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Jesse stillwater Jun 2018
a breath of fresh air
tickles still-waters
a lone swan's quill
let fall, takes flight
  carpe  diem ―
nigh weightless,
buoyantly skitters
across the water,
laissez faire;
barely dimpling
the shallow peace
on a lake in the wood

a wild feather's
mindless pirouettes
emanate from
the steeping silence
lapping  its
superficial  refection  

the true nature
of wildness,
unspoken freedom,
an untamed
wilder – ness
skims the skinny waters
seeking their own level;
leaving no trace
of  ever being  containable
 
like a breath of fresh air
reinvigorates
unconquerable souls
touching in the
conscious moment ―
a gentle passing breeze
arousing a rogue gust


Jesse Stillwater

01    June   2018
Thank you for stopping to read my soul scribbles :)
Taru M Dec 2012
This gun to the temple of my dome
I am faced with a single question
Should I shoot?
Or let fly the words just uttered?

The mouth of the devil’s minion lies open
nagging
     and picking
picking
     and nagging
          at a lost cause - a deaf cause
And Yet
     it feels
          it angers
               it rages
no longer containable
     it erupts
no clip for a gun
only bullets of air
air of truth
                                                           ­                  and so
                                                              ­             I choose
                                                          ­        and before I think
                                                      TR­IGGER
a crescendo of cacophony

HATE

A tear falls. The truth escapes. A jaw drops.
she did it to herself
all those years of nonstop badgering
she did it to herself
all those years of hypocrisy and disrespect
she did it to herself
blood flows from her eyes for my pleasure
a stream of emotion dammed by emptiness

she did it to herself
Kicking it old skool taking it back to '07. The biggest fight I ever had with my mom.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
National mindsets self interested suffer
forms of dementia as the order all confessed,
demands of each a concentration of self worth,
you bet your soul, but only in the spirit,
step into the fray, say, let me lead you,
say let me take elected office,
democratic to the edges, being your voice
in a popularity contest, not an intellectual joust.
Tutelary deontology 101.
Governing is managing the labor. Ask the king.
Any flock in the system, governs itself.
Business is business.
Some arrangements are always secret. All
grown ups are in the business of war supplies.
Let your children's minds be at ease.
Trust the checks and balances history proves,
have never worked on balance, for the poor.
Get rich quick as one can imagine, on a bet.
War meets Peace, like it is the storm
that left Greenland, a legend until now.

Easily intreated innocense, who could know.
Prosaic first morning pizz to prime the pump.

How deep is the generational debt due to war?
How many bonds have been sold to pay interest?
How many times has the national debt ceiling failed?
You know.
Every time.
"Each major conflict in U.S. history
has been accompanied
by a sharp rise
in debt as the government raises funds
to pay for the fighting."

But laws do exist…
"Without a declaration of war
to put the country on a wartime economy,
Congress paid for Vietnam
by increasing the national debt.
Over the course of the conflict,
America's debt nearly doubled, growing
from approximately $317 billion in 1965
to $620 billion in 1976."

Now the debt is rising
on interest alone. No need for another war.

And America's trade balance is hinged,
on the point of war.
The ideal centermost irritant, war's hate pump,
pain expanded by generational trespass acts
likened unto the pea
under the stack of feathered beds,
or the bit of grit forcing oyster stress
that has made the misshapen pearl sold
to sovreign entities, those colors on the map,
these mental aggregations called nations,
by nationalist mind frame riveters,
foundational eye beams, remove before demoting,
ah, slow, riveted beams spanning ferro-concrete tech- think.
Building a reasoning trap, children,
ask your fathers to whom we owe our national debt.
Ask also who sells the weapons to the world at war.
Semper fi,
no offence, but… holy hate is as crazy as hungry hate.

A voice from a song, from nowhere,
you just could rethink, or did, that first time think
a bridge over troubled waters being a truly old good idea,
come to rescue you,

in the early days of Boomer parenthood… being grown ups,
we never missed a Disney Movie, though by then,
they were losing the gnostalgia, old knowns to be like so,
were no longer even imaginably so.
Old Yeller,
Childhood's end, the separation
from hearth felt comfort,
to the class rooms and hallways
of massive cold concrete schools… where on day one,
the child pledges with its cohort of coeducatables,
the ancient bond of aliegiance...
I pledged mine first in 1954, the year "under God" was added.

In the just now settling down towns along the great freeways,
there has been no peace on earth in my generation,
at the level of military minds in conflict caused by stories,
boys bred with old hates just waiting for a sigh-psignal
sci-revealed to those willing to become Jason Bourne,
to the best of your abilities, ring the bell, any time.  

Welcome to the front. Sanity is on the line.
There is no conspiracy, we sell our souls for what money
can be demonstratively proven to allow and even augment.

War is all we sell. There is another game, it's a liar's game.
Many famous authorities have filled the space at the table.

Take your hat off, Bartholowmew, she does not understand you.

------------
Daily communication with myself,
one person, with no power to use
save the early cultural confidence;
sworn to tell the whole truth,
so help me, God. Yes, your honor.

Except we reactivate the curious why,
functionally suppressed during the standard
test taking by the proximate others
diligently filling in the blanks,
with graphite rounded just right, one swipe.

Except we see that hanging senselessly realized.
Each problem, one answer, not one option.
Only select correct answer.
Tell the child learning the pledge,
God is on our side, emphasize
how exceptional those who know so are,
extremely discriminatingly,
arranging the economy around
the great decussation at the air gap,
at the back of our national neck.

In this time,
thoughts and prayers, we hear
spoken of as easily done,
almost without thoughts, who
responds?, who, has ever responded
to the said to be going out constantly
thoughts and prayers, asking truth
to intervene and call the liars liars?

God is not angry, nor without resources,
according to the cultures now at war--
¿
Whose mortgage was not paid with earnings
from war readiness industrial complexes?

Whose talent was left with the userers,
because the Bible says y'sposed to earn interest?

Whose 401K deflated to oops?

Business begins with informed agreements.
Let's make a deal.
No killing, stealing nor needless destruction.

Minds join eye to eye, one mindwise agreed,
we become an entity, a being essential
to the parts, a mind in harmony, rank and file.

Greedy men with no agreement. Hmm, who loses?

Line up, not by rank, single file, fall in,
first and following, get in on the end,
and wait for the circle to close,
re done dances, life going wild as
we celebrate our circle, we sing of it
being unbroken in the sweet by and by…

The land of those who talk back to El,
yes, yes, we do, to honor Iyobe,
who first called for the Daysman,
who first
told reality, with all it's evil potential,
you cannot not be true, you know, in form
as spirit and truth containable in words, logos,
logos of all o-logies,
so powerful as to allow, in fact, cause, new mindforms,
species of thoughts that function as a system to make
sense, discernible, bits of valuation determinable in agreement.
--------------
Contractual obligations religiously adhered to
just between us, we take advantage for the nation's sake.
Madrassahs and aliegiance pledges set habits hard to break.

Set the cost of goods, lower than replacement cost of the price.
What does it cost a state to rear a warrior class individual
that self replenishes?

What does it cost me to scatter confusion in profuse create-ifity?
So, add a proper tip,
and pay the cost to ride this line to the next re-entering angle.
Middle east,
cauldron of all the holy empires thus far into the age
of entertainment so vast,
wise men can imagine, some day
there will be a war, and no parents will have
offered children to the infantry or made
righteous indignation acceptable national pride to k-ill for.

There Hamas, holy brainwashed haters of hatefulness.
Repents and perishes the very thought of peace.
Repay in kind, here, swear undying obediance,
fear not death, this is Allah's Promise, die killing Jews,
turns on the monstrous virgins awaiting you…
in post mortal walled places,
where the oldest civilizations occurred,
as God's great idea, I'll
empty the center of me, and seep
back in through fractured rationality
along trade routes between Africa and
the forested north above the desert.

Me, there, in mental efforting, thinking
thoughts, not prayers, but wishes, hopes,
thoughts that prayers attach to, as evidence.

"Ask and ye shall receive."
Love those who call you enemy, can you?

Face me, Mr. Nobody, the essence of other,
I declare peace, where none is, and you laugh.

No ritual, no enchantments with promise,
no sacred making of secular deaths, just
just just adjust the justice aspect, blame
the holy haters whose God dispenses vengeance,
at the behest of warriors fitted with military minds.

As when holy Americans gather to offer military aid,
blessed by the congregations alerted to intercede,
on the side that denies Jesus was God,--- ah, both sides,
in this case…
whither turn we, do we face Mecca, or Jerusalem,
or Petra or … Sol or Luna, all our enculturated faith,

blinks, a lense clarifying effort, rub the crust
of sleep fallen into while mourning, unsealing eyes
to see again, a war between two national identities,
both with warrior glory emulation traditions,
one with money as first de-fence, the other with hate,
nothing less than pure hatred, Cain to Able, sorry bro.

Old mean spirits.
If the hate can live in any man, wombed or un, it will.

Willingness to hate enough to k-ill a stranger, will
manifest as holy terror… enough to make Jesus weep.

--- and those were a few of the local thoughts made prayer,
seemingly automatically, as mysterious as most final secrets.

Part three, deeper, faster, harder… or not

Doings in the dark, are done by feel.
One, you or I, or some other sapien
augmented with the messiah's mind, feels the need for the deed.
Take the message from Garcia.

Mystic experience in story realms,
holding all the visions taken raw,
as revealed… as when a curtained
entry way is opened for inspection,

are we ideas in bodies?
are all ideas spirit in form?

Inhale an intuited absence of evil,
breathe the air of answered prayer.

Imagine that, let fly the idea of you,
beloved individuated potential saint.

Here is your sentimental inner edge,
your gnosis pressed flat as you see in.

The edge of this bubble, is distant
only to the holy cloaked in asceticism,
twisting wicks
for someday light in someday night,
circulate one way then the other,
rethinking perfected emptiness,
there are no others, up or down,
to and fro, vectors tie targeted states,
spider kites form single ray classic webbing,
slim banner, a flag unraveled long since.

Follow me, I say to me, follow me,
I say to you, saying back, I am not you.

My option.
Turn on, sit back and watch,
evolving cave wall interesting hooks,

look around, nothing intersting, eh?
Television as imagined by petrified apes,
during the peak preserved in history,
when men like Franklin and Voltaire,
met to share secret meanings of things.

Previous to any whole story that remains, as when any mind mistakes
tzimtzum inside as first occurrence,

total emptiness, pre space, one time
this instant accepted as audience

in true gaseous we form, auto informing
the vegetable phaze passed eons ago, life
tells tales too esoteric for novices
to notice, in the ideal state, active
imagining, as with a child's mind, yours
since ever was, so far as you may wish
to remember,
a time when the state was deemed
comforting and beauty filled, chaotic
process of floating lipids, in form of air,
light has not dawned on us, we are
night scene setters of settings, nodes
of potential anything you can imagine,

level with me, even, straight, right… yes it
is the optional meandering mind engine,
an idol, or a daimon, madness of sorted
degrees, a little bit off the charts, sorted
out.
Not in, the bubble being becomes,
when one emerges in a self…

subtle is good, right, we agree?
Jesus, before Christianity, as a kid,
instructed with his cousin John,
likely by his temple servant uncle.

That can be imagined, projected
on the outerwall of this bubble we be in. At the moment, on an Earth wired

for sound, elephants agreeing to meet,
to follow the pilgrimage, pilgrim beings
activated by stark necessity successful
to this degree…

by the reader's time's at tension, pull
release
snap back, at what ifery, at once, push

most bottom centered point once sitting
in raw time thought processing, in
and out, efforting
- slightly off, not fully on
uncomfortable impression of holy
you better get better or else. Holy

blank slate, bubble pop, soft wow

Now, we're in the swirl, in the spin
toward, froward lips sealed, golden
silence,
subtler than any beast, creature,
living thing in the ruliad, am I? No.

BUT, you know, those penance prayers,
given you as a child, enchantments,
as with all your renouncements of evil
and pledges under God, in your child mind.

Look. To your own self, be true.
You still have private interpretation access
to your child mind.

If you put your worried mind to work
on some thought too deep to ponder then,

The idea of punishment by the Creator
of all that is not God, but was deemed good,
by God, because I said so, said the father,
in the child mind.

To know good and evil knowledge,
that talent, initial mark on our blank slate,
to know, not what you know, but ask
your child mind, how does it feel,

flat on your back gasping as others laugh,
and your child mind blooms an entire eon
- just to catch a breath takes for ever
and there were others, the whole family
of mankind of your kind, to your child mind,
stood laughing at your attempt to perform

a first flight, from an edged bet with an
I think I can virus perpetuated in ever after,

since mind made time make sense in chaos.
Instantly, things start to take shapes, in mind.
Non sense. Since. Processing time. Go.
Instants out of mind, in atari.
Fog of unknowns. I used to play the game.
Not really, only, one off thought forms,
cloudlike in symmetry, no clear tongue
and groove, fitting our pro-posed… pose

supposed, to listen and while listening,
learn the use of any knowing, can be
taken as granted possibility by your self.
- distant sound of light sabers actuation
Your blame and shame catcher, out front,
as we steam ahead across the gap,
thoughts made prayers must leap.

Keep your eyes on the prize, three
walnuts and a split pea with a hair, fine
infant hair, see it there, your old minds eye.

The unveiling of an artifice, an angle
greater than straight, from this point…
a re-entrant angle, like a point, banked shot.

in
Thanks, I needed you to ready become... said the little blue man... whatsoever we agree... indeed. Let us see...
Jesse stillwater May 2018
The deeper the veins
of a silent rising
fountainhead reach,
awaking a muse
more chilling
than the truth
    in the blood ―
a  cold
stillness stirs
that lets me
feel  an
unheeded sigh
cast in the wind

A breathe
of words
from a sudden
burst of silence,
tossed like a
handful of dust
lost in a rush
  of wind ―
a  beclouded
murmur fleeted;
holding your breath
as the aching
passion
manifest,
no longer
containable

I really wonder
if you even know
or care
who's behind
the dark
     cracked glass ―
you learn to live
with what’s broken
   to survive...
learning to look
in the eyes
of a dark horse
in a tight-lipped mirror,
to hear what’s
pushed back down
unswallowed

Staring down
the muted throat
of the voiceless;
feeling the anxiety
of held breath,
turning blue
afraid to exhale

If you look
at these words
and remember
there was nothing
left to lose,
then you'll see
     the meaning ―

I don't need
to hear you
tell me to re-lock
all the doors
I wish I never opened;
knowing there are
still moments
when it leaks out
of my silence

Someday,
at first light,
a songbird
hearkens
the morning
dew's passage;
  I’ll take heed
a song
of deliverance
and rise up
  from
  bended knees ...

but right now
I’m still learning
how to live alone


Jesse e Stillwater
02  May  2018
................................................................


Note to readers: Thanks a lot for reading the things I've shared publicly the past few months.  Many comments I shared intended to support others' work, fell to silence, so my apologies if I ****** you off not knowing the unpublished site map. Its hard to know here; perplexing when you're just a simple unknown trying to just be. For now I'm just going back to being more of a reserved reader until I've got a better idea of which way the wind blows...
agreenthrow Apr 2014
There was always at least five feet between us. It was actually a good thing in the preliminary stage. We could lock eyes without the urgent need to look away too soon. The intensity was containable in those five feet.

(speaks very fast) And then my stupid self went around and quickly covered four of those five feet. It is the laws of mitotic cell division god ******. You do not grow four feet in a day. You grow inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter. Ask him about that literature assignment. Shakespeare is responsible for excess glutton in today’s pick up lines. Wait for your friends to dare him to kiss you on a Truth and Dare. Wait for him to want to. Then, tell him, maybe, I like you.

That, in that one foot perimeter, I could see golden flakes in the circles of his eyes when clearly they are brown should have been the first sign that it was a bad idea. Five feet was our perimeter. Five feet was where we stopped. (points to own body) Five feet is where I stop.

For, I will never be anyone else but me. I will never experience, firsthand at least, what it is like to be a lanky six footer who hunches because she doesn't know what to do with her body. Or her exhilaration when she finds the basketball court. I will never experience being the Egyptian boy who has a chemistry counter in his kitchen, who asks his maid to buy him potassium nitrate. I won't know what it is like to be his maid who almost got arrested for asking to buy potassium nitrate (a component of explosives) in Egypt.  I shall never experience courting like the characters in a Jane Austen novel. And how nice it must feel, feeling beautiful.

And I will never ever experience, what it is like to be his girlfriend.
Clayton Woolery Dec 2010
Infallible were the nights we spent alone on rocky shorelines
I never gave all those pent-up emotions I had to the king of the stop signs
Like you did
I never counted on your instances
You do kid
About counting lost images oh, oh

Dishonorable were the things we stashed when we were in Oklahoma
Counting our chickens before they've hatched and saying your freckles were melanoma
Like we did
I could always count on you being morbid
You may kid
But your eyes don't lie when you are sordid

Containable were our dark white lies we told each other in confidence
Playing the double agent just like a cave filled with resonant
Echo-o-o-o-o-o-os
good times, good times, good times, good times, good times.
Will you save me?
I fell into the water,
Too deep to see the light.
I forgot how to swim,
So I thrash around searching for you.
The water is attacking my lungs,
I grow cold.
I'm almost too numb,
Too numb to fight.

Will you save me?
I'm locked in a burning building,
Surrounded by dancing flames.
Entranced, I collapse,
Wishing you were here.
The song is almost over,
Death grows near.

Will you save me?
The darkness is swallowing me,
My heart is scared of what's to come.
Where is your light?
The pain is unsustainable,
Tears, no longer containable.

Will you save me?
I'm giving up,
My eyes are too heavy, so I let them shut.
Take me away,
My life is beginning to sway.
An angel stares at my soul with sadness,
While Death stares at me with emptiness.
Which to choose with this path of life,
Should I slice my wrist with the tip of this knife?
Where are you when I need you?
I just don't know what to do.

Please,
Will you save me?
something's there
i felt its tingle
it felt freeing
non-containable
it hasn't a name
but its something
truly beautiful
it's different
rather sensational
magical perhaps
pure adrenaline
unlike anything else
truly the highest high
what it is
or was
i know not
i simply know
i want more
I'm a total wuss but I'm also ADHD af and as a result, I love the idea of adventure. I'm sort of a thrill-seeker I guess.
Nik Bland Feb 2014
Standing here in the present of peers is "love"
The word
the knife
the fool
the deceiver
A tyrant filled to the brim with good intentions
Only to leave confusion and chaos in it's wake

The accused pleads no wrongdoings
But evidence proves otherwise
The dying heart
The unhearing ear
The voiceless pain
The witnesses to the marauder that disguises itself within a word

Here stands "love"
Charged with extortion
Robbery
Vandalism
Assault
Crimes of passion
But crimes nonetheless
Claiming it's victims with a poison in the thorns of a rose
The shiv made from a pen
Slicing through their better judgement and sanity

Here stands "love"
Barely containable
Roaring, foaming at the mouth
A twisted creature unrecognizable behind it's mask
A mask of a word that abounded in wonder and grace
That was ripped from it's seams in a world of horrors
Here stands "love"

We the jury find the defendant....
Tao Oct 2018
I may seem crazy saying this,
but haven't I always been?
Sometimes laughing at everything
keeps the tears from being seen.

When you're in a lonely, crowded room
with people who love to chatter.
And conspire and gossip about anything,
like you're not there, you don't matter.

Bring out your smile, and dazzle them
with an un-containable mirth.
With your sunny disposition,
entertain them without remission
and show them your pitiful worth.

And when all is said and done
And you're all out of "fun"
Get your noose out of the closet

And then shock recognition
And threaten damnation
Then kick out your chair of salvation
I might just get some flack because of this.

“We of the craft are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.”

Lord Byron
Anna Lo Jul 2013
loveless
sings the bats in the stale night
--bats are often eyelashes of this night and they travel in packs--
while contending for the tender fruit
i imagine they are well fed with treasure
       but oceans love
is the wave i seek in this molded night
   to that known to be a saturated vibrancy
content is the ripe mind as my legs do unravel
wet and moist does this mind bring the most  voluptuous promises of oceans love
as these waves hit at my ankles knees hands neck lips cheeks eyes forehead
engulfed is the skin with the salt and a rush of an unforseeable force neither containable or predictable
i am so wet
addy henderson Jan 2015
I've come to the realization
that my heart I've held in a basin
can be opened instantly
unwillingly: my epiphany

For all the time I spent
being stolen so guys can look through me
selling my time and affection in debt to my knee
for all the effort they were applying
I won't sell unless you're buying

I'm containable like catching sand in a holy can
when I'm slipping through the cracks in your hand
I feel my rocky chest expand
as you can grip me again just as planned

To say I'd **** for you is more subtle
for millions die each year
I'd move you to Mars with only a shuttle
and visit every star that's near

My element has tangled with water and earth
but I never knew fire and fire could give birth
to an entire forest of flames
and still be tamed

A fool jumps ahead to trip on their own feet
but i'll keep falling in love with you
if you're still the concrete
N J Saroff Feb 2020
When asked who and what I am
It's hard to give a ****
I answer with
Half woman half man
But also
Neither boy but an apology
Neither girl but a memory
Maybe both, but that's called false ideology
Ask when it all began
Then stop me before I even can-

Not a daughter but somehow that bothers you
It's hard to walk in porcelain shoes
Every step can mean something someone will break
Stay in the binary that's your fate
Laugh when I say I'm in between
The words in between how the color gray can mean so much,
Because it's not an issue of black or white
How the love just might-

Falling for every human
Not a color like red or blue
Grow out of the phase maybe at the end it won't be true
Given a name to make one easily identifiable
Yet after, I found myself, not so easily identifiable
We thought I'd just settle for cis hetro-normative *** and gender
But instead I'm still caught in this hell ******
Return the parts I don't want to God, aka the original sender
Scientific labels based on unseeable factors
Play the gender roles, be a good actor

If it's a disease then please shoot me with the cure,
to fix what has always left me so unsure

My body both a home and cage
Bringing Such Joy and such rage
Curves so superb to the audience eyes
Yet come and cry when the scales numbers rise
Try to fold up small go unnoticeable, then
tear it to pieces become invisible

Wear a shirt that's too tight
Wear a pants that are just right
Wear a skirt or a dress
Become a failure or a mess
Wear a loose button up sudden success

Gender is career goals
Gender is being dull
Gender is falling apart,
picking yourself up to make the art
Gender is binary
Gender is not binary
Gender is clothes
But also
Gender is making yourself containable to those
who do not care about you
Tonya Cusick Jun 2017
Take my breath away,
With every gasp of air.
It's not a containable feeling,
Not one I can bare.
So serenade me in your sweet love affair.
Beautiful serendipity.
Adam Apr 2016
Dream big, dream always and never look back.
Within you lies the power and the emotion.
You can demolish all barriers.
The powers of the mortal are not containable.

Feel the power build from within your soul
The essence of your being begins to take control
The proficiency to overcome is an indication of strength
Inhibitions left behind and kept at arm’s length

Remember you are never alone.

No individual is alone within a team
Teams are those who can strengthen you
Those people who empower you to dream
and those who you can eternally turn to

Friendship can mould a team stronger than you can see
From idiosyncrasies arise familiarities
Perpetually an ear to listen or impart an idea
A form of protection or your very own panacea.

Friends can be the joy in your life
the comfort in your strife
never should you underestimate their potence
and never should you diminish their pertinence

Your life and theirs are intertwined
like a guide dog their for the blind.
Patience in each other is a virtue.
I’ve got these friends and you do too.
Sarah Foster Jun 2019
People talk about time without panic. Time is the cause of every attack. The worst of times and the best of them. The times I regret and the times I can’t hold onto. Time will not wait for me. Time will not slow for me. I am losing every second. I thought of time as a fluid. I could not hold it in my hands. It slipped through my fingers. But time is not containable. I am not the only one it escapes. Time is not a solid. Time is not a gas. Time is not an unidentified state. Time does not fit your labels. Time will not be defined. It is not yours to understand. It was never yours to keep. Time is not linear. Time travel is real. I have done it in my sleep. But time will not let you choose where to go or when to keep. I have no control. Time has made that clear. I am times creation. It reminds me every hour. I am stuck in this timeline. It jumps from year to year. It slows and speeds as it pleases. It is hard not to panic. Im under someone else’s control. It does with me as it pleases. I am nothing without the clock.
The Fire Burns Mar 2018
A Coriolis storm of loathing,
smothering my thoughts,
the aches and pain of life,
painting annoyance on my face.

Jaded beyond repair,
the human experience,
wasted on imbeciles and idiots,
pushing the sane over the edge.

Pink and purple prose,
written and posted,
but never read,
unless on the phone screen.

Gender, transgender, confusion,
binary systems multiplied,
pronoun confusion and deletion,
along with the rewriting of history.

Snowballs rolling downhill,
growing so large, no longer containable,
begin to fly apart, as the sun goes nova,
celestial rage impending doom.
nivek Aug 2023
Being on ones own
brings about such mystery
hardly containable
Infamous one Jul 2021
K87
Training for a fight that may or may not happen. At the park working on drills and conditioning to go the round and the distance. So many outside factors causing a fuss. A job opportunity that seemed promising but hasn't been a pleasant transition. Trying to move up to the next level and maintain keep building up. The idea of starting over is overwhelming.
Giving up the old for new trying to remain the same but everything changes. The mindset and body something are containable while others are a lost cause. Stuck on them wondering how and why things turned out the way they did. Not going back but staying away from that insanity.

— The End —