This is not where this idea began but it ran and I

missed my mark. Mark sin.
-1 deficit reality quotientcy
currency.  Sure.
(Press Sure, to let the bursting pressure equilation expand at will)
Score.

That fine a level of reality
demands more attention than I have to pay.
Patient agent wait and not see or see if/then

you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing?
All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are some of those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins,
since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is,
but it is silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for these meta-gnostic moments.
Is it?

Apophrenia
or mere
Dejavu, you believe,
what if it is your memory lying by ignoring time
attention ratios determining the observations stored in HD?
What if it's just a glitch?
Blue screen of death.


If you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing?
All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins,
since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is, but
is it silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for these meta-gnostic moments?

We come and go. To and fro up on the face

messengers bearing news in both directions, watch
the trickster, Jacob, in this story, he sees the messengers from
heaven bearing leaven thither and hither

upon the face of the earth.
the wrinkling mother, smiling now, chuckle head
I ain't no ***** saint.

Jah, I know. Joy is my dance, this is my song.
Is it good Grandmother?

---- on the porch facing my west gate ---

fences don't play exactly, out acted, the role of walls.

The idea that something
there is that does not love a wall,
has frozen my pond

the stillness beyond the sylvan **** crowned head
radiates through the medium of the message to me in time
to you.

Miles to go, you recall the feeling of feeling miles to go
before
I sleep.
That was yesterday, and you know yes ter everything's gone,
roar.

Aslan can pierce the barrier between mere Christians and me,
how would be fun to know, but
knowing why would help us keep the story interesting as life goes on

Who controls my peace?
Am I a mercurial sheen in between chaos and order,
chronus and zeus?
Could be, ya thank so, ye know so, less unlessed as

unlessing means nothing to you,
that means you are visiting here.

Visting whom, vis it ing whom?
Who's in charge, where's the power
short

age, wrinkles in time, rogue waves at the quanta scale,
we were dancing
with the thoughts emanating

from some IDW smart guy proffesing
Critique-technic-magi action, post mode'r'ism
at the point of Dada und Scheizkunst,
the unmass-queque,
the line of lies awaiting unbelief,
idle words lingering,
hoping
to be noticed and added back into the story book of life,

a simple wish.

It could be every child's, should we think that
if we can or may,

sometimes I'm still, and

confusion troubles the water,
it seems,
then another hurt is healed, another lie is gone and life goes on

we won again, this never gets old,
I do love my opposition,
pressure pump
pump pump. De-us-me-can-onbeoffbeyond

five years ago unmasking and rhetoric meant nothing to me
the purpose of learning forever and never
knowing anything beyond all things

our bubble is metastasizing, a mercurial film forms
informing us
in its reflection,

this is the ying yang thang in 3 or 4 d, HD+ chaos one half

order the other,
sharpest imaginable thing
me trick being mag ift just if eye winged show

how beautiful are the feet of them who bring good news,
you see, it flows, sweetwater flows
winged feet
whish through leaving, leavin' leaven…

unleaven that which has been leaved?
Fat chance, all who
eat this bread and don't get gas,
they are our same bread people. Companions.
Vectors of sour dough,
webs of fungal
axions
make a way
bore, pore, poor-with-us, pour

in to it ish, that idea, an opening through,
trickle down good gravity leveling stillness,
gentle rocking earth
roll round and round and round

the pythagorean version
of Euclid's point in his mother's story,

the point of this song? To know the point you must have been

to the point of in-forming the point on which we dance and you recall

we come in threes, and just, we are, just, if it, that idea,
rests in your
back roads, gentle on your mind. We make peace.

Being young is easy from my POV.
I've lived in my future for sometime now

I can't say how, beyond saying aloud, this was never hidden,
in my accounting of idle words I claimed,
upon hearing the stories each contained.

i'da swore i hear that wise *** o'balaam's abrayin'
Braindeem, deemed 'eem. Wham, uptheyhaid. Relig, fool,

or chaos wins and no hero ever lives again!
Drop anchor, wait it out.
let patience blow her nose, gnostic snot caught in the nets,

nonono nothing's wasted in patience work, we make glue
from gnostic snot that patience sneezes
when reality grows cold,

that has happened, you know, temperatures are just now,
oh, wait global warming, bad dam,

Script, bust it,
leveling is essential to eventual temperature
equilibrium.
The heat is on, the bubbles are forming, informing one to another
below the surface
greasy tension, slippery slopes putting pressure on chaos
to conform to the curve

Ying yang, mercury film upon the sea of time and the scene of chaos
in this bubble of all you can imagine real.

Hows' that feel? Why?

You want that? What are you standing under? Does chaos win?
You are, as we say, cognisic magi we-ified,
practical magic at
the moment
the point
is made, then the creation begins fractalling outward

and not before or is this all
unrolling ex nihilo, no magi ever knew…
come, let us reason together,

why am I empowered? To live, first thought wise, that's good but
evil forces me to think again and I see the pattern

life goes on, John Molenkamp, Sam, soldier 4,
(as the credits role by, the name catches my eye)
never in a thousand years,
'cept unbelievable is one of those lies I came to **** by strangling
on bile while
rescuing every idle word ever involved in the infection

from the point in the absolute center of the bubble,
objectively, you see everything
that is
seeable

but would good prevail if evil had no hope?

I know that one, yes. why?
evil has no mind, soul, some think--
same same medium message spoken spelled chanted danced
who care's?
*** 'er done. Life has a chaotic side, the churning creates

number one from none, the cult of one divides itself
go do be
we three we three we three a wavy song ding ****.

Aware? Awaken? Avowed-wowed-wit-wise,
fullcomp, retired
Peacemaker. Me.

All my hero's imagined or real, were Peacemakers.
Just now, peaceful now, mindful now
we remain
the same blessing promised in the package of yeses
stolen from Cain by his older sister, his
bride,
keep that quiet, eh?

Secrets made sacred, always
those are lies, no lie is of the truth,
all lies are about the truth.

What empowers you, poet or poetry? Right, you know,
God, good god knows, resentment lives in lies

the rotting idle words deemed curses at best, secret at worst,
those idle corrupting thoughts sparking as if absolute annihilation were thinkable by rational minds

of ---wait, there's arub, a sore
ex nihilo, the homeless wanderer screams,

"May the whole world perish, may you all go to hell,"

the mad man wept his hell, and imagined his curse,

not mine,
I don't have one. I did, but I went back so often to find pieces of my heart that now I have an Elysian network woven through All-hell, the big idea that broke loose infecting the mind as wisdom's leaven builds her womb
inhabitation
placenta
stem cell informing builders empowered, pressure empowered, what must be, but is not verse, versus
us, the we that be
we must
choose,

let this be, come and see,
life goes on.
Agree, or empower us as we bubble by and
takenallwecan expanding gobbling bubbles,
good
by ye.

Once we flushed the Dada poison and let mito mom
instill the patience gene with
epigenetic peace we can pass on with a touch or a word,

we've never woven lies for no reason,
if a rung breaks
and they can, last straw and all that weight,
you know,
Jacob's ladder is an escalaltor-ladder, wittily invented,
with knots and twisted fibers electricked,
there are automated steps, algoryhmes of reasons to repair the broken rung
with a reason to believe the rung has been repaired,
only believe, take a step,
re
paired again with the idea of meaninglessness masked in create-if-ity

good enough. okeh. don't believe lies.
Don't pass undigested lies to see if farts burn.

As insecure toddlers, we were often told by our parents that inner beauty is more important than outer beauty. This is how they were able to instill in us the confidence we may have today, whenever we represent ourselves in front of other people. However, this is something I find to be quite inaccurate.  If you ask a random person about what they find beautiful and attractive, most of them would probably begin to describe a person’s physical attributes than the internal attributes.

Beauty is defined to be the perfect balance and harmony with nature, which may lead to feelings of attraction and emotional well-being. Since the attraction is subjective, the term “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” takes place. Many individuals would like to believe that looks are never important, and that judgments should be based on a person’s internal well-being instead of its outer counterparts.

In our modern society, external beauty is more favorable since everything becomes more convenient, than when you only have internal beauty. People will always see your external beauty the moment they see you and not that beautiful mind and soul of yours, and that’s what makes them attracted to you. Just like with expensive cars, the moment a car is put into the market, the consumer who will buy them would first look at their exterior first before they would look for its driving ability; no matter how good its performance may be, these people would always look at its exterior. Also, external beauty can help you be successful, it can land you jobs, earn more money, and help you be treated with more respect by strangers than those with internal beauty.

The preference for external beauty than internal beauty is what is wrong in our current society. We live up to the evolved norms of society that we have started to grow backwards. Outer beauty fades, and no matter how beautiful you are on the outside, once people get to know you, you’d be nothing but a simple less attractive human being than you once were. I would leave a wonderful quote here written by a great author: “A tree may look as beautiful as ever; but when you notice the insects infesting it, and the tips of the branches that are brown from disease, even the trunk seems to lose some of its magnificence.”

this is my excavation to
the days coming along
running hands with laughter
throwing it down on the table
straight
flush
okay, cool

sister, these things don’t matter
when we’re twisting into the sun
with pants that are too short
the fountain rich with
iced chai
tangled with the peculiar
the beautiful
through these moments
I commend
our hearts for finding each other

love is always on the move
as sure as shoe shine
as mahogany
like timidity to relinquish
to let the universe take hold
and instill this emotion
into my body
fit it all in my heart
O, singer of love
fit it all in my heart
the knell
the reverberation
the cotton that lands
on your hair
the sunscreen stuck in my ear

we are a sketch of two travelers
sleeping under stars
the fire
finally dies down
the rapture of the universe
is overwhelming
everything flows
everyone is connected
and this music we hear
is constant
like gentle waters falling

this too, sister
makes my cane solemn
and I draw you in the sand
only to watch the tide
wash you next to me
the emotion
wrangled in English
simply means good
simply means
a full listen and
dear sister
because everything begins
and will be remembered always
as love

Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start

Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same hell

All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special      she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same

As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home


Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ

Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT  for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position


I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your *******'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ******* winning

WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave


The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through  time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise

Your in the way of the wave, child
This.....  the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line

Today takes a bath in rain
Feel it wash away my sins!
Toady takes a bath in rain
Feel it wash away my stains!
Today takes a bath in rain
Feel it wash away my ascendance!
Today takes a bath in rain
and rain  instill gaiety in me!

life is never what it seems to be, always reoccuring with a thought as put upon the length of arms that revolutionize this thought. . .for those that can be bought,
is day like today less then feeling of want to rot, because so simple as a breeze brought down your temperment to be pleased. . .caught in a storm, that has outlasted
longer then your heart to feel content and warm, to feel the essence of a breath among a group of bad breaths, in other words, to breath among a group of brothers and sisters
from whom you can gain so much. But life is never what it seems to be, instead you look yourself in the mirror pointing at me, you, fool. Glowing from ragging frustration,
the toll blows for you unsurpassable deflation, because it is not for your hand that grows for the motion, to pick which ******* **** you want to lotion. Spearing the reasons,
the ego is your hero, born to work zero, and trusted with such hand to uphold all by command. To twist on the ****, that opens your door, to circumstances i certainly care less
the **** to continue to explore. But with this slight little mention, please pay close attention because this song is a *****. At least to explain the message, my whole is a
whole that takes life time to experience and grow, and appreciate the things that stoop all the levels around me, no barrier, no door, just genuine life experience to bring me
to come to this point to explain to the world something within the self, that is described by astute persons, for whom these ideas carry on to fulfill an immense part of
something that is casually slipped in and never thought about because it is told within reason that humanity cannot be without such astute person's idealogy. For **** sake my
friend, if your have many common sense, think of the common thing that has driven you to come to the conclusion that you have come to about anything. Everything is absolute and
existent and is evoked through the means. . .from the time of your dissapating freedom, as kids, not as adults, because look at how adults are this days. They teach their kids,
and they let others teach their kids, but the kids never get the feeling of being free. I promiss you, that cry or emotion you have experienced due to lack of friendliness from a
neighboring ****, it is an instillement that sparks up many motions of your life to believe into bizarre things the world portrays. For myself, I find the starting point of my
when I first breathed my first sensible air, when I walked in my own two feet without guidance as to where my eyes were seeing. How can a mind be so tender, lost by the misconformed
train thogh after train thought. That is why I find schooling such a fascinating ruthless thing that can be broken into several fashions as to why is that case. But not even
reason to fashion an answer that I know will and is definetly can be viewed to abhold a societal dismark of "wF"is wrong with that guy's mind. He must be **** casing a storm to
bring an ideaology of thought or some **** religion, but that's what so funny to me. I find everything in life comedic, non concerning except at times if I feel similar to
someone adjacent because that is their essence in my prescence, and I feel the need to comfort it, to bring back the importance of that self. The part of life I find so comedic,
how bits and bits and everything with **** have all so many fascinating
things to learn from, the progression of one's mind never attains self worth in the world with something interfering. That something interfering for example, is me personally
writing what is can be taken as pointless and presenting my writing to you how I say I do. But did I say how I am presenting this writing, absolutely not. So brings the funny,
that school teaches the aspect of disfigurament of a person's essence. This thing is a complete oblivion to everything and anything, that because even though I did not specify
how I tone myself on this paper, there is the predicament to assume that I am very angry deranged person who but pokes charasmatically at something no one can grip, because he
is portraying me the image the way I was bred to see. But then it is so **** funny, you can also take my words describing
all that I intend to explain and stick them against me to simplify your circumstances as to the causitive feeling your experiencing, and maybe the confusion that I am creating
noting a significant point that I do write intentionally without any figurative wording, just simply talking about this to evoke a presence of an essence within you that is hindered,
by what type of **** everybody is wearing, where they are starring, who is ******* and adoring, and who's simply the **** because they don't fit in a deranged group, developed by
ego-centric level stingers, who but want either good for you, or it is the drive to profit from you everything. That is, words blah blah, can take stroll
on one day's role and make no complete sense, and all they did were live the sense of a tangled mind that fostered on what has been in some form, taught, over
what you can call a lively existence, considering how much traumatizing headaches this could cause, and resembled among a group of similar constituents with similar reasons
as to whatever the situation might be. I could point this out within one sentence, but it wouldn't hold any deeper understanding of this essence, so instead I decide with all
my reasoning and tremendous experience that even to some, even at this gritty expertisians who grease up the world to guess everything based on study and reasoning by other humans,
who believe all these ideas are shifters to the mind but always stem the relentless, functioning without any perspectives open to the idea that mold humans into one spatial and far better
so called community, which in all it's case has lost the essence to preserve the self without a ***** on the back. That ***** of course is the communal ****, that builds from a
trigger of words, then they teach the brain as if it is known how to be as a functioning unit. The amount doesn't matter, the amount that is thought brings hope, but the most
amount to the self is the function of you, like I feel I function amongst anyone because I have come to terms and realize what really important things I have learned from my life.
My life to some is gripping, only because it sounds unbelievable, but of that life I found the same driving forces that drive madness even today, and has been reaccuring for as
long as some form of expression has been. And in all humiliation of humanity, or as I consider it digression of being self around the bounds of comfortability, it has been
a grand experience to see many a people transgress from the point of my meeting them with a continuous contact to the point of now, and then, and future plausible. But then
and future plausible for me stand out as notions needless of evocations due to the fact that the self is a dwindling factor hung by a rope to swing the way the self first portrayed
to me, and then to the direction away from the first encountered mind. But in all, without senseless ignorance, I do understand these things are studied for a reason, for a reason
that is workable to be as they are for some variables do affect person's in many different way. That is why, the sense of one roof and too many aloof is but a big spoof. With
sensibility, how can forging something into your life help you to achieve greatness within self to portray it in a manner plausible. The only way is as a current flows, so do
the gulls.



where do you. . .come from. . .so many leagues unbeknownst among my dreams.
life is never what it seems. . .until i met your eyes.. . that built
my stongest implication, dire in desire to live a life inspired. . .
but then so is, to dream upon what tends on building motivation. . .
life is beautiful sensation. . .
from the first rainfall with you meeting outside spontaneous realm. . .
we fought the solemn wind to calm our cumbered spirits. . .taking flight,
fighting what might have been. . .semeless to even entertain. . .lost in
each others warmness. . .everything we built tended harmless.

now see how we have. . .related to each other's hearts. . .left the scrutinity
at obscurity prolonged on scale of mirror. . .where it has always belonged.
now it's just time darling
i promiss it wont be long until our roots bind the maximum strong.

from even across the plains, and mountain long trip stains. . .i feel
less pain. . .from what's the phrase non loose then gain, consorting time
absorbing each other's essence in rhyme.
the deepest of sensation of you. . .the meekest of me, makes me be the simple thing
that i've reconnected to . . .to realize, the sensation of you. . .from our first
encounter, i felt deep into your eyes. . .what agree's none behind with lies. . .
you evoked the deepest motion within my sphere of emotion not to betray myself within
this realm and dark frivolous potion. . .for my first set of emotion set on your tone behind
this potion. . .

i face you eye for an eye of every day until i die, but will ever will i die. . .not with you
never. . .darling angel, angel you are my expressive tone to call you so. . .nothing more
is the essense of you that you seem to implore, how busy life must be. . .we need feel free
to good ridance from this fee that life doesn't instill our good griefs beyond simple joys and beliefs. . .
for simply darling we are each other's heart beats, if it's simple smell of you
i will carry out my deeds in hell. . .beneath on hearth this earth, where all of us have been given
birth. . .but sent to spend what is driven by multipolluted cord, the time in blunt approach from
the thing that planted our roots. . .

how i feel you is simply too rich for some dirt to enrich you. . .i simply love and cherish
every bit of your essence, it has lifelong presence that even doing what they call
reminiscing, can't surpass living without missing what they have been reminiscing. . .
i cherish you beyond what little faith can teach about having bigger faith, when all my hopes
ride faithful slopes without elongated stops and rope bearing hopes. . .
my life i see to the extent to remorse only what some feel beyond scope of too openly. . .
but how can i retreat on what i can't stop to feel to protect you from, to their heads we are getting closely. . .
how in the scope of your first essence, can i give up to give way to ruin such pure essence. . .

i understand the world makes a feeling for such pure feeling is counted by blessings. . .
and in order for us to make it, that thought i feel senseless baking . . .constant roll of assorted
reasons for why we bleed to them treasons . . .for how can i express, how simple love doesn't
just digress, or something with time you invest. . .it's simply have been a joy of building
together a foundation for our nest. . .**** the rest. . .**** the pest. . .the world is the best
when sleepers are put to rest and the spark of commune are dwellers dwelling on these mischivers'
locked up chest. . .
to find out that darling. . .you simply are a joy to give me whole, that i'm not uninspired troll
reluctant to breath beside the one he placed his greed upon. . .or her, or it. . but all the essence
is closed and beat, by some known with ideals humanity can't consider too farfetched to bare to grit. . .
and sway to the essence that i hold in my glances. . .are as simple as these branded constructed norms
that most tend to manipulate and distort to one contorted form. . . .so all can bend into one socket for 365
degree view that most tend to agree. . .but never really see.

i know it's many there with this essense around the breeze of an aura, that simply are stranded too far apart by such horror.. .
to relent their essence with their prescence. . .to whom Barbarians find the essence is planted full on messes.
but how can we relate to such things darling. . .when the first glow of your essence showed me life full
of memories by the smile in your eyes, glowing beauty of any sort. . .i feel the world will someday . . .
take flight. . .in my way, but **** that. . .i'm to speak when my message is too simple, provoked only by the
thought, "protect the world its miser mother has been beaten". . .i can never relent, the message that is never
but to contradict what's life has not eaten. . .because of the times put to squares, living life, fostering a step back, into recluce. . .these biches wont even
say cause their too ****. . .to figure out that there's a worrior to stump them pleaded sheets out of wood. . .
i say this out for your sarcasm, elongated this song a bit to give you big ******. . .so when you repose, you
think nothing but what side are the pro's. . .and enter them into oblivion, grasping each by the billion, how
can i repose for i know, without one word it is and has been always come down to the special chosen million. . .

because my darling, i feel the miser that this essence in me you inspire, is up and target for no good. . .for
these pleaded fockers granted themselves unrelentless priveleges for centuries, changing diepers to giving
blood diamond marriages. . .riding on what they call prestine carriages. . .oh what,you don't recognize this
what the world has come to building from everybody's demise. . .feeding on high rise. . .splitting cots in the
rots, most alluded with plots and continued building upon the essence of you, keeping you stewed, brewing up a flu. . .
to this day when i met you. . .
will never cease your memory by only that it was circumstance. . .romance among thieves denying our chance to dance. . .
with one glance, their world just plopped a chance. . .for i know they know who im refering to, without a glance
i'm sure they feel my stance just to look **** eyed puking. . .**** blocking their world to rocking, while else where goes to foster under
this ugly monster. . .stooped on a porch ******* their air, without any underwear. . .haha must be due to how
much pull goes to their hair. . .how do i, they feel ****** diddlidy ****, what, is this person a human or a
restored frame of mind living. . .i can't be what's in my eyes to be believing, but i simply am retarted man. . .
a ******* rough psychological fighting bluff, to them i would. . .but trust me, how could i in my life, i
never could.. . .fall to false pretention, that life is a great invention, that my desire's are for simple
hires. . .for i know my life evolves around that which your first essence, darling, we built stronger everyday
to our future of what we call present. . .

life with you, i simply can't resent. . .but figure out what's best
to make what we don't need to make. . . because the essence uproots life's shrivel of what they call romances. . .
rooting upward from the seed we planted on the day people deside to bleed
all over the notion, that this emotion they conquered stems from shot of elixir handed down from the heavens by
some they call cupid fixer. . .relentless, they push through many dances. . .all so strained and constricted by many
glances, restricting their free essence to feel in whole their life is shot down by simple messes. . . .
but you, none taken, broken and mistaken. . .how can simple things be so. . .when you know my essence for you is
far greater then what one instance can remark for the whole, i feel simply. . .protect you from their hole and
bind you with my essence that strives in whole. . .even through tormenting lonely dances. . .when i saw the world an ugly form. . .
nowhere to want to run to, or feel
resentment.. . where's life going to go. . .if my essence in a whole feeds you. . .away to their
mysterious goal. . .i wouldn't have the patience to ***** their abnormal pretence, as if life is sweet with
such mysterious fowl. . .create little thought to create bigger picture, many aditions just create tensities
among those who bicker, loosing control each time only quicker. . .that's why it's never lesser to speak for the lesser
dresser, or the person they showed you, that looked like he ******* told you, but instead they made the mistake
to grow lower. . . cowering even bolder. . . what **** is the point of that. . .to say it none meeker as if its meant to outcast the bleeker
. . .i'm not that so. . .to scowl like fowl crackhead, loosing self reliance to gr

"you really are beautiful,
in your own kind of way",
he says
     as he spits through his teeth

in what way is that,
i wonder?

in a way that can't be crammed into a size five dress?
in a way that isn't actually aesthetically appealing?
in a way that's too intelligent to find your misogynistic outburst colored flattery?

he pushes the wire-like hair away from my face
and wipes an angry tear from my freckled cheek
     "see, all you have to do is try."

oh, boy
try
yeah,
     that's what i'll do
so i can catch another in a long line of "men" who think i COULD be beautiful

as if beauty is only one color
     one size
     one shape
as if it can truly be measured with a bathroom scale and a hand-held mirror
and can be purchased at a costly brand-name outlet in a shopping mall near you

my mother's mother has an affinity for referring to my twenty-three extra pounds
in a way that one refers to the neighbor's busted-down ford that needs towed away
"oh, catrina, you really could be so gorgeous,
     if you'd just get rid of some of your fluff."

she pinches at my sides
     and the backs of my arms
     and the little curve at the tops of my thighs
          just below my ***
like i'm an over-stuffed pillow on her antique love-seat
that's about to burst at the seems
     should the seemstress not pull out the threads with her teeth
and remove the unsightly over-fill like black-heads from a slender nose

everything she buys me comes from a plus sized store
     and wears a fat filthy double XL on it's tag

considering that i factually only need a large
i fight back my plump tears and wear a cheap smile
as i give thanks i don't mean
and kiss her on her heavily perfumed cheek
     "oh, such lovely lips
     why not a splash of lipstick?"

as soon as i'm out of her home state
i take the clothes back to the "big-girl" store
and trade them in for pizza and beer money

the girl behind the counter ironically weighs ninety-two pounds soaking wet
and that's only if she's still got on her padded bra
     slender
     starved
     sickly
     and supposedly ****
since when were curves a curse?
and who the **** decided it was a good idea to pattent worth with a lipstick shade, anyway?

no
     no way

i am beautiful without having to paint myself that way
my existence is not defined by the shape i take
my flaws and imperfections can't be remidied with any myriad of poking and plucking
     nipping and tucking
and all of my greatness and wonder sure as **** outweigh a tiny bleach-blonde *****

oh
*******
     and that pretty little pony you rode in on

i refuse to be pressed against a rubric and graded like a show-dog whose owner will only settle for best-in-show
     and kicks his failure of a companion sharply in the ribs when he doesn't bring home another ribbon

this obsession of society's is making us sick
  
we don't teach our children compassion and empathy
     we instead instill their heads with talk of thread count
     and color schemes
     how to brush on blush
     and how to pick a suit
cute won't save the world

i beg you sisters
     please
let us not give this disease to our daughters
let us not allow our sons to carry the gene

together
     let's put to rest the ill-concieved notion of our beauty residing without us
          rather than within

let us never again bow down to the revlon gods of vanity

together
we are Woman
     and we deserve to finally soar

I roar with a bravado
that echoes throughout
the deepest caverns
of brave souls

yet with every time
there lies a risk
of my own reverberations
shattering my heart

I am fragile glass
fashioned into
the fearsome form
of a lion

I have been chiseled at by
Father Time and Mother Earth,
carved away by my pains
and my worries.

I am no façade;
there is nothing ornate
about me designed to
hide something heinous

I can shatter
just as easily
as my mother’s
prized china set

But I roar on
even as I chip away;
my joints creaking
and my body scorched.

Do not mistake my
scratches and cracks
for weakness,
I have demons of my own.

I walk this ground
with the hope
that my roars,
in spite of my fragility,

will instill a sense of hope
into all of you
with glass hearts
such as mine.

Sunflowers are filled with stories
and power that no individual discusses.
Therefore no one understand why
I love them so much.

Reminding me of early morning sunrises.
The moment when the sun is just
above the trees. With a hue so bright,
they instill happiness into my soul.
Growing so tall they could reach God,
they cannot get enough of His love.
They will never stop trying to reunite
with their Creator because no one
loves them like He.
Representing the incarnation of Clytie
over the loss of Apollo. They say
the grieving of his absence brought her
into her next life and now she only
faces the sun, waiting for his return.

I saw them as my sunshine.
Their rays giving my spirit a new life.
My source of nourishment, they were.
Restoring my soul of the negativity
I came across. The Apollo to my Clytie.
I stood by for their return with hopes of
their absence being make believe,
knowing that they would never come again.

According to most men,
I already ask for too much.
With efforts unnoticed and
potential overlooked, I knew
I was never appreciated enough
to receive flowers.
*53114

By Cedric McClester

How did it come to this
The people wanna know
We gave them asylum
Guess that just goes to show
Radical extremist
**** in the name of God
Men women and children
Because their hearts are hard

But if the motivation
Was to instill fear
They chose the wrong city
At least it would appear
So it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
Yeah it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong

Long before Bunker Hill
Boston has shown its grit
Old Ironside is floating still
Cause it could take a hit
They might bend but they won't break
No matter what you do
They're Boston strong for heaven's sake
And now they know it too

But if the motivation
Was to instill fear
They chose the wrong city
At least it would appear
So it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
Yeah it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong

It's a false religion
That has terror as its base
And I don't mean Muslims
I'm just trying to make my case
How could anyone believe
That violence is condoned
By God or any religion
That man has ever known

But if the motivation
Was to instill fear
They chose the wrong city
At least it would appear
So it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
Yeah it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong













Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2014. All rights reserved.

I forgive you. For the pain you inflicted, for the nights I spent crying over you. For the insecurities you gave me, for the memories you lit on fire. For the mistakes you made that I apologized for. For the friendship you turned into a nightmare. For the nights I spent up wondering what was wrong with me, why I didn't seem to feel worth much to you. For the love you gave, and then the cold shoulder that followed. For the disbelief that laid tight in my chest like a fist. For the smoke that came from your lies, choking me, making me cough up excuses for how you treated me. For the good times times you make me regret. For the talks that meant everything, but mean nothing now. For the truths I'll never be sure were lies or not. For the distrust of love and people you helped instill in me. For saying you'd always be there, and then leaving. For the fact that I still care so much for your well being and pray for your happiness, even though I know you don't care if I'm alive or dead. But most of all I forgive you because you helped me realize that in life sometimes painful things happen and we cannot stay bitter. We must move on to better things, to brighter things, to better people, to brighter people. We must move on to heal, to finally see our worth, to understand that not everyone or everything I've lost was not a loss, just a lesson. To finally know what it feels like to be free of the pain, the bitterness, the resentment, the despair. To finally feel and know peace in such a hurtful situation. I forgive you. Not even for you, but for myself, and other people like me who have felt this before, and aren't yet ready to forgive for an apology they didn't truly feel they got.

Growing up, I was taught the story of two men
One built his house upon the rocks and one upon the sand
And I learned the difference between humility and pride
I was taught to differentiate the foolish from the wise
Because when God sent the rainfall and the waters began to rise,
The house on sand crumbled right in front of thoughtless eyes
And my father would tell me, "Darling, don't build your foundation in the weak, in something that might die"
But I've been constructing my home on gravel my entire life

If there is a God
Why did he let me build my house upon the sand?
Why did he lay down every brick and let the nails tear through my hands?
I am an urchin in the dirt leaving claw marks in the earth
And my cries fall from my mouth and cling to my tattered shirt
If there is a God
Then why would he call himself a Father to me?
Why would he want to break my heart and crush my dignity?
He prides himself on the ringing in my ears
and his mason jars of tears
Instead of being my faith, why would God want to be my greatest fear?
If heaven is where he is,
then hell is anywhere but here

If there is a God
And he's my Father
And he is so divine
Then why did I grow up so sick and sad and tired all the time?
Why would he instill doubts from Satan himself for everyone to see;
"You're inadequate
Inadequate
That's all you'll ever be"
My mistakes render me useless,
At least, that's what Father says of me

And if there is a God,
And he's my father
How could he walk away as if nothing ever happened, although I have seen it all before
Because what happens in this House of Heaven stays behind closed doors
He would enter his bedroom, and leave the door open just a crack
So when he would read his Bible and show us how a true Christian should act
I'd turn to my little brother and say "I wish one day we'd be holy like that".

The mortar in my walls are breaking and the water is rushing in
I wish so badly to repair it, but I've always been like this
The dirt I fell in twenty years ago is matted to my skin
The cuts on my soul since childhood are all I've ever been
I'm sorry Father, for I have sinned
And I have nothing good to show
And I don't mean to point the blame, Father, but sin is all I've ever known

If there is a God, would he let me stand before his throne?
Would he take me into his arms and treat me as his own?
Would he wash my ***** shirt and let me stand where the saints have stood?
Would he help me build a house upon the rocks
Like a father should?

I wonder if I can build it well enough to reach him
Because my current house can't as long as its this way
If there is a God
I wonder what he'd say
about me

I am the prodigal daughter you never learned about in stories

So, what's the deal with ******?
Why is it that there's this whole weird thing
associated with being unclothed,
as if we don't wake up and each of us
strip down for a completely naked shower,
and under our clothes, we're completely naked.
Why is it we spend so much time pretending our bodies don't exist
and fragilely hiding behind these pointless social
constructions about what and whom you should and shouldn't be,
why do we lie about who we are and cover it up
because it's not safe for children?
CHILDREN ARE THE SAME SPECIES AS US.
THEY ARE THE SAME SHAPE.
They get naked too.
and if they're not quite the same shape yet, why do we hide what they're going to become?
It's completely pointless to build walls and act as if they were set there by someone other than ourselves, we've given each other amnesia, it's always 'they', it's always 'society', that did it.
Why do we create all these rules and desperately
struggle to follow them as if we weren't the ones
who wrote the rule book and we aren't the ones
who can erase it?
Why does he cover his emotions because he's scared to be called gay or too feminine?
Why does she wear long sleeves or look down when you talk to her?
It's not because of some conniving voice in all of our heads,
an imaginary force,
It's every time you made a sarcastic joke about people who defied the norm
and every time you yourself were afraid to break it,
you built the walls and now you're suffocating within them.
I see you, there, hiding, just like me, and it's painful to repress it, isn't it? It hurts because there's something more we're longing to do, somewhere else we're longing to be.
What is it that is so broken within ourselves that
we can't be raw and we can't be free and we can't kiss random strangers when we want to?
****** isn't dangerous if you don't hurt
and you don't make someone else feel vulnerable
or like they're trash for displaying
the image of God.
Why are we hiding the image of God?
Why do we cover our hearts like they're shameful to show?
We are born into this world naked and our parents
try to instill this ridiculous idea in our heads
that we can't share our innermost thoughts, we mustn't display,
"society won't like that"
YOU. ARE. SOCIETY.
I am a member of this universe, just like you,
and I was born naked and I take showers naked
and when we get up on stage, we're naked
and late at night, we're naked,
and when we cry, we're naked.
WHY ARE THERE ANY SECRETS LEFT WHEN WE ARE ALL HUMAN?
I have pain and joy, just like you, so show me.
My goal is to unclothe the knights in shining armor
because I don't care about the armor, I care
about his heart.
I will strip down these walls dividing you and me,
because I want to know everything about all people.
I want to unravel the secrets deep within God's mind.
I want to open the doors that are locked,
and I want to see you naked.

Lord this day I ask and pray:
Purify my heart, create anew: a spirit to serve, love, and adore you.

Every day and through each night: may you be my guiding light.
Instill in me the servant's heart: and help me please to do my part.

A light for the lost and alone: and in all things, let Your love be known.
Lord I pray in me you fill: a hunger and thirst to do Your will.

Reaching out to the poor and broken: a voice for all those unspoken.
The servant's heart is made of: sacrifice and selfless love.

Your blood and life spilled on a tree: was cost enough to set me free.

Song and praise; Your name I'll lift: for there is no greater gift;
Than to lay down ones life for a friend: and give of self until the end.

And in doing so I ask: be at my side in every task.
In every day and every hour: You oh Lord are my strength and power.

Grant me strength to serve awhile: and do the things that make You SMILE!


Amen!

You live with eyes closed
Walk with an arrogant stride
You keep your hands clean
And your nose held high
There's a whole world screaming
But you just walk on by
And ignore the world's trouble
The burdens it bares
Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

There's racism
And sexism all over the globe
Poverty, human trafficking
And still your shoulder is cold
Drug cartels, corrupt politicians
Murderous rapists without any souls
And you're just as guilty if I may be so bold
You just sit there and stare
Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

You're busy chasing the American dream
A glorious promise riches and liberty
But the hand that feeds and you wanna shake is giving the bird to you
While it taxes our rights and confiscates our freedom of speech
And you take it like a ******* gimp
As it keeps our inspiration and aspirations out of reach
You should stand up and fight for what's yours
And I urge you to grow a pair
Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

You have faith in the higher-ups
In our country, in God we trust
It's all a bust
You must protect your privileges
And help in our progression
Equality for and freedom
But you chose instead to be ignorant
And see a society and not a civilization

       -Tommy Johnson
Get a higher education
Go to school
Get a degree in something
No, don't be a fool
Milk the cash cow
Be a work mule
To find a job even with your doctorate
To find employment, is something rare

       -Tommy Johnson

But you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

Terrorists instill a sense of fear
So we police the world
Oppress and occupy
Bullets, bloodshed and grenades are hurled
And back home we outsource
As history unfurls
A time of economic recession
And unjust warfare

And of course you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

They tricked, murdered and ***** the natives
For all this land
You can say "you wouldn't be here if they didn't"
Well, I feel guilty for living here because they betrayed their fellow man
Then they had those of darker skin as slaves
The decision to free them caused both sides to **** each other
And in the end the chose to segregate
Tell me the equality in that there

Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

People call each other *******,
*******, spics, chinks they say
A world that loves you if you got social status
But chastise you if your gay
But it's gotten so much better
Looking back on yesterday
But you haven't helped, you just go along
You're views are still parochial, and I'm giving you a disgruntled glare

Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care


You see no beauty in this world
It's like your not even a part of it
You have no idea whats going on around you
You only look out for yourself
You contribute nothing
No ideas
No creations
No light

You just leave the rest of us in darkness
To be destroyed by corruption, hatred, misunderstanding and doubt
While you become just another pawn
Another cog
Another customer
To be accounted for
You are just nameless number
People like you are the reason change takes so long
Open your eyes!

The concept of a whole person is an enigma that evolves within a culture . Often it is not a transitive concept and can only be conjuncted within it's social setting . In fact the realities of social fragmentation make most all concepts of a whole person universally inapplicable .

Literature is often a good tool for developing an understanding of a culture and it's inclinations . In a cultures folk tales , plays , and fictions you find authors making a deliberate attempt to portray the basic dramas of their society .

Greek myths are a vivid example of this ; they are literally frought with characterizations . In their development these multitudes of characters weave into an elaborate tapestry that depicts the developing Greek moral ethic . The intricasies of the analogous content are brought across in a multitude of forms . Names were very important and a major force in clarifying the concepts being presented . The multitudes of characters portray a multifaceted understanding of the human psyche . The chauvinistic banality of their culture and it's gods is graphically depicted against the backdrop of their developing ethics .

It is difficult for a modern man to construct a vision of a whole person from a strictly ancient Greek point of view . The obvious anachronisms envolved make such an attempt partially ludicrous . Contrarily the bulk of their characterization paints a vivid picture of their primative social state .

Of course while the Greeks were muddling through the multicolored quagmire of human frailty many societies where learning to master the powers they had developed through centuries of strict adherence to religious and social mores . The development of their socially biased realities make many Greek nuances seem decadent anachronism . Rather than deitizing their baser natures as the Greeks had thay had learned to master them and turned to new paths to clarity . Spiritual pragmatism and lack of comunication nullified the social attributes of many of these extrapolations on positive orientation .

Jung preaches that man has an innate need to assimilate all external sensory perceptions . I find this untrue . In fact I find it self abortive . Human beings have a complexity factor that is individual and must be protected from overload ; man's moral ethic is a tender and deludable feeling directed by empathy . In the hectic world of modern mass media this tender individuality can become dwarfed by the percieved need to obtain social acceptance . Whole civilizations have become deluded by the flow of their complexities into an outright denial of their moral ethics .

I find this partially estranged condition prominent throughout social history . Children are brought up to respond to a vast realm of presupposed social ideologies and are not allowed to venerate themselves until much of their conscious matrix has been established . This of course makes self evasion an easily attainable goal . Sometimes politically speaking the actual goal . The mind satiated by it's social framwork is the ideal tool for a socialistic or tyrannical government .

To me the value of social history lies not in it's application as much as it's illumination . All the fragmented pockets of human coalescence should instill an understanding of man's posibility factors . Man's inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his annihilation .

Modern man has learned how to use tact in instilling the acceptable social mores . Solviet psychiatrists have spent years on perfecting these social sublimations ; children learn how to make their personalities conform to the accepted mean . I think that the true nature of a well rounded being lies in an ability to reject the fragmental nature of these instilled mores and develop a more universally acceptable social orientation . Does the son of a ku klux **** member have to hate blacks ? The obvious answer is no ; contrarily socially acceptable orientation is a product of environment . This is the pitfall of man's evolution as a race ; his inability to rise above the quandary of his immediate surroundings with all of their overwhelming complexities and demands to become a cognizant and empathetic being . There in lie the keys to his future .

This does not necessarily define the well rounded person . A well rounded person must be able to cope with his immediate surroundings withoutan abject denial of his empathetic being .

I believe well roundedness lies in thoughtful orientation and a well centered understanding of self . One need not be socially active as long as they are thoughtfully cognizant . Obey the golden rule ; you can not allow your objective orientation to supersede your subjective empathy . You can't allow yourself to be thwarted or overcome by your peers into being something they might want to make you because temptation may overwhelm them and you will become a transient tool in their succession .

Education gave you knowledge
Opportunity will be your honor of privilege
Your life will focus on achievement becoming an accomplishment
You achieved making your first step being “EDUCATION”
Applaud yourselves Graduates
But let me applaud to the Parents, Family Members and Friends in giving you the necessary encouragement to continue and stay the course through education and you too graduates should also applaud
Learning was the objective
Concepts with principles became subjective
Connectivity brought you to adaptability
The whole element was “PREPARATION”
You entered your own portal that started you on your way to knowledge
You will now exit with education in showing you how to step out, and test the waters of all your future endeavors having a destination
You are ready to go out and use what you learned in actual reality

No matter what your endeavors are always follow with “Proceed leading to Succeed”
Easy enough
But the task will seem complex, as you will have to cross numerous hurdles in getting to your destiny
Remember, Education wasn’t easy, but prepared you with tools in knowing no hurdle can stop you in your journey of success
Education gave you the formula in turning complexity into simplicity
You will run into a dilemma but have the necessary resources to formulate a remedy
You are ready for the challenge
You were tested through education in going beyond the limits
Knowledge was succeed to conquest
Yet learning will always be ongoing no matter what whether you are pursuing another Degree(s) or career aspirations
You should be inspiration beyond
But don’t let negative vibes around you derail your opportunity

Opportunity and Commodity are within you and it is because of knowledge within education
It is up to you to grasp and conquer
Seek out and just explore
Negativity simply ignore
Like my Grandfather once said to me, “LIVE AND LEARN”
This I instill in all of you
In order to gain, you must pursue
Let your footsteps be movement
Leave a mark you personally established
Be confident and assured
I can’t stress this more, “Thank the Almighty Lord
Think on encouragement from
I am proud of all of you graduates
I know it wasn’t an easy task
Concepts you tackled but it is preparation gained
Remember to keep up with Technology and new approaches
Your learning should never stop
But be a step ahead with continued learning in helping you climb to the top
Your Teachers and Professors are proud of you
Your Family and Friends waited for this proud moment in sharing your excellence in accomplishment
As you walk out the doors to your new frontier always remember where your education was given in knowledge instilled
“Climb every mountain and pause for a moment, and continue to climb until you reach the top”
Thank you and your opportunity a waits.

I don't know what to think
when i'm staring in your eyes
more akin to speak
in blind lullabies.
than logistify
my heightened
surmise
in flight
to somewhere nice
if only for tonight
come with me this night
ignite
the cindered fires
of our desires
and incite
the throws of light
in **** obscurity
moaning through the sincerity
of our oddities
gleaming in the rarity
of our academy of lust
all or bust
entrust the accounting
of blaspheme
to the enemies
of poverty
and shove me
all the way down your throat
fill you
instill you
with the hope
of a million
grinning in *******
of the tangled mental merchants
of pretty lights and custom curtains
drawn at first light
dispersing
amongst cursing pedestrians
prior to *******
of forceful *******
with an another human
lightened strikes the truant
in 9 months of fluent
agony
just imagining little Timmy
has me scavenging for a shimmy
to escape
its social ****
to a blind ape
still patting his head
don't be mislead
by ***** carriers
pack your own barriers
and prepare for the scarier
side of a mans mind

“Be gentle.”
The thing about being a woman
is that you are taught to be
gentle
but not how to navigate a world
that will NOT treat you gently.
I’ve spent my life being
Stepped all over
Like a **** doormat.
We’re taught
It’s weak and feminine
To be gentle.
The gentle ones
Are the ones we should truly applaud
For they have found ways
To love
In a world that
Can be
So ugly.
I once hated
How my heart feels
It’s as big as this planet
But I now realize
I can love in ways that
Others can not
And while I may
Have been hurt
Often because of
this, I will embrace it.
It’s a blessing,
Not a curse.


“Don’t raise your voice.”
On Saturday,
my coach told me he could hear me
from where he was standing
and he was feet away.
He meant it as a joke,
I even laughed to hide the hurt.
I’ve been told I’m loud
For most of my life
And everyone always thinks
It’s hilarious to point out
But it’s not.
It ******* hurts.
It gets old being told,
“Lower your voice”
“Be quiet”
“God, you’re so loud”
It’s like a broken record,
One I would like to never
Hear again.
My voice is a loud roar
And it’s powerful.
I won’t apologize
For the way in which
It rings through your ears.
I feel things strongly,
I express it through
My voice.
There is no mute button
And I will be heard.

“You should probably cover up.”
I was 13
The first time I was shamed
For the clothes I wore.
In middle school,
I was stuck in a classroom
With other girls in the school.
Because our shorts were too short.
I felt suffocated.
I wanted to cry.
The walls were bland and gray,
Why me?
There was just no way
I could be in the same space
As a boy
And him be able to control myself
While my legs were out in the open
For him to see.
Like, ****.  
My shirt couldn’t be slouched off my shoulder,
Either.
Because you know that’s what
Really gets boys GOING!
Legs and ******* shoulder blades,
For God’s sake.
We instill these expectations
Into young girl’s minds
Not realizing the damage,
The daggers were throwing
At their little hearts.
I grew older
And I was still being told what to wear.
“Are you sure you should wear that?”
I had to be careful what I wore out
Otherwise a guy may think of it as
Permission to ***** and grab.
I’m not a piece of meat,
I’m not YOUR girl,
I’m not anyone to you
But that doesn’t mean
You shouldn’t respect me
For who I am,
A human being
With feelings.


“Oh, honey… He’s just mean to you because he likes you.”
A boy threw sand at me when I was 7.
It got in my eyes
And all over my new pretty dress.
All I wanted to do was cry but
I was told he did it because he liked me.
We love those who hurt us
Because when we were young
We were told this meant they liked us.
It changes as we grow older,
It’s no longer thrown sand
And playful touches.
It becomes something bigger,
Something scarier than the
Monsters that you thought
Were under your bed.
Loud screams.
Slaps.
Threats.
A black eye here,
A cut there.
You look in the mirror
And you swear you’ve
Never looked more terrible.
A lack of control.
A lack of sleep.
But, but,
He does this
Because he loves me.
Weak and trapped.
You can’t escape
Because he’s all you
Know.
Where do you go?
Love wasn’t supposed to feel like
This.


“She was asking for it.”
She had a bit to drink.
She’s feeling loose and happy.
You complimented her and
Her eyes lit up.
She’s moving closer to you,
Trusting you.
One thing leads to another
And next thing you know,
There you are,
in the bedroom.
She’s not sure if she wants this
But her clothes come off
Quick like a glove.
You’ve got her right where
You want her.
You go with it
Because how could you resist
The twinkle in her eyes
And those thighs?
Things are a bit blurred
For her
And when she realizes what you’ve done,
She’ll feel cheated and robbed
For you stole something so valuable.
Before people
Ask why you did this to her,
They’ll ask what she was wearing
And what she had to drink.
Was her shirt cut low?
Was she drunk?
How unfortunate this is.
Her life will never be
The
Same,
Changed
For…
ever.

I will unapologetically be the woman I am
I will be tough
I will raise my voice
I will wear what makes me love the skin I’m in
I will walk away
I will love myself
I will fight against **** culture

a beast
bitterly binding
the broken books
of the benevolence
that be-seats
the thrones of thieves
a binary botulism baby
survived by
the lowest common denominator
lord of may be
the calamity shaker
shaking limbs from trees
he made me
who am i
to be enshrined by
the designs in which
he heaves the storms away
leaves the drones in decay
as of yesterday
in an electrical parfait
of symbiotic energy
******* tempting me
in its tether
as embryonic entities
shutter the flow
to the effects
that no one knows
of the development and growth
of self
and the foes he oppose
as was imposed upon
by force of will
exposed and deloused
of the shrill
cockiness instilled
in his build
aroused
in the post stillness
of his kills
he is i
and i am thrilled
to lower the shields
leveling out the playing field
and yielding
to the technical terminology
of my basic demonologies
of my ****** up philosophies
cloning the technologies
you infuse into the spirituality
of your broken dichotomy
just let me know
how that goes
as corrosive winds blow
through the boroughs
of your haunts
i can almost feel
the taunts
as i hear the boots clomp
turn to stomping through the door
enacting your unholy chores
in that which bares no reward
the price is blood
the cost is love
in which i cannot afford
unfurled upon the hoard
in torn intellect
abhorred in the twirls
of a de-cored vortex
inter-sexed
and robbed of originality
in the result of cultural finality
empty
in a sea of dreams
our heads blown apart
is only the start
as it seems
ill be whispering
from afar
by dark
yet to embark
from under the rage of my darkening heart
but if i hiss cyphers into your charts
ill become safer than the cause
as i shall get the sympathy
of the claws
across my character
in the jaws of the barrier
to non existence
its even scarier
than the persistence
of ignorant citizens
with hard-ons
and night vision
down-loadable intuition
with the precision of the averages
unlocked savages
in the ravages
of synthetic bliss
1.1 happiness
projected in eyelids
emptiness
defectors of the world
gotta free them
beat them
if you have to
defeat them in the bathroom with a knife
rip their chips of deceit
show them life
clip their legs in retreat
until they secrete
the evil from their throats
binary bohemia
pooling into a despondent
pool of blasphemy
drained happily
from the heads of greed
only when willing
to commit to killing
can we fix the dream
and control the lean
of modernized thinking
chromatically depleting
as our chromosomes are shrinking
not one inkling
nor notion
of the ocean sinking
before the rise
and in all that you bitterly despise
forgotten
as the world is washed
before your eyes
yet to realize
the compliance of failed tries
a crashed system of self told lies
yet ...
i still spy the better days
i can smell them in range
estranged
surprised
i muffle the cries
of demise
in reprise
of a new name
a fresh start
summarized
in the surmise
of restraint
the faint
whisper
delivering from here
the elixir of life's experiences
cryptically laid upon the sentences
of my ethereal commencements
the beautiful lessons
entrenched in the blemishes
the scars of the heart
impart
on you
the virtues
of the tried and true
blood sweat and tears
in the blurbs
of yesteryear
obtuse
it be my will
to instill
in you
the
jaded
truth
love yourself
and i shall
love you
too

Maybe my writing
Will improve
When strewn over
Blue lined graph paper,
Tiny boxes,
Coaxing out order,
Perhaps even
Clarifying boundaries
Between crazed truth,
And detrimental lies.

The grid putting
Poem in context,
Poem like graph,
Displaying
Levels of THC
Depression
Number of Kisses
Tears Cried
Outliers of secrets uttered.
Box and whisker plot
Displaying anxiety,
Skewed data toward extremes.

No.
Linear writing would
Reveal the chaos inside.
I can't fit the poems
To the squares.
A graph can't really cry
The way a person can.
There's a losing feeling
Etched in pen
On a harshly graded
Parcel of mathematical quizzing
That a poem has no place to
Instill in me.

And no one would
Be able to read my work
The way they tell you to show it.
My poems have no color coding.
Definition between data
Becomes hazy as
Layers of black are added
In empty,
All encompassing anger.
And I smoke while I write tonight,
Haze growing,
Lines wobbled,
And I may have put a poem
On a piece of graph paper
But it's nothing like the math homework
That stays in my backpack.

Etymologically,
          paradise
is inherited from the Latin
          paradisus
and the Greek
          paradeisos
and ultimately an ancient Iranian root --
          pairi daêza.

In theory, paradise is a religious term. By that definition, paradise is a place in which existence is positive, harmonious and timeless. It is conceptually a counter-image of the miseries of human civilization; in paradise, there is only peace, prosperity, and happiness.
It’s absurd, though, how we provide ourselves with such a convenient idea, a carrot for all mankind to share in our relentless drive towards death. It’s absurd that we must rely on such nonsensical ideals to inspire us to adhere to literal, arbitrarily-dictated morals. “Thou shalt not do things we say you probably shouldn’t.
Except sometimes.”
“Actually, whenever, as long as you feel bad about it and spend a moment kneeling quietly and thinking something along the lines of ‘So, like, sorry -- my bad. It won’t happen again, unless it does.’”
The fundamental mistake here is attempting to delineate the existence of Man with an old book and relentless propaganda and childhood indoctrination and threats of post-mortem punishment, but more on topic -- why can’t one just live the right way without this kind of artificial motivation? It’s a juvenile concept that we’ve taken much too far. It marginalizes the human race -- “listen, Man, if you eat all your broccoli, then you can have dessert.” But what happens in this situation, when the dessert isn’t real?
What I mean to say is that maybe you should eat your broccoli because it’s healthy, and because, besides what society has attempted to instill in you, it might actually be tasty if you give it a chance.
Live for now. Care about people now. Because you don’t get anything afterwards; however cynical it may be, dessert is just a cold grave or a flame designed for whole incineration of your being. Paradise is now.

My copacetic life:
Boring, plain, safe.
I am only resting and waiting
To just stop existing
I never waited for you
Or the fear you instill to me
Because why would I
Angel/Devil
I do not know you
But I want to

In long lasting fortitude is the fight of the astute.
A lot of effort is made towards the war of the moral.
And a race towards life is the route.
Preparing the endless fit of strength of all.
There is he who is choosing his fate.
Working hard despite all opposers’ bait.
There is he who is choosing life.
Working hard despite all opposers’ strife.
Lost in the dirt, seeking out of the ruse.
Forced towards the light, brighter and rife.
No letting up despite the refuse.

Clean is the proud, and happy, the player of the flute.
A rite of passage for all is the praise of the immortal.
War is the only dispute
Death is not fatal.
The renegade does not enter the gate.
He is stuck outside the city, and left without state.
The renegade does not know his wife.
He is stuck at heart and can’t even play a fife.
In the dirt he is and is with a lot of abuse.
He cannot escape the knife.
Cut, cutting up despite the accuse.

Reality is but the face of cute.
Subjected to falsified doctrine and the immoral.
It is callous and as rotten fruit.
Moxie exists with everyone no matter how small.
Can the one who is happy learn to hate?
Only he or she can solve this debate.
Finally the long absent sky above the Alewife.
Can’t say that I have seen such teeming wildlife...
Swimming in a sea of its Muse.
The lowly continue their sighs
But I do proudly diffuse.


.This plight of mine is hard to toot.
Exemplified by my emphasis on the astral.
With which I dress in an armoured suit.
So my enemies do not mute my oral.
and the skies do tell in high rate,
How esteemed they are on time and ne’er late.
But giving ever virtuous despite
All those dead or dying, without prospect of afterlife.
It is their way to choose:
The dark abyss of guise,
(or) The gentle river of blue

For now I do keep silent, But still I commute,
With those of higher propositions and goal,
So I do instill thyself a deeper root.
In the waterbed truly formal.
Those who truth ‘I do navigate’
and those of lies ‘I do alienate’
At a loss O’ man or mesmerize,
Work harder on thoughts than just plagiarize.
The foes of old are still and sleuth
I show them love and they in lies are baptized
Tradition is there with purpose, don’t misuse.

I see to it the wise stay wise,
For better they will strategize.
And the unwise, wisdom they will pursue.
Giving them their much needed paradise.
And the lost I will use.

The Queen of Winter looked about,
tinged with sorrow, touched by doubt.
The time of change was in the air,
a keen smell dancing through her hair.
Springtimes breath should fill her dreams,
casting spells of summers peace,
as with her court she, serene sleeps,
awaiting on autumns counsel fair.

But troubled now, her gaze is sharp,
what things are come forth from the dark.
Drawn uncalled by winters cold,
things unholy, things too old.
Prowling in the biting frost,
preying on unwary lost.

"there is a way," she says to all,
"to reawaken springs fair call.
I need a braveheart, strong and true,
to carry springtimes promise through!"
None spoke, none moved, all-fearing stood,
then from beneath Her throne of wood,
"I'll go."

And there was an unlooked for guest,
a small young Hare to take the quest,
And she remembered then his face,
beneath last years fall of  leaves.
A little leverett, bereft, born too late,
so sadly left, but seen by chance.
Compassion in the great ones glance.

Set free to tumble in the spring,
to run and dance, and dream and sing.
But wise to evils coming threat,
returned to pay his debt.

"I'll carry springtimes welcome song,
my eyes are bright, my legs are strong,
and though I know you dread I'll fail,
a faithful heart can but prevail!"

A speech of such unwitting grace,
that tears did stain the lady's face.

"So little one, you made a choice,
how gentle is your sweet young voice,
and I instill my strength and love,
to bear your burden far.
And if you fall, the world will know,
my tears of ice will stain the snow."

A little bag of felt was made,
new boots of doeskin,
laced and tied,
a cap to cover well his head,
and then the time,
to face the dread.

"Into this bag I place the spring,
no feather weight, no little thing,
though sadness wishes you could tarry,
this burden forth we ask you carry."
And so with spells of love and care,
out into winter sped our hare.

Through the secret postern gate,
into unremitting hate,
dreading not the rising fear,
but only that the spring was late.

Trotting lightly over snow,
the little lad did boldly go,
leaving lightest prints  behind,
nothing for the Beasts to find.
But, stirring in the darker woods,
creatures of despair still stood.

Crawling, stooping, no poise or grace,
evil made a start to chase,
our little hare, who, so well aware,
kept a steady pace.

Beasts of the pit, deep in the earth,
smother life with their dark curse,
drawn to light to look askance,
hating their own long lost chance.

Breaking through and into sight,
using all the darkest might,
straining fibre, blood and bone
to **** our little hare.

Dancing, swerving, to and fro,
Is he caught? Ah through, now go!
How can one so slim and small,
battle evil spirits tall?
But, from towers far above,
flows an ancient, caring love.

Sending creatures of the woods,
fight the evil with their good,
crows and eagles, claws and beaks,
wolves and foxes, strength and teeth.
Fighting now for what they chased,
and grateful for his speed unceased.

" Pass beyond us, little hare,
and we will turn and, face the stare!
Whatever evil comes to pass,
we dream of springtimes fragrant grass"

So captains of the wood as one,
stand together as they come,
though many fall not to arise,
they battled evils changing guise.
None pass unmissed, she sees them fall,
The Ice Queen marks their everyfall.

The breathless runner toils anew,
oh can he take this burden through?
the night is falling dark and fast,
and still dark forces  are amassed.

New foes astir, claw at his feet,
sharp teeth snap, and call deceit,
arms of knotted sinew strain,
to clutch, to grasp, but still in vain!
Our little hero runs so swift,
at each new threat his own pace lifts.


Cut and wounded by the beasts,
ragged ears, and bleeding feet,
nothing slows the running hare,
"come, you catch me if you dare!"
he gasps beneath a fell  beasts stare...


Then, coming slowly into view,
a wondrous sight, and hope anew,
a woodland tinged with shades of green,
could this be spring, will he get through?

And now the Green Man of the spring,
sees the chase and starts to sing,
"Come all my peoples of warm earth,
we'll war these beasts of death and dearth!"
Flashing eyes, and racing foes,
to battle now for good they  go.

Now at the Green Mans feet hare lies,
the light now fading from his eyes,
his burden passed to hands of care,
all gaze with wonder, little hare!
His duty done, his race is run,
it's now his time to die.

But from afar, a Snow Maids call,
"this once, Man listen to my call,
I'll ask of you no other thing,
than heal this creature, let us sing!"

Together, distant words that heal,
renew the turning of lifes wheel,
The young hare races, where he will,
Watch, and you'll see him, running still.

This year, Spring has been stopped in its tracks.
Incessant rain has driven life underground,
so as a diversion, we're putting on a play.

It's not the real world, rather a representation of it.

The director is a control freak, so her role is perfect-
she can dictate without having to act.

Rehearsals take place in the Philharmonic Hall where the local
band used to practice. But the young have all gone to the city
looking for work, so the drum kit in the corner stays shrouded
in a black cloth and the unplayed snooker table supports our props.

On the stage, the backdrop is dominated by a church.
Its steeple points to God only knows where, aiming to instill pure thoughts.
Impossible to believe, its true aim is to inject fear into its people-
depending on your point of view.

The main player likes to be different. He turns up.
A vain attempt to give some structure to his life.
Late as usual, he's unshaven, and drowsy with wine.
No one can decide whether he's in character or himself.

Waiting for our cue, we stand on the narrow balcony,
flicking damp cigarettes into the river of rain below.

Eventually, we all change, put on our monstrous armour,
become the same curious creatures following the same script.  

Except one....

who refuses to change, deciding in his own mind where he will play his part.
So he pulls on his proofed coat and heads out for the bar.

Outside, the power is off.

The streets are silent. Even the cafes have closed earlier than usual,
tables and chairs left out in the rain chained together, like prisoners
crying for release.

He slips along the cobbled streets, chanting his lines in time with his own footsteps:
'There are more dead people than living....the living are getting rarer.'
Even he's not sure if he's quite himself or still in character.

Briefly, the clouds part to reveal the cold light of the moon,
the only thing in which he has absolute faith to guide him on his way.


copyright © Caroline Grace 2013

So sometimes, I still double back,
To these little pretty things-
Where I entwine my written words
with depictive new meanings.

Happy birthday, I must first say
To my Albanian commerce kid.
When we met, then when I left, I
always appreciated all you did.
Next comes the apologizes, I'm sure you know what for
The fact that you showed up, for me?
Confirms it even more:

Julia Kruja, you're an incredible person- such a beautiful soul,
Its a blessing to call you 'friend', and remain someone you know.
With unconditional support- unwavering sincerity
whichever way things go.
Despite my lack of clarity, selfishness and pain- you're always there to meet with me, make plans again and again.

You instill this worth back in my soul, by treating me the same- removing judgement from your heart,
Regifting hope inside my brain.

Happy Belated Birthday my friend

I'm not quite sure why I feel this way
Why in my bed, my legs feel tired
In my head, my heart feels numb
Why my lips feel dry without gin passing through them.

Chapped and sore, my patience like my lips thirsts
for a numbing draft of spirit to quench.
Spirit is exactly what I need
to instill charm into this hopeless mind.

If only charm poured as easily as gin
from the bottle so green with envy
and malice and wickedness.
Heavy, silver liquid within.

I hope I'm drunk
because if this is what sober is like,
I don't want to be sober -
Better pour myself another glass.
Onto the old slice of lime.

And lately I've been reading all these things
about people being blind and still
having hope and praying to god

Like maybe I can instill some of that into me

Like maybe if I can find some feeling of normalcy
if I find a joke funny or
some lyrics that really speak to me

Cause here I am with two good eyes
when I've got my contacts in and two
working hands that I have yet to do good with

I used to want to help the world but
now I think I only wanted the attention

Close your eyes and feel the presence of yourself,
Abolish the world from your thoughts and let reality melt
We live within our senses, We Are Nothing, but we’re here can you admit this
I amend it, a way of thinking that allows time to become absent.
Rather you’re at your pinnacle or in your casket
No life form can match it, imagine the end as anticlimactic
Imagine your life without scare tactics, without fear schematics
Our lives are mapped out,
Until we look within
This is where spirituality begins.
The things our brains can’t yet comprehend
Though once we must have been
Society road blocked our creativity in
Stressed simplicity until we believed it again
The ancients are more modern yet we call them cavemen.
We’re told to read books and agree with the men
When our opinions start to differ we’re told to read it again
Well now I take a stand as firm as the genetics of man,
Strong as God’s right hand.
This is where my life begins.
This is where my struggle ends.
I used to strive to survive thinking life could end.
This can’t be God’s intent,
The unseen started this trend,
Why must we fight when we don’t have to fight to win?
We’re all unified by love, but also by sin.
God is love, so love has always been
Though sin was started with man
Since sin has a start it’s possible for it to end
God’s love is strong it won’t waiver or bend
It won’t imprison us within our sin
However there’s doubt in the voices of influential men
I won’t be manipulated by their sounds,
Their actions I won’t recommend
Reprehensible are the things I’ve seen
Irresponsible are human beings
Confined by time their lifetime is all they see
Motivated by greed and material things broadcasted on T.V.
Seems like they’re following the map to me
The trail left by the previous which is devious
There is more to life than what we see in it
Outside of time we’re fine, but we grieve within it
We’re told we’re destined to meet death
So we place that fear deep in our chest
Look at the map and find some points to connect
School 8 hours a day for 13 years,
After that you’d think we’d be considered equal by our peers
But they subtract our success until we add tears.
So we have to go to college for a few more years
Then work 8 hour days to gain acceptance.
With all we learned throughout our years
How could we miss life’s biggest lessons?
We remain blind to the fact that God is near
God is hear; his voice is like my heartbeat
I lay beneath the dark sheets,
And listen for hours to my love’s heart beat
Our women are a blessing, but they don’t teach that lesson
What could the cardiac spark be?
It’s said even the earth has a heartbeat
How smart should I be after 20,000 hours of learning?
A long journey, but we all must attend.
To be taught the theories of men,
To be misled again and again
Time remains, but not man
Look at the time we’ve gained vs. the time we spent
We didn’t pay God to live so after our first day of life
We have a 24 hour deficit.
1440 minutes of our heart beating and,
Our lungs breathing for no apparent reason
Besides that fact that God believes in us
It’s not like God needs us; but we need him.
He created the seed from which we began.
Though our arrogance created disbelief of him.
How ignorant are we not to believe in him.
We help conceive our sons, but don’t breathe life in them
The Breath of Life is in them, The Breath of Life is in us.
So God’s a must, or our lungs would combust
Our dollars read “In God We Trust.”
Though where do we place our trust if money rules us?
Currencies was created by society, to establish a variety and levels of man.
The poor are weak and the rich are prominent men.
We’re taught to chase money, but in the bible it’s taught as sin.
After that first dollar a quest for power begins,
Where did it all begin more money more power let us start over again?
No money, no power just our spirituality within.
God will forgive again if we put our trust in him.
Though we remain to put our trust in men.
They continue to lie over and over again
About the preexistence of man
We’re man’s existence began.
This is why I take a stand.
This conventional way of life I don’t understand
So I’ll close my eyes, look deep within, and listen to love that god sends.
We need to understand the love that God is
The love God gives, he gives us life, and the chance to make it right.
Despite our numerous infidelities, various misdeeds to bring out his jealousy.
It inspires anger in me to think, to be the creator of all things,
And see your created beings giving worship to inanimate deity.
This isn’t radical thinking, rather rational thinking.
We let our arrogance and addiction to power turn us into irrational beings.
Trapped by fear of what society thinks,
Society reeks in its intoxication; drunken with power.
Sobriety is considered insanity in this nation.
Though those made out to be sane lack brains, and the knowledge of the true God.
I find it odd that Christianity was made adjacent with this nation.
Now God is thought of as a façade and they attempt to replace him.
“In God We Trust.” How many of you can find truth in that statement as a Nation?
Do you see the truth in what I’m saying or do you remain blinded by hatred.
Look deep in yourself find your lust for power and replace it.
Instill love in your heart come out of the dark.

I
Am
An american
I take too much.  
I take everything for granted.
I have more than enough food to feed a family of ten,
Why not waste a meal or two,
who am I really hurting?
I don’t see the scars I’ve dug down deep in the skin of others.
I don’t know the pain I’ve caused.  
The wounds are oozing over but,
I don’t have to worry because
Momma says “shh, baby, it’s okay”
If only she knew that I’ve sent a 6 year old boy in a grown mens battlefield,
land mines and bullets surround him,
I’m corned by MTV re-runs and empty Pepsi cans.
I’ve never had to deal with the pain of watching my mother be beaten in front of my eyes
Just to instill my loyalty
I’ve never watch everything I love burn down to the ground,
I’m too busy chatting up the latest blockbuster movie.  
The money won’t pay for the 9 kids walking the streets,
It’s not much of a game when theres actual lives on the line.
They’ve been bashed and bruised,
Claiming their okay,
Even they know Mona Lisa has a fake smile.
I wish I could show the demons I’ve sent out in the world
They’ve been torturing the souls of the weak and hopeless
I’m hopeful I’ll catch the next Jersey shore episode.
How can you expect me to understand my devastation
when I’m told it isn’t even my fault.  
I’ll never be able to tell you all of the wrongs that I’ve done, because I don’t even know what they are.
They’ve been melted and creamed in a blender
Take a sip from the cup of destruction
Genghis Kong
would be proud.
I guess I’ve taken too many steps in the wrong direction,
make an exception
because the expectation, is that
I can’t be the one to blame.  
My pride is set before the fall of ours,
I’ll never get to see where they land.
Maybe they can find their way to a place where they can hurt people freely.
They’ll take too much.
Take everything for granted.
They’ll waste a meal or two
But,
Who aren’t they really hurting?

You have the beauty
That enflames the heart
And enchants the soul
Within, don't hide it

Society's standards
Are ridiculous
The media's portrayal
Of what beauty is biased
We spend out of our means
To wear such and such labels
Wear pounds of make-up,
Starve ourselves,
Because who we look in
The mirror is not what
We see on tv?

What is beauty?
Is it the texture of my hair?
Is it the hue of my skin?
Is it my ethnicity?
Is it my weight?
What is beauty?

Black is beautiful
White is beautiful
Hispanic is beautiful
Asian is beautiful
Bi/multi racial is beautiful
You're beautiful
We're beautiful
We don't need society's
Validation
No, we don't need to
Be deemed perfect by society
In actual fact, it's standards
Are unatainable
So why do we strive for
Something we know is
Only an illusion?

Do we realize the impact
That media has in shaping
The way the millennium
Generation
Thinks, and behaves?
We demand change,
But we're the same people
Tuning in to the same
Shows that we protest about

We've become so engulfed
In the world of entertainment
That the word has lost
Meaning itself
Heck, I'm 18
I'm guilty of this too
Entertainment is no longer
Just that- it's crotch grabbing,
Glorified drug, alcohol abuse
And yet, we wonder why
Majority of
My generation has no substance,
No depth, and no layers

We no longer aspire to be
The Obamas, the Ghandis,
The Mandelas and so on
No! That has long passed
The 'American Dream' has
Become Kim Kardashian
And Kanye West

In all honesty,
We are our surroundings
You want change?
Let's stop watching reality tv
Maybe then these networks
Will stop producing more trash
Let's instill morals
In our children
And help them discover
The fire that burns inside
Them, the beauty within

Why is it titled;
Unforgettable?
Will it be a poem that
Brings forth memories?
Or is it to instill
Sorrow and sadness?
Perhaps its to reflect.
To gaze into the poets mind.

No no,
It can't be.
Can it be to relate with us?
As we pass each other as drones.
Doing what we know;
Work,
Eat,
Sleep, and
Dream.
Does it traverse deeper then that?
Unforgettable.
Such an compelling word.
At times quite daunting.

Now back to the question at hand.
Its nothing.
Its not a poem for one to relate.
Not to omit feelings.
There was no purpose.
An yet I wrote and
You read until the end.
A poem of nothing.
Yes yes,
That is quite unforgettable.