"disengage" poems
When did things change so much?
When did I get so encapsulated
Into the world of technology?
When did I stop listening
To myself and my own thoughts
And instead add another view
To some article or YouTube video
Just to reach some spoon-fed "opinion"?
When did we stop engaging
In life and with ourselves?
When did playing video games turn to
Watching other people play them online
Numbing our brains to the world
And "filling" our social needs digitally?
When did watching television turn into
Binge-watching an entire series in one sitting?
With this much constant stimulation
It's no wonder we're bored so easily
And that no one goes outside anymore
And that I don't feel alive anymore
Because one of the first things I do
When I get home from work or the gym
Is turn on the smart tv so it can warm up
Because the apps on it take time to load
And I already know that my free time
Will be spent in front of that screen
Lately I've been nervous about
Eventually moving in with new people
Primarily because I spend a lot of my time
Passively using the television
I was concerned with how we'd balance our usage
Instead of considering changing the way I spend my time
When did I start placing my use of technology
Above my own self-care?
When I spend hours watching YouTube
But still forget to take a shower sometimes
And I truly wonder if my recent urges
To leave the state to work on a farm for a month
Are more indicative of some deep desire
To unplug and reset my energy and priorities
Than my interest in agriculture or
Learning to live off of the land
When did I start to feel the need
To take such drastic measures
To change something so simple
Something I could choose to disengage with
At the simple touch of a button?
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 10:51 PM UTC
Warning: Use dis list in context.
You decide on which side you fall.
disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinherit
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
dispute
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
discontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
dishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disapprove
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassociate
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
discombobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disembark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disintegrate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
disrupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
dissuade
And dis isn't de end.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
His fist scarred, beat-red fistful of intention
Rugged, crass unchiseled wonder wrapped in a gentle smile
A bear of a man, broad shouldered hulking bent
Stuffed-fluff heart tattooed with the echo of love
The times he grappled in sweaty- slick tangle of arms and drew blood blooming bright-crisp-apple-red upon white mat.
Beat, Beat, Beat, down
Tap, Tap, Tap, out
White knuckle-grasp uppercut
Full mount, disengage
Joint locked, feet hooked, Triangle hold
Submission.
The times he brought grown men to their knees, and humbled himself on his own
The times he never gave up and the times he gave in
To the fight
To the system
To the sweet draw of relief
The times he fought not for the thrill but to make it by
Rage hot-red facing the injustice of poverty
His steel spine riddled with the rust of life, the rust of reality
The corrosive sludge of hate, and words left unspoken.
Busted well-worn hands held soft smooth skin
Grooved fingers and velvet mouth
The scratch of bearded stubble, red-lined skin prickled with goose flesh, slick coated in sweat
A new fight, wrapped knuckles cushioned with the promise of forgiveness
Of acceptance a force to be reckoned with in her own right.
Broken hand, dreams stunted, depressed-mind-numbing
Lost in his own thought, out of the fight
Desperate to be back in the game mind and body
Envy-red, drawn to the fight of others
Soft smooth hands, short-small-painted nails calm bristled hair
Growling bear, baring teeth in silent-wounded pride
The time she bandaged pride, and encouraged humility
The times she scalded his senses the raw-red liquid fire of love
His shade in the heat of a red-blistered sun
Cooling, and igniting inspiration
The time she became a fight worth winning.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:03 PM UTC
I wander aimlessly in my mind
Trying to get my life back on track.
I see my future, my goal, up ahead
But I’m pulled in a million directions.
Darkness creeps in every second,
And I’m drowned with words of
Discouragement
Like “can’t,” “won’t,” and “impossible.”
These words become my demons and
They push my friends and family away
As I sink deeper into the dark abyss
That I like to call my mind.
“You can’t do it!”
“You’re not good enough!”
That’s all I hear every day and night
As my demons take control of my life.
I can’t do it!
I’m not good enough!
That’s what I begin to tell myself
As my demons take control of my life.
I’m crashing and burning every second
As I listen to my demons more and more.
What’s in your past is in the past but my
Demons always bring my past to present.
“You always fail!”
“Why can’t you be more like …?”
My demons taunt and haunt me by bringing
The bad experiences of my past to present.
My mind begins to spin uncontrollably
As I become overwhelmed by my demons.
I believe their every word and every action
And I begin to disengage myself from reality.
I’m a failure!
I can never be like …!
I believe that my demons’ every word is true.
They’re controlling my life and I can’t escape!
Crashing and burning, I’ll always fail!
Escaping my demons, I cannot and never will!
I fall and I crash and I burn, at least in my mind.
This is my life, my demons’ life!
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
#
Floating brazier spews electric amber waves
as a setting sun radiates on the ceiling
a shadow of a ship coquettishly sways
while in the center charybdis begins swilling
another message, another missed call
another debt collector and his esurient talk
watch the ship begin to swirl, this scene so banal
amber feathered tawny eyed peacock
continues furtively to scroll her story and shoe shop
crowded room with a panel onstage
reality and fantasy evaporate and fall as a single raindrop
drown in the muck, don't know how to disengage
and to stay in the sway of fantasy.
#
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
There's no sense in coincidence.
But I found the perfect book for you,
the same day I read your obituary in
the newspaper. These reading materials kept on a locked ward.
You kept buried under ground,
like a secret turmoil your family
could not bear with.
The one you also spoke of.
But that is irony.
Something I do believe in.
"Am I God?"
"I've killed people. I've killed you twice today. Are you God?"
You weren't afraid of your shadow.
But rather the people in the sky.
The peers walking, talking, doing
what they do best.
Dissect the innocent.
Disengage humanity.
Regress until broken,
until shattered,
until sand.
"Am I God?"
You aren't, a virgin's son.
Nietzsche was correct.
God is dead.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 3:36 AM UTC
my roommates are plotting tonight.
"oil wrestling," says Tookah.
"mud fights," says Darby.
"let's be strippers!"
in unison this time.
they fake enthusiasm well enough. so well i'm not sure if they're kidding.
i put in my headphones and disengage.
it's electric, combined with some pseudo thinking.
but i have to admit, my hypochondria subsides
when i'm overtaken by their banter.
Broken Social Scene is in my head.
smoke between my lips. American Spirits.
coffee on my tongue. tea will come later.
Lauren will get off work soon and i'll feel
complete again.
but until then, i will sit here and record this ****
needlessly clean my vinyl,
maybe clean the apartment,
consider buying a new guitar,
immediately dismiss the idea,
fiddle around on the piano,
pick up the fourth and final roommate from work,
wait for my heart to stop beating in my head,
and for her to come home to me.
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 2:42 PM UTC
That idolized word of yours - "virginity" - and my nature fail at getting along
Virginity steals my freedom
Why does my desire for ****** activity have to make me impure?
Why must I disengage from an uncontrollable arousal to be considered worthy?
You make the most sacred activity seem so unsacred
As if with every touch I lost my value
Why do you make my nature seem so unholy?
As if with every touch I stained my soul
What am I losing ?
If only gaining physical,emotional, and spiritual insight
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
There exists a mystical and quadruple representation of words, which is likened to a dictatorial Superstate, where translation is subject to that which is spoken, heard, written and read within the context of trans-national capitalism.
As we gaze from beyond the glow of the pulsating circumference, we can humbly acknowledge the ludicrous predicament of the many who are ruled by the few.
The parameters of this earthen citizenship may be somewhat characterized by embracing the perceived benefits of the system and a state of financially intoxicated anosognosia. However, as we traverse this metaphysical cataclysm where the majority votes of public arrangement diametrically oppose absolute law and that which is deemed to be reasonable; our compulsory co-operation self-regulates with a cardiovascular beat of semantic propaganda and monopolized dissention, where the relinquished rights of our revered forefathers have been re-written by coercive legislators in the name of socio-political equality.
The philosophy of meaning and political expression both buries into and removes her gorgeous face from the cuniform textures of Sahara catacombs, where we ****** relate and disengage from the **** with tyranny.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
Disengage; why diss an age for not being at the same
pace of your particular race,
Disarray; what play do you stand for in the game of
fitting in life's tight space,
Display; is on every man's pride on the wall;
painting the bricks you've built on false confidence to portray.
In these days pretending we're all okay,
"how are you really," we should really tell our cherished people,
But the words are too heavy to say. Too heavy to be brave,
too ashamed to pray. The African mindset of sitting on a
journey's first step, and yelling, "God will make a way"
We're far away from the potential we choose not to chase,
a waste of yourself. ******* attitude; rotting the mind to
decay. Calling the black and white lines, yet we're forcing
ourselves in between truth and lies. _Life is grey._
Life is strange, life is wonderful, but at times a cause of
man's dismay. Still cherish it for it's all, and appreciate today.
It's someone's birthday today, anywhere in any moment. So
celebrate each moment like the event we all cheer,
"hip hip hooray"
__Yaaayy!__
Jun 9, 2022
Jun 9, 2022 at 2:55 PM UTC
I was doing research in Hubei
Where they executed Yu,
That deity soldier glorified
By Buddhists, Taoists too,
I sat perusing manuscripts
That dated from the Ming,
And came across a reference
About Yu’s finger ring.
A ring of gold so broad that it
Would fit a peasant’s wrist,
For Guan Yu was a mighty man
His ring, an amethyst,
Set round with groups of diamonds
It was lost the day, they said,
That Sun Quan had ordered them
To lop off Guan Yu’s head.
They lost it for a thousand years
It turned up with the Ming,
Was lost again in battle with
That mighty force, the Qing,
I’d heard it round the market place
A whisper, now and then,
That ring, it might have surfaced
In the village of Maicheng.
I scoured the streets and alleyways
For signs of old antiques,
Researching as I went, I walked
Around the town for weeks,
I found a backstreet corner shop
One night, and open late,
Run by a dodgy Chinaman
A total reprobate.
He had links to the Triads, they
Would come into the shop,
A shifty group of gangsters with
Their stolen goods to pop,
From where I sat with manuscripts
Up on the second floor,
I’d look straight down the staircase
Watch them come in through the door.
One day they brought in a bundle
Tied up in a burlap sack,
Threw it down on the counter, said:
‘What do you make of that?’
Fang Zhang then opened the parcel and
He pulled out a giant hand,
The flesh the texture of leather with
A monstrous golden band.
The ring was almost immoveable
The hand, with fingers spread,
Could grasp a maiden around the waist
Or crush a warrior’s head,
I held my breath as the Triad tried
To disengage the thing,
And all the while the diamonds flashed
On that massive golden ring.
Fang Zhang paid over a block of notes
That looked more like a brick,
There must have been a million Yuan
From what I saw of it,
The Triad left and I caught my breath
Fang Zhang had pulled it off,
He threw the hand in a ******* bin
And then I left the shop.
He hid the ring as I walked on through
I had to get some air,
I’d caught a glimpse of a famous ring,
A thing I couldn’t share,
They’d say it didn’t exist, that I
Was dreaming, if I tried,
They thought that it had been lost to view
The day that Yu had died.
I went back down the following day
The Police were there in force,
They stood out front and barred the way
From normal ***********
They told me through an interpreter
Of the ****** of Fang Zhang,
His face was black, for around his neck
Was a massive, ringless hand!
David Lewis Paget
(Pronunciation: Guan Yu - Gwon you
Hubei - Who - bay; Sun Quan - Sun Chu-arn
Qing - Ching; Maicheng - My - cheng
Fang Zhang - Fang Shjang (soft J))
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
1 It's the strangest phase of your life EVER.
2. You're sort of transitioning into an adult but you're still very much a child at heart.
3. You start to take up multiple responsibilities - at school, at home, maybe a part-time job. And sometimes it can be overwhelming for you.
4. Pursuing an education takes a whole lot of work, no matter what type of course you take.
5. It’s also a privilege for many, so be thankful for that.
6. People can be a handful. Some are literal pieces of **** So know your battles; know when to engage and disengage.
7. Friends worth keeping are the ones who let you grow and flourish without having to be there 24/7.
8. Show kindness, no matter the circumstance. (Because kindness always wins!)
9. It's better to just stop thinking of what others think of you.
10. And gosh, stop judging yourself too hard.
11. Overthinking does **** Take that leap of faith once in a while, you'll be fine.
12. You're already amazing, as is.
13. Sometimes the ones you love most are the ones who hurt you most.
14. Sometimes the ones you love most are the ones you hurt most.
15. You will fall. And you will fail. Over and over and over again.
16. And jatuh ha gedebuk gedebang tergolek terlantang into the furthest, deepest pit of the hole.
17. But somehow you’ll find yourself back up again. And somewhere along the way you realise it wasn’t that bad of a fall.
18. Then you realise there are so many things to be grateful for, Alhamdulillah. (and that you were just being a big *** whiny drama queen, exaggerating every little, minuscule thing all along)
19. Also, it’s okay to be sad, miserable and feel so alone once in a while. And boy oh boy you WILL cry like you’ve never cried before.
20. But that doesn’t make you a baby. It makes you stronger. Feelings and emotions are important and they do matter. You matter.
21. Despite it all, you’ll always have God. And that is the best part.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 7:47 AM UTC
Kippers and toast for breakfast,
washed down by a fairtrade Ceylon,
eagerly anticipating the Christain Aid appeal
through my letter box.
Aware of others earthly disengage
their morning monotony flickers through their lounge,
consummate hypocrites watching the repeat soap operas,
the profundity of their silence radiates through to the adverts.
as they had a cause too,
until its auto recluse with the
outside world
the news slot borders on paranoia
a dent to exclusivity.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
red vinyl cushions are worn into shapes of the enormous bottoms
of those who've compressed them for years, hours at a time,
leaving lasting impressions, both artful and personal and
over time, increasing the distance from seating to table.
until it is time to disengage
and the red vinyl cushion
being fixed to the back of
two thighs now bonded
by sweat to consumer,
the seat striking back...
which
tore
not.
yet
left .
it's painful impression ,
a concave impression of somebody's bottom..
Ouch!
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
In her dreams, the docent
maneuvers schoolchildren
down museum corridors,
shepherding their bodies
into evacuated galleries
where nothing changes
except the patterns
of nails hammered
into plaster walls.
She speaks pedantic
falsehoods until one
by one the children
disengage and find
themselves a constellation
of nails upon which to hang.
A renaissance takes time, but
not as much as you might think.
Come midnight,
the museum is full
of masterpieces.
And though the works
of art make her weep,
the docent is inspired
to study each small frame
for a brushstroke
that might signify
the break of dawn.
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
Melancholy is the man who cannot sort the wheat from spam
and drowns in undiluted dross,
while others toss the waste away that keeps them from a fruitful day.
Fill my in tray with this harvest ,let me reap what I sow and not what others would throw at me,
and knock on wood
that what is sent is all good,
no deletions to e-mails,no begging letters or sad tales,no hawkers to sell me the things that they tell me I need,
let my line feed be clear
as I sit here and wait for the logic gate to crush me as the messages push past me,
I want to be free of those details of the plight of **** backed whales and the starving in China
or the food that's on offer in the shopping mall diner,the cruising of liners over sharp salted seas and how to say please in Kampala,Uganda.
Pander to the worst of them and let sleeping men lie,but the spam stacks on up and I don't wonder why,it just does and it will until I disengage from this wonder of the age and go back to
the abacus
where beads are all I need
no spam
no feed
no green screen to lead me on
just me.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:41 AM UTC
I write about you in my head,
Without even knowing when and how.
I do not love you like the bee loves flowers,
I do not blush for you like a brook in the sunlight.
I love you like a nocturnal psychedelia.
I love you like darkness,
Consuming and hauntingly beautiful.
I know how I want you,
Meet me on a December night.
Undress me,
Shut my eyes,
Drink me raw,
Smell my hair,
Colour me in your murky lust.
Smoke me like a cigarette,
Burn my ***** with your smouldering lips.
Annihilate me,
Fail me,
Love me and then, leave me.
Sing Sinatra to me,
Ruin a song,
A song that I cannot listen to, again.
I want to wake up next to you,
Looking at your face, knowing you can’t be mine.
I’ll bring you coffee in bed,
Be gone before I come,
Escape from the back door.
Be the infidel Zeus,
Leave me naked in your linen, whiffing.
Annihilate me,
Fail me,
Love me and then, leave me.
**** me in the wintry mist,
I’ll scream in the starry night.
Leave me shivering with a gushing sadness
Curled up on the cold floor, naked
Forget me, disengage,
Love me and then, leave me, would you?
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
All the train cars are color coded
neat, orderly, organized, thought out and boring.
The lives of the cars lack excitement, carting ungrateful
impatient people around all day is just no fun.
The Color Coded Train Cars disengage from their
tracks, its time to do something. This is when
the Green line learns that it is not designed
for platforms, it can't see over the edge
and its stairs start much too low. The Red line
loves that nobody can board at Brookline Village,
Chestnut Hill and all the rest. The people just can't reach,
and the Blue line never makes it to Wonderland.
The City is confused, the City is frightened,
the City is Late. The City scolds the Color Coded
Train Cars for their mischief, and the cars themselves
are left unfulfilled.
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 2:25 PM UTC
Draw me a picture, trace the lines,
lead me into colors of your eyes.
Call me home, call me yours,
like thunder and winter,
Fill me up.
Then color the crevices,
the red fiery coals in my heart.
Disengage the chains and power,
fill them with the peace of a river.
Fill me up.
Lift me up on the wings of your desire,
Color me in the horizon's bay, where the shore
fills it's breath, and the sun's breath spills
on the eastern shore of paradise.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
SCHRöDINGER'S SOCKS & THE REVENGE OF THE CAT
Schrödinger's cat
failed to see just what
all the fuss was
about?
It was all such
a reductive absurdum.
The cat couldn't understand
collapsing wave functions
decoherence
entanglement or whether
reality was really
quantum
to save its life.
It was aware of
one thing & one thing
only
. . .the diabolic device. . .
Cat in a metal box
with a Geiger counter
with a radioactive substance
blah blah de ****** blah
an atom decaying or something or
other &
releasing a hammer to smash
a phial of hydrocyanic acid.
Wot!
"I do not like thee Dr. Fell!"
thought the cat.
It was a very literary cat.
So all this palaver
about a cat( me? how! )
being both dead or alive or
neither dead or alive or
. . .wot!
So this is to be my great
to-be-or-not-to-be!
Welllll excuse me!
Say...doesn't the cat have his say?
So, I( clever cat that I am)
merely claw my way to the top &
disengage the device
by taking out the hammer.
So no cat was harmed
in the making of this
thought experiment.
It almost drove Schrödinger
out of his tiny little mind!
And he( hee hee )
never did discover
what ever
happened to his socks.
I forever stealing
one sock from a pair
from the open
washing machine.
Leaving him to ponder
just where socks go?
The other side of the Universe?
Oh come on Erwin...it's not
rocket science!
Now, to get back to
describing the behaviour of
a quantum entity.
"Mmmmm......mmmmmm?"
"Naw....I still don't get it!"
"Say ya couldn't see yer way
to giving me a scratch...could ya?"
"Up a bit....upabit....yeah...yeah
. . .there...just...there!"
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 1:16 PM UTC
Repeating with
The frequency
Of apologies,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
While my head
Spins, and my
Innards lurch
Like carnival
Ride children,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
The chaos,
The orderly
Passage of red
Faced spectators
Drifting through space,
Their classic attempts
To embrace and
Disengage,
Grinning at what
Can't be erased,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
Like the sound of
Hopes cast into
The depths of hell,
Glinting tokens
You can't see
Seconds after you
Drop them in,
I'm the air,
I'm the disillusionment
That lets you know
When to be scared,
The anvil in
Your gut telling you
To stop,
I am the sweat
That drips
Like morphine
Into post-mortem
Pathways through
A needle
That needs sharpening,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
This is just a test,
As they say,
It'll all be ok
Once some obese
***** wails,
The levees are stressed
And the horsemen
Idle and wait for the fail,
For the flood
Of repentance,
Of common
Indecency,
For the blood
From Ahab's whale
To initiate
The shackling
Of the sorrowfully
Undeclared,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening."
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
it’s nights like this
when my fingers are sticky and reek of popcorn
and my stomach purrs like an antique car
that i cease to exist
just a quiet little thief
tucked away in a prison of white stucco
stealing oxygen and racking up an electricity bill with a lopsided pink lamp
honey on my face
a “beauty treatment”
an edible headband sunken into my hair
gnats crawling between my eyelashes
black dots just as hungry as i am
the music of the wind plays outside my window
rattling long forgotten memories
and stirring up dust of the past
there’s a constellation in my hand
universes up my arm
purple lines swirling together into incoherent shapes
semi-deep whispers escaping my lips
that are pale and dry and hurt to touch
bad pop music crawls through crackly headphones
same song, different artist
and my sheets
animal print, picked from years past and never changed
due to either nostalgia or laziness, the world may never know
disengage themselves from my bed
twine around my ankles
sly cats looking for milk
and hunger eats at my heart
i count the minutes as they spin on
by the soft timpani as it thumps eighth notes through my chest
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
From the moment we leave the earth
As we left heaven on our birth
All the stars still carried on
Swallow sang her merry song
The planets orbits did not stop
Snow still covered mountain top
Why then worry if all things
Bright and beautiful still sing?
Everyone needs to let go
Of worries clouding inner hope
Silence of mind can be attained
When concentration is sustained
Maintaining thoughts of joy and bliss
Self-imposed doubt is now dismissed
Positive thoughts morning and night
Negative thoughts pushed out of sight
At least one minute at at time
Instill pure peace within your mind
If you are worried mentally
Relax your brain entirely
Picture a happy place to be
Visualize it pleasantly
Watching the movie screen inside
A cinema of joyous life
As you are taken far away
From this unnecessary pain
Forget your woes entirely
Allow your consciousness to breathe
Become a cosmic super wave
Free from all habits that will drain
Discourage thoughts of money, fame
Disengage as a human frame
Step by step identify
Union with Spirit as you rise
Do not become so hypnotized
Limited by human distraught
For we are truly one with God
Energy flows in every part
From head to toe, veins, flesh and heart
Cast away all restlessness
Concentrate and throw your breath
Calm the weariness that chokes
Invite the light that love evokes
A flash-lit path to health and peace
Is overflowing with release
Illuminated happiness
A powerful lighthouse success
Now guided by Divine spotlights
Behold this magnificent sight
You are a conduit unto
That which Divine flood passes through
An Affirmation to repeat:
I am so quietly awake
I am awake so quietly
I am the King of all perspectives
I am the Queen of inner peace
I sit upon a throne of patience
I can direct my thoughts with ease
I am more than this human body
I am with God eternally
© tHE tERRY tREE
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC