"authentically" poems
We were born in different shapes, colors, and size
Not a single embryo was able to decide their DNA or blood type
But that shouldn't make us less humans than the others
It's the diversity that makes us exquisite and beautiful
Break down the stereotype that beauty is fair skin,
that beauty is a skinny and blonde-haired lady
that beauty is wearing clothes with branded labels
that beauty is applying tons of foundation and mascara
Who are we to determine the standard of beauty, anyway?
While each of us is God's creativity,
authentically made by His hands
Who are we to judge God's taste in art, anyway?
While each of us is uniquely magnificent,
as His creations are never less than a masterpiece
Keep in mind that the real beauty lies within ourselves,
beneath our skin, between our thoughts, and inside our soul
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 4:44 AM UTC
*************Today is yesterdays dreams,
and tomorrows accomplishments.
Today is a yesterday wrapped in
present to opened so they become
tomorrows precious gifts.
Today is a whisper of the past just tweaked
with grand tomorrows.
Today is the day I write a masterpiece filled with yesterdays thoughts and tomorrows dreams.
Today is yesterdays sorrows wrapped in paper
gold that shines like sun to dry up tears making room for tomorrows with new wrappings.
Todays schedule is yesterdays thoughts, ready to expand into the tomorrows.
***********
Yesterday don't leave home without it for it fuels tomorrows as todays motor revs.
Yesterday is infused in blood stream so heart beats with flow of aspirations today and riches for tomorrow.
Yesterday is culmination of tears and laughter
that unleash dam to float in more tears
but this time with a shinny dream boat.
One part Yesterday, and two parts today with table spoon of tomorrow makes a grand recipe for life.
Yesterday I recall mistakes well not to repeat in today so errors do not fill tomorrows.
Yesterday provides magical insights, so Today and tomorrow brings peace.
Yesterday becomes today and today becomes yesterday so... use it well.
Yesterday I planted a dream seed. It sprouted in today and grew tall inside tomorrows.
****************
Tomorrow is todays yesterdays, so step lightly as not to mix them up.
Tomorrow will be the new today and is the first day of my life.
Tomorrow is today simmered in the sauce of life.
Tomorrow I will wake up inside today to live authentically inside peace.
Yesterday is today turned inside out so wisdom comes in tomorrow.
******************
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow are houses of God so one is never homeless or alone.
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow is journeys gift to celebrate as if its Christmas.
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow are the chapters in our books of life. Write them well. ************
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 10:56 AM UTC
I write in public,
to be seen,
I need these preppy girls,
and closeted high schoolers,
and trophy wives,
to see me,
at my laptop,
clicking away.
Because I'm "artistic",
and "deep".
I am sensitive and must
be very beautiful
on the inside,
just like the outside.
That's why I do it.
It's all about the glory.
If only the knew the truth,
the real writing,
the words that smack the
inside of your skull
at 3 AM
when you have to be at
your minimum wage job
at 7.
The lit you need to get out
before the pressure builds up
and your head explodes
in a rainbow of creativity
on the four walls of your
too small
efficiency apartment.
The dark nights that
make you doubt the sun
will appear again
O muse, you cannot be
stifled. I hear your voice
even in my
starched white shirt
and necktie noose,
making lattés
and serving time
until The End.
The End. Times wing'ed
seraphim, the bell
tolling, tolling,
constantly,
Am I doing the right
thing with my life?
Every soul ******* interaction
with the over-privileged,
self-righteous soccer moms,
screams injustice.
My place, here,
is not to work to write,
but write to work.
My place, here,
is to live authentically,
to my own self be true,
and true, to those voices,
who came before,
who had the courage
of their convictions,
and the pounding of
text on the interior
of their cranium,
to write.
Writing is raw,
and obscene, and
beautiful.
Standing naked,
exposed, raw,
ugly
in front of your peers.
wolves.
A vow of poverty
a release of material claims
and a gain of authenticity
Living truly and truly living,
This is why I write.
Jun 5, 2011
Jun 5, 2011 at 7:56 PM UTC
Do women want romantic or authentic.
What do I know, I'm simply an imperfect guy.
