City lamps in clusters of concrete
On 18th and Sherman street
The cars pass by scanning me
Each unsound engine roaring
Darting pupils
I feel it on my externals
On my lips and phalanges
Intruding glances cascading over
my silhouette

Deja-vu-like resemblances,
strange
Sunken cheeks look bizarre
and blotchy as the socket drains
something toxic to the veins
that's permeated the future in an instant, like a comet,
encandescent and shimmering like a scale, the awareness fades

Like some dreary mirage
I remember those little band aids
Vintage carnival tickets
discarded on the scratchy ground..
Blue-violet bruises
The paradox of pleasure
A vague creature in
it's discomfort
sitting in defiance and
quivering my sentences

It reminded me of those
incandescent bugs that
smush into Chryslers
With a curled lip, bulging eyes
and ******* up tongue...
Antennaes intertwined like
Twizzlers
Making peace with all
that's stung as the
windshield wipers turn on
Some black tar-smack-oil-
******

My generation consists of
inheriting environmental
destruction and mal-parenting
Global warming. Animal extinction.
Polluting the oceans. Deforestation.
Biting shards off night-time to
suffice for the daily pangs
Shuffling the dregs of karma
to grow roots and vines all about the room

It's not Winter yet
Under this morning dew
I envision it in my mind
A crystal ball vision
contorting into smoke
I caught it in my breath
Catatonically hanging
A turtle with it's legs bending toward the sky
Searching for my tribe and a pulse
on this Earth in sentient souls

John Mann
Well meaning and average
Hard working and normal
Accumulates much.

Accumulates wealth
Accumulates knowledge
Accumulates self respect
Accumulates an identity.

Confident in his knowledge, and
If you do good, you will get good
If you do bad, you will get beat
Reward comes from work, and risk
And self respect.

Mann is self motivated
Self educated
Self respected
Self sufficient
Self made.

Yet Mann
Self doubts
Self loathes
Self harms in his mind.

Mann is in an everlasting kingdom
Yet lives in a self destructing world
And lives a self depreciating life,
But with an everlasting God
Who has a multi-faceted and a many sided wisdom
Mixed with love from an everlasting power...

...the cocktail mixed by God.


God calls this cup, "glory"

Why ?.

He doesn't always tell
But He always knows
It always works...

It works deep
Hard
Is an incisive scalpel ,
Yet most powerful,
Past finding out.


One night,
A black night,
No moon to reflect the sun's light
A place where he has never been
A place where he has never seen
A place where no one else has known; they who criticize,
Where accumulated knowledge has no answer
Where accumulation of experience brings confusion,
Brings a great horror of darkness.

There is no one there
Except Mann and Jesus.

John Mann uses all his strength
And his accumulated wealth
His accumulated knowledge
His accumulated self respect
His accumulated identity
His self education
His self respect
His self sufficiency
His self made mental creations
To defend himself against this vulture.

But Mann gets exhausted in the fight
The exhaustion bring doubt to his doubts
Brings questions to his accumulated knowledge
He is misunderstood,
Self respect starts to dissolve
Identity is stripped away...

Mann feels naked.

His fig leaves of self sufficiency is not sufficient
He doesn't respect his self respect
His education was in the mind; not in power
His identity was misplaced
His wealth of knowledge made him bankrupt.

God's cocktail begins to work
For John Mann must now rest to survive
He must stop.

He screams , "let this cup, this cocktail pass...
Isn't there a better way ?
An easier way
More convenient ?
That gives respect" ?. 

In His sleep
He breathes
Rests
And realizes...

There is nothing left...
Only Jesus.

His Kingdom
His knowledge
His wealth
His sufficiency
His position
His rest
and more powerfully, His identity.

John Mann starts to see
He is not God's counsellor, and
That the questions of God become more satisfying than the answers of the world.

This was a most expensive drink
It cost Mann everything;
Yet gave him everything.

This cup is now always full
Instead of always needing to be topped up.

When the vultures come, from the externals
He just sits and smiles,
Resting in work of the black night and the cup he drunk from 
For now Mann's source is not self
But that which has been imparted deep within,
Deep has connected with deep.

Mann is forever altered,
He doesn't look the same
He doesn't feel the same
He doesn't think the same
He is not the same.

He walks with a limp
He sings with his heart, not his head
He talks with a new tongue
Poison no longer harms him.


He loves what he used to hate
He hates what he used to love,
Now his prayers start with thankfulness
Gentleness has smoothed the hard edges,
Through grace glasses he sees differently.

From the black night,
The uncomfortable cup,
The inconvenient cocktail of night and horror...
Is the stripping process...
Brilliant, clever, loving and eternal.

Always works
Always powerful
Always better in depth and richness.

Now Mann doesn't need external virtue
For John Mann was stripped of himself
And now possesses another life in exchange,
Internal.


The day breaks
The night is far spent,
John Mann is now ready for the next time night comes,
With power.

There is a new world out there
For people like u and me
A world where we won't be measured by fickle standards u see

A world where "love" means
Embracing the person whole heartedly
Where different abilities and minds
Melt and mould and become one

Where caring takes a new dimension
Where hope is forever new
Where the sun shines brightly each day
And brings promises anew

Where fighting the world does not drain you out
And you can say what u feel without wondering how u'll be judged

Where u can be childlike in your innocence
And maintain the purity of your emotions.
Where u don't need to twist yourself to fit someone's frame.

And where u can worship the Lord again
Where u can stand tall and proclaim
His love for all to see
And you know you'll be backed by HIM

Where u can trust ur fellow men blindly
Cause the one who sees
Knows your heart and feels
The truth of your words
Where externals fade before his gaze
Where liars need to fear his face.

Such a world beckons
So I say
Do not give up your loving
Do not give up on your friend
Do not try to fit in someone else's mind
Be yourself, your purest self
For that's what u were deigned to be
For If that's not what the Lord intended
Then his saving grace you'll see

those parts of speech
learned very early
taken for granted
now might serve
to trigger an entry
to Happiness
to Beauty
to Awareness..
subject and object
are the benchmarks
of the dualistic world
and with dissolution
we become Aware..
the object's existence
is our senses
a simple stimulation
and nothing more..
with externals dissolved
we then find
the subject has
no object and so
makes an exit
leaving only That
which we are...

Somewhere between cradle and grave.
Where sway is a true Libran.
Weights are shifted
back and forth
to keep a balance.
And I lost mine.
and tho my stance
tilts
as does a tip toe.
As a ****** walk way
over gushing flow.
Where externals
mimic
an outstretched horizon.
I’ll not be propped.
This is me.
This is me here.
This is me there.
Curious…

don’t think there’s anything beautiful or romantic about hating yourself. It’s a highly hypocritical point of view because somewhere down the line I’m sure I’ve reblogged something of the sorts, but there is no reason why suicide or self harm should be glorified.

There’s nothing beautiful about physically being unable to move because every day tasks are so daunting you’d rather just stay in bed. There is nothing beautiful about being unable to get close to people without losing large pieces of your self-esteem and self-confidence every time. There is nothing beautiful in logically knowing what you feel isn’t how people see you, that you’re worth something, but still physically not being able to make yourself happy. There is nothing beautiful about cutting yourself, burning yourself, putting yourself in physically abusive situations. There is nothing beautiful in thinking “how many pills do you think I’d actually have to take to die” or “how long do you think it would take if i sliced my arm” or “what’s the least painful and cleanest way to do this”. There is nothing beautiful about being torn about whether you want to **** yourself for yourself or stay for your family. There is nothing beautiful about looking at yourself in the mirror and hating every piece, every inch, every out of place lock of hair. There is nothing beautiful about writing a note, having to tell everyone that it’s not their fault. There is nothing beautiful about not being able to maintain your happiness on your own. There is nothing beautiful about it.

