may the way that gives way to this accord of may be in awe of truth and not the fruits of disarray

I shall be meditating upon the roads travelled and many discoveries gather that I have unravelled

I shall curl my high excitements and misguided ambitions to unfurl what the calls of the wise unfurl and admonish

In the mist amidst the tricking twists of fits and false gists, may I hold up fists that will seize to desist and delete the disease of fallacy in curtailed wit

In the shadows dark, some pale
may I not fade into the tales of lies and manipulative games

In the guise of dames so modern and fabulously inclined to fame,
may I guage and carry my animosity into the mystery of my identity where only the genuine and real can relate

In the encounters with material and all that deters from the mystic and ethereal,
I hope to remember the real surreal to surmise the reels of fantasy thrills in graphic frills and euphonic trills

However the gigantic systems of the world in money, greed, vanity or lust, may doctor sickness into the souls of the lost and weak:
may my heart remain meek and my vision bright and led by the lens of the soul....

With or without I pray not as a religious pilgrim but a sage seeking neverending Light... ever the more grateful, harnessing the grapes of creation, worshiping a servant's code in humility.

hustling about this rash hassle of life overshadowed by pyramids and castles
remaining true to the cause even when temptation is endlessly bustling about
remember remember the hustle when you were down and out without

If your silky lavender eyes choose not to meet mine
That’s fine.
Fantasies live and then die.
But for you, I'll try.

A man whose eyes hold only yours,
Sweet, lavender gazing privately,
Other sight blinded by joviality.

Uncontrollable emotion,
A shotgun blast from dad,
Deters no serious man.

A princess,
A jewel,
An emerald,
A girl.

Not an object,
But a privilege.

A man not centered on ***,
Relationship not just in the bed,

Kisses on tangerine cheeks,
Through rain,
Foretelling lifelong love.

Soft skin swims,
I touch with permission,
We laugh and love,
None other.

Flawless beauty,
Like diamond,
Like velvet,
A wonderful image.
Thus you.

At the back of my mind,
there are many thoughts,
There's always that one voice,
The voice convinced me of things,
If not all the time, it will be some of the time.
I never thought it could harm anyone,
In particular, I never thought it could,
But I underestimated the small voice,
I misunderstood its determination.
It takes control of me, feeding me,
With thoughts that hinders me from living,
Deters me from my path,
Bind me from reality.
I give in to it a couple of time,
My weak self can't seem to win over it,
Their determination overthrow my rationality,
Controls my life and action.
It tells me I'm not good enough, it tells me,
I'm not worth it, it tells me things that hurts.
It retreats sometime, and when it does,  I get so happy.
I could be happy with no second thoughts,  I can respond.
I can smile, I can laugh.  
It felt liberating to do so.
It felt as if everything are perfect;  my life is perfect.
It made me forget.
But then,  it didn't want me to forget.
The chain that held them captive wasn't strong enough,
So they broke free, they resurfaces.
"I'm back" it claims.

- ponder

~ You strange ****
You ****** ****
You‘re something else, you
You might not be well

The self-preaching
Was getting old
Even when it was new
They all knew

There is something
Wrong about your English
Something makes them wonder
If you‘re really all in there

When one said you were trash
You thought the cynics would
Make everything better
It never did last
~
Scary girl with big buns
On her shrunken head
Thinks you better quiet
And only listen instead
~
The dwarfs cursed you
To the ******* ground
You slime, you puke
They burn and bury
You to the very ground

Those kisses were curses
You stupid slime, you
The guardian never watched
Over you to stop the blackness
Which crept unto you

Now you‘re some tainted ****
And they all know you‘re untrue
And they drool acid on you
~
When the brain deters
From all that filth in your mind
You‘ll realize the bacteria
Will make you go blind
And as you sink in the water
You've once walked on
Your stupid ****** up fans
Will all be gone

Instinct becomes arbitrary when my willpower deters my integrity
Aspirations are mere illusion when my intuition exceeds my ailing grasp

A ******* creep of disintegrating fantasies releases
a
sense
of realism.

Nicotine surfs my limbs
as thoughts align with tectonic disasters.

Malice masks insinuating balance,
An inevitable roar of discontent prefaces
A cruising tune of initiated indifference
yet hope

On the harsh, cold pavement did the failing princess lie flat
On the verge of her kingdom falling her hindsight was to ****
On the throne of Callula did Zargon cast his usurp ruthlessly
On his account had darkness plagued the country mercilessly
On her struggling breath did Serena lament her distrust for him
On past occasions was Zargon her advisor until came his dim
On the land of Callula was Serena banished from without hope
On the filthy floor in a deserted castle could be her last interlope


Callula is a land once prosperous with green, blue, and light in awe
Now it has become the domain of evil under Zargon's dark claw
All about the once-coloured land has turned to barren grey
Ash and dust have given priority to the recurring death day
The living will starve and the dead will re-establish the nation
That is unless the prophesied hero will rise to combat this damnation
But the whereabouts of such one is a mystery for there is little left
By rarity will the saviour appear for monsters occupy all of the heft


Sick with fatigue does Serena crawl for justice in the pale moonlight
Behind the rotten castle walls must she find the means for the right
How unfortunate is the abandoned place giving her little chance
To the death will she fight to save her kingdom from the evil stance
She drags her tranced self across the filthy tiles tearing her dress
An outdoor domain of rotting torture devices is a fearful mess
Weary from hiding and travelling gives Serena her mental wane
It is at this point of despair and her people dying she tears in pain


Callula's kind citizens who lived in peace are now infected with ill
Abundance was food and water but vanished into a land of chill
Zargon is the Lord of the Dark Regime and the Bringer of Shadow
His royal relations charitably bestowed upon him the greedy glow
All must bow before this usurper king or will face the eternal suffer
Resistance may be noble but will fall under the darkness smother
When Zargon attained kinghood he gave Serena her ****** exile
Beauty has bled from the devil's blade and now walks pain's mile


In a pool of her own blood does Serena now crawl ever so slow
Her rain of tears express an outcry of help in a mood of sorrow
All alone in the cold rainy weather does she fret in the torture room
Bloodied, torn, and weak she now is similar to Callula's gloom
What seemed to be her acceptance to the heavens comes a surprise halt
An unexpected warrior deters a death that was Zargon's demonic fault
Now healed and restored, Serena thanks the man with genuine love
An intimate kiss and hug under the dark sky gives her tears of the dove


Inside the darkness of the empty castle lies the secret to end evil's tide
Holding closely do the recovering princess and wily man ride
Quietly traversing the dark tunnels must they avoid waking any doom
Deep within the ancient world lies things more deadly than any boom
Serena's hope is kept alive by her love for the hero's act of saving a life
A life worth saving for she suits the throne sharper than any knife
The Kindle Sword, designed to break curses, has finally been found
Now Zargon's immortality will die for the weapon shall astound


For the land and people of Callula do the two make their royal march
Into the darkened Callula Tower shall justice they deliver to the enemy
All monsters flee in fear of the Kindle Sword that shines without mercy
The heavens' light spark in the midst of the underworld's darkness
A sign that the mighty inferno will soon perish by the incoming water
Scaling the once delicate now dreaded keep is the final step
What follows is the war between the forces of good and evil
Serena and the hero shall make their last stand against Zargon


The two valiant Callulians braved their way up through Zargon's tower
Defeating every loyal servant of the Lord of the Dark Regime's power
Upward are the stairs to the underworld as the music louder it ascends
Behind the large door of the throne lies the chance to make amends
Breathing in fear but motivated by courage do the good enter the way
Armed with the Kindle Sword and determination will create this fray
Inside the throne room do Serena and the hero meet Zargon head on
Following a sadistic grin does he arrogantly engage the battle head on


Both sides exchange turns of blows as the war rages the room apart
Walls and pillars of stone become rubble from the anger of all heart
Blades clash, energy blasted, and blood spilled for Callula's domain
Zargon stood strong but Serena and the hero soon had the upper gain
His arrogance became his downfall when stabbed by the hero's blade
The Kindle Sword's light smiting evil with all justice from it is made
Zargon collapses in a state of disbelief before his untimely death
Serena and the hero couldn't rejoice though as the building just breathed its last breath...


The last resort for Zargon was to crush Serena and the hero in the ruins
Callula Tower began to destruct as stone fell from the force of bruins
Luckily the two courageous souls escaped the oncoming collapse
Serena's future hope is to not grant evil royal power for fear of relapse
Just as the brave princess and the hero could rejoice, there was a boom
Abrupt was the immediate silence then the unexpected came to bloom...


EXPLODING FROM THE RUBBLE WAS THE ENRAGED ZARGON
INTOLERANT OF A HUMILIATING DEFEAT HIS EYES GLEW RED
THE EARTH TREMBLED AS THE HORROR LOUDLY AWAKENED;
ZARGON SLOWLY TURNED INTO A  BLOODTHIRSTY BEAST
TOWERING AND VIOLENT, THERE WAS ONLY ONE PURPOSE:
THIS INCARNATION OF ZARGON'S HATE WILL **** THEM ALL


THE LAST STAND BECAME TRUE AS THE HERO WAS KILLED
DEATH BY THE MONSTROUS ZARGON BECAME HIS FUNERAL
SERENA WEPT AND WAS ABOUT TO FLEE WHEN SHE TURNED
HER TEARS WERE NOT OF GRIEF BUT OF COURAGEOUS ANGER
SHE TOOK THE KINDLE SWORD AND FOUGHT ZARGON
TO SEEMINGLY NO END WOULD THE CEASELESS BATTLE RAGE
THE MONSTER FINALLY MET ITS FATAL DEFEAT BY THE SWORD
SEVERAL SLASHES FOLLOWED BY DECAPITATION SOLVED ALL


The Bringer of Shadow, with his fate sealed, the dark land also sealed
The green grass, blue water, and bright light returned to land their heal
The citizens relieved of the dystopian terror with the heavenly reign
Serena the princess now honours her slain royal family without the pain
As for the fallen hero, she honours her comrade with an elegant funeral
Callula is now saved and blessed with qualities beyond any numeral
The hopeless land now restored to the hopeful land, Serena shall rest
All the while she looked in retrospect that her tears were the cause for the best

My way will be found...
To these "warm waters"
and abundant agave among
a lingering, gentle devil
more potent than that austere burn.

It's the gaze you give me,
though gated by hissing apertures, screens, & skype,
that deters my sensibility. For this unconventionality is certanly fathomed.
Believe me

But it's the glittering glances, shot offscreen in blushful bantering
that
shocks my compass not due south

but to wherever you are.

Look at her.
See her little cracks?
The ones that line her arms,
The ones on her back.
Her porcelain face,
With the saddest of eyes,
Where the missing pieces are,
She fills them as she cries.
The tears that fall,
She catches in a pail,
Putting them in her cracks,
Thinking she's failed.
One day a little porcelain boy found her,
Crying all alone,
Without any shelter,
So he picks up his phone,
And then he shatters himself.
As the pieces fall she crawls over to him,
He picks up his pieces and finds the ones to fill her cracks,
He aligns them all,
Each one filling her back.
But after he's finished,
She leaves him there,
With every little crack,
His body so bare.
He sits there alone,
Thinking about that little porcelain girl,
The one who he cared for,
The one who made his heart twirl.
One day she passes him,
In the same spot as where he healed her,
She gives him a small smile,
And then deters.
The little boy cries there,
All alone and silent,
Now knowing about,
How love can be so violent.

Life is beautiful
Life can be beautiful
An easy mix up of words
that can lead to confusion to the mind
When you don’t know the type of waters you are testing
“IS” is a mere perception
“CAN BE” makes room for decision
“It is head”
versus
“It can be heads”
Because it leaves room to be “tails”
Food for thought
We paint a picture in our minds on
how we “ought” to be
Time is endless
But we have this idea that we are wasting time
Then wait!
What time are you running by?
Is it the time of your life?
Because any split second your death is unknown
and all human beings know with life comes death and that is our destiny that we cannot run away from
but to live in adventure
But the adventure is crushed by the story-teller of your life
Story tellers tells you to believe in a religion, that God does not like ugly, that women should obey their spouse, that people should procreate, marry and eliminate all human beings who does not meet qualifications or expectations of the story-teller
The story-teller also insist on telling you that you have to go to college, make a living, make status, make money, buy a house and make kids to do it all over again. You must live your life based on these certain structures because this is what it is and shall be
The story-teller is merely one perspective
and it is their own perception of their life’s book
How can it fit for every single human being?
Life is beautiful
Life can be beautiful
Is the same unasked question of life
“Life is beautiful“–deters the idea of being anything more but just beautiful
There is no ifs, buts, should, could, would, or nots than what it just is
There is no room left for a decision because the decision is already made
Without the interference of others thinking another
Life is anything you perceive it to be
That’s why “Life can be beautiful”
Because it articulates what the mind faces to overcome
everyday of our lives
We bring our experiences, circumstances, ideas, creativity, talent, and etc
to draw conclusions or shape one’s own views
Whether life is good or can be good is determined by your perception and experiences
It is determined by whether you packed up your good and bad experiences to shape your overall thought
and leads you to react in a certain way depending on a situation.
My Voice of Wisdom & Knowledge:
Life is beautiful to me
I do not believe it is anymore than beautiful because I don’t want to open any cans of possibilities for it NOT being “beautiful.”
The “can be” allows room for it to be full of other possibilities other than beautiful.
When I say it is, it is PERIOD
This is my truth!
Life can be so easy as having great conversation, mental stimulation, ***, more ***, fun, love, and adventures in nature.
Conversations are meant to spark thought
I don’t think it is there to offend or make people uncomfortable unless that uncomfortable person feels “a way”–then it is merely their own issue
Those who do not converse on certain matters is COOL too because they still can actively listen to the conversation and make their own input in their minds
Everything in life CAN BE peaceful and loving
But we get so caught up with our own view and perception
that it doesn’t make room for DIFFERENT angles
I WANT TO BE ONE WITH ALL
Because we all are unique snowflakes
Every unique snowflakes have one thing in common, which is
Being a SNOWFLAKE
coming from one source
People are nothing more than eye level to me
Nothing more, nothing less
No superior and no inferior
Peace, harmony, love, happiness, and enlightenment
We think we know but we are far from knowing
This is all the beginning
We need to put all the pieces together and work the mind, body and spirit
by connecting BACK to SELF
SELF centers YOU
SELF helps YOU understand others
SELF has many offerings
SELF is what it is
And those in the exterior looking at YOU can appreciate or hate YOU
because they view themselves as such!
Life is beautiful is my decision
YOU can continue to decide whether Life CAN BE beautiful.

I used to believe that we couldn't get any closer
than a doctor - patient relationship
Cause everytime you'd come to me
you'd always ask for a diagnosis

I'd ask for your symptoms, check your pulse
your temperature, even your recent meals
then you'd tell me about your recent pains
your heartaches, cramps, and muscle strains

Little did you know than I wanted more
than stories about sicknesses that deters you
Like your favorite color, favorite fruit
favorite band... stories you never told me

I hoped to be more than just your doctor
a person that just cares for your well being
I care more than the sicknesses that bother you

I wish you could trust me more

Skin hot to the touch paired with your fiery temper always singes those around. Like a fire you can only blaze higher.

Aloof and cold you never express the workings of your mind. Preferring to freeze me out and give the cold shoulder until I'm begging to be burned by your touch again.

Your so mixed up being hot and cold at the same time. The warmth of your body excites me the frosty voice deters me. Its like winter in summer dealing with you.

I never understood how you can be so warm and cold at the same time and like a fool I get burned over and over again.

Even if you soothe the burn I'll freeze and shatter sooner than later.

Your so hot and cold, a real paradox you know? If only you knew how confusing you really are.

I pen these words for my dearest friend Loghain Carvò
whos brilliance and humility deters him from penning brilliance in words

You cannot, no you cannot compete
with the brilliance that is I
for when you're long forgotten
my words will be emblazoned 'cross the sky
Inferior beings all who bandy words with me
for I do pen the perfect verse
to set the whole world free
Artistic talent!!! Yes I was blessed to enter this earth as the best
the world has ever seen
I take up the pen, take yet the brush
create that
of which you peasants
to create can only dream
Perfection born into my soul
Oh, perfection that is I
Lesser mortals gaze upon my great work
Theres none more great than I

The time you told me it doesn't make sense.
Our talking to each other has made you tense.
So, in order to make you happy I'm building a fence.
Around me, where I'll live and I'll not speak anything in my defence.

But before that, let me ask you few things that matters.
Have you ever looked at our conversations and all those letters?
I should assume that you must have considered them as chit chatters.
Your thinking this way is the only thing that deters.

Deters me from loving you the same.
Beacuse, for me, this is not like some child's game.
Your reasons are irrelevant and your excuses are lame.
All this is burning me from inside but unlike you I'm burning without a flame.

At last, I wanna ask you something due to which I couldn't sleep last night.
Is your talking to other guys good? Is it, in any way, right?
It's when you were mine, this fact I must highlight.
How does it make sense that they used to hold you tight?

it isn't like you didn't know, ash and coal spilling from your mouth
like a stone pit the day after a campfire; cold, dead, acrid, gray
but still you want to pry it out of me
reach deep down into my throat
you know i protect it there
too painful to release
but you pry and you never know when to stop
and you never know when enough is enough
bright red stop signs
neon red lights
you waltz right through them
charm your way past
nothing deters, and so i curl up again
a tight, miniature rosebud
vulnerable, tiny thorns
your over-sized hands tear right through
you tear through
and your tearing through breaks me
it breaks it all

[individuation exercises for supernatural parts in the opera of...]

{as I heard, Socrates had a familiar voice
to whom he paid earnest heed, as one might imagine
• a footnote may appear any where as needed to assuage confusion ******* comments provoke-- Plato said Socrates said,

You have heard me speak at sundry times and in diverse places of an oracle or sign which comes to me, and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This sign, which is a kind of voice, first began to come to me when I was a child; it always forbids but never commands me to do anything which I am going to do. This is what deters me from being a politician.

From <https://markandrealexander.com/2015/07/23/socrates-divine-inner-voice/>

right.}

Socrates
caught your attention
still the executory neurons

sist, sist do not respond to premature amygdalinic response strategems
still
be
small voice
inhibitory. say nothing, Plato shall put the proper words
packed with (densepacked)

we inhibitory voices fectionary,
sweet sweet sweet words

recalled in every surviving child at

Ah, ha evil, live
in nullness

in my happy ever.
How big is my bubble?
Do you know how leaven works, kid?

