"instigator" poems
Exquisite Unique
Become what you seek
What is complete?
How deep is your deep?
Experience each moment
You've earned it own it
Fractal Vibrations one component
Love comes from the soul
Penetrate fills hatreds holes
Twisting time with rhythmic rhyme
Reading signs put in these lines
Witness all the mental smoke
Instigator stab and poke
Give it all till I'm broke
Passion hitting in one big stroke
Time to come alive
Elevate each other we'll thrive
More than survive
Unknown we can dive
Vibrate till I turn to dust
Never taste the center eat my crust
In rhymes I trust..so full I bust
Flow so fluid I'll never rust
Now I can be flashy..tell a tale
Not a one hundred percent sometimes I fail
Pierce my heart with a rusty nail
Darkness takes over but love prevails
Imagination stretch..memorize every turn
Set fire to your mind feel the burn
Knowledge from pain is how we learn
Balance will reward you with what you earn
Wisdom doesn't flow from all that speak
Truths are hidden which is why we seek
We all must climb to reach your peak
Creates who we are..Exquisite...Unique!!
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Silly, silly, silly me.
To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody?
Silly, silly, silly me.
You can't be free, and that's just it,
All you are is 'somebody.'
Some-body.
"Some body."
But that's not true!
Look at Trostky and Lenin,
Michael Myers and Lennon,
The other Lennon.
It's hard to differentiate in name and legacy,
Because both Lennon's were revolutionaries,
Marching around like the freshman from heaven.
But neither believed they were the result of divine intervention in the affairs of man,
Because this convention would threaten their worldview and beckon away their sanity...
In the same way that the Pope or ****** let their divine vanity commit greater blasphemy and bring them future agony.
Now neither Lennon nor Lenin came anywhere close to being men from Galilee,
In fact they were more the men of the galaxy,
Or at least, John was, with his peach fuzz beard and his belief that love is greater than fear.
The other Lenin implemented the New Economic Policy, to starve the proletariat and start his revolution on an already hypocritical trend that would continue quite the same until the very end.
And it proves something, does it not?
Violence sends a message to no one but the instigator,
Changing them to justify, and claim is wasn't misbehavior;
But that's a lie, no idea of mine is worth the death of a human mind,
And to pretend otherwise makes one delude themselves that they aren't an instigator, but an illustrator,
Painting in the blood as if ****** makes an innovator.
And for ****** there is no vindicator,
Violence is an image breaker,
Indulged in by poor imitators who think they're right, and the world is wrong.
Unaware this makes them weak, not strong.
Now John Lennon was the true revolutionary;
Although he succumbed to violence, he veered away from it, even when it was necessary.
He fought the war, and yes, the war did win,
But at least he didn't cover his scars with artificial skin,
Or deny his implicit wrongs as a result of all original sin.
John Lennon used the word 'nigger' to the opposite effect.
He used the word to trigger something bigger and correct,
The wrong that seemed so propagated by the last colonial tide,
Of which the other Lenin defected and took colonialism's side.
John Lennon was Utopian and told us of a better world;
He interjected definition, and caused old thoughts to curl away in fright,
And bite the dust despite their might and past dominion of industrialism,
It was a schism, and it still plagues us to this day.
John Lennon understood we over-complicate way
To
Often.
Silly, silly, silly me.
To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody?
Silly, silly, silly me.
You can't be free, and that's just it,
All you are is 'somebody.'
Some-body.
"Some body."
"Some body" is something,
And some body can change the world.
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 1:34 PM UTC
I’m done with blindly
Accepting all of your lies,
**** faith, earn it!
I’m shredding your books.
Prove me wrong when I say
That you’ve never helped anyone.
Fix a ******* problem,
Instead of making more.
So far all you’ve been
Is an object of war, hate, and bigotry.
Stand for love,
Like you claim.
Stand for love,
Or get the **** out.
I’m done blindly
Accepting all of your lies,
**** faith, earn it!
When you get on your knees,
And beg for forgiveness,
Remember you’re the only one
Who can fix it so
Put those clasped hands to work.
Get up and do something,
Instead of praying for it.
Don’t thank God for
What’ve you accomplished
With your blood, sweat, and tears,
Thank yourself for hard work,
And party with the devil.
I’m done with blindly
Accepting all of your lies,
**** faith, earn it!
Remember when you say
That you’ll keep me
In your prayers,
That I’ll think of you
Every time I watch the news
And see people dying and killing
For their imaginary friend.
I’m not making the
Leap of faith for
A jealous god,
Or for an instigator
Of hate, war, and bigotry.
I’m done with blindly
Accepting all of your lies,
**** faith, you don’t even deserve it!
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
An emotion that sprouts, a fabulous creation
Defines the intuition, instigator of doubts
It is ruler and ruled by
It's strength is as great as the boundaries set
A powerful gift, a dangerous one
Bestowed upon, marks of nature
It is inside, it will come back
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 2:05 PM UTC
Lately, all the darlings have started tasting the same and all the books keep preaching about the catharsis of going forward and I'll not be condemned to be Lot's wife's' tragedy but ******* this is growing up and everything is shrinking like the bible my mother threw in the washing machine by accident. All the wild has gone to my fingertips and there is no longer an energy to board trains to god-knows where because I know better now.
I don't longer miss you and I call my father daily now and I have a fond appreciation for dead things. Sometimes I think of all the times I prayed and all the times I sinned with you in mind and I know this is the guilt of poets. We are the victim and the instigator, we play our cards right and you resent us for it. And I write to you because it's easy to say things to people you hate. Like kissing someone and not tasting their blood but someone else's and enjoying it. Revenge in, not one, but all the ways you know how.
I often dance naked to Claire de Lune, do you know why? There's an elegance to being primordial and vulnerable. There's grace in things we find obscene. I cannot dance, mind you but I dance thinking you're watching. Much like shaking the hand of a married man and lingering with his wife within earshot, there's a thrill knowing you'll be caught.
Thus, I write my inhibitions and fears in poetry hoping you'll someday read them with absolute stoicism. I dare you to show a little emotion. I dare you.
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
Everyone wants to be drama-free
what kind of world would that be?
It would be very very sad to see
I'm sent here to bring controversy
There is a vicious evil that hides inside
hating all of those who want to commit suicide
Selfish ******** always wanna run and hide
loving all the insecurity and hypocrisy
that gives me the **** needed to be
Natural Born Instigator, here to rile up all them haters.
Can't believe I waited this long, half them haters aint even strong.
Pain and hurt gets me off, I'm finding out mad peeps are soft
Can't even handle life, so I would just toss them a knife.
Go ahead
Make it quick
I aint here to ******* babysit
No one even really cares, remember your moms she was never there.
Your so-called friends aren't even here.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
Mental pollution hides the solutions
We imprison each other and create institutions
Really?
You think that is the answer?
You are probably wondering why there is no cure for cancer
We are stuck...and the situation *****
Political systems will always become corrupt
How many times do we have to see it in history?
Failing over and over again there is no mystery
I'm sorry if I get you riled up
This is for the thirsty go and grab your cup
How will we do it?
Where do we start?
I'm an instigator I've done my part..
TOGETHER
Our bonds can't be severed
It is a journey which will long be endeavored
Can you feel it?
It has just begun,
The roads have opened up go ahead choose one
I take them all
Cause I know my destination
Which is why I push and poke at every Nation
For now...
That is my time..
I will be back..
I hope my message stays in your mind
No limit to as high as we can climb
Can you feel it?
Let it begin
Answers to our questions lie deep within....
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
I’ve got fifteen years tied in knots
of green and brown and I have
decided that it is time for a change
of scenery. So I climb onto the roof
and pretend I am a chimney, spewing
smoke of blue and grey and lung cancer and
voggy Hilo mornings. A helicopter
circles overhead at an altitude of 805 feet, its
searchlight catching the neighborhood
lying spread-eagled on the living room
floor, brutally desecrated and left
bare-bones to die. I am a catalyst,
an instigator, a cynic with a palm tree.
Today I read an atlas and find
naught but “A Hui Hou” scrawled across
the pages in black pen. I burn the
book, the bridge, and the old tires in
the backyard.
On Saturday it rained and the floodwaters
took my bicycle.
Sometimes I sit by the roadside reading
Bukowski with hibiscus in my hair and
Indiana in my eyes. Hunting dogs
clash with rescue dogs at the house
with the stop sign. The moon falls
from the sky and engulfs the mynah
birds and the plague. The floodwaters
recede and leave a jigsaw puzzle
on the slopes of Mauna Kea. “I am not
afraid,” I say, “for I am only gravel.”
I play the eight-bar blues on Fortieth
and sing songs of drugs and missed
connections. I am hit by a truck and
a little gold car, but I proclaim myself
immortal as I am flattened to the pavement.
I am the Ki’i Pohaku beatnik, and
I write of nature and nurture and
the never-ending rain.
Someone has painted my walls blue
and my hands grey. So I pack my suitcase
and run down the highway for
seven thousand miles and all I see
are mistakenly-numbered houses and
blank maps and dead neighbors
from families I used to know.
There are torrents of rain now,
forming puddles in the forest.
I know the reason. It is twelve
in the morning.
The neighborhood grows obscure.
We are demolished.
May 5, 2011
May 5, 2011 at 1:13 AM UTC
My vision was blurred
And your voice was only a distant echo.
I tried to reply, but my words were slurred
So all you heard was a garbled mess.
You said that I was "too difficult"
As my throat clenched, holding back *****
You turned, claiming it wasn't my fault,
But as I stumbled after you, I knew it was.
My mind was slow, fuzzy, as I tried to recall
All the times you carried me home.
All the times I was too far gone to walk steadily.
And I realized suddenly that I'd been a burden.
That you resented me for those times I needed you.
But I also remembered how hurtful you were,
How you tormented me, controlled me.
I cried myself to sleep all alone that night.
I woke up with a headache, still sick about losing you.
But I gathered myself and thought for a long while.
I may have been a burden, but you were an instigator.
You never gave me the love I deserved for loving you.
I can let you go now, for
I believe the end of us was your fault, your mistake;
I was only under the influence of heartbreak.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
Remember?
The beginning,
there was only darkness, right?
How could he?
He disturbed
a still void, vacuum of light.
Perverted
instigator.
Life was a weakness absent.
The bible.
Kama Sutra
for how to twist our soft minds.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
As we hold our tongues in our heads, like nuclear threats, we are sure that those three words, that simple three word voice command, will be the end of us both, in a beautiful bloodbath, *** like war.
Two entities struggling for power and satisfaction, an atomic blast that is sounded with a sigh and an arch. The aftermath, sheer destruction, nothing anymore dominant than the next, everything melting into itself and one another. An overwhelming lump of calm and submission.
A skirmish for primitive power and oneself. The treaty of two bodies, silent, secretly sweet, and sullen. A whitewash of disdain where passion had just been.
*** like War
Anger is an Aphrodisiac
Hate is fuel for Passion
Love is and Instigator
We couldn't hate enough to love.
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 12:10 PM UTC
Father, You know what each day brings,
You know my thoughts before I think;
can you hear my heart? It sings!
my joy is filled, up to the brink.
I praise Your name with much thanksgiving,
for the sunshine of each day;
for the graciousness of living,
to follow God's sweet, wondrous way.
All the beauty, stems from Your mind,
all of the world's great, vast array;
all humans of a varied kind,
at work, at leisure and at play.
Give me wisdom and compassion,
to seek out the best of You;
fill me now, with love and passion,
make me Yours, before You're through.
I acknowledge my Creator,
I am blessed, because of Him;
keep from the instigator,
who incites the thoughts of sin.
Give me peace and understanding,
give me shelter from each storm;
give me insight in my planning,
by Your fire, keep me warm.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
I am the instigator.
I ruin things. I ruin everything.
"Some people just want to watch the world burn." Well,
I am the fire-starter.
Sit back and enjoy the art
this burning world
I made.
I tore it to the ground.
And just like that-
up in flames.
And out of these ruins
comes something beautiful,
like a phoenix.
A fresh start.
Beauty born from ugliness.
I never knew this
would happen
when I struck the match.
It was just luck.
There is hope
for the broken
to be fixed.
The regretful
to redeem.
I was shown
I can be a better person
with sulfur.
It was all a mistake.
It's always a mistake.
But from those mistakes
is fashioned a lesson
a learning
a new beginning.
I am better
than the last me.
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 9:48 PM UTC
Society has a way of incriminating
blocking phases to known expectactions
Just because you don’t get attention
doesn’t mean that you are a shallow being
Never try to change your uniqueness
or fit in with what is superficial
just because you can’t gain the scores
doesn’t mean that you cannot be popular
Never question your lonely hearted self
or unfix your oneness and imperfections
Just because you are an instigator
doesn’t mean that you are a **** loser
Society has a way of discriminating
Cascading one to a caskets of scenes
Just because you are single and alone
doesn’t mean that you are unattractive
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 5:39 AM UTC
No love.
You didn't believe in expressing your feelings plainly,
till you were crying vulgarities into someone's chest.
A strange cliche became something to accept, ordinarily.
"How the trip never stops", MC Ride is screaming,
"On and on, it's beyond insane."
Drowning out your thoughts was something
you only heard in music, or something your ex said
back in high school,
until you fell asleep with headphones and sunglasses on
blaring Death Grips.
"Choose this life, you're on your own."
"I never asked to be a hero"
Hanging your Moon Knight collection on your walls;
Cried to words written on a page for the first time.
You need to be loved by everyone,
and want to be loved by no one.
Understood the pressure and wrote every day,
wrote to be not the best, but just to return from your
fall from grace, to former glory.
"I never asked to be a hero, but I beg you;
Make me a hero again."
"Sono Teido?" = "Is that all you got?"
Studying frame data, unable to sleep.
Thought you had a calling, but you gave up.
Realized a hobby is only as good as it keeps you
busy from all the ******** you could be thinking of.
Good ******** to keep out the bad.
Chun-Li leaves her opponent with wise advice;
"Tameraibe Make yo" = "Hesitate and you will lose."
All you have to do is shine and be bright,
you'll be the type they want to take home.
However, angels didn't want me when I was young,
and they still observe for seconds at a time.
You press your palms into your eyes;
They pick you up for only a moment.
Didn't believe you could be heart broken.
Then they dropped you.
Came back from the dead without prayers.
Found your armor didn't make you a knight,
it made you a villain of the highest order.
Spoke in curses and sang a hex,
to banish your love to hell forever.
"I was a God, Valera", Doctor Doom spoke,
"I found it beneath me."
Found it after the fact. Three too many voices in your head;
Prodigal Son, Nihilist Prophet, Feminist Instigator.
Few believe so hard in something they've tried to erase.
Tried to **** to smother, to maim, and finally, to nurture.
To give up, to recover, to come back, and decide you still believe.
You couldn't make anything happen with no love.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 10:30 AM UTC
Like puppets dancing on strings
Are Presidents and princes
Prime Ministers and politicians
And the tune they dance to
Is older than their kingdoms
Behold the King of this world
Hidden away from the public eye
Yet commanding nations with a whisper
He was glorious and beautiful once
And he walked among the innocent
But, in one moment of vanity
He stole rulership of the world
His personality is stamped upon mankind
For he sets the pace
While most men follow
He spoke the first lies
Inflicted the first casualty
And he has never felt regret
Has never shed a tear
Though his wars have taken millions
And his devotees have enslaved nations
He is the author of confusion
The instigator of Hellfire and hatred
The creator of trinities and tribulation
He accuses you and I of cowardice and selfishness
Yet is himself running scared
And clinging to power and life
He is the excuser of unholy child abusers
And the inspiration of Jihadist bombs
He speaks lies about the innocent
And glorifies the guilty
He hunts all good men
As a lion hunts the deer
He will tear at your throat
And consume you
He is the Resistor
The Slanderer
He cajoles those who consider his existence
And paints himself in mythical proportions
He would destroy the earth rather than surrender it
Would rather ruin if he cannot rule
Yet the whole world is in his hands
But not forever
Because forever does not belong to him
And not life
For the gift of life is not his to give
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 1:55 AM UTC
It’s been two years since I first met You,
and one year since I wrote to You.
Oh, my, how You’ve made me grow.
The toughest year I’ve seen has passed.
I suffered for months and questioned a lot—
I knew You had a plan, but I must follow through.
On the darkest night I gathered the little I had
and drank Your unblessed blood as I wrote.
Unsure of what was said, I went to bed,
and in the morning I found written gold.
The words, though, were not my own—
even more unknown was the character transcribed.
The path was now set to leave the forest,
the same unruly garden Your last blessed poet
journeyed from successfully so many years ago,
with my own Beatrice as my glorious guide.
But my Beatrice has plans of her own,
as both a Muse and developmental instigator.
She holds my hand as we walk off cliffs
knowing full well that I cannot fly.
I tried to learn the follies of Lust
and alone its intricacies eluded me;
but she showed me in an instant that what we want
can wait, the good-willed Lust, the puzzle piece, and missing link.
From here I can move on again, slowly recovering.
Each new dream sets the stage of life’s chapters,
to convey the ideas I want all to know,
and to remember the power one wields with a pen.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 12:31 PM UTC
You are poking at my sore spots
Causing them to redden and swell
Leaving bruises upon ego
Due to show-and-tell
Tear at my facade
Standing there in victory
Watching as I fall down
Laughing while I scramble frantically
I'm screaming at you to stop
In an angry fog
Still love you even full of rage
When you won't say you're wrong
Arms sternly crossed, grow furrowed
Somehow caused me to react
Trapped within the spotlight
Wanting to exit your "concerned" act
Maybe I am just bitter because
You pretend like you care
But really take pleasure in
Exposing secrets stripped bare
It kills my pride to be embarrassed
Here you are mocking
Use my pain for satisfaction
False statements I try blocking
Your voice relentlessly cutting through
Dripping mean drops of bitter defeat
Eyes filled to the brim with resentment
The reason I flee on my feet
Although you are talking out of your ***
I know you don't intend any harm
You just love spreading propaganda
Masking wickedness with charm
Some opinions best left unspoken
Truth lies in your voice
You don't care enough to sort it out
Collect bits of conversation, share It, rejoice
Am I too sensitive, moody, and soft?
Experience should have made me strong
Losses only thinned armor
Eroded by countless decisions wrong
Caught in an infinite power struggle
You fight logic with exaggeration
I've surrendered, white flag waved
A soldier of your own creation
Go stir the *** again
That taunting tone I hate
I love you mom, tell me why
You have to instigate
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 5:27 PM UTC
Who do you think you are?
Digging through the rubble of history
Rearranging it to make YOU look like the innocent one
Who do you think you are?
Stringing together venomous lies
Twisting the truth to spearhead your crusade of destruction
Who do you think you are?
Playing the innocent, wronged victim
When we all know you’re the malicious instigator
Who do you think you are?
Hiding behind a honey mask
When we all know it is not sweet, but sickly
What gave you the right?
To walk into my life
To unravel the our hearts
Mould your self into it
And then pick way at the joints
With your malevolent thoughts
And walk away acting like the martyr
Acting like the innocent victim
And then worm your way back into there
Because their hearts were like Flubber
Willing malleably for your Kruger fingers
Ready to rip us all to shreds
Just who the hell do you think you are?
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
i write poetry
from the collective,
that resides within my mind
they gather often,
at the water cooler
or for coffee, tea
and a bit of a natter..
all my idio's and syncranicities
my ego,
and my shy shuffling humble-bumbler
the flambouyant quirke,
the little girl memories
all get the memo and out they come.
earth mother, surfer chick,
daughter of despair,
moderator, instigator,
wanna-be litigator
acerberic premenstrual ditzbitch,
all represented there.
so in the end,
what you get to see;
are the minutes from the meetings,
or the gossip from the gatherings
the intimate murmurings...
from the musings.
of the legion, that ...
collectively
call themsevles
me.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
Oh Great American Pioneers
Is there nothing more we hunger to discover?
Is there no longer a thrill to explore, unravel, or seek?
What happened to the inclination
of chasing curious mysteries in the ubiquitous abyss
Revealing uncharted geography
Tasting foreign experiences
Lost in fecund meandering
Our puzzles cannot possibly be complete
There will always be an abundance of missing pieces
So set out and search for these conundrums
Break free from the mainstream recluse state of defeat
Or be content with T.V. dinners and two hour showers
Dreaming about what you could have been
I loathe this monotonous behavior
Stop being an unconscious participator
Escape your hostage environment
Become the instigator
The death of the pioneer is what I mourn
The dead American dream is how I was born
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 4:37 PM UTC
cousin,
it is judgment day.
the day of my
reckoning
and
it
is
y e a r s
in the making.
one is
l o s t.
cousins are strangers
and friends
since childhood
sharing
family secrets
jokes joys sorrows
all eleven are
at a distance
not my
best friends
but my family
you, cousin
i chose
to keep even farther away
and for this
i am
| ashamed |
i quietly watched
as a child
a teenager
a woman
your father
a man made of
an unbounded source
of love
strength
character
creativity
cousin,
if your father
makes me love him so
just by being who he is
i cannot imagine
the love you had
for him as your very own father.
cousin,
if your father
makes me laugh
at his jokes
and makes every child
love him instantly
i cannot imagine
how you
looked up to him
as his son.
cousin,
if your father
makes me believe
there are still good
men and fathers and uncles
i cannot imagine
the pride you felt
when you looked upon his face.
your mother
a woman absolutely
driven by
positive energy
love and determination
cousin,
if your mother
blows me away
with her love for you
i cannot imagine
how you felt in
the love she
surrounded you in
every
single
moment
of your life.
cousin,
if your mother
makes other people's lives better
i cannot imagine
how you felt
as you watched her
lovingly do her damnedest
to give you your independence.
cousin,
if i watch your parents together
and feel love
radiating from them
feel determination
through thick and thin…
i cannot imagine
how you felt
looking upon them together
when they didn't know
you were watching
*knowing all that they did
was for you.*
your sister
a friend
a caretaker
an instigator
an indefinable part of you
cousin,
i watched you and your sister
act like any other siblings
i babysat you
when you were young
but i did not see
your time alone together
i did not hear
your conversations as
you learned and grew
*but i can imagine that
life would have
been unbearable
without your sister*
i can imagine
that having her support
meant everything to you
because i have siblings
i can imagine these things
and i would cling to my brother and sisters
**your love for your sister
must have been like
a cup overflowing.**
and as i watched
i held back
i could have given more
i could have been your
friend
i could have made
your too short life
easier
better
somehow….i could have
done something and i didn't.
i watched your family
in their grace
i watched you in your courage
and i folded.
i didn't want to know you
any more than i had to
because i didn't want to have
to lose you
like i knew i would
i selfishly had a choice
unlike you.
unlike your beautiful family.
and for this i curse myself.
i feel this reckoning
and i confess it
and i carry it
but i just couldn't do it, Ben.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
Small, medium, and large
men
face adversity.
Violence begets violence
they say.
But with hate...
a choice
arises.
A small man
perpetuates.
He is not just angry at the world,
but at himself.
A small man is small in heart, mind and body.
no compassion.
no free-will.
no strength to resist.
A medium man
avoids problems
because he doesn't know how
to be a part of the solution.
And,
a large man
fights.
He'll fight the system, the power,
the oppressor, the instigator,
the teacher, the mayor.
Not because he is bigger, because god knows…
sometimes the largest of men are the smallest of stature...
But because a large man
has beliefs, morals, and values;
all of which trump the latest trend.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
Bedlam is our repletion, bellicose our rest,
For ever state which we call peace is war of constant test.
This war must share no allies - each warrior a martyr,
And it would stand that every soldier someone calls their daughter.
The instigator Terra, the perpetrator Yahweh,
Instant and perpetual - a bellum night and day.
The resource universal, from sea to ****** sea.
This war is fought o'er any man who might a bachelor be.
Civility and stupor the only neutral face they wear,
But underneath the plaster smile iniquity lies bare.
How cruelly do they cozen, how capricious they connive,
A thousand times more vicious than any man that seeks to wive.
And how they suffer sedulous, their bodies they contort
Into the most pernicious forms, a weapon of a sort:
They don the war paint, pluck the hair, admonish slightest error,
And take to wield those eyes of steel, and bless the world with terror.
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 9:43 PM UTC
I’m navigating a field of dark something-ness
Sitting quiet in morning air
In these cavities where my soul perceives life, I seek a heightened energy
Laying hidden behind wrinkled skin
tucked tightly into two beds of compact tissue
in this moment they rest purposefully as if sitting behind window curtains
They serve a common purpose when prompted,
To identify objects in this limiting dimensional plane.
Some days when I come here, I wander aimlessly across battle-torn countries of thought
It is essential to let the river take them
Watching them pass as an observer instead of the instigator
Feeling the depth of their sting grow distant
Sinking deeply into the dimension where we live beyond bodies
Where I am a bee pollinating the flower
I am the bird calling out in a resounding plea
I am the wind pushing through bamboo forests
Until breath inhaling and collapsing my cadaver becomes less of a grounding cord
And the mat placed beneath with intention is no longer a chain to the ground
There is now no face to inhabit,
The world; a faint memory of molding
Here the wind isn’t quite invisible
Temperature is not affected by her power
Bearing colors, intentions and tranquility
I let her carry me up and away
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 5:33 PM UTC