It doesn’t make you special, cool, interesting: it’s not supposed to be a doorway for. attention. People don’t understand that I don’t choose to physically have to stop myself from ending my life. Things like “suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem” and “suicide is so selfish” make me so ******* angry. I get that, I’m not an idiot, if I die I die but tomorrow the sun is going to to come up and maybe I won’t have to sit alone at lunch again, or maybe I’ll make another friend, or maybe I won’t fail another test. But there will always be more of those temporary problems, there will always be more failed tests, there will always be more broken hearts, there will always be more. And whenever I think of suicide I don’t think of it as my temporary problems, I don’t think of it as that 17 on a spanish test or that rejected job application. I see it as, I won’t have to wake up tomorrow hating myself, I won’t have to wake up in the morning and physically push myself to get out of bed (like I couldn’t do today. It’s 11:47 on a tuesday morning and I”m still in bed from yesterday’s clothes because I physically couldn’t change into my pajamas last night, or make myself get up this morning). When I think about suicide I think about realizing that I won’t have to feel this ever-aching pain in my chest that never goes away. I think of all the people I won’t let down in the future, and all the people who won’t let me down. Hell yes it’s ******* selfish, I’m not stupid, don’t treat me like I am. It’s the most selfish thing you can do. But sometimes all I want to be is selfish because I give and give and give and never get anything back in return. I would die for my friends and anyone else that I care about but it’s like if I disappeared they wouldn’t notice. That’s all I want to do sometimes is disappear.

Please, don’t try to tell me that, oh just think happy thoughts. It’s like telling a ****** addict to “just stop” or an alcoholic to “just not drink”. It doesn’t work that way. I give every ounce of myself to other people and other things because I can’t keep any of it, because no matter what I do I feel like I’m not good enough. I have a 3.5 and climbing GPA. I have a mother and father that love me. I have an uncle and a grandmother that are always there for me when I need them. I have two beautiful baby nephews, and a loving sister. “there’s nothing you should be depressed about”, but the externals don’t matter when there’s nothing for you inside.

I don’t know how to explain this, and it’s different for everyone, but for me, there’s nothing to live for but my best friend. I know if I left her, she’d follow me, and I can’t have that on my hands. But that shouldn’t be the only reason I’m alive. That shouldn’t be the only reason I didn’t take those pills. Everyone needs to find a reason to be happy inside of themselves, and it’s so ******* hard to do when I see things glorifying and beautifying suicide and depression.

This is the reason why no one takes it seriously. By spreading this, no one seriously thinks that someone has a problem. By just saying, “oh my god I’m gonna **** myself” people don’t take it seriously. Mental illness is not just something you can get over, it doesn’t just go away, you can’t just think happy thoughts and it’s gone. During the happiest times of my life I destroyed everything I had because I didn’t think I was good enough, and there were always better options. I don’t love myself. I hate myself. I hate that I can’t make people happy. I hate that I’m not enough for people. I hate that I’m not as pretty as anyone else. I hate that I’m not funny. I hate that my own flesh and blood despise me, and are disappointed in me. I hate that I couldn’t save him from his own demons, that I couldn’t get him to just put the ******* bottle down. I hate knowing that some things aren’t my fault but always blaming myself for everything ****** in my life. I hate that all of my love wasn’t enough for anyone to stay. I hate having to try to save people to save myself. I hate having to have some kind of external verification and justification for my life.

Just because I can make jokes and laugh until I cry around other people doesn’t mean I don’t wake up every hour crying, or doesn’t mean I don’t come home and isolate myself because I don’t want my parents to see me destroyed. People need to understand this isn’t romantic. This isn’t something you want to be. This isn’t something you should strive for. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. It makes getting close to people scary, if not dangerous. It makes everyday tasks so much harder than they have to be. I don’t know if any of this made sense to anyone, and I’m sorry if I insulted anyone with mental illness, this is just my views from my personal experiences. Just, think before you speak. Think before you post. Think before you glorify something that could be destroying someone else.

I’m sure people might look at me differently for this. I’m sure people might be surprised that there have been numerous times where if I had gone through with it I wouldn’t be here. I’m sure people might be disgusted, ******, angry at me for speaking my mind. I’m sure some people might think I got it all wrong. But I need to speak my mind, and I need to share what I believe, because it seems like no one I talk to understands how I feel.

k.s

p.s. please if anyone needs to talk, my inbox is always open, anything. I can hold on, but sometimes it’s hard and I always wish I had a crutch. Please, just before you do anything, talk to someone, try to talk yourself out of it, or find someone to talk you out of it. I know I said we need to find something to love within ourselves, and I believe that 100%, but you can’t do that if you’re not breathing. Just try to hold on to find that something. I haven’t been living for the past six months, I’ve just been holding on, and I’m still looking but you can’t give up hope. Please, don’t give up hope.

you ask why I linger here long
and do not return to the centers of power
and human endeavor…
it’s all but a life of conditioning and structures…

if you ask me,
human enterprise and human life
are tiresome…and mediocre…
it is a life of basics and self-interests
and finger-pointing
and it is all partial and focused
that grapples with ******* of the parts
but misses the whole…
and one never sees the hubris within;
the errors, it seems, are always elsewhere…
but see, there is no change
without the change in oneself
and so it is that I linger here long
to observe and to see within myself
to see within, and so understand…
for within this chaos of one
within one
there is always but a pointing to the externals
and so the world goes on, and has always been
a world of groups built on mutual lies
so one can feel special and chosen and blessed
and recipient of Highest Revelations
within the group
and feel *O so right
and feel O so safe
and feel O so true…
there is always but a feeling – but not the thing…
there is but conditioning and a building
and that structure is added to on and on…
and so I linger amongst these mountains
and streams and trees and the open
and I observe these with no preconceptions
and linger in that which comes of no future or past
and I observe myself, my mind, my thoughts
and what it is that is called ‘I’…
and so I linger here long…

Literally a perfect situation:
approach the stupid guy.
He's all alone and vulnerable and adorable
but what?
I just let my sorry excuse for confidence
slide away into the back row like the awkward teen I am
lurking, admiring from afar
obsessing like a **** starved weasel
with a pint of bacon fat
until my worry muscles are broken and ripped and sore and bleeding
and my brains must be bashed out with hammers to get rid of the suffering
the stupid, stupid thoughts and self-reproach
worth just measured by a stupid stupid boy's approval
or lack there of of caring.
How cute, my ignorance of importance
my value on externals
and stupid stupid desires
that are never going to happen,
and yes
I am ranting like a little girl in a diary
and yes
I am putting it all out for any unfortunate reader
and yes
I have zero *****.

Wicked wicked wicked my mind
That feels so unkind
Unkind my thoughts
That damage my heart
Damaged my heart that burns my tongue
Burned my tongue that lashes out
More enemies than friends have made I

How trapped I feel inside
The walls and bonds of your presumption
How evil this mind that sways between hate and devotion

How terrible this burden I must bear
Cast on my shoulder
For a fault not mine
Delving deep on those wounds
Which cruel men with their lust inflicted
Broken the tender bow of my spirit
Set me off on a course of anger
Hatred buried so deep beneath
Seething waiting to explode

But what explodes is not me
It’s the anger and the wrong
That should not have been

Where were u when I was abused?
Where were u when as a doormat I was used?
What is it that now can be done?
To right a wrong
To right a spirit that stands forlorn.

Damaged beyond words am I
Damaged in my thinking
Damaged emotions course through my veins
Burning, scalding, bearing pain.

See that wound, that moment, that started it all
You can see for your eyes behold all.
Robbed of innocence
Trapped in blackmail
Jilted love just for gains

No one saw that person beneath
No one saw that  crushed soul
No one saw that  waif of a girl
Longing, hoping for true love’s gold
Running in directions for a sweet word
Madly following dust for pearls

You saw, u were there
You are here now
To you nothing is hidden
All externals are just veils
Your eyes can rend them all
Your word can heal it all

How hardened am I
Wickedness seeped in every act.
I don’t wanna be like that
I don’t wanna be hated
I don’t want nothing
I want to be free
From this madness overtaking me

Stretch out your hand and calm my soul
Hold my trembling heart in your fold
Show me how things can be right
Only the one who has made me has that sight…

Our minds project and name:
this realization is rumbling
underneath our shadows and struggle..
Is it not amazing
that externals are projections
awaiting..but not long.. for their names
eagerly provided by heady minds..
This realization reverses
our notions..those heady beliefs
of separation as wisely undeniable..
Although the rumbling often seems
fleeting and faint
not reportable in shadowy newsdays
real Happiness is found seeping in...

in the Rye
where much is
phony..
All the externals
those shells
postures and lies..
The darkness
covered life force..
Dialogue suffers
the desire lost
to honor difference
then to discover
common elevation..
Phony inside
knows phony outside
as with good..
Perspective reigns
Shades inside
shade outside..
This is pain
perhaps birthpain
a new adam
with new
composition...

Give to sorrow, watchfulness.
Give to happiness, no eyes, but its blind externals.
Give to me, the blind thoughts that can see through humankind.

Reduced to a single point
Within and without I know,
I am but one single speck.
I feel it now in my mind;
My thinking soul.

Not in conventional terms but,
Let my thinking heart guide thee
In understanding me.

Nothing forms
Like air let loose.
We drift, as infinitismal nothings,
Following from within like a painter's brush into reality-
Our own canvas are we.

Superceded by phantoms of ghosts
Ethereal blurs take their geometry,
Exist within A euclidity.

We weave ourselves in the hairs of our god's
Nebulous strands dreaming outwards from the thinking hearts,
The hearts that make us but we form-
This integration of it into nothing
Of nothing... to something.

Spontaneously alive
Digital sparks that programmed their own world's
Existing within limits self imposed.

We perceive from internals to externals
But accepting truths built falsely
They hold, like all Straw houses crumbling and shrinking,
Till they fade inwards, collapsing into reality the painters brush falters.
It cannot go on, it cannot paint finer than its hairs, only grander, out, bigger, falser.

Our eternity is merely a fraction of our own
It extends infinitely we cannot go...
With it.

Within these truths I find myself
With these fundamentals I paint myself into the world
With these dreamlike strands of hair I weave myself.
Into the fabric of your mind, you are part of this now!
You always were, and never will be.

In the internal recovery
externals discover me,
uncover and hover about me,
like angels,
but why would that bother me?

I hear wings that flutter about me,
thought it
could be my heart
but it can't be.

In my mending I am fending off demons.
The angels defend me against those that would send me
screaming back to the pit.

There are bits of me lost,
friends tossed aside and my
memories sometimes
hide far away.

I am spread out quite thin,
I think thin
gets me in and
I am poor, so I'm sure
that helps me a lot.

What did I get from this lifetime as yet,
not understood?
Some bad
some good
If I could remember
I would.

No moral to this tale where morals always failed me and my dreams of dreams derailed me,
when the pious tried to bail me
I said,
'let me go to jail' and
Jail is where I am,
the jail that jails a man
inside himself.

In a condescending tone I hear the way you judge my life
At first I want to take offense and give into the strife

Then I take a step back and objectively observe
I realise your the one who's lost you proved it with your words

You asked me shallow questions only focussed on externals
Then judged me based on made up scales that give no weight to the internal

Its proof to me that this same scale you use on your own life
And soon you will not measure up and fall on your own knife

Because you never can be good enough,  at least not for forever
Your shiny stainless ego will soon rust from stormy weather

Stranded I am by this self
Strolling down the shore with my two lone feet,
I count every detail that I see pass on the shore
As it is a companion I seek among every leaving wave.

I scan around me for a sign of friendship
In this crowded beach of families
I stare away from the embarrassment of sitting all alone and thinking aloud to the waves.

I speak to the clouds and
Every other dragonfly
The sticky hot air at the beach accompanies me
And asks me of my life and my dreams!

I wanted to be in this state of complete stillness
Of an unknown pleasure of having nothing to mend and no body to fend
I wanted to know whom I could meet as a prince charming while I was awaiting on a black horse

Awaiting the kindness and the warmth of a human touch
But wrath and pity knocks along.
Pleasing externals and so the internals can survive
Where I have no one to call but everything to hide
I sit under the blanket of the night longing for a night out
To a party or some gathering
but deep, deep, deep have I entered in this whirlpool of loneliness
where being me outside and being alone is gifted by some natural force
Where fear of attention combined with a knot of failure
where love cornered by being cheated upon is a fallacy of thought
where all the monsters are guardian of my heart
and where FAMILY is a feeling which I hear through some sounds in the empty DUST.

i figure everything can see me
fluids​ moving up inside me
it cracks the code inside my atoms
chest is hurting heart is pumping
connect my flesh to the embryo
stitch into my genes
ya know
i wasn't born just yesterday
i was not born just any way
my talents knows it when they sieze it
make ya go ya cant believe it
projected light of consciousness
splits comb-strikes and leads it
have it here inside my pockets
little life and little rockets
pull my glow in my transceiver
data cosmos diamond lockets
redraw my lines in my own dimensions lies a
cruel unjust infinity's just
a tenth of my reality
born of one and two in one
in life we die in death
we shall remain
where the hall's externals walls us back out of a duality
to be a nothing once again
there is no synthesis to my thesis
once was lost but now im easeless
take my own life cuz i own it
cuts a hole into my recess
i am recklessly disurbed at what i am
where im at and im just not quite sick of it yet.

This will probably make you uncomfortable for one reason or another.
Most likely, you'll be ashamed on my behalf
Perhaps angry at me or something I write here
Frustrated with me
Depressed by my outlook, maybe
But I will still share it
Because...I don't know why, really. It's not art. It's just me.
Anyway,
I don't spend much time with people who are really in control of their lives and going in a positive direction
I gravitate toward people like me who just get by based on whatever talent and skill they were born with
Most of them don't do as well as I do in terms of externals, like holding down a good job, some money in the bank, buying a house
Most of them do much better in terms of being okay with themselves
I don't know anyone as unhealthy as me
That really hits me when I have it in front of me
Out of all my friends and people I know, I don't know of anyone with as unhealthy of an internal life as I have
I end up scaring, hurting, or creeping out the people I get closest to
And when my internal belief is that there's something deeply wrong with me, that only confirms what I know to be true
Counseling (every week) is no longer helping, if it ever was
I tossed ****** addiction therapy and recovery a long time ago and I'm not going back, but at least I'm not getting worse to my knowledge. Unless I'm in denial. I am significantly better than I was in the months leading up to tossing "recovery."
Let's face it. I'm obsessed with a girl who is LONG GONE.
I gave up on anything coming from that, but I am obsessed with thoughts about it.
Maybe that means I haven't given up.
I'm pretty sure I have freaked her out a couple ways even though I am not a stalker and haven't done anything that could be called aggressive toward her.
I really don't even write "blunt poetry about love, loss, and loneliness" anymore. I just write **** that passes through me.
I tell people I think I'm unhealthy.
I'm completely sober and I'm seriously considering sleeping on the kitchen floor.
Have you ever been this low?
I'm not this way constantly. But the fact that I'm not consistent just makes me feel unstable.
One minute I'm on 4 dating sites, the next I'm disabling all my accounts and deleting my apps because either a) a girl upset me or b) I feel too unstable to be looking for anything.
Now how about if that girl read this? She'd know she escaped a serious disaster.
And notice how it comes back to her for me. ****** up and I know it because I'm intelligent. But that doesn't fix it.
And I do forget about her sometimes now. I think that is honestly getting better. There, that's my glimmer of hope, tossed you a bone on that one.
Might as well end it on a positive.

Appreciation of this art
comes from appreciation
of  Non-dual Reality
in which we are all immersed..
This ubiquitous camera
comes as attachment to our
ubiquitous mobile phones..
It is the dream of photographers
with fondest wish to be
ready when the subject arrives..
The burdensome externals
lenses and filters and light
are subsumed in the
readiness of the iPhone's
availability Now..
Now is not a moment
but what I am
colored by this
photo opportunity...!

A Sage ~ like Gods, “watch”
The infinity of worlds arise out of atoms
In the infinite void, and so nothing disturbs the
Peace of his soul.

They (Sages) are unconcerned by mundane affairs,
They spend their time contemplating the infinity
Of space, time and multiple worlds.

A Sage places self within the immutability
Of eternal nature which is independent of time.

A life of virtue consistent with
The will that is in agreement with Nature.

Death and poverty do not cause a Sage sorrow
And praise and good health are unnecessary externals.

A New Era..

A sudden Recognition

Experiencing of Permanence

Seems occurring

In these days of chaos

Anxiety and pain..

The externals we carried

Conditioning our lives are

Absent or do not satisfy..

Some have questioned

Others have surrendered

Heralding a new Peace..

Recognizing

A New Era...