I notice it, I notice it's flaws. I see its texture, I witness the shapes and metamorphic coherency's. It's all aligned in a wild pattern. Like walking in a catastrophic maze and never finding the ending.
But to really observe profusely, the maze has its own pattern, agenda.
Screaming to myself, aloud, I express myself grandiosely.
It all makes perfect sense
The missing piece is not missing, it never was, it was merely detaching.
Detaching from all life forms itself, like a cell that does not belong to another.
The maze was juxtaposed in its own creation.
People were too simple to understand it.
The jagged puzzle doesn't need another piece, it just needs a new formula, a new path, a new perspective, it needs to stay jagged in order to create more purposeful moments and inventions.
Complexities reach a higher peak than ever before, if you try to straighten the puzzle and find a piece to fit in it, you destroying its true and only purpose.
You cannot mold or fix something, you cannot sand it down.
You just need to let it be.
It's shapeless, it doesn't need a form, or a label.
It just is what it is to be.
And that is the secret. The contradiction needs to stay as the contradiction in order to invent the expedition.

His touch haunted her,
Guarded as her heart was, she couldn’t afford
To connect,
To attract,
To enter into any state of delicate but zealous longing
Instinctively she knew
Any feeling would be misleading;
Splendid sensual snow melting into liquid lies,
Her heart disarmed, sinking into that gusty sea
Of spoiled desire
A barbarous distance between craven obedience
And the grandiosely brilliant beam she used to embody
An emotional war as tangible as a robust ruin
Worn down by stormy weather, unable to shelter
Her blue-eyed innocence
Recondite or unexpected it never was,
The effect of his shaggy possessive smile
And giddying twisted promises
Drawing out her hurt and suffering,
Disguised as a youthful fluttering
Of nonchalant excitement
A deceitfully draining destruction lurking
In his fondling fingertips,
His smiling dimples,
His laughing wrinkles
Yet thoughtfully she took the plunge
Into a wilderness she couldn’t afford
To miss out on

Grandiosely bragging about what you would do
While gently pulling my hair, adding emphasis to
Such a desperate attempt just out of the blue
I had to shake my head and feel sorry for you.

How very little you must think of yourself
To offer your body and withhold your mind
To quickly entangle and even faster unwind
Leaving countless diminished beings behind.

My sympathy should lie with every woman
That has welcomed your nothingness on chance
That has been lured by your lustful glance
To later be dismissed when they seek to advance.

All I see is a scared little boy, trying to hide
In superficial exploits because you're void inside
Casting lines of bait with all feelings aside
Giving no thought to others cause your soul has died.

© Tina Thompson

There will be a journey, a gathering of mixed herbs
Great swathes, buttressing mountains grazed with
Grassy wigs. Metal structures lining up calculating
The swing to left, to right, catching the intermittent gasps
The rhythm snakes me away, its rattling chorus marching
Ahead, spying on the quality of this paragraph sitting side by side
A vacancy on the page still wearing its white robe, alone for now
I searched out a chance at freedom on a fast track, borrowing scenes
From oiled pallets, hills & dells daubed grandiosely. They deliberately
Bait. Once bitten twice shy. I heard it bandied around.....but...
I am not shy of the wild dogs, howling is a lullaby.  I have the ticket
To be smitten with bitten chances; once, twice...maybe thrice
.....does it for me.

'Quit!'-- the most powerful word
I know
one that
I'll never let go-

sounds grandiosely onomatopoeic
( a word that never fails to stick)
it shakes
the existing foundation
and order of things
it compels
listening and reckoning-

the establishment
is held aghast and asks:
'Is this a sting
to everything
we hold sacred and dear?'
( why should the present masters fear
  if of their own stand they stand sure?)

'Quit!'
a word
so final
affirmative
decisive
prophetic
as though
the bulwarks of the old
must give way to the new
(and what's that 'new' happening?--
those who are threatened are asking)

' Quit!'
how glorious the word!
audacious
pugnacious
cantankerous
unrelenting
uncompromising
non-conforming
unflinching
unyielding
irreverent
intransigent
belligerent
most triumphant !

unashamed
contemptuous
of the current state of being
virtuous
as it would not prostrate
before what it deems to demean
human morality or decency
it would not cow
to suppression or tyranny--
' Quit! if you want to be free!'

How often
in my youthful days
' Quit!' swamped my mind
before those who controlled and bullied me
as I was poor and weak
with no recourse
to any safety nor sanctuary-
how they took delight to see
me at their mercy--
my misery made them happy

' My time shall come'
myself I did promise
through sweat and tears
I laboured waiting for the dawn
when I would shake off the yoke
of my unhappy years-

' Patience, patience, patience'
to myself a thousand times I said
'  The time has not come,  you must still wait
in more patience, yet more, more and more' --even in the dead
of night the word returns to haunt
  weeks followed days, months followed weeks
years followed months, decades followed years
  my struggle took three decades-
the price of freedom didn't come cheap

then came the crowning moment
and before the inquisitors I threw my gauntlet
looked into their fearful and perplexed eyes
and exclaimed : ' I QUIT!'
(the most senior of them fell from his seat!).

Quitters of the world
unite!
you have nothing to lose
but your chains!

The illusion of power,
Grandiosely secured,
Dreams, we hold dearly.
Controlled environments,
Machinework in souls.
Metabiological cyborgs,
Reanimating constructions,
Perceptions in a simulation.

Will we love another?
Will artificial intelligence
Teach us love.
Will oxytocin flicker?
Receptors are to respond
to the empathy chemical,
and the altruism principle.

As such, a society is divided
By humanity and machinery.
The movement to transcend is strong.
The will to remain, strong also.
Boulders catapulted toward eachother
By ancient war tribes
Brought from the past,
Ressurrected from textbooks.
Time repeats itself,
Cyclical, spiral, constant.

And the simu-film ends.
The audience applauds.
Human emotion,
Intensity and experience,
Life is lived vicariously,
The new man is just as old as the old man,
Our future is within the present.

The future is today,
The movement is you.
The action now.

I often misjudge the distance
between me and the world,

this morning the distance
was more like looking
through a keyhole
and seeing the
arrows wreckage,

a woman was walking
in front of me at the
university union
where oversized portraits
of past torchbearers and
victors hang grandiosely
on neat corn rows
like kings and queens
with branded jewels
we watched her fire storm
together - just me and the group,

she came through the peaceful
passageway that normally
reminds me of a quiet library
but not this time,
her pace quickened as she
disputed her case brashly
to her lover on her cell,
something about being seen
somewhere with someone  
so furious and unbending
and persuasive, out there
in a swirl, and I thought,
“****, why?” such chaos
and anger over an
appearance, over an
inquiry - over a nothing,
there was no autopsy
but she rambled onward
stomping her black spiny
pumps loudly on the marble
creating a demanding rap
it couldn’t wait
tossing her hair back violently
as if it were on fire
she stunk up the joint
with her, “no time for that,”
front,

the distance between me
and the world grew smaller
this morning,
I stopped to look at it
at her retching, it wasn’t
a fire and I did not
misread this,
what I felt there peering
through the key hole
tenderly reminded me
of my own adultery
with absent mindedness
and irrational fear
and messes that protest,
else they lay down under
lily-livered puppet strings
and bed springs.

a collision propelling to the imagination of afterworlds
twirling, crying out at the spiraling dizziness
ignited the wretched fire in the pit of his stomach
painfully the pinpricks settled to belittle and mock
to sneer and to gloat as the giddiness of his steps
rattled down the cobblestone street under
the yellow-waxing moon,
he howled grandiosely, dripping golden-honey
of his joy, his laughing wild ecstasy
the cold seethed and glittered frost on the stones,
unsettled this scene untold,
wondering how this young man
had room to grow,
he took a breath
cheeks burnt with fall's amber
and sprinted down the cobblestone and slippery dark
shrilling without intention, yelling indefinitely
and he ran without notion
and maybe that is what we all missing
from our lives,
a little weightlessness

By naked nerves
This pride was to be hung
Out to dry in the sunlight
Where life began
Outside this god forsaken shell
That tv mama sung into
This eager child's willing ear
Pride was a blanket yet to be sewn
And a glass of water yet to be poured
Promise of comfort
Nourishing hopes idea
That keeps on slimming
And leaving the baby
Forever hungry forever empty
Sugar coated futility and shame
Grandiosely dressed velvety pretense
Naked I wish to be
This moment is alive
Pulsating energy
Sweeping you off you feet and driving
Each heartbeat further
Deeper with tinkling
Cocktail of discomfort and
Purpose with a dollop of euphoria
Alive I wish to be
Simply complex, primitively dark
Painfully loving and unwillingly absent
Skinless as I am in my ****** honesty
As I am as I was as I will ever be
I let go
No more hanging on fear
There isn't loosing but setting free
Giving away of hearts
They only grow bigger in the end

Look up at these walls.
Outside the city, but never really seen.
Lacking in uniform, a past of wars and conflict portrayed in every laid brick
History has shown that intruders have been let in.
Maybe disguised but overtime laying siege somehow.
Still poor leadership, or experience were the enemy,
Not just flaming arrows from the other side.

Researching the most recent battle, the scars still fresh in this expanding kingdom,
The enemy did not conquer,
But the kingdom surely did not win.

Warriors unfit for combat, never seeing blood or swords before,
But now the only line of defense for an unsteady people.
Having heard of war before, or even seen a nearby passing army, each man had an image of military and what they must do.
Full of misguided ideas, but not without trying.

Year after year the warriors grew more delusional than the last.
As well as a hunger for the glory of the past.
Over time, the walls were grandiosely constructed,
Assuming the worst, they made them impenetrable,
Strong enough to hold a Kingdom captive but safe from the outside world.
Building upon the history of painful loss.
As expectation of conflict grew,
Strategies were drawn and planned.

But there were no generals, no veterans to lead.
Everything was up to trial and error, as if a fight was a longed for pleasantry.
Seeking after any tension, pushing forces into every contested land.
Battle after battle experience was pillaged, but forces were lost and surely it did not contribute to the true knowledge of a war.
The possibility existed that meaningless battle further romanticized a full on conquest.

Soon the kingdom would come to realize, a reenforcing of the kingdom itself would prove to make better a future of warfare, or even the midst of a war would not bolster the army.

Hallowed earth, hollowed *****
Flooding came grandiosely,
Alleys grey, tracking fade
Haunting decayed into fate
Roaring fire, dusty skies
Tapering layers onto thine
Pick bones,live in tombs
Forever under it lies...