"multidimensional" poems
I hate labels.
so you may ask me why do you compulsively put words and purposes and dates and times on everything you have.
I hate labels but I love organization.
The problem with labels is they rarely tell the whole story.
Labels are short, just a snapshot of the essence that the thing or person boils down to
but I don’t believe anything can really be that simple.
Labels can make everything easier.
You get the main point, the thing that stands out, FAST.
but that’s like starting a story at it’s ****** you get no previous information and that high point that holds so much meaning if you've read the entire story turns flat.
A flat character doesn’t grow or change or feel all that much but they usually have a label.
Labels turn real multidimensional, complicated, interesting people into flat characters.
He is not gay.
She is not a cutter.
and He is not transgender.
They are real people and you cannot possibly fit a person into a single worded description of the thing that stands out about them or makes them different.
That is not enough for me!
The gay guy likes ice cream and romantic comedies, he's afraid of commitment, that scar is from his own blade and he volunteers on Wednesdays.
The cutter is seventeen and she lives with her grandparents. Almost everybody shes loved has walked away.
She has hair the color of sand at the beach and she wants to work in security at the airport so she can finally have control over who leaves and who stays.
The transgender man never felt trapped in the wrong body, the world just told him that his body was wrong. He’s a freshman in college and nobody ever told him how hard it would be. He calls his mom every night because he knows she worries and he cares. He has skin the color of caramel and he desperately wants to get married.
I hope you now understand that a label is never never enough.
You could argue that I’m afraid of being defined and of defining others with just a word,
but if you ask me a fear of labels is a very legitimate, considerate, and justifiable fear to have.
Labels are simply not enough.
And that's why I hate labels.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
Dancing to the rhythm of the universe,
A beautiful, organic chaos.
Grateful for the lessons,
I drift in a pool of elysium.
A wounded healer in progress,
Prancing on a satin thread,
Woven with multidimensional facets.
Allow me to amend the social poison
Flowing within this boundless vessel.
May 17, 2023
May 17, 2023 at 2:46 AM UTC
She wore an air of mysticism
Her memory bore prophetic visions
From ancient egyptian
And judaic traditions
She knows every star system
And every night is a mission
Where she wishes and wishes
For help from the legends
Feeling the kundalini extension
A timeless moment in meditation
She rode a chariot of ascension
With many faces
Facing in all directions
Interpreting new races
There was
Communication retention in
Multidimensional dimensions
And convoluted intentions
Creating dense tension
Leaving her in suspension
Then, there was a call for attention
And she witnessed the mention
Of helping Earths' ascension
Words whispered with foreign inflections
Melted away her apprehensions
With familiar definitions
And promising space faring inventions
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
Violence is real and natural. Multidimensional, it exists in every form of life. Its visceral, it shears through the thickest ice, survives the coldest vice and won't shatter when thrown from incredible hieghts.
Violence is quick and unjust.
It swiftly infects the blood then slowly turns a useful mind to rust, takes away all that someone is and replaces it with formaldehyde and sawdust, it wants to watch as the body succumbs to deaths lust.
Violence is hard and true.
It's an event, a car crash that forced a woman out of the windshield like a 12 gauge slug pumped straight into the heart of a child who's witnessed skin hanging from the hole his mother just went through.
Violence is in the air like a pathogen, infecting us with an experience that executes our innocence, genocide, created from hate by that precious few.
In one dimension or another, it's the backbone of every great nation and of all life, it's nothing new.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 8:42 AM UTC
Perched against an ancient stone
That stands on top of the hill
Bathed in the crystalline light
Of a November sun
And wrapped in my winter coat
I listen
To the Makers of Wings
That dance through my being
Until
Dimensions shift within
While one reality is fading
A new one opens up
Giving access to
Beautiful geometry
Of multi-colored light
Dissolving matter into
Fluid rainbows that
Make me wonder:
Where does this body stop,
And where the stone begin?
There is no more I
Nor is there a You
There is no grass, no stone, no air
No cold or warmth
And
While my senses are blending
Light and sound
The veil is lifting
The feeling of connectedness
Leaves no room for thoughts
I drift in timeless space through
The eternity of the moment
That allows me
A glimpse of what I am
A chilly autumn breeze shifts
Dimensions back again
To where my brain translates
Geometry into matter
And tricking me once more
Into illusions
On the far horizon
Out of undefined grayness
Of multidimensional vapors
Ascending water
Reconnects as a cloud
And above me
In the blueness of the sky
White feathery wisps appear
A clearly visible Infinity Sign
Morphing into the double helix
Of a strand of DNA
How powerful the metaphors
We create along the way
As guidance on the winding path
Of the ever expanding Self
And out of the silvery cloud
Hanging over the sea
The White Phoenix is rising
© Jasmine, Wadebridge, November 2010
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 9:49 AM UTC
There are three sides to a story
and I've shied away from each
lost my touch I've grown so numb
to my own feelings
now a new language that I'm
in no way familiar with
only fluent in silence
My problem is inspiration
before long turns to disinterest
will to a won't
or a can't
or a don't
so I don't
try
words are objective
their meanings subjective
so splattering words on a page
like paint on a canvas
or colors on the world
is a step in the right direction
a try
a seed
that will hopefully grow into a
strong poe-tree
with multidimensional branches
that I can climb to escape
But there's no escape if I don't try.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 12:29 PM UTC
Intentional directional frequency,
dancing in multidimensional secrecy.
I follow this ancient Red Road
because it calls to me ceaselessly.
It humbles me,
more than can conceivably be.
It empowers me,
primitively and peacefully.
Graciously, like the moon pulls the sea
Interconnected irrevocably
in this spiral galaxy of spirituality.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
I am going to die
Someone tripped my breaker
I swim in the sparks
Thinner lines of longitude
Meet tangentially above
The third eye.
A veil is dropped and I
See the spinning mandala
Colors drip in lateral formations
Each line crosses
Infinitely deep in every direction
Bisecting me
Pay attention now
You are dying
You will tear through the veil
******* in the first breath
Cold air
The buzzing is around you
Warm glowing life forms
They sing songs!
Music of shape and color
Cyan and lilac notes
Fluttering from their bodies
Their songs spark and lightning
Through my body filling me with joysorrowlustpainguiltecstacy
Arcing off of my skin
Leaving long gaseous, crimson-green trails through the buzz of light
Watch me!
Look at this
Do you see what I can do?
Do you see, young one?
The souls gather around me
Whispering the secret of the ******
We laugh together at the simplicity of it all
They show me their playthings shaped
Totem poles of fractal colors impossibly
Spinning on a string of deoxyribonucleic acid
Quadruple helices infinitely intricate strands
Dripping diamonds in hues of color I cannot name
It didn't last long
Knowing the secret of it all
Go back now
To your bed
Back to your dimension
Don't try to remember us
We are multidimensional
Children casting tridemensional
Shadow puppets upon your dimly lit cave walls
Oh Demon! Oh archangel! Oh fairy! Ghost!
You foolish primate
Smearing your cave walls with words
Try to figure us out, shall you?
We are forgotten like a dream
Stop
Stop
Stop
The walls are alien
And the impossible
Shattered bloom on each surface
Sing and vibrate
It feels as If I have been here before. As if it has always been but I am allowed to see behind the curtain
Join the club
Join the club
We vibrate inside plant matter
Inside each atom we dance
Recreate us in your mind's eye dearest vertebrate
Watch us swim in and out of your memories
We have left our fingerprints upon the archaic machinery
Of your central nervous system
We are here
You are here
We are everywhere stop looking
We probe and poke at you
And sometimes we ancient-ones bend down and kiss you on the lips
You strange humans always exclaiming: Déjà vu
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
Aligning the musculoskeletal system and channeling multidimensional energy through increasing psychological flexibility and developing emotional resiliency
Quantum leap in healing power and physical capabilities delightfully providing mental tranquility and healthy neural activity
Serenades of a dreamer; universal synchronous receiver, transmitter of vitality through awakening hidden capacity in human anatomy
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
An iridescent celestial being
Anarchic yet effervescent adolescent
Frolicking freely in the omnipresent forest,
Like a breeze through the leaves.
Barefoot & star gazing — native & trail blazing.
Like a clever, fearless fairy exploring the faraway night sky,
I am the fantastic bit of magic on an otherwise static planet.
Bewitched by wild wonderment;
Coloring my life with the chaos of pathos.
I am the captain of passion, & best little hippie
On the mountain — formed by a volcanic fountain
That caused a panic on our little oceanic planet.
Dancing in multidimensional secrecy,
Past an unattainable horizon
Is where you'll find me — on the Big Island in the sea.
It is a true treasures
With impeccable weather & such mystic characteristic,
It's almost unrealistic.
So forget your whimsey Hawaii five-O fantasy
Tear a hole right through the sky
Arise, & fly with me on a real odyssey
Across the mesmerizing island
Teeming with undreamed of creatures
& seemingly endless saffron sand beaches
few have ever been
up to the
Vermilion rainbow plateaus
& sacred volcano summits
Amidst cascading honey suckled waterfalls
& streams of splendiferous wildflower meadows.
We can indulge in thousands of hues of bloom
Or retreat, once more to the oasis at the shore,
To stand hand in hand before the prevailing trends
Of a turning world; scattering brightness in the dark
Fledge millennium into an unadulterated oblivion.
Enveloping what is suspend in time
with a colour compass configurations
The universe, nearly legible expresses herself
Writing constellational scribe
elucidating galaxy.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
it is circulated deep into the soil
that you’ve wore the dress of paraffin
in the multidimensional wind of the winter
the cash-memo of the recently purchased
gold-bangles
would reside for some time more
then all the pregnant women
would assemble in the river-ghat
to meditate on the paddy-blossoms
all diamonds and clubs
would overcome their insomnia
through this arrangements
the crushing-news of fostering
flows
this dilution is well-known
the river-ripple of the air
after reading the sun
would keep some extension of dahlia
on its palms
in an unwritten evening
the demi-god-birth of the fire-flies
would break
their easy dead bodies
by the instigation of the surges
would ring … and ring… and ring
and spread cheerfulness
the elderly rain-tree comes to spray anti-biotic
on the spoilt top-branch of the young lad
covered with citronella
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 4:35 AM UTC
2016 Museum of Modern Art Party in the Garden - Inside
Vera Ellen **** is an American fashion designer who is mostly known for her dresses. But most do not know that she started out with a higher education at Sarah Lawrence College.
She had a bachelor degree in art history. The founder of Vera **** Bridal House has become one of the most successful entrepreneurs. She was able to fulfill her dreams with a college degree. She is one of the world's most successful business tycoons that learned about entrepreneurship. If you want to have a degree in design or fashion, and at the same time explore business, then following Vera Wang's career path might be something you can consider. According to Rasmussen, **** has an estimated net worth of $115 million.
**** grew up with Chinese roots but she was born and raised in New York. She initially graduated from Chapin school in 1967 and then attended the University of Paris. Afterwards, she went to Sarah Lawrence College in Westchester County and took a degree in art history.
What many do not know is that she competed in the U.S. Figure Skating Championships. She was featured in Sports Illustrated, 1968 edition. When she did not make the cut for the US Olympics, she set her sights on fashion.
With her background in art, she entered Vogue as an editor immediately after graduating from Sarah Lawrence. She was the youngest editor in the publication. She moved on to Ralph Lauren 17 years later. At the age of 40, she became an independent bridal wear designer.
With her experience and education, she now works with renowned fashion designers and designs for the likes of Victoria Beckham, Ivanka Trump, Avril Lavigne and Kim Kardashian.
She does not limit her designs to wedding dresses alone. She also ventures into the realm of evening wear and retail.
Vera Wang's success stems from her love of fashion. To this day, she still enjoys skating though as a "multidimensional" sport.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
As I lay in the corner
hunched over in tears
you stand before me in shadow,
we've not spoken in years.
"How are you, what's it like?" I implore,
met with comfortable Silence:
Enlightenment galore.
Though you have not recently
been in this realm,
you seem to be fine
and quite underwhelmed.
"There's nothing quite like it"
you reply with a grin
"It's almost like someone
got rid of Sin,"
"Why is it you wish
to know what it's like?
Perhaps you would like
to come on a hike?"
"No, I'm not quite ready
for that I'm afraid;
I've too much yet to do today,
there's much Art to be made."
"Ah yes, so I see
this seems to be true,
but who cares for such Art,
Art made by you?"
"I care not for how many care for it,
but I do care that anyone does at all.
I wish to immerse myself in all kinds of expression,
to preclude a sort of subconscious regression.
I care not for those who seek profit, like you,
but I would like to perchance become a Prophet anew;
though not of an -ism or even an -ology,
though perhaps for some secular abstract new-found old Spirituality.
One wherein all is but creative Godself
looking at itselves
in trillions of shattered mirrors
upon multidimensional shelves
and, odd though it may seem,
All is One through it,
yet as separate, All dreams."
"You, my Child, may be a gift unto Man.
Were I alive, I'd be your number one fan."
"You flatter me, Apparition,
but you were already my fan
far before my Path ever even began.
Still, I must ask, if indeed I can;
O familiar Ghost, tell me, what is thy plan?
"My plan, my Child, is to live on within you,
to continue your journey upon this thy subtle Path.
To set ablaze this boundless passion I sense within you.
To live in the shades of greys between the Black and White
To know that you are alive.
To know that you ever lived.
Your Mother and I both deeply love you
and though I have died, I live on within you."
And that was the last
conversation I had
with my dear old friend
that I had in my Dad.
T'was not in the land of the waking
this conversation was had,
t'was in a dream he spoke to me,
my ethereal Dad.
I seek neither pity nor compassion for Pain,
I seek only to try to explain
the infinitely vivid field of Experience
to which we're all subjected by some strange spirit valence:
**Thy Path, thine in Time.
You walk it for a reason,
even if obscured.
Time unfolds thy Path,
yet before Time was it set;
thine and thine alone:
Let no thing stray thee from thy Path.**
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
Understanding planetary crisis
view with evolutionary eyes memory of 14 billion years behold
struggle to evolve
from this vantage point
either side of the coin
of current situation breakdown
environmental personal social now
evolutionary drivers pushing across
towards a new galactic humanity most
crisis's occurring are needed
bringing awakening of species heeded
responding to these crisis's
a new focus arises
from compassion and creativity
taking a quantum jump collectively
capable of conscious evolution
co-creating with nature in union
planetary management social transformation
although a dangerous time
entering nature leading to
a universal humanity true
far transcending our current world
more responsible foretold
managing complex ecological system
pro-creation to co-creation rhythm
all members of a planetary body
multidimensional rebirth not oddly
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 5:44 PM UTC
I do not write my poems,
My poems write me
these boundaries of my body these fingertip extremities are not quills and this liquid velvet this lifeless blood is not raven-colored ink, rather my skin is pages and pages of palpable pulp,
deacrinated tentacle tree branches and fiberless roots convulse and my metal mind seizes sadness and manufactures paper out of the trees growing inside of me
Titanium oxide is extracted from my black eyes while wax drips off of my eyelashes into liquid pools of ebony
My mistake of a mind imprisons abjection and mass-produces ink out of the elements of my soul’s curtain-drawn windows
words and words and words and words fill the spaces between the pores where my hair follicles protrude
Diction dilemmas dip their quills into my eyelids and peirce my forehead until I am scarred by POETRY
Asphyxiating abnormalities write themselves into existence and reproduce in my skull, the fissures of my brain are their nests
Seven hundred million two dimensional letters float into my blood and disperse and and feed on these crimson channels and converge to form three dimensional words to form still increasingly multidimensional sentences and stanzas and POEMS until I am a library of impossible holes in existence, an impossible amount of existence.
I do not write my poems into existence
My poems are my existence.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
_you are_
the nourishment to all you see
the streamline to D i v i n i t y
a miracle of endless growth
_kaleidoscopic-Cosmic hope_
the stars are sifting
through your
thoughts
the
moon
pulls you
toward all
you’ve sought
in you there hums a
Cosmic Truth — with notes
your Soul-Spark always knew
which every moment dances to
_your multidimensional debut_
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 9:34 PM UTC
The white-noise sends him off to sleep,
a sedative pill to ensure a peaceful stay.
The nurses look on through the peep-hole
at night, and thud knuckles on the door
come morning. They are watching for signs
that he is still talking to the stars.
He claims multidimensional beings
can manifest as light,
and correct old constellations
into broadcasts for today.
As the students peer into his cell,
they scowl with concentration
and write furiously on clipboards.
'A high-functioning romantic'
he wrote in self-diagnosis,
and the pills helped with that
in the only way that they could.
He has learned to **** under observation,
a Gorilla in the leaves.
They fog the glass in fascination
at the sleeper in the cell.
Once they caught him ************
He thought that he should put up a show.
That natural function too hard to swallow
or compress into a hand-book.
In the evening he watches
the sports-news revolve,
wishing his soda water
was something a little more severe.
By night the inner-city light pollution
near-destroys any hope of a message
The pill is slipped before
he has begun to lay his head.
He may be losing his sweet imagination,
but he happily chose sleep instead.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
From spinning galaxies colliding in intergalactic bursts of light traveling millions of miles every hour, to dying stars fueling the birth and rebirth of new civilizations and planets, of new life, of new beginnings, from the infinite multidimensional plane of the universe that's the palate for these swirls of light and heat
To the intricate workings and cognitive enigmas of love, the springs and cogs of joy, the blackened cogs of sorrow, covered in soot
To the formation of billions of these unending universes that, in time will flourish or wither...
The distances between these universes are huge, yet traveling these wide expanses take trillionths of billionths of seconds, and the celestial dance between universes of ideas, galaxies of concepts, black holes of love and despair, quasars pulsing pure energy everywhere, everything coming together in a spectacular array of light and heat...universes within universes spin and dance in my brain and neurons fire as galaxies die, pathways travelled as planets are born, and nerve endings stimulated as supernovas fueling them...all of this for one idea. Millions upon millions of universes are born and die in my head, and because of it the universe doesn't seem so small..after all, billions exist in our brains.
Yet, in all of that, these dazzling arrays of light are compressed into infinitesimally tiny spaces...it's not surprising that something's lost in the process.
It's amazing to think that so much is in our heads, that so much happened in our heads for us to realize so much happens in our heads, that so much happens for such simple ideas...the sheer amazement that should be felt is painfully lacking.
The perfection of the stars is lost on paper.
Something's lost, between the beginning of a universe, the birth of new stars and systems, and between our final actions. It's lost in translation.
I have entire galaxies in my head, but I speak mere stars.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
you were born with
a gift in your bones
this world is shapeshifting
from your light alone
and it’s lining your vessel
with gooey lovetones
that are dripping pure gold
on to all you have known
you are gleaming with meaning
you are a multidimensional being
who thinks every thought
to create all you’re seeing
you are strong and redeeming
there is nothing weak about you
you pump never-ending value
feel your strength as it climbs
from your cosmic enzymes
they are dancing inside
singing out an endless love song
that “_you’re right on time_”
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC
Sometimes someone comes along and sees..
I sit on boulders and they share visions...
I see for miles a light scape made of Terra's dream
So blown apart I am the indigenous spirit
Who sat here with me, decades ago seeing what
You migrate through
As maps becomes topographical
Multidimensional mind in me.
A Hopi Kachina offers a gift
I am too blind
But would have accepted Give-away.
In stone breath I hunt, but can't ****
As there is
No end to the soul of oneness.
In futility
I slay the part where you left me off
As
I press the air, water, your earth, the void
Seeking freedom again
Bloodletting the story of heart myths
That is fire
To find what is true.
I told you, you don’t know me,
As I am,
Unknowable as separation.
Desperation pulls a
A trigger by the enemy,
That is
The same fleshy bone matter
Diseased or living,
You are
made
Of no coming or going, in the doorway is pure awareness,
And we all walk through
The same dream
the same no thing
Since I am this beam,
Welcome home.
With blankets as wings they fly from this
Jagged dust torn cliff as
I stand here now and the elder knows
I am her, and told you a sacred story.
Take your chance wanderer
I have
Been here all along.
You are nowhere
With me
In this
Tribal dance...
Hell has no chance over my
Offerings
When this world
Is left,
Be with me
Kachina Wind-walker Rainbow Warrior
So I don’t have to go on alone in
Oneness no way can you
Let me go.
Robyn Keefover
4/24/2013
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
These long days I need to sigh
And take things breath to breath
Some days I escape to forget
My appetite's multidimensional
Even though the love is mutual
What happened to the ages lost?
Was today just waiting in the wings?
Motivation is like a ***** word
My lucky coin can't buy nothing
But nothing else can buy it back
Time to rise and shine
And get the wheels back on track
Watching cable TV
It screams a blue and red dichotomy
Blend to purple
Black and blue
What am I supposed to do?
Black and blue
Those aimless zombies missed the mark
But their shot rings true
In a state of disbelief
In a land of disagreement
I'll hang my hat on tempting fate
Knowing well I'll never get a second chance
I'll melt the polar glaciers
With the laser focus of an errant glance
These lost days I need to find my peace
And speak my piece
Let the dogs up off the leash
The fighting spirit runs wild and free
No mental fitness guru tells me who to be
Or what to say
I have a mantra I repeat
Again and again and again
I test the muddy waters
And dip my toes in
But the verdict is lukewarm
I steal the honey all for the money
District the bees that swarm
Why else, of course
Blend to purple
A royal cordial
Black and blue
No guru gonna tell me what to do
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 10:43 PM UTC
I have a problem, it is my fault,
It grows within me, cancer I've got
As the time passes, it expands,
Isn't it funny? Clap your hands.
I have an issue, what a shame,
You are the victims, I'm to blame.
As the time passes, it contaminates,
Admiration turns to fear... I hate.
It's not dislike, it feels too strong,
Of the little I feel, what I feel feels wrong.
I become more of nothing, and grow more patient,
The fear's realized, I'm contaminated.
I'm keeping secrets, whatever they may be;
A multidimensional personality?
It's not much but I can be very complex:
I can't simply be confused, I'm feeling perplexed.
Isn't it scandalous, who would've thought?
I can't wait for the day my body will rot
It's not much but I can't distinguish pain
I only sense something's off 'cause my feelings are in vain.
The loneliness consumes me, guilt's the product of my fear.
I put on my mask, just like you asked, just because I care.
The cycle, it starts all over again:
I mask me for "love," and I "love" my "friends."
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 7:42 PM UTC
The System and Time.
Generated by Intelligent design
With its finger prints thru the space of time
Micro and Macro We're all connected as one that shines
Constructed as code in Real time
Spirals in full time
Games played like war and crime
Automated as Agents to keep things in line
Spied and conducted in Multidimensional space time.
Déjà vu that questions time?
X's and Y's like a goldmine of "Pastimes"
Voices of ideas in spark of time.
Augmented reality in our dreams that questions this time?
Cosmic Rays that limits us because of the their design
Cells like floating thru the the continuum of time
Physics and laws of this master design that is beyond Eisenstein.
Asleep or awaken in this time?
Be-careful because you may be redefine.
Following a script to survive in time
We're just a code that is a variable in the universal space time.
Faith is like a reality that you design.
Choice is like a reality that you define.
Heaven is like a backup that reloads when you go offline
Assign and streamline with a Lifeline that spins in the hands of time.
All of this is like a story-line.
The greatest mystery of the system and time by the divine.
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
Twilight mixed with the odor of frivolous women, hot cars, coffee and cigarettes. What kind of truth can you find on its streets? The one that is warm and will go down your throat like a flame, and will make you passionately love this filthy place, or may be the one that will talk to your money not asking you name. She will get on your chest; will give you love and tenderness, for a certain amount, for definite time. Leaving you satisfied but empty; lying on the bed of a cheap hotel, staring at the dark morning ceiling and one single statement in your head “THAT was my last time…” But the other weekends come, and the same statement reinstates itself.
Everybody here accepts chaos at this time of the day. Movement chaotically is the only way to stumble over the truth in this city. You can’t find what you want, if you know what you want. People are tired to want something determined; they need infinity of choices, abyss of multitude. Disappearing in the holes, doors, windows, with a deep inhale and laughter, with melodies of jazzy evening, or funeral silence, that rests somewhere deeper… Where you can hear only echoes, where you don’t need anything but sincere being, devout love and natural affection. Natural to the bone, to its basis, all and forever and only for you, even when you are sober. The improbability of that makes you angry. It makes you mad. It makes you take a taxi and rush somewhere it probably hides itself. Since you don’t know where you accept chaos as a way to find it. Now you are in this multidimensional sporadic mist of somebody’s desires concentrated within the borders of one lonely, dark and unpredictable city.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 8:26 PM UTC
I want to give it to you straight.. I haven't dated in awhile, but if I had a choice, it would be you who makes me smile. I can envision it now, we could go for miles, stretching into infinity, but there are some things that don't come naturally for me. When push comes to shove, when I come undone, when I stand before you flesh and bone, will you make my body your home? Or will you wander and roam to places unknown? The thought of being alone doesn't haunt me. My own thoughts, they taunt me. These are the things I wish to tell you but my fingers won't type the words, my mouth won't voice the hurt. I'm scared of being left and scared of being smothered. If you saw me with your eyes uncovered, I fear you would run.. and I would let you. I know that if you looked at me with your soul, we could achieve a love burning brighter than the sun. I don't owe anyone an explanation nor an excuse. The truth is, when I still had much to learn, I let my body burn. And I was numb to the flame, yet still the scars remain, even now, etched for eternity, written on flesh. There is still a part of me that wishes I could turn it all back. But I swear to you and swear to myself, there are no such things as mistakes, only lessons. And because of them I realized how truly blessed I am. I saw beyond perception, but will you? I don't want to let you in only to lose. Can we just cut loose all ties, deviate from this great divide? These are the questions that occupy my spare time. I'm not writing this for you, but for me. Setting myself free from the prison of uncertainty. Will you see me? The real me? A multidimensional being who took a worldly beating? I gained so much from these scars. But if you were to see them, I fear we would forever part. Once again, I end just to start.. so here's to hope, here's to heart.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC