Life is but a passing daydream,
that seldom does make sense.
I often wonder if I should wake,
what memories carry hence?

Yesterday a fuzzy recollection.
Tomorrow a cloudy ocean.
Today as clear as clear can be,
as preconceived as any notion.

Understanding is sometimes found,
when clarity meets truth,
but its hard to say if it was real,
once time and space have moved.

Life is lived by a routine,
that seldom ever varies.
My thoughts are often found,
where routine seldom tarries.

I awake some days to find,
the yoke of expectation
****** upon my shoulders
without want of explanation.

Hours of those days grind by,    
in meaningless frustration.
Watching my potential pass,
while occupied by occupation.

The yearning to be free,
that stirs within my soul.
Is gently lulled asleep again,
by pastimes I am sold.

Life is but a passing daydream,
that seldom does make sense.
I often wonder if I should wake,
what memories carry hence?

while I center this vast wondering confusion of self, I call me. others may know as that silly boy king, foolish to the end and hardly the sight for sore eyes, but still he just might be some what an okay guy. or, simply that guy with his windows rolled down. or just That guy, oh crap, no body wants to be "That Guy" umm. humm, yeah. okay. um. well at least I will be doing it while rolling this list, so, there is some saving grace... ;-) never bested by more than my silly *** self, and I'm best at that for sure. ****, that guy thing again. lol. smile, I am.

Imaginary Friends, never had them till recently, but I find that delusions can be far more than fantasy and rather a wonderful thing to embrace.  Funny, I am the only person I have ever known of that is happy with the simplest of things being simply what they are and beautiful for what they are without meeting some sort of standard or expectation. Yeah, the day my imaginary friend/s ever become real,,, know that I am happy that they are simply whom they are and not preconceived anything, Yes, the most beautiful thing to me, is the flaws of the beauty of what it is without being altered for any reason, for it , them, is made just so by the life they lived, the choices they made / make, the things they feel and do, and I choose not to read into that till such til comes that it be needed and so far when one chooses to see the beauty in something or someone for its simple truth of its self, there is never a time to arise to prejudge or expect anything other than what comes. and that, my friend is the greatest beauty and gift I can think to grace yourself and them with, for it is love whole heartedly, without a desire to alter of precieve them in any other light than the light in which they shine. so, yeah, it can be done, and is done, and will be done for one day, whether you or anyone ever know about it, I will be smiling and sharing with that beauty for eyes to see and ears to hear, one then truly sees that , I care not how things started, nor why, nor for what true end, for I see something that few might be lucky enough to see, that more has happened and transpired in this time, events, and whole saga, than one could have ever expected. and for that, I am grateful, hope you are too. cause in the end, I know I will be victorious in some wonderful way and I will get the girl, so don't dare say, you don't believe, cause friend, isn't believing what this is all truly about? and isn't, believing what with out a doubt, forms that which you live? so, yeah, I will. and I smile.   So yeah Time to roll the center a round abouts my whole of my soul... and roll away this list of tunes, with my windows rolled down too. ;-)
Full Moon Thoughts On Lavender Moon Nights In My Dreams

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeI9lKNoM9k&index;=2&list;=PL1X51wyhBF7-q3cJh8zRJm5aMyI5WK0be

We were misfits
the neglected *******
of a backwards world
that rejected us
not because we were sick
demented or dangerous
but because we didn't prescribe
to a preconceived notion
of what a functioning citizen was.

Not rotten enough to spoil
behind the bars of a prison
just competent enough
to work menial jobs
and drown our sorrows
at the corner pub.

We swallowed this hard truth
the same way we drank our shots
with no chaser
and at times it burnt
maybe even made us tear up
but we never let it beat us
(too strong for that)

We were beautiful
resilient beasts
that could carry the weight
of the world upon our shoulders
and it was heavy
but we would tell ourselves
"doesn't every world need an atlas?"
so we went on holding up the sky
when no one asked it of us.

We can not go,
This, I have said this to myself millions of times.

But, that day my heart took the driver’s seat.
My mind stopped working like a well-oiled machine.

I was in the middle of the urban jungle, the concrete city of cars, traffic, and cookie-cutter homes...
The land of squared, sanitized spaces, and constant noises from technology, automobiles, and the noise in our heads to keep up with the rat race.

I closed my eyes

Then, I opened them again.

A different reality!
A dream, of course!

I found myself in a jungle of green, moist, humid sweat.
This was the land of  kaleidoscopic dreams;
The monkey’s howls pierce the air -
birds symphonically, swimming together in the air-
Life in every single layer of nature

I felt myself
Losing myself in the greenery
The lushness
The awe

I had time to contemplate
In my contemplation, I decided, the only thing in life is real is the story I create in life

And as I go through the forest
My thoughts become more developed and articulated

I slash at everything that does not make sense
I slash at every idea
Every preconceived notion
Of
Who I thought
I am

I cut like a savage warrior
On a mission
Branches, dangling distractions
Temptations of fruits and branches that grab at my waist,
And more branches, like physical arms tieing me down like chains

I slash the blade
I cut with no intention of where I want to go

Exhausted, I rest my head

In the darkness in the middle of the amazon

A jaguar comes to me
With their yellow eyes waiting in the corner - It observes me in the bushes
I sit still
Is this a message for me?

Wanting to hear what I have to say
I wait and wait
I stay up all night.

As I wait for prophecies
The jaguar eventually leaves me alone in the darkness

Dissapointment rages inside me
I am left in more uncertainity

But, my heart spoke really loud today
Something took a hold of me
I was not rationale.
I was not cautious..

I opened my backpack and dumped everything off a cliff
I ran and jumped in the blue ocean

Finally
I listened to my heart
Finally...

I understand now
That you have some
preconceived notion
That you are special
Well please, do tell all
From whom told you this
Do you even recall

Well...eh.....it's hard to explain

Well out with it boy
Who gave you such fame

It wasn't a man like you and I
Nor was it a voice for all to find
But a direct message
Like a light from inside
A glow in all of us
Just dimmed until it's your time
They are building an army
But not of the traditional kind
But an army of believers
Conceptual conceivers
The artists, the poets
The true believers
This whole world in its design
Was meant as a test
For all human kind
But left to our own will
We chose destruction
We chose to ****
So it's time to intervene
redirection through misdirection
For our protection
( I mean look at the election)
I am to help lead this army
To help take off this Neisse
Cause our existence
So minuscule
But to us
It's our proof

Oh so you say
we're in a downward spiral
Like **** Daniel this virus
Is about to go viral
This light as you say
Wants us to change our ways
And make life a little more worthwhile

Exactly

Haha don't be silly boy
Your just messed up in the head
Your daddy just dropped you
Or you ate paint with the lead
I own half of the oil in the Middle East
I have 84 cars
And 20 homes at least
I am the American Dream
All aspire to be me
So from what I've retrieved
This little voice in your head
Is as crazy as you seem

Ah man... This is going to be
Much harder than you explained
It to be.

the warmth from loneliness never felt so cold and cleansing
the warmth from two hearts colliding never felt so caressing
smiles stretch wider than the sky and i can’t help but swallow up the ones i hold dear
past, present and future all in my windshield and at the tips of my hair caressing the air i breathe
it’s always been preconceived
the pain the consciousness and the way we bleed
i’m a nomad in the desert feeling like an ostrich feather
freedom just isn’t as potent as it once was
and my dreams are a little more out of reach
but i’m still the wanderer whose ideas are clean
all the eyes that radiated love, i never forgot
because you showed me some kindness in places i forgot
the adventures that shook the time and the tunnels that gave us vision
i handled the concise misunderstanding that led to my downfall
it led me to a waterfall up north where the weather isn’t warm
saturation was gone but i still felt like i was home
i’m going home
i haven’t been there in a while and i’m sorry
please don’t worry about the nights i’ll never show
i’m co-existing with the night
he’s showing me the beauty that comes with walking alone
i made a home inside my bones
the address is tucked into the underlying of my sternum
i don’t apologize for the pictures i’ve burned and the bridges that ignited along with them
i live my best life when i’m desperate for a solution
we’re all just warriors of the unknown
traveling in a stream of nothingness trying to find out the art of everything that’s unknown
there is no home for the outgrown

It was that fateful dream when I closed my eyes,
And was met with a sheer vast nothingness.
It was within that abyss that a flickering light emerged.
I reached out, hoping it was sentient, but I was playfully deceived.
It was a mere candle, burning bright and bleeding its waxy exterior.
My hand rested above the slow burn, anticipating some sort of pain
to offset this dreaded abyss that encompassed my peculiar unity.
Fortunately for I, the light only burned brighter with increased intensity.
The illumination continued to dance around my body in a mesmerizing display,
But was abruptly interrupted by a soft tap on my shoulder.
A silhouette of a woman whom I couldn’t seem to pinpoint, stood before my gaze.
Although the flickering candle seemed to dim, a hand outstretched could still be made out,
As if anticipating for my palm to meet hers.
I obliged the offer.

Memories, past and potential, were so vibrant that materialization became second nature.
Former lovers greeted me with a genuine smile, but soon dissipated,
while two manifestations of my preconceived identity stood before me.
One of a child and one of a near distant future, each possessing a poisoning barb,
that carries with it, an omnipotent plague I’m self-burdened with.
A nod is all I could muster, to signify to these unhappy souls that it’s okay to suffer,
and more importantly, to have acceptance from what has already happened.
You cannot change the pain you once felt, but you can change how you feel now.
A blinding light emerged and I was met with a mirror,
that defied the standard protocols of how a reflection should be portrayed.
The reflection sat while I stayed standing, and he smiled while I remained inquisitive.
Brothers held the reflection’s shoulders while friends stood beside in succession.
The final curtain of truth finally revealed: I’ve always been loved.
The silhouette faded and I was left with only a puddle of that once bright candle.

The wax may have fully melted, but it can always be repurposed.
A restructuring of the same foundation, but perhaps with a fresh style or scent.
You don’t have to conform to the same specification you once were at.
The pain and suffering has passed and a new candle is upon you, so
burn away the toxins that you’ve left behind and retrieve that which you lost;
The inner peace that has always been a light against life’s troubled abyss.

Whenever I look in the mirror,
I see Frankenstein’s Monster.
Where am I ?
Dissociated somewhere,
but hell,
even I couldn’t tell you where.

My eyes are no window to the soul
because my human vessel lost it’s soul
a long time ago
I found it,
shattered in the depths of my mind
in so many pieces,
I can never be whole again.

But is that what I want? Or
what society wants me to do?
to pass as a human,
to pass as a man.
Is that who I truly am?

So caught in the webs of preconceived
notions I’ve been fed all my life:
You are not a boy.
You will never be a real man

Well, *******!

I am untangling myself from this web,
leaving the toxicity behind,
surrounding myself with
the sunshine I deserve.

You can judge me all you want
Just know;
I am the one who is truly free.

Swipe in to enter
The machine said
And we did
we intend to do the same
on a daily basis,
Immerse ourselves into a fake promise called
Income, stability and a preconceived notion
called “life, the way it is”

For once the machine, couldn’t recognise
The faded lines on the thumb,

Walk away,
we walk away till we reach
the queen’s necklace
where it all began,
Dreams, hope and salvation.
The perfect place to revisit
Decisions, choices and the way forward
But we fail to look into any as we take a pause
From all that is normal.
To gaze at the surreal horizon
Ebbed in the promenade that is home to all of us.
“Swipe out to exit” Nobody says
As we dwell in the possibility of a better tomorrow

Sun cascading through the window,
The Mountains my blanket
Everything in its right place, and I in mine
For surely life is a wonderful thing
and I am no mistake.

Can a person be defined by a word? Can we, in reality chain a person to one word, or even a great sum of words? Can all that is encompassed within each individual human being, be summed up with a word, a description, a label? For the very meaning of word is a unit of language, consisting of one or more spoken sounds or their written representation, that functions as a principal carrier of meaning. Are words the most effective "carrier of meaning"? Or is it possible that there might just be something more, something deeper? This makes me think of the quote from The Mozart Effect, where Don Cambell says, “On the psychiatrist’s couch, the board of the local PTA, or at a job interview, we strive to assert our identity as strong, independent persons, our persona or public mask—all from the Greek roots per son, or ‘the sound passes through.’” Our very core nature is that we desire to hear a vocal confirmation of who we are and labeling ourselves and others with words, gives us a false security. The way we are labeled and seen and judged passes through us, it effects us to our core. When someone “fails” they are then in turn labeled a “failure”? My question is, by labeling a person who has made mistakes, or is even continuing to make mistakes a f a i l u r e , are we really encompassing all that is within them when we say the word “failure” and chain it around their neck? Is every action that they have done a “failure”? Do they not also have things that are successful about them, and isn’t simply their state of being a success?

I am convinced that we are all on the same level, one person no greater than another person. No person a mistake, no person a failure. For let us all challenge ourselves to not define people but rather feel them, seek to understand them. Let us really see them, for who they are, not for who we think they are or what we may see. Like the quote from T.S Elliot’s book Family Reunion, where it says
“I tell you, it is not me you are looking at, Not me you are grinning at, not me your confidential looks incriminate, but that other person, if person, You thought I was: let your necrophilia feed upon that carcass.”

Or the quote from the Invisible Man,
“I am an invisible man. No, I am not a ***** like those who haunted Edgar Allan Poe; nor am I one of your Hollywood-movie ectoplasm. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids- and I might even be said to posses a mind. I am invisible; understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless head surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination-indeed, everything and anything except me.”


These are both excellent examples of how our own judgments, preoccupation with our problems or ourselves, anything and everything, can distract us from really getting to know someone, to understanding them in the cell of their heart. For if we were silent and simply allowed the music of life surround us, we would listen and hear, the people when they spoke. For “to listen is to vibrate together with another human being.” And how eloquently Lao Tzu said that, I can’t think of a better way to describe what I am trying to say. What a provocative way to think about the simple act of listening. Think of feeling what people are saying as two harps being played in perfect unison, vibrating together. To really hear someone we must reach a place where we can be receptive to whom they really are, throwing aside our preconceived ideas.

How could we take the sacred and beautiful act of listening and distort it into something that is so uninvolved, so impersonal? How can we, how can I, constantly throw away the precious gem that is to listen, only to pick up the garbage of judgment and lack of concern? I’m convinced that constantly doing this has left quite a toll on the human race. When was the last time you felt that someone got you, really got you, or saw past your flaws or the masks you wear and simply heard you, felt your pain, knew where you were coming from, simply was just there with you? Chances are it’s probably not often. I believe that no matter the outward appearance or what people do that it’s the state of their heart that matters. We are all fallible because we are h u m a n, so when people in their own state of humanity, hurt us, let us choose not to take offence, but rather choose to see past our own pain and see their own pain that caused them to hurt us.

I believe there is beauty in our shortcomings, and humanity. Not that we continue to remain the way we’ve always been but rather accept that we are flawed and that can’t do this on our own, and then we will begin to grow. In our state of being humbled and broken, we grow, we change, we transform. Slowly and surely as the flower that springs from the cold ground and bursts forth from it’s shell and becomes something completely different, we as humans will break through our own “shells”. First we must admit that we have flaws for this process to begin. Being flawed is beautiful because it’s something everyone shares. We’ve all been hurt, but once we come to the place where we understand the pain behind the flaws and see how we can’t possibly judge anyone because we all have flaws, we all have failed.

We are all equals. We are all connected. We are all sons and daughters of humanity. We are connected to the earliest of times and the latest of times.

What happens to someone on the other side of the earth does in fact, effect us. I believe because we are numb to the reality of that connection, never listening, never feeling, that we miss the beauty of this great fellowship of human beings. When we isolate ourselves, not only are we denying ourselves that desire to b e l o n g that dwells in our innermost being, but we also can begin to elevate ourselves over another person. Which leaves me to wonder why we spend our lives awarding ourselves for being better then the person next to us, not doing what they did, when shouldn’t we be listening to them, hearing them, seeing them for who they are in their own brokenness, and helping them through?

We spend our lives harboring anger towards and event, person, or even ourselves and judging and comparing ourselves on a made up idealistic scale to define our worth. We are already worth so much simply because we are humans, and we are alive. Is not even a single rose still admired by the gardener? We are special, and if someone were to bring all the wealth of the world to offer for one person, or to measure the worth of that person, it would not even begin to compare to our worth, no matter our mistakes or who we are.

Just as we hurt and long to be accepted and approved of, so does the person that has hurt you or the person you see yourself as better then. Do we not feel our connection to humanity when we feel the sense of deep loss in our spirit, our innermost being, when our actions cause pain to another person? So since we are all one, all connected, why not shower people with love and grace and feel them, feel with them, instead of labeling them and trying to judge ourselves against them.

We have exhausted ourselves by denying ourselves the basic needs to be known, loved, heard, connected, and accepted, for far too long. It’s time for change, in both my life and the lives of those around me. We’re beaten and bruised from holding on to our anger, relentlessly trying to gain approval, judging our own mistakes and comparing them to others to see if our mistakes were ‘slightly less bad then those of the other person’. If we would set aside those chains that imprison us, and allow ourselves to feel the pain of others, allow them to see our own pain, then, although we will never reach perfection, we will grow, the deep yearnings and aches of our body crying out to be known and our pain from the wrongs done to us will stop.

If we’re willing to bare the burden of feeling with someone, or simply allowing ourselves to just be, exist, beside someone who’s hurting and be open to simply let the sound, the vibrations of their words penetrate our souls, then, and only then will our lives and the lives of others be drastically changed for the better. It would be infectious; spreading to every person we came into contact with, causing a worldwide revolution.

So what I’m saying is even after all this, I believe in changed lives, I believe that our impact on others is far greater then we will ever know.I believe that one single person, no matter how flawed, who stops for one moment and simply listens to another human being, and sees them as they are, then proceeds to reach inside their chest to reveal their beating, heart, alive and full of dreams, will change that person forever, whether we see it right away or never see it. It's the same in our lives, we may never see the fruits of our labor, but we must focus on the goal and not the distance needed to reach our goal. We impact people. When we judge people or don’t see them for who they are, they become dead to us, they can no longer change into who they were meant to be, or we simply do not hear them, the passions and dreams are not awakened, and in doing this, we are robbing ourselves the joy of knowing someone, investing in them, and seeing them change and they feel the effects too.

We all need to be awakened from being the living dead, to a state of constant awareness of our body and all our senses and the surroundings around us, the people around us. People as a whole are hurting so deeply, and I believe that one person can in fact change that. All it takes is one [broken] person to spark the flame and soon, others, much like kindling for a fire, will catch ablaze. I believe, that we must allow ourselves to climb into another person’s skin and feel, and see the world as they do.

We must realize that we are no better then one another, for we are all broken and need one another. I believe that no one is hopeless, no one a lost cause, for if we take the time to listen to them and care for them, something in them will change no matter what we may see on the outside. In this investing and caring, listening and feeling, seeing and believing, we will awaken in both the people around us and in ourselves the dreams which we thought for so long to be dead, and the world will see change like it has never been seen before in history.

I’m not saying that I have any of this down pat, I’m not by any means a model for not judging someone and seeing them and hearing them. If anything, I am the complete opposite of this consumed in my own problems and too busy to stop and feel. This is my apology of some sort to those i have hurt, and giving recognition to those who have helped me along the way. So thanks for believing in me. I believe that it’ll take some time, but that I can and will gradually change into someone who is aware of people around them, someone who is awakened. Even when my actions, are completely opposite of everything I’ve just talked about, there is still a part of me that is quietly reminding me to humble myself and see myself for who I am, no more, no less, and then see others for who they are. Somehow, I’m going to get to where I want to go, and I’m going to become who I want to become, I just have a lot of judgmental ideals, preconceived ideas, bitterness, pain, and self-absorption to leave behind to step into who I want to become. So I’m going to commit to this journey even if it means sometimes the only thing I can do is just be, in my failures and my success, and even when the pain seems unbearable, it is my deepest desire to stay on this path. I want to change and help the people around me, but before I can do that I have a lot of work to do.

May be I am searching for magic
In the sky
In the places
In the faces -
Dang it I will not only survive
I will thrive!
I will reset my DNA
For the love of my daughter to come,
I will release my preconceived notions
And build a better world for my son.
And even if my open wings can only cover my nest
They will carry a Kingdom within
Where doubts had no place,
And fears have been put to rest.

And if so shall happens, that the ghost of uncertainty returns
They will know how to swim,
They will know how to fly -
**** it they will not only survive, they will thrive!

The funk hangs around with paint splattered overalls and a cigarette at 3 in the morning and thinks their day
has already been long but is far from over                    

The funk never even heard of the concept of a linear train of thought… the funk is often misunderstood…

The funk does not subscribe to you or your preconceived notions of how things should be… and more than that you can’t live without the funk…

The funk has no idea what they’re doing… but they know it’ll turn into something beautiful  with enough effort…

The funk is beautiful…

The funk sticks out in a room…

The funk sees beauty separate from function…

The funk realizes that they are not functional…

The funk does not care the funk is doing his or her own thing…

The funk sees life through funky eyes... perhaps the funk will show you what they perceive through those eyes

The funk inspires the functional…

The burden of the messes you left weighs heavy on my chest. I think my heart is beginning to slow down because frankly I am not strong enough to stand up straight anymore. I cannot remember good times because you are so rotten that you have eroded every memory of you into a nightmare. My preconceived notion of the pain dying with my love for you was wrong. I am suffering more now than I ever was before. Without the smoke screen of affection and adoration, I see you as who you really are. I see every fight, every hole in the wall, every ignored plea to stop as what they really are. You are foul. You are disgusting. I fear my hatred for you is beginning to rot my heart, too. And that is the last thing I want. I want to be able to love and accept the love I am given without your voice in my head telling me I don’t deserve this, any of this. I may not deserve happiness but I know I at least deserve to rid my brain of every thought I’ve ever had of you. You tried to tell me that I never really loved you because if you really love someone, you never stop. But I know now that is not true in the least bit. I am no longer bound to your disease by some asinine cliche or the belief that I have to always love you because I promised you I would when I was fifteen. Your name has become synonymous with death. Everything we once had, has long expired. There is a tombstone underneath my bed with your name on it, and with time it will collect dust and inevitably be forgotten, just as it should be. I hold no obligation to you, not even the you I thought you were, the one I made up in my head. It’s not that I broke my promises to you, it’s that there was no way of keeping them without killing whatever was left of me. You are an appendix, a tonsil, a fake friend, an extra piece of cake. I never needed you, though at one point I may have thought I did. In two years I will have forgotten your middle name and what street you live on. You are not vital, you are not a necessity, you are not more important than me, and my biggest mistake was ever believing you were. I can talk **** on you up down and sideways, criss cross and backwards, but I know there are things that I can’t change. The things you did to me can never be undone, but they do not have to be redone or relived either. I don’t have to carry these bruises around any longer. I’m not going to carry these bruises around any longer.

zero context shifts

multitasking is multi~asking your brain
to do what does not come naturally,
the enthused poem starts up, lion roaring,
a muscle car, brain throbs organic pulses
semi~******* of a near-completion in
your neuronic *****, exciting and ****
all you-writ so far is:

your name, some crazed, minimal
******* of words with

no context, no preconceived word lotion to
balm-spread over the enflamed areas of
your brain skin
except that it’s
6:47 am, coffee in hand,
your woman slumber rumbles a left over dream,
speechifying, and room, cool conditioned cold,
ignoring notifications of overnight elections,
and a reminder-by-photo where you were this
day seven years ago today, all put asided,
permission ungranted to any distractions,

there will be zero context shifts til the
spillage of your morn squeaking meager is fully
pillage~d here, it be within my it-takes-no-
village,

@ 6:56 and Whitman is tsk-tsking at the low poetry of my scripting, Hafiz says “hey!
nothing about god or love, what good is that?”

but it’s ok for i’ve emptied the early morning
brain bowels,
defused fusses and asides, tossed asided & there is yet some coffee
remaining but the expiation for having been
reborn this newly birthed day has earned me atonement

for taking up space in this planet
and as of yet, I’ve not stated yet to any, no. all
humans, I hate you ~ but the day is infantile
and opportunity plentiful

@7:03AM
nyc
morning
Wed Nov 8,
in the year of hatred,
a/k/a twenty twenty three.

Where might I be
in my last breath?

When the ongoing sunset fades into darkness
where absent stars twinkle, ignorantly,
and the oceans drink and ruins crumble
in eternal, perfunct serenity,
for there will be no dawn,
where might I be?

At the unmaking of history when origins die
and the land masses curdle and cover the sea,
when Poseidon emerges to reclaim his rites
while Hades laughs gaily, where might I be?

When time falters truly over caesura
-If "when" it can truly be considered to be-
And the void calmly beckons for matter's fair soul;
when the ellipse quietly loops, without warning,
and darkness pervades over freedom and truth
that cannot exist ingenuinely
for nothing remains except nobody,
if 'be' I can be, where might I be?


At the end of the pages, where the margins dissolve
live creatures of forethought creation who choose
to acknowledge the limits of what they control,
or not, says their God, says the author, says I.


For every soul, a collective demise.
And a needless debate o'er if preconceived.
But the truths I create are the truths that will stand.
And so, at the end, here is where I am.

Today
I will sing my sins as if I
Hadn’t yet learned right from wrong
As if I didn’t recognize
The becoming wrinkles of my skin
The fading of preconceived thought
The fading of what we were
As if I don’t conjure up detonating
Definitions for what we depict as
Reality,
As if I don’t feel it
As if the wind doesn’t rattle through my
Bones and shake my soul and wither
Me away
You reach out your hand
I turn the other way
Chrome colored lines that intersected
At the wrong time, the wrong place in history
As if I don’t consider
Dying, intentionally
Projecting perceptions through this lens
Titled reality,
White upon the spine
Drawing images and you feel it,
The finality of your
Vitality

I read an article in the news this week,
It was about profiling corporate bigwigs
And the shocking conclusion,
That the vast majority of these pigs at the trough of good fortune
Are psychopaths, a statistically significant majority,
Like eighty percent,
This tweaked my curiosity and so I did a bit of research,
And I learned that a psychopath is someone
who experiences life differently,
they experience all of the positive emotions,
Love, happiness, comradery, all of it.
But they’re wired differently,
When it comes to the sad, bad, mad times.
They don’t feel the way most humans do,
They feel detached from these things
They tend to deal with things of this nature
From a logical and removed perspective,
And this is where the road forks.
Ethical, moral, love-based pychopaths
Release the tension, resulting from the conflict
That arises from this, (aka wow I’m a freak)
through healthy
Or at least, socially-acceptable methods
Others, unfortunately dispose of it,
through darker, more nefarious means
Today, I started to wonder if I’m a psychopath,
Not the hack them, slash them maniac you see on film
The ones that just don’t feel like other people.
I was reading a book about self-realization,
About dropping preconceived inhibitions
Quieting the mind,
And finding “the silence within the silence” as they say,
I started to consider this,
I thought back to my transformation in August of seventeen
I moved from subject to passive observer,
I substituted love for fear, in every corner of my life,
And I found the silence, perhaps just a glimpse,
But it was so beautiful, it impressed upon me
An entirely new disposition,
As a passive observer, I’ve been able
To see myself much more clearly
When you look at yourself from a standpoint,
That leads you to recognize that in fact
There is no you at all, only your perception
And in fact, even perception
Consciousness, the core of experience
Is an illusion in and of itself.
An illusion nurtured by
The confines of society
Because at the level of atoms and molecules
We really all are
Intertwined and indistinguishable
And these tiny points of perception
That we think of as us
Are actually one
As though a block of energy
Was slammed through a cheese grater
And from this perspective,
and the Fear/love paradigm,
I find myself alone,
Alone, and happy,
Possibly,
For
The first-time
Ever.
Today, I started to wonder if I’m a psychopath.
And though I’m not wishing for the way it was
I do wish
I had a friend,
a sounding-board so to speak
Who knows me as well
As the one that I have hurt, and who has hurt me
To really help me decide,
Is this an epiphany,
Or insanity
A middle-aged crazy man
Writing words no one will ever read
Either way, I suppose
You can look from one of two sides
From the loss, and the sadness
The love and respect for the past
Or from the perspective of freedom,
Growth,
And doing what you were put
In this crazy world to do
Today, I started to wonder if I’m a psychopath,
At one point this afternoon
I realized I hurt in my entirety
My body, head to toe
My heart, because I am alone
Self-chosen,
But still alone
And my soul because
I don’t feel the way other people do
I won’t hurt anyone else
At least not on purpose
But every inch of me hurts
Every,
Inch.
And yet, even the sadness I feel
In waves,
By no means all the time,
But when it hits,
It hits hard,
I realize this too is a bad habit at best,
And an illusion at worst
What growth can come,
From pining for the past
Or any attachment for that matter
Because those things
That we can’t stop ourselves from doing
That arise from mind
Such as regret, or loss
Or guilt
Are bad-habits,
illusions
That serve absolutely nothing
But to teach, and move on
To how you might
Make the reality that is now
The best it can be,
For everybody,
Even me!
Today, I started to wonder if I’m a psychopath.

Am I the only person you’ve ever seen w/ dreads? Are you so stuck in your hometown preconceived notions that I just can’t wash my own head? Let me just clear this up for you right now.. I don’t like reggae..
I didn’t catch your stares down the first freezer aisle at the grocery store last week but I heard that there was some nodding, some pointing & some laughing.. Thanks.. you’ve just given me another reason to not want to be like you..
Open your mind, open your mouth, I’ll answer anything you want to know..regardless of how many times I’ve already been asked before… I’d rather educate than segregate your thoughts even more.. but if you choose to keep your mind closed, make sure your mouth follows closely behind..

you see, life is a puzzle, and I’ve always felt like the missing piece… I remember being seventeen and refusing to dream.. I remember lonely nights in basement bedrooms, blue walls echoed what was in my heart at the time… I remember the ultimate Zen disaster, I was then my own master of a melancholic destiny, my weapon of choice, silver sharpness, five times (at least..) & before sleep, hand on stomach, stomach in head, head somewhere so far away..

fast forward:

one of my best friends asked me the other day, “what’s your definition of beauty?” It took me ten whole minutes to come up with the world’s most generic answer.. a decade ago, I blamed society for bending my brain into thinking I was too plain and why can’t I be like all the skinny girls you see on the screen?!  A decade later, I know it’s just me.. it’s my thoughts, sometimes rotting, corroding my soul (they say..) and if I can’t see the beauty in myself, how come I can see it in everyone, and everything else..?! I just programmed my mind to see things that way..

things are slowly changing, I’m re-arranging all the wires, re-booting my hard driven mind..
I owe it to myself to have a tomorrow free of sorrow because life IS a fast lane & won’t wait for me to catch up to that last departing train toward freedom.. I have to get there on my own, leave my home & choose the best path (it’s always the one less travelled though..)

so you might ask why I’ve written this…

I wrote this for you, summer niece or nephew… please know way in advance that beauty is not a reflection in a tv screen, but in your own bathroom, or bedroom mirror… it’s you and you alone.. Bukowski was right.. “your life is your life, know it while you got it..”

I wrote this for you, my little sister… to repay you for never leaving my side when I fell head first into poverty, property has no measure in your heart… never lose your spark..

I wrote this for you mom & dad..  through the highways & the hallways that changed over the years.. during those couple of trips to the medicine cabinet.. I knew I could never leave you guys behind no matter what clouded my mind..

I wrote this for my bestfriends that I have who shine…for Jeremiah, Bee, Sarah, Tonya, and Pam they’re the ones, according to Kerouac “who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..”

Perfect is worthless seen through the eyes of a serpent
A word I'm sure is uncertain, spoken from any one person
I've come to realize earth is a curve of choking emotions
Seventy one percent ocean but see, the fire is the potion
We keep a flame in our hearts just to keep away the commotion
Forsworn and broken, stuck to a preconceived notion
We heat the coldest of parts but we don't foresee the explosion
We've chosen hate over love and we let our minds remain frozen
We're hopeless roamers and loners subject to being torn open
We stumble through the black, hands splayed blindly groping
For some sort of hope although we're lost in the ***** mess
Of pretending to be alive, free and full of alertness
Too often we keep our hearts rib-caged and vested
Let nothing come between our minds and this message
A vestige of optimism found underneath a veil of depression
But being hopeful for a future is a subtle transgression
To the laws of the present where we learn only one lesson
"Sever the bonds between eyesight and connection"
Dissecting human nature and replacing it with technology
Follow me I'll show you our true psychology
We seek a light in a cave but digging used archaeology
We advance not through screens, but 'forward ideology'
We accept a flawed system and in return are plagued harshly
By the 'gods' of the world because 'goods' are placed sparsely
Mark my words, the hand of time is our only true opponent
We believe the hand of 'him' to be the earths advancing component
So we fake smiles and play this game but we don't own it
We just bought it of the market that we created unknowing
Listen because I am showing independence in words
Not trying to preach, I just want you to learn

Our minds are what create our stress, our doubt, our fear, our anxiety, our questions. More times than I can count have I wished for silence within just so I can see & hear clearly without any preconceived notions. I want to live my life through feeling! I don't want logic or "morals" to control my way of living... I want to act based on feelings, not based on what I think or what others think. I want my heart & my emotions to drive this soul of mine. Not many people do, which is why I know certain people were placed in my life. I'm sorry if at times my cluttered mind gets the best of me & creates chaos, but I swear it's only bc this fist of blood that pounds in my chest is begging to take over.

You say you love me
Just not my choice
What I hear is
                     your ignorance
What I hear is
                     I love you,
                                 all of you
                     Except the parts
                                 I do not want to love
                     Except the parts
I refuse to acknowledge because
they do not fit my frame
of reality
        
Do you not see the importance
of this part of me?
I would not choose
         a life of supposed immorality
         contrary to a lifetime
                                             of beliefs
         causing turmoil and
         inflicting pain on
the ones I love
I would not choose
         this confliction of
         body and mind
         residing in a life
         of constant discomfort
And yet
         here I am

I endure the pain
         of you rejecting
                     who I really am
         of judgment cast
                     by churched minds
         of sympathetic looks
                     saying Oh you poor,
                                                         lost soul

You poor, ignorant soul
You are blinded
         by your unblinding truth
Refusing to accept
things that may fall
                                 outside your preconceived box
                                 structured by misinterpreted men
                                 two thousand years ago

You can only see
through the cracks
         of the wooden slats
A view not wide enough                                                                              
to see the disentanglement
sgdexenre
s  d  xer
                     g   en e
of ***
and gender                                                                                   
A view not wide enough
to see that a person
is not determined solely
         by their given body
because bodies are temples
and temples need to be built
Temples need to be whole
         inside and out
Temples need to be refined
         after they are first built
                  Cut out rotting timber
                  Fortify with stronger rock
         and carve on the outside
         a reflection of the beauty
         lying within

Trauma

Blunt force trauma
a blow to my psyche from your hammer of hands who pounded into my mind making me fear your preconceived ideas of my undying faith to your never ever loving thoughts about my, then, innocence. so many times-

Time

How many times did I trust the snake who hung, from the oh sweet forbidden fruit who's aftertaste bit me every time?
Who's deep rooted poison made me a pile of decaying flash, leaving me with a smell that drew all vultures to my feet.

Vultures

Every ******* one swarmed my flesh, biting, marking me with their jagged teeth that covered the tip of every finger, that kept the skin bloodied and bright red for identification.

ID

The ID of the body I see in the mirror, Jane Doe to myself, and target to the man who mangled my soul even more that it's vessel. Who's voice rattled my bones and hands cracked the chest casing under my already blue and pruple skin he kissed with his knuckles just-
Just enough.

Enough

Enough of me he became and the red of my skin was no longer his favorite and I longed for my red to change hue and I checked its tone when I dipped into the rivers beneath my skin and all I did was make myself a prisoner to the body I painted different ****** shades to make him want me.

But my red turned fall and I was no longer a color he could see, but a place he had never been and my characteristics were as mysterious as the reasons I thought I deserved red.

Red

Blunt Force Trauma

You watch too much tv…

I am not what you see.. on

cop dramas…Or

reality shows…or even… at this point...

B E T

I don’t use

“is” in inappropriate places

Nor do I finish sentences with prepositional phrases

Such as “who you is?” or “Where my coat at?”

I don’t do elaborate handshakes

I don’t work my neck

I don’t purse my lips… constantly sneer… or

“go off” at the drop of a hat

I do walk with quiet dignity… and

Shake off your devilish ways with God given grace

I do have a life… a peaceful “unbroken” place to go home to

Hence the serenity that you see on my face

Leaving you nonplussed-

That I have no desire to be you… and

You find yourself… trying to bond by

Putting the word “be”

Where no “be” should be… cuz you’re

Trying too hard to understand me…

And I

Wear this faint professional smile.. though my eyes do not

Which (as an aside) you don’t even see

Use all of my vowels and consonants

Never acknowledge any flirtatious compliments

As I render unto Caesar what Caesar’s should be… and

Escape to my loves…And

read something… or

grow something… or

learn something…

Now that’s the me that I don’t mind if you see… but

You’re not interested in THAT reality… cuz

It would wreck your notions preconceived…

So I've concluded... by your manners… or the lack thereof… that

You obviously just watch too much tv



.

Open your mind to wonder.
Don't close it with belief.
For the spell it puts you under makes it difficult to leave.

The road to self deception, paved with preconceived conception, makes an evolutionary blunder that much harder to believe.

But in the natural ways we suffer and the things we have achieved, I don't think we should be misplaced -- mistaking all things as perceived.

And the self-redeeming peace that lives in uttered pleas for buttered ease -- like praying for forgiveness for the feeling of appease.
Or kneeling-bound to beg facedown for children with a sickness.
(Although prayer doesn't prove to cure disease or wickedness, it seems.)  

So if you ever get a chance to wander and start to see the world with wonder, don't let it slip into neglect.

Nor impose upon another what you chose when you were younger.
Don't abuse your self-respect.

Instead, just seek to be free
and find the wonder in-between.

And in my delirium,
I realized it was probably an old expression from a census,
And that I too have an unborn sibling with consciousness surely floating in the ether of what comes after death.

Maybe I will come to collide with what would have been companionship and instinct,
Or maybe I'll meet with oblivion like the dread on the end of a needle,
Quick and not at all as bad as anticipated.

If sin is what bars me from enchantment,
I challenge the legitimacy of our creation by perfect being...

Have we ever considered that God too has made mistakes
In giving us the capabilities of genocide...

They say we are flawed experiments of an immaculate design, in the shape of a flawless creator,

Ruling every instance of ****** as an act of iconoclasm.

Where do the sins ends?

What voice should I let entertain my thoughts tonight?

I've settled on that of unborn souls never guilty of hatred, preconceived bias, elitism.

Tonight, I lend my ears to the innocent
Who will judge me by my merit alone.

Why don’t you just lay me down, how about  that?                           
Why don’t you just lay me down on this same back that I’m used to lying on when I day dream about  you at 2AM when you’ve long since forgotten our last conversation or the way our laughter sounds.                                                          ­                                                     How about you let me teach you what love really tastes like- like the flavour of my lower lip caught between your teeth. How about that?                                    
How about you let me call out your name in a way that keeps you present with me before you slip into a well intended ecstacy, how about that?                      
How about you allow me the liberty of breaking the confines of who you believe me to be, a good girl -How about you let me show you that  I’m not just good, that I am great.  

How about I destroy your preconceived notions of me , or better yet let me destroy them between sheets that can be perfumed with the scent of your sweat.  
How about this, How about I kiss you in a way that will teach you to crave my flesh and leave you restless, hungry for my touch once more. How about that?                  

How about you learn that a women can be more than flesh and bones,            
That she can be a metaphysical constellation capable of absorbing you entirely,                                                        ­                                                         That nature is called a mother because she birthed a raw infinity of a women which you could be blessed enough to hold in your arms.                            
That drowning can be beautiful because my love will come for you in ceaseless   waves.                                                           ­                                                  That I am a sacred vessel, that my entire body is holy and with each time you lay your hands upon me you will learn to praise a creator so devine that your soul will sing in your ears in the form of your heartbeat. How about that?

How about I teach you what love means with my body because words cannot adequately express the sentiment that I feel towards you.

How about that?

That’s what I wanted to say.

Instead I said “Yeah sure, I don’t mind” and watched as you walked over to her, kissing her in a way that caused me to choke back tears, cough in a crowded room and pretend that the ***** was to blame and not you.

Our first date, you stepped outside
The fortune cookie slipped
And cracked on the concrete,
The start of what it had foreseen:
"Your one joy
Shattered into hundreds of sorrows"
The start of empty wishes and bleak tomorrows.

But you & me
Could be so much more than what a cookie sees.

So let's slip ever so gracefully
Into the other's bruised but open arms,

Let's let our dreams rise above
Preconceived notions of love
Let's let our minds forget
The ghosts before we met
Let's trek our own new lands
Nothing's binding our plans
For everything's written in the sand.

We both have different broken bits;
You've got a past you'd rather forget
I've got one I fear to relive.

Even still,
I remember the day
Your eyes shined
As the sun dipped below the sky
I waited for your smile to greet mine.
I thought of your blue-green eyes
In contrast with that stark winter night;
Only today that charming gaze
Kissed me in the March rain.

As you pull away from my driveway
And the distance holds persistence,
I can feel your warm hands
Pressed gently on my cheek,
I can hear your chuckles
As you tickle my feet,
I can see your dimpled grin
From the movie Theatre seat.

I think we're slipping ever so gracefully
Into the others bruised but open arms,
Letting our dreams rise above
Preconceived notions of love
Letting our minds forget
The ghosts before we met
Trekking our own new lands
With the time built in our hands
For everything's written in the sand.

I am nerdy, weird, and absolutely absurd
With every letter, every symbol, every word
My methods play on my youthful exuberance
So when you see me all goofy and in a trance
Give me a moment to show you how I dance
With my legs, my lips, and my hands I prance
Expressing subtle symbolism with every chance
If you perceive with open eyes, an opened mind
Then you too can leave this paradigm behind
So fly with me, into tomorrow I'll take you to a place
Where fantasy transcends the material right before your face
These preconceived notions of what it means to be
A human in this beautiful world meant to be set free
I stand at the gates to this wonderfully vibrant land
So release your fears to the Father, take an angel's hand
Release the treasure held within your pineal gland
So you too may see the mathematical structure
Of this holographic existence so you may be sure
That all that is material will eventually be torn asunder
To give way to an existence enveloped in loving divinity
Filling your being with noetic lightning; Gnostic thunder
Becoming one with the Godhead in perfect synergy

to the one who knows or examines his existence
explain the relativity of time and distance
from the instance of creation;
the expansion of self
to the bold bearing of a life lived well.
now picture the presence of a proclaimed faith
through the face of a Galilean reference frame
but refrain from the mention of preconceived notions
which pertain to gnomon-wise motion.

© Matthew Harlovic

Only poets read poetry
Only liberals watch msnbc
Only conservatives watch fox
Everybody is entrenched
In their own sound proof bubbles
A perpetual echo chamber
Where lies are repeated
Until they turn into truths
There are no debates only battles
One preconceived notion
Forever pitted against
Another preconceived notion
It is the duty of poets to humanize
To use our pens as swords
To burst our bubbles
To show that we are all humans
But only poets read poetry

I think we could use
A little more grace
And mercy these days
We are justice driven
Wanting justice for this
And wanting justice for that
We persecute and judge
We don't stop to think
About the person
We are persecuting
We get so fixated
On punishing people
For their actions
Instead of looking
At the real person
We stop seeing
The humanity
Behind the person
Driven by our biases
And our preconceived ideas
About who that person is
We need to step away
From this type of thinking
And start to see the person
Seeing the person in the street
Who doesn't have a home
Looking into the eyes of a stranger
And understanding where they are coming from
Feeling that hurt and pain in your heart at knowing
That your fellow man is hurting and suffering instead
Of turning a blind eye to the injustices that are going on
Day by day because if you continue to show apathy and judge
Your fellow man you are forgetting god's greatest commandment
Love thy neighbor as you would love yourself and treat them accordingly

Perhaps we have no control
of our destinies
that all our choices
are preconceived
and if we are to
make the wrong
indecisions
they all lead to
similar conclusions
and choice is merely
a delusion