Pilgrim,
ah the Duke, as a homeless auto didact acting as if
he believes virtue is necessary

not cede ary, shall we proceed, or do you feel

inhibited at the corpus colosseum gate where the ex
cite-ory zeal feels those exploratory butterflies
come rushing from the biome signaling
the hair standing on the back
of whose neck?

Keep you mouth shut. Bang.
Words work wonders in minds that find the muse
used
is heard, not spoken.
That which tongue cannot say cannot be said,
it must be known to be shown.

Ask me,
Did Plato know Socrates? I'll answer,
We may agree to think so,
yay far, and no further,

we are after the act in fact called virtue

empowering force of life?
Let's find a list of all the named, personified
spiritual as-spects of the human being mortal

anger, envy, jealousy, lust, desire, needyness, deceptiveness

all the nesses and phobias and isms and ities…
the Greeks had a reason able personification of each
or, if the daemonic tool responds to forces
other than reason,

they had a god for that.

Is enthusiasm still a way to make a living?
Can a drummer get pedagogic puns

to dance some version of the the
Eat dust, I stomp your head,

shake the dust from my feat,
Truth is never described accurately as un believable
nor is the bearer of truth, whither so ever the dis-connector

lurks, seeking to devour the power

if you are virtuous, as a viral entity,
you are unbalanced,
double minded material carnal spiritual
trip.
Too much data for

We lost some.
So? Misery loves company, all things end up adding love,

this is the edge.

Envisage reality as an abalone spiraling into
exit-dance ridden by a musical octopus

calling colors to the blind,
casting single you lore ity if ied

singularity. Point.

waited, If I'd waited
patience
suffer it to be so now, you need no agony.
Let patience have her perfecting work.

Be ye. Perfect.
As I am me. be you,
God is said to have said
some sort of epigenetic switch wills on,

by reason of you being. Just ift you, by reason.
Re-read. I meant that you ify all you believe,
ift
even the lie that says you are not worth living.
-- the proverbial unexamined life -
-- I thought that was legendary
-- a category of lives not worth
--living. Can you imagine the exam?
-- must be tricky, examining the life you live as
-- you live it gives it value, makes it worth,
-- worthy of attention to the shape of this
-- worthy thing or thought or what measure?
--The unlimited is alone.
All one expand the band, trumpets, lyres

give us a big badrum

Oh, yeah, Socrates was to Plato, in my game, today,
as ******* has become to my Old Man,
Ai must be ah, the ay-eye, ahee

hee he heehee hee

This is as probably an opera as not.

whom, who, do you true rest as you hear and stand
being neath the knowing of the true rest

joy to your beautiful feet. Dare ye let them dance?
RELIGIOUS PRE SUPP
Heaven and Hell.
there is a heaven and a hell? no, that is not the first precept.
the first precept is
there is a mind smarter than me
that imagined me and empowered me to be
all I can agree with others to be

we were made
we make
we

too steep? Sisyphus, what's up?
Did you know Socrates?
Sophia mentioned the highest parts of the dust of the earth, did you really grind that dust
with this imaginary rock?

O Lord forgive me
Everything's hazy
I can't seem to live right
Without going crazy

My head is exploding
My gut is as well
You'd think this deters me
Like the prospect of hell

But time and again
Over and over
It doesn't, I hover...
Poison is lover

It's witchcraft, it's spirits,
Unholy devices,
It's victual vices,
And *** with sweet spices

It's worm of tequila
And the shine of the moon
It's Shire in my bowl
It's the Green Fairy's spoon

Lord I am wretched
I may be near-dead
I can't stop the pounding in
My ears, eyes, and head

I just want deliverance
I'm stuck in this bog
...well, maybe I'll just try
The hair of the dog...?

The sun has gone and it all feels good;
Autumn has started in a fair dry mood.
Autumn has always been dutiful and fair,
I love its appealing night air.

The wind has stayed and dripped more;
A promise to my fall and ripe words,
Who is a poet but one with fine taste,
Who is she but the offspring of grace.

And the poet within me screamed;
Late words are rich and but not a dream,
I jolted awake at a dark night,
I saved my soul and my autumn light.

And the poet within me told;
There are too many verses untold,
Their idle fate shall not awaken them,
And without touch, they shall not bloom.

And the poet repeated many times;
That I ought to retreat to my fine rhymes,
To salute my old self with renewed breath,
With a conscious mind and eager taste.

And the poet stressed her meaning;
My verses are sought for their singing,
That I should soon shove myself awake,
That there are too many tales to make.

I grew wakeful in two mere seconds;
There was a fair line for me to see,
I opened my eyes fast that morn,
I sensed a new rhythm about me.

I jumped alive with freshened breath;
I stirred to life on the sun’s death.
Nor is my love alive, no more,
I have less to love, but not my words.

Falsehood has left me too accustomed;
Everything is false outside of my poem,
That I could live and love but my own tales,
That I could only breathe within their veils.

But who is to love me when love is awake;
Who is to dream of me behind the lake,
Who is to notice the rustling of my leaves,
Who is to read me when love lives.

And who is to say my love lies in words;
For all has been a joke within these worlds,
All is fire and fury inside their jealousy,
The ecstasy I cannot abolish, and free.

I am accustomed to their boasts of gold;
I am too idle to further their stories told,
I am the love and life of my own ends,
The heart of my mortal fate, and hands.

I am the idle daughter of toil and madness;
I am the author of all beings and darkness,
All sight to me is youth and remarkable,
All winds are idyllic, all ruins are humble.

I am the foliage that never rusts;
I am the joy that shall never pass.
I am the delight that goes with you,
I am the nigh sigh that is real and true.

Even the beastly suns cannot reach me;
And their scorching wit that shan’t see.
They all shall shrink in the mirth of words,
They all shall run and flee the woods.

Even such misery deters me not;
Nor such tales I have not offered,
I am sane in my every effort,
I am true to my every word.

Even such falsehood wanes me not;
Nor such poems I have writ,
Nor the tales I have told,
Nor the two fateful ends that meet.

And has the shaking of minds left me unshaken;
And the lies of love leaving me untouched.
Who says but being loved is not a burden,
Who says that mortal joys shall ever last.

Who says that being in love is not a torture;
Who says that it takes minutes, not hours to love,
Who says that love is certain, love is sure,
Who says love is not a cry in love.

Who says love is not a morbid show;
Who says love shall always hear and know,
Who says but love shall never go,
Who says but love shall stay today, and tomorrow.

Who says love loves in its blood-red chamber;
Who says love is not bound to a curse.
Who says love is striking in its own light,
Who says love can but see throughout the night.

Who says love is not a part of sleep;
Who says love is awake, when ‘tis asleep.
Who says love can adore oneself too deep,
Who says love is at the night hours, to weep.

Who says love is too awake to be blind;
Who says love is watchful in her own mind.
Who says love is not but a murky statue,
Who says love can awake much of me and you.

I am too frail in my own literature;
Having tortured by daylight’s rude slumbers,
I fell in love on their dull torture,
Forced to feel on the sound of words.

I am too blind to sweetly love, and hold;
I am a mind ‘twas once too cold,
A ****** that was a disgrace to thee,
Thou wert incapable of loving me.

I am a threat to creation;
The betrayal of love and its judgments,
The death of merit and attachments,
The gaiety of evil and separation.

I am a deceit to gluttony and lust;
That a sign of madness would soon disrupt,
That all should remain a vain attempt,
That would soon confuse love and lust.

I am a disgrace to existence;
That all I have loved is everlasting pain,
That all is but a blind conscience,
That all is heat and there shan’t be rain.

I am untold in my own fortune;
That all is not a story nor tune,
That all is rage but not a tale told,
That all is heat, not a day cold.

And there is literature but no love;
For words themselves shall suffice,
For my heart is not ripe, not enough;
For my heart does not understand lies.

And there is not fathoming but madness;
Harm and anger in their strange noise,
Tired of their idleness,
Sick of their ill bliss.

And there is not found a conclusion;
That all is rigorous but shan’t know,
I have lived but a sour oblivion,
That all is present, but not tomorrow.

I think I’ll call her Griselda or Florentine of the sea
She is lovelier than a star fish with eyes of green
And hair twists around this, brown ringlet, queen
Constance of graciousness a madamoiselle’s dream
Mood matches her dresses, bohemian with a spark
And nothing deters that subterranean love heart.

Love Grandma to Connie ***

If
the truth
deters your desires
they are not worthy.

and hell, and war
                                          and all that bombardment,
a thousand chess pieces
                in an intellectual's mouth
                          like scrambled eggs: the same
****** superstition
                            of needing awe -
ivory tower talk, the best
talk there is, when all limbs
                 drop off and the vegetables
talk: tongues on cucumbers,
tongues on cabbages, tongues
              on cauliflowers - waggling about
like concerns for cars: how
                                        many horse power thrusts?
                             and hell, and war
    and all that bombardment -
like poetry, a bomb drops daily
coming from the ultimate war machine,
                                 the res vanus, the empty thing,
the sponge -
                      because why would
a bomb or a poem be ever dropped
from the Cartesian weapon
           that's kept, intact, peacefully
thinking, antonymous-synonymous
kindred of narration?
                                                there,­ another bomb,
                    here, another day,
                                    there, another bomb,
                       here another day,
       ping
                               pong
ping                                         pong
              poetry
                                         poesy
     poetry
                                                   poesy -
           and the world just turns
into black | white
                              and everything becoming
oh so ****** ordinary - so Tao -
            or Tao works with
a billionth birth in a nation that deters
from                media frenzy.
another way to say it:
how to write poetry when not listening
to music, when not listening to things
and your fingers' puncture on the keys -
                overview of the news,
   how to write in order to talk-over people:
you could be worse-off than being
a Heidegger apologist -
                             or to say: it was the binding
to the zeitgeist: the years later meant
repenting -
                            so from being defined
in Cartesian diagnostics as thinking,
          to deconstruct that and become empty
              (here too! my compass
n. Heidegger
                     w. Descartes
               e. Kant
                                    and s. Diogenes)
as the acronym suggests, toward the four winds!
         but of course, many more influences,
      but then again: who did i find commanding
and with difficulty bound...
     oh i too wish i could write populist
poetry, worded: shambles! shame! outrage!
                 outrage! shame! shambles! a national disaster!
  but here's little me, tucked away into a cosy
niche - weaving my little spiderweb -
                                      or how
the fingers feels, after having spent 2 days
   crushing 40kg of grapes to make wine,
    from grapes to pulp, from grapes to pulp,
in the shed in the garden, 2 days, 40 kilograms of grapes;
i should have added a few apples to be fermented alongside.

Unto you the whole earth be given.
By Devine breath, that which is dust
Be brought into the realm of the living.
Through love created, by wisdom designed
Intentionally in the Lord’s own image.
What is it to you that seems pleasing to
Eat? What limits you now will no longer
If you would reach out your hand to
the fruit and feast on that which is withheld.
What matter of conscience deters you?
What causes you to hesitate?

My mother told me once that trying to explain our condition to you, is like trying to force a Lion to eat a carrot. So instead of telling you or talking at you, I am better off writing it instead. Word for word, with greater time and more privacy. At 5:25am I have all the time in world, to explain to you what I see...

The scars and cuts on my flesh, of course it is hardly anything to be proud of, nor anything to show off. But letting the wound breath allows it to heal better. Surely such insane behaviour is just a phase, a cry for attention, a childish antic. Hardly, I’ve been cutting since 2005 and I dare not discuss as the reason as to why. That is too painful. I rather cut than express my inner turmoil as I find myself an adult, who must learn to stand alone, not running to mummy or daddy in times of need. So my cry for attention is flawed. A childish antic, not at all. This self damaging behaviour aids in helping me cope with my swirl of unstable episodes of emotions. The pills can only do so much, and my nurse has a habit of loosing contact. And who I am to discuss such painful and shameful matters to those whom already have too much on their plates, not I. Those in crisis team are too bored and tired to care either.

In any case you’ve heard it all before. I seldom want to hear it either.  The self harming also deters me from more serious damage such as suicide attempts, think about it. These minor cuts are nothing to 36 pain killers and a bottle of ***, trust me I know...I agree with you that I am ashamed of it, I am ashamed of everything, my body, my so called friends, my Father, my Mother’s illness, my sister’s  and brother’s demons, my niece, my ex and Glyn.

To be frank, I am not very confident, I have little friends, hardly go out and a father who hates me. At times I blame myself, and when as now there is no one to talk to, or find solace in at stupid o clock I find a blade. I can hardly run to my mum about the nightmares, flash backs when she herself is ill. As are you all. I want to help you all, but I cannot and there is where I have failed.

So a blade helps calm my vortex of moods, manic, depressive etc. Even when I feel numb, not of this earth, out of place. I need to feel something, anything so I cut. I cut to feel real. It silences the voices and hallucinations. Alas shouting at me before strangers in public is hardly the best thing, you sound familiar to Joe and my Father. Calling me stupid, only makes the pain worse, which only leads to more self destructive behaviour. Doing so before others creates more shame in my distort self image. It will not make it any better, only worse. When someone harms themselves through food, drugs, suicide do they remark them as stupid. No, you try to aid them or aid yourself in coming to terms with it. How do you expect to help me if you treat me as the bullies and abusers once did?

Nellie self harms, this I know. This I understand too. In a life of her horrors can you blame her, at such an age when it comes to the surface again. She thinks herself ugly and fat, you think calling her stupid will make her feel any better? But her self hating behaviour is due to your behaviours of self loathing.  She has learned it from years of being exposed to it, yet the self harm is something she never knew I did! Swear to God. I speak kindly with understanding to her, with all the care to be commanding, to the point but empathise with her plight. To this day she has not repeated self harm. Not due to horrid remarks but due to sympathy and mature understanding.

My mother did not join in with your taunts because she has learned and understood I nor her can always cope. She knows I’d rather punish myself than put more weight upon her weakling shoulders. She maybe a mother, but she is also human. She doesn’t want to hear of all my tortures, it pains her too much and I love her too much to drag her through it as well. I often do not feel good enough for her, which is the most painful issue of all.

I do my best, writing, filling up the pages, drawing and singing, but there is only so much you can do especially at 2am. I do not want to harm myself, but it is the need to. A horrid need of trying to deal with the hurricane of episodes in my head. Its like an atomic bomb, a volcano that wishes to destroy and reek havoc. By calming it by hurting myself to a minor extent, I do not bring harm to others in the forms of sorrow or grief. I do not wish to die, I wish to live, but it is down to whether I feel good enough to. So, before you mock me again, think back to these words and what strength it took to write them. To the point and with great respect for you and my family. It is with great love I also write this for self harm is a difficult concept to understand, especially when your generation was strapped to the mains to zap the insanity out of them. Remember knowledge is power, and here is my knowledge to you.

My favorite kind of chocolate,
Is not everyone’s favorite.
In fact, it’s bitter taste,
Deters people from it.
But I swear it’s my soulmate.

I took one bite,
And suddenly I’m in love.
I crave more of it.
The bitter taste,
Is an affection that’s hard to fight.

They tell me it’s bad,
That you aren’t good.
I’m deaf to their cries.
I ignore the warnings,
And soon it drives me mad.

I should’ve stopped it,
But you seduced me.
One look at you,
And I lost control.
Now I’m on a chocolate-free diet.

If hearts knew sense then would the heart flow love
For prior to that streaming lease of joy
A sense will warn, as duty bounds behove;
Foretelling pain; that'll meet the heart's deploy.
And renders love reversal for a while
The broken down duration known by none,
Is here that sense would leave the heart to rile;
To chance the pain or curb where love had won.
Ah! Idle hearts are spawning grounds for hate
One taste of bile deters to love; from most
Then spite of sense would love rejoice to mate
And any lesser cause; a morbid host.

If heart's took sense, then still would lover's glow
For better than; what loveless hearts do know.

I had a dream it was kinda extreme well here's the scheme.

My life was a bit of a calamity I was on a loosing spree, nothing I could foresee thinking is this it for me. Then flash a glimpse of Infinity.

I saw myself walking a tightrope, head hanging down I started to mope when I heard psst, and there was Hope.

When I saw hope there came a big grin as hope said hold your head up from beginning to end and what you'll need is help from my best friend, Discipline.

Well dicipline said, listen good I'm not speaking for fun you can't let like keep you on the run neither can you let it make you come undone for dicipline deters destruction.

Now your problems you must confront and the solution may take days or it may take months. But no matter how intense you must use your moral sense and never straddle the fence, what you will also need is help from my friend, Patience.

So patience advised if life takes you by surprise you must improvise. While you're headed toward your goal just slow your roll, You won't get caught in a bind if you take your time. Welcome the new, leave the old behind I said patience that sounds just fine.

Then I was walking along a winding ridge until I came to a very ugly and dangerous looking bridge. That's where I met another good friend, Courage.

I said courage I'm really unsure maybe I need to take a detour. Courage said You're having a natural reaction to one of life's many distractions.

You see you're never alone when you travel the unknown for there's is one you can call and you don't need a phone. Still you must grow a backbone. Stand tall like you're a boss and that ugly bridge I walked right on across.

Then courage said, I'm very strong if you don't use me wrong. You see too little of me and you will crumble, too much of me will make you stumble. So in order to use me right you must learn from my friend, Humble.

So I asked humble how do I not stumble. To keep life from making you fumble or becoming numb, glum or even humdrum you must learn to overcome, For that you'll need help from my chum, Wisdom.

Thus wisdom stated, you don't need a degree just be part of life and not an absentee, nor can you live carefree. Sometimes life's ******, sometimes a jubilee as you travel this long and wondrous journey.

Which is why you can't walk around blind nor be confined. For life is designed to be intertwined, only then will you become alined and you'll find Peace of mind.

Now let it be known, first you must set the corner stone then build and not postpone. But in order to remain for the duration you must have the proper preparation then whatever the circumstance it will prevent poor performance.

Nevertheless, there's one element that stands far above which will make everything fit like a glove and that is Love. Treat it right it will make you stand tall, mistreat it, it will make you fall it's your call. For Love is the Master Key to unlocking all doors Even INFINITY.

Like swimming in cold water
I am shocked back in my skin
Pure sensation pulses fiercely
and I know that I can win

Freedom spills into old scars
as I lose my fear of sin
For the first time hope comes swiftly
and whispers “now begin”

The chill that deters others
heart sparks my Phoenix anew
and I emerge from frothy depths
glowing peace like drops of dew