Do I know what is more romantic and why
Do I know what is authentic and can I cry
Romantic or Authentic
Is it being at your favorite cafe
Or walking on your favorite trail
Is it listening to the Fray
Or is it feeling alone and abit frail
Romantic or Authentic
Is it cuddling on my couch
Or huddling in a rainstorm
Is it mending your recent Ouch!
Or dancing with awkward form
Romantic or Authentic
Is it holding each other's glance in a crowded bar
Or holding your hair lightly after too many shots
Is it allowing chance to connect from afar
Or revealing our weak side as we become besot
Romantic or Authentic
What will be adored
What will be remembered
Will it be our public shine that is scored
Will it be where we stumbled and clamored
Breathe slow . . . . . .
Breathe deep . . . . . .
Breathe as though . . . . . .
You can't keep . . . . . .
Romantic and Authentic.
I would hope we see each other's shining moments until we fade.
I would hope our memories linger even when frayed.
I would hope we bring our best selves with full abandon.
I would hope we both learn to dance in tandem.
Authentic and Romantic.
I feel it is not just about me
Or just about you.
I feel it's about moments shared free
And feeling what's deeply true.
Authentically Romantic.
It starts as a bubble
Not immune to trouble.
It contains a droplet
Not created by a bracelet.
It's a belief that feels thin
But it needs both feet in.
Romantically Authentic.
Our space becomes a quiet hue.
So white it's blue.
Our true selves expand
Centered and contained.
So fragile and clear
Let's hold it dear.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
I am both flames and snowflakes.
I'll explode into sparks then I'll calm down like the falling snow.
I will challenge your comfort zone, but I'll fight to stay in mine.
I will feel fire in my heart when I am passionate or angry,
I will feel a blizzard when I am curious or afraid.
I will always rise, even if I fall.
I will roar louder than the mighty lion or slither quieter than the sly snake.
I will forgive without thought, or I will wear revenge with grace.
I will become completely attached to you, or leave without thought.
I will tear my barriers apart or build garden gates.
I will be bold, or I will never speak.
I will authentically be myself, or what I need to become.
I am simple, I depend on you.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
If I'm worth the fight,
then I can take a hit.
It isn't whether I win,
it's if I refuse to quit.
That's funny, because just wait,
for about 24 hours.
Where I'll gain the tremors,
but lose uncertain power.
An inner conflict is my battle,
but one I don't think ends.
Should I be authentically useless?
There's a home I could transcend.
I could ascend upon my limits,
I'm a king to every kind of thinking.
I control my darkness,
in the rapid form of blinking.
Open, close, open, close,
My fists could match the sides.
They're knocking on my skull,
of course I'm gonna abide.
I lost purpose when I dropped value,
when nothing stopped me from the pain.
if all I give to the world is anger,
why shouldn't I receive the same??
---------------------------------------------
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
I'm not taken aback by the beauty of the sun or moon.
But that's okay, at least I've learned in time that there are very little differences between objects labeled mine and days considered wasted time. Entitlement is a false concept paralleling a religious purgatory.
That's not the point anyways. I'm left with unbearable heat and a pool of thoughts best resembling some sort of molten pudding left out in the sun for weeks of stifling inattention.
Let it just be known that the smell was not my intention.
Regardless of what fills your nostrils ephemerally, keep in mind that this stench haunts me perpetually. It's apathy towards my sensitive skull stifles me. It's as if I was able to just shake off these shadow-inducing invaders like a bad habit. But no matter how much you try to **** a shadow, it's always there following you. Breathing on you. Casting oxygen upon your neck until there's nothing but sweat and fear left to expose.
With such an affinity to what darkness lies behind me, there are few words to authentically compose.
How can I continue? How can the beat stay in rhythm and my words stay in tune when I'm a butterfly stuck in a cocoon? If these hollowed walls could speak I bet they'd entertain the idea on meaningless entrapment.
Go now. My words for this horrid state of mind have run dry. They do nothing but mask themselves and then exponentially multiply.
So leave me for the beauty of the sun and the moon. I'll never wish anything more than a simple, concurrent release of everyone from his or her respective cocoon.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
ha ha!
a ha ha ha ha ha ha!
sorry... i sometimes
get the giggles...
you know that jeffrey dahmer
biopic?
ha ha ha ha!
i'm laughing,
because i'm authentically just curios...
who was the inspiration
for the film,
Napoleon Dynamite?
who?!
ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
are, you, sure,
that Jeffrey Dahmer wasn't the muse
are you, sure?!
ha ha ha ha!
doubt it...
seriously doubt it...
NA(H)PO(H)LEO(N)
DYNAMITE...
what a "vague" similarity...
with a Jeffrey Dahmer...
**** it... let's go full **** -
DJ REBEL & MAHOMBI
ft. SHAGGY...
but... ha ha ha!
i love the fact that Napoleon
Dynamite was borrowed
from... ha ha!
ah ha ha ha!
the Milwaukee cannibal!
please tell me
when Albert Fish pops up...
esp. with the scene of
injecting needles
into his groin
before sitting on the electric chair:
i'm guessing for the added
O in gasping for...
anything but air.
it's still sinking in...
it's nighttime and i'm...
seriously trying to avert laughing
out-loud...
how there's connection...
reciprocal points
of
vested interest culminating in
pristine Abel...
and his shadow, Cain...
now...
if Jeffrey Dahmer wasn't the inspiration
for Napoleon Dynamite?
then Pinocchio elongating nose...
wasn't the basis for a *****
i must always be wrong,
it would seem.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
When the topic of conversation in class was about finding meaning in life
I struggled to find a reasoning behind why
I choose to keep fighting
the same **** voice that keeps on illuminating
the parts of my heart that don't need extra lighting
For reasons of staying safe
secure enough to keep from igniting
any other demons that make joy seem uninviting
My heart is tired of trying
to heal
My feelings boil over
like a *** of forgotten water
forcing me to clean up a mess that I did not ask for
I am tired
But still refuse to be fired from life itself
Why do I keep fighting
If my life is not something I admire
I have sisters who wage wars on their bodies too
trying to reach a place where they feel like they are somebody to some body
and not a disease
that strips them of all they were created to be
We are tired
Yet I ride waves of urges so familiar to the ocean of darkness that my heart rages
because I just want to feel free
because my future family and clients need me
because honesty is the key to living authentically
And if I'm being honest then I'm able to see
past the reality
that is my eating disorder
I desire more
which means that I am more
as my worth does not come from being the best me for others
but rather it comes from a deep understanding
that my life is my own and not my own
equally
Realizing that my hands are strong enough
are big enough to hold
even the pieces of my soul
that fail to fit the mold
of what is normal
But why can't normal have permission to be broken
Instead of whole
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
Without alcohol,
It's hard to numb the thought
That I might not ever write as authentically
As I did when I was drunk.
Dec 14, 2021
Dec 14, 2021 at 1:53 AM UTC
There are no children laughing
Playing hopscotch in the driveway
With a manicured lawn and pretty
Flowers in boxes attached to the windows
There's no degree framed in my office
Actually there isn't an office at all here
Inside this lived in two bedroom flat
Where I spend as much time as possible
There's no sleek foreign sports car
Candy apple red glimmering in the sun
Or vacation home nestled somewhere
I can't pronounce to go once a year
There aren't six figures in my account
Or country club lunches with the girls
Black card shopping sprees in the city
Or box seat opera season tickets
There is glitter on my eyelids
And an immense feeling of gratitude
When I wake up happy and free
Unapologetic and authentically me
May 10, 2021
May 10, 2021 at 2:25 AM UTC
**I read an ad recently
‘Get your Valentine’s day hampers while they last, order in advance lest you be disappointed’
But what I really read was…
'Get your Valentine’s day humpers while they last, order in advance lest you be disappointed’
Because I’m a clown like that
I make light of this day ‘Valentine’s’
The fourteenth day of the second month of every year
That makes everyone realize how attached or alone they are… really, I find that the most stupid fear...
Is the fear of not being paired up… yet
I say ‘yet’ because it’s going to happen sooner or later, more than once
Like it has happened before
But oh, you want to sulk and sob in your depressingly darkish room… behind the self made prison that is your closed door
Because you just want to wallow in self pity… because you're so low
Forever alone
Call me a *****
And a realistic one at that I like to think
But I find this entire obligation to have someone on this day quite unnecessary… which makes me kind of curious
As to who is really authentically ‘in’ love
And who is apparently “in love” for convenience reasons
These self made prisons
I joke through this day… with female friends, my true Valentines
No charades, no pretentious antics
Just funny nonsense with the coolest, realest fun chicks
To all those that have their better halves… well "power to you"
Way to go, we’re happy for you
You probably enjoy the most out of this day ‘Valentine’
I didn't mean to sound conceited… for we are all allowed to court
To be arrested by passion, maybe I’ll get past these ‘flings’ and also have my day in court…
Yeah, maybe someday I will have mine
Again.**
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
After a while, I guess
"Goodbye" is just a word
The sting is temporary
A shocking pain as it rolls off your tongue
But then
Nothing
I've become so numb
So disensitized
Not just to coffins
And cemeteries
But, even
to these cars reversing in my drive way
Loved ones waving from the front seat
I think somewhere along the way,
I convinced myself I was just an actress in a movie
So these things wouldn't hurt so bad
Wouldn't linger
I said,
Here comes the scene where
your tears are expected
Now cut scene
Move forward
The plot is still developing
The only issue is, I am not...
I'm just an actress
It's all pretend
The laughter
The sighs at just the right time
The focused look in my eyes
Nothing sticks
It's all so wrong
So scripted
So twisted
I just wanna feel something real
Again
Deep down I know I miss you
Entirely authentically
But my sentiments got buried
somewhere in this game
Where I fake smiles
Just to please the crowd
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
I swallow your story and
I WAIT I WAIT I WAIT
as civilizations collapse and--there's an uprising in Egypt!?!
and Kayne West releases another album and I listen to it when I kiss a girl and all I can think of is man,
I would make a great celebrity
I don't want you to **** me, I didn't know that-that-that text meant you were announcing you wanted to bounce back to my ***** and I
don't think I would say yes at first, to spite you.
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV
I'm a mess. I love it. Everything is going perfectly and I'm b u s y torturing artists and dancing with queer girls in Oakland because I like getting what I want
because when I was younger I wanted to be a femme fatale
and here I am. Playing the villain
has been far more interesting that anything that I can lie up
and it's laughable that all my stories are true and that girls spread their legs and hold my hand after less than three hours of knowing me if I want to whisper in their ear.
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV
I'm desensitized. I like liking, I like lust, I like love. I'm capable of human emotion, just let me wrap the world in a thunderous revenge for the piety I have shown thus far and I will show you a good time out in the Mission when you text
at 6 on a Friday night when I smell trouble, decay, ***** and light
and ask me what I am doing
right now
and I get nostalgic for the view of a smooth set of shoulders between my white sheets
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV
KVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKVKV
I am young, I am alive. I will take advantage of those two things.
^^^^
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
So you're a poser.
And isn't everyone else?
The way you imagine them all living so authentically,
and honestly,
and in so many ways you never could.
It's ******** don't you know?
Stop discrediting yourself.
There are plenty enough people to do it for you.
So you're a poser?
So you say you do things you maybe don't do.
So you have the tendency to maybe not follow through.
So you can't always be 100% in tune.
So what.
So you're trying?
So you're trying too hard.
So you're a poser.
Stop posing.
Be genuine in closing.
And optimistic in opening.
Stop thinking everyone is better than you,
and stop posing as someone who thinks
they
are better than
everyone else.
And everyone else?
They are posing, too.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
a bean or a pod having motivation inside recreating
life more energetic and clever than any parent
then get ate or flushed down ten million toilets
infiltrate society with words because it is in sewers
sanguine and quixotic indifferent
a breath is toxic to me
I venture Walter Mitty like fantasies theorize
tomorrow when I forgot yesterday,
introduce substances to discourse entertainers
abstract the emphasis transcendentally
blue-sky enterprises authentically created as I
turn around and cry.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
do I really care about you?
authentically
no, but I would still kiss away a perpetual need
of some kind of
more
I would kiss away the perpetual need of more of my kisses, even
until they became ripe in your circulation
without your tact
like the first time an apple becomes an apple
without knowing it’s an apple
ripe
raw, sweet
without tact
without my tact
would I really care about you?
I’ve been on the floor bathing in dishrags and dust particles
I feel filthy
troublesome and unwanted
I’ve lost faith in succeeding
all I’ve got is gritty tact, sticking to its guns
do I really care about myself?
no,
but still, I would kiss away someone else’s pain to have a purpose
and I would love them in a moment
even if I wasn’t loved in return
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 4:15 AM UTC
Let this be spark to collective action!
The exercise of natural freedoms and equality.
Sever attachments, break from your safety,
from the shores of who you think you are.
Set sail with faith,
placing ideologies in abeyance.
Set sail with soul songs,
join with saints and strangers
harmoniously singing.
Be ALL as One
in open repartee.
Brothers and sisters, all of a wild nature–
none left uninvited.
Friends at heart all, all welcome!
Who shall be chief navigator?
Trace sensitive fingers on contour maps the Universe makes.
As we navigate, we invent.
With tiniest of maps (the same is the largest
with infinite pathways) we are destined exactly
to found and inhabit New Earth.
Who brings gifts of intuitive sensing?
Everyone?
Shall we draw straws?
Any can buddy up with the experts
at the rational sextant.
Every single she and he of us
is a guiding star.
Accordingly, let’s begin
convergent conversations of stars.
Of the humans who choose to stay behind, let us love them.
Let us love them and let’s be on our way!
It is enough now that many have had good intentions,
have spoken authentically, enthusiastically.
Yet they do not wish to enter in.
Each in his or her own time.
Others have voiced opposition,
demonstrated resistance.
Some others — stuck in apathy,
in numbness, powerlessness.
Is fear of ****** death
the ultimate stopping?
What is living if living itself
is death?
Are you one who has ears
to hear?
Are you that very passenger
ready to disavow, to disembark?
Have you awakened
to your own alluring whisper?
Let us begin.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
I will die.
In order to authentically die, you must live authentically. Some live so casually that death is not their end. They fade. They leave. Death must be an honor, not a fate.
My life will be proof in my death.
I loved my family first. I allowed them to continually conquer my heart and time. My affections were used on them and not the things my coffin refuses to contain.
The opportunities we are granted will be on our last breath. Confirming we were successful at taking them, or full of regret and bitterness.
There is no need for resolutions or bucket lists. Today is my life. I plan to make it count. God and I are the only mathematicians to this equation.
Our life is amplified by our death.
If an artist wants to make money, they best thing they can do is die. (Jackson, Shakur, Leonardo, Twain, Lewis, etc.)
I am not particularly excited for death. I am not morbid. But if I have to go through it, I’ll make my life worth it.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 1:26 PM UTC
What can i serve today for a lovely miss
Humanity and you mister World?
Eee...
Hm!
I would like to see the menu, please!
Oh, yes, the menu ... just a moment. . .
Darling, I would love to have
Weatherwise Mushrooms with Weepy weightless Asparagoses
served with those fantastic moral dips.
They are phenomenal!
And you know what:
The other day lady Greedy ordered light lush - a delightful dish. . . and after having this goergous revelation of supreme tastes. . . she was becoming slimer and slicker. . .and thinner. . . she had enjoyed it so much! It was incredible! Her skin became purer, translucent, laced with
amazingly glistening diamonds and then. . .
she. . . can you believe that! just dissappeared into thin air
saying with blissful tears within her eyes:
Humanity - I have never told you, that in fact. . . I have always loved you more than your luscious husband. . . you are a real darling. . .
sweetie pie. . . so long. . .
I'll miss you tremendously!!!
And pufffff. . . she was gone! Can you imagine that!?!
And luscious... why on Earth, would she use such a word?
Strange:
And you, honey?
What will you have?
Are you listening to me!?
Hm... just let me see the **** menu. . . first!
Planty of food in this fancy restaurant - and I'm starving to death!
Where is this wannabe waiter - Forgods sake!
We are waiting him for ages. . .
There!
Well - here you go madam. . . menu
sir. . .
I recommend to you - our daily
well-bread tacos for starters
served with authentically homegrown
veggy
wellbeing
mixed with well-beloved
well-coocked main course
: : : :
We have also some excellent
well Vintage wine
of trust, year 5195. . .
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Sweet, sterile, smooth, smothering
Epithelial aerobics abound
Cells curl and desiccate like tips of leaves past their prime -
Just give me one second.
I now live authentically, I say to myself
My heart is in the mountains
Despite words gurgled from my sweaty face in the swirling splendid solitude of darkness –
“Help!” is what I mean to say, but as I break the barrier between liquid and atmosphere
It is the air that chokes my breath -
Just one moment.
Bacterial bile bubbles up
At the sight of
Dirt – contamination – fear
Everywhere.
In pores
Out of pores
Under nails –
No, no more nails now –
Stuck deep inside my skin –
That no brush’s bristles can ever scrub away
Still, I try – God knows I try! –
Skin raw and red and deserving.
They’re in my wounds, too –
Salts and chemicals I choose to douse
But it only eats deeper
There is a ragged red hole in my skin now -
Just give me one second.
Jaw tight, teeth ache, head pounds
Hands dry despite the fatiguing humidity
So it helps to see the crimson creeping up the flag of my disposition
I like this proof of biological clarity,
Like rainwater gliding up the capillaries of a plant
In reverse -
So just hold on one moment.
There was a time when I felt truly free,
I know it in my heart of hearts.
I was free once
Certainly, I was free
I was free
I was truly free -
So just give me one second.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Dear Anxious People Pleaser,
I forgive you
for not being authentically you-
for worrying
about what others think,
hiding yourself
for the sake of others,
and for following
in the footsteps of others,
rather than walking your own path.
I forgive you.
To the Heart-On-My-Sleeve,
I forgive you for,
in the process of
deeply caring for others,
you neglected to care for yourself,
allowing yourself to be walked upon,
and drained to depletion.
I forgive you.
To the Optimistic, Ever Hopeful Mask,
I forgive you for putting on
that smile rather than displaying
what you truly felt,
covering everything with an
"It's all good!"
I forgive you.
To the insecure and frustrated boy,
I forgive you for
keeping everything buried,
locked up-
hidden,
and
by doing so,
you allowed yourself to grow
resentful, angry, and at times, cruel.
I forgive you.
To the Sacred Crying Child Inside,
I forgive you
for acting upon your anger,
and self-loathing,
that you hardened your heart
and treated others with harshness-
becoming those who wounded you.
I forgive you.
To the broken Soul,
and Healing Spirit,
I forgive you for being
"strong" for so long
that you failed
to revel in your own brokenness.
I forgive you.
I forgive you.
I forgive you.
I forgive you.
Ashé.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
Interwoven in the grand matrix of our existence,
is the paradox of Divine Intervention and Free Will.
With the ability to choose,
We create the bitter and the sweet,
interpretations vast, affecting the collective.
Within this web, a strand of familiarity,
alongside an ocean of great mystery.
We remember our family, distinct
by memory, visions, and scent.
We choose to connect,
unraveling the secrets that dance
gracefully just below our noses.
Answers always available,
questions seldom posed.
Opening the door,
a door to another door,
with no walls to support it.
Endless doorways to
an infinite space, needing
not to be “opened” in the first place.
We can always be open,
mindfully.
Authentically visualize a
boundless sea of Everything all at once,
and a thoughtful creation of entryways.
Based on how we choose,
our experiences become molded
and ripple into the choices beside us,
echoing from our brothers and sisters.
The vibration of our Will,
swimming, radiating
through the cosmos,
relocating land we hardly recognize,
but knew all along.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 8:49 AM UTC
AM I told what to think? Without gaining knowledge on how to think.
AM I taught how to feel? without understanding why I feel.
AM I raised in what to believe? Not given the freedom in what I want to believe.
AM I told what to be? Without allowing to simply be.
To know thy self is to gain understanding and knowledge of self. That is to individually and authentically find who I am and what my purpose is .
How do I gain knowledge on what I retain in my mind including: subconsciously and consciously
and how do I learn to understand my emotions, feelings and hear the purpose of my soul
physiological identity crisis in me is so surreal that I do not how to be real
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC