of me.

-What are your thoughts right now?

Time is ticking away and all I seem to realize is that,
“Life is getting harder than what I have ever previously thought”.
You have to decide right now, whichever way you need to go.

-And, what are your options?

You either choose to stop whining, quit complaining,
Sit your *** down and get to work in order to,
Achieve your dreams, improve yourself, and actualize your potential
And fulfill your destiny or,

-Or?

You get comfortable with who you are, what you have,
What you do and where you are and that’s it.
It’s your choice to make.

-Exactly. Thank you very much. That’ll do for today.
Like a therapy session.
NURUL AMALIA Jun 2017
Still on process
Struggling for progress
For a dream that I desire
Which I deliberately wrote on my dreams book
I’m studying in someone else's city
Next year I want to realize it even will
Yeah I will
This is a hope that only He can bring up
I hope to write a thesis like I write a poem
I love it
I could enjoy its processes
then I will actualize another dream
JB Claywell Jul 2021
They ask me about words
and
I forget that they often
don’t know the same words
that I do.

I forget that sometimes my words
and
their words are mysterious
and
often not as profane
as they might be used to.

Then, I remember
that there are countless words,
concepts,
ideas,
and
beliefs that I am totally,
sometimes shamefully,
unaware of.
(all of these based in vernaculars unfamiliar)

None of us live the same type of life.

None of us
have earned passage
through hardship
any more or less
than anyone else.

Ours are circumstances,
unshared.

Not luck, not fate, not grace,
not inherent anyway.

No different than my last name being Claywell
and
my typing that very same name
into the system of The Department of Corrections;
seeing that name,
the same as mine,
unowned by me,
belonging to faces of men
and
women that I have never
and
likely would not ever meet
in our respective lives.

What does it matter?
It’s a name,
no different
or more or less special than Jones or Smith.

The name is mine and theirs,
as unique to us as we are to one another;
poet
or
prisoner.

Person first, second, and third.

Like a story,
a book,
a treatment plan,
sitting on a shelf or locked inside
a mind until the proper moment
providence or provisional,
authored by the judiciary or just
some guy.
(like me)

We live by words,
are released by words,
are transformed by words,
frightening, fitful, fretful or foreign.

Words give us our humanity,
allow us to encourage or enrage,
engaged so as to establish
a renewal,
reestablished ability to
manifest,
to actualize
the abracadabra
of
our own magic act…

our lives.


*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2021
PJ Poesy Jul 2017
Summer, with rains swelling like a Tolstoy story
of men sent to war, of bravery and cowardice,
of man questioning putting himself in harm's way,
who, what influences your pouring?
Cloud bursts and cracking skies lit by bolts of wonder,
of uncertainty, of suspicion,
do you feel the feeling of self-preservation
or of self-implosion?
Does justice consequently actualize in your humidity,
in your ideology of warm front meets cold front confrontations?
Sizzle summer, then pour.
Make the wheat germ swell and fields flourish
for in some other part of the world,
some other farmer's crops are failing
and this is what leads to war.

— The End —