"undergo" poems
Perfection
The subjection of one’s interjections
Based on the world
The world of today
Can you change what you think
What others have to say
Were interconnected but not in connection
With a convection of perfection that inhibits rejection
Or constant correction of certain parts or sections
That people fail to mention for their own protection
Believing a misconception to gain desired affection
Wasting their discretion for a false obsession
Thoughts of concession and encouraging suppression
This is just one dissection of perfection
It is but one path, one direction
But this should lead to many other questions
What about succession from the term perfection?
Is it needed to drive people to higher ascension?
Maybe one day society can undergo a social resurrection
Where creed, religion, race, freedom are not held in contention
No more crimes, no need for detention
Everyone is happy, no more thoughts of depression
Everyone can be comfortable with their own reflection
Hopefully this dissection can leave a lasting impression
And drive home the need for a universal intervention
To stop and think what it means strive for perfection
For you may have it wrong upon further inspection
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
Radness
The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more.
How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws
Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another.
The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole.
The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave.
Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry.
Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
I find myself changing as nature does- recklessly and suddenly without notice, and nature is what I come back to in order to heal.
Fires are often looked at as destructive forces,
And they surely can be, but they can also
Rejuvenate. Contrary to popular belief, fires most
Often leave a beautiful aftermath. Some examples
Being that certain plant seeds only germinate after
A fire, new growth is accessible to animals for food,
minerals are returned to the soil, and
Although many animals are stripped of their
Homes- this vacancy creates suitable areas for
New species to settle. Similar to how a fire
Cleanses the land it nearly destroys, a traumatic life
Experience allows an individual to undergo a necessary
Amount of growth and change. Whether what we take
From a situation leaves us aching or allows us to reflect,
We will always unknowingly benefit from the pain. I do
My best to keep this at the forefront of my memory when
Reminded of the baggage I carry. My healing will continue. and I will make a promise to myself that for every new fire that disseminates through/over my life, I will make amends with it
And allow for it to change me in the best way possible.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 7:55 AM UTC
In a world with human rights
human trafficking victims have none
if they try to scream, if they try to fight back
they’ll be so lucky if they’re not shot by a gun
Depression, a best friend of theirs
mental and emotional health consequences
often visits them
but who cares?
Just an ordinary girl or an ordinary boy
who had undergo a serious trauma
feeling hopeless, coldheartedness and loveless
even from their Mama
Memory loss, anger
isolation
they also feel shame, fear
And feel like a new person
Cause the person they once were
they aren’t no more
due to the given circumstances
they had to explore
Stolen, beaten, *****
enduring the unspeakable
leaving them with psychological effects
and other effects that are unthinkable
Praying, wishing, hoping
for someone to come to rescue them
but even the ones that try to help
seems they are not a friend
Consumed with hatred
a fire the never seems to go warm
human trafficking victims
might easily self harm
In a world where we have rights
unfortunately the victims of human trafficking have none
We just have to pray for their health
and freedom!
Mar 5, 2021
Mar 5, 2021 at 10:46 PM UTC
Sing a song of Tajmahal
a fine nazm or a ghazal
Of this landmark for lovers
Ah, a lover's edifice
Complete with medieval bowers
It's a Mecca for tourists!
Tis sensational, tis exceptional
tis truly a touristy place.
Watch the shimmer of its magnificent marbled dome
Moonlight or sunlight, it glimmers of imperial chrome
It's ironical then
that though Indian-Arabian I am
I haven't yet been to this touristy place
It is truly as they must say, a lover's shrine
a place where hearts duly incline
They find it steamy
I find it dreamy
Oh, I've got to see for myself this touristy place.
Each of the marbled minarets
conceal such romantic secrets
for lovers to silently explore
to admire and to adore
A place human lovebirds couldn't ignore.
Ah you've got to visit this touristy place!
Two famed lovers lie in the legendary vault below
and the stream too it has a romantic flow
It's a lovers haven and paradise on earth
Even dead passions there undergo a rebirth
Ah, rekindle my love for you in this touristy place!
Extol I may this awesome imposing edifice
A greed for pure love is perhaps better than avarice
Löng live the legend of Shah jahan and Mumtaz mahal
Long live love and love like a Moghul
so forever we have this monumental grace!
Yeah take me my luv to this touristy place!
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 2:11 AM UTC
I watched my neighborhood park
undergo a transformation
on a warm autumn morning
that carried the smell of dew and maple
the sun peeked through the trees
reflecting off the yellows reds and oranges
illuminating them
till you could swear they had caught fire
crisp air threw amber leaves skyward
raining down like golden confetti
to be collected for jumping into
by the laughing children
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 8:36 AM UTC
Chocolate is great
It's really neat
But, to be the color, it's bittersweet
This is the experience of a lifetime that Hersheys must undergo
To read, to be told, to hear
That it's almost good enough
Almost pretty enough, almost smart enough
Too reserved and mannered to be this and that
Tears down almost all confidence that Hershey has
It takes away it's natural state
Like a Hershey left in the heat
It takes a while for that Hershey to find beauty again within itself, to find a true acceptance to who it really is, and the discover it's identity
To understand that it won't always make ends meet
But that Hershey will overcome this phase
That made it's life a living maze
The Hershey will wake up
Look in the mirror and see they are somebody
with a cocked up head
will forget what everyone said
and the microaggression that became so macro will soon be irrelevant
That Hershey will see it's real identity to see a girl named Aliah
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 5:12 AM UTC
*Superimposing marks
On red, swollen lips
Bit and bled from chattering teeth
That tolls nervous as a cuckoo clock chirps.
A bumpy road with
Spidered cracks
Like a well dried jerky strip
Wrinkled, and tough.
Bit and chewed
With no bones underneath
And no guts to go forward.
Warning skies
Of red in the morning.
And thunderstorming nights
That flash with lighting so intense
You'd think an old-age photo party was commenced way up high.
And rain so furious
You'd think the clouds were tearing themselves to pieces.*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As a cloud,
I think I should add
That we aren't all fluffy and white
Nor scary and dark.
Our seasons do not come easily
For we undergo much
To make it "rain."
And even more to keep it calm.
Thunder is not a weathering crash,
It is yelling from another room.
And the lightning flash,
rage,
That leads to liquid pain.
The hard pressed wind that tosses your hair
Are witheld screams
until tolerance level reaches maximum,
And snaps. Like that old willow's trunk,
Wrenched from the earth,
Because the sky is powerful
And we are only along for the ride.
But, there is sunshine that warms our tops
While the bottoms are in shadow,
wrought in darkness that writhe along uneven surfaces.
But, there is moonlight that makes us gleam,
Like silver was sewn into sides.
But she is not always there,
And as her light fades
So
Do
We.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
If I get Cancer
and undergo Chemotherapy
and begin to lose my hair,
I'm certainly getting
a badass scalp tattoo.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 4:14 AM UTC
Louder than Monsters
By: Calla Fuqua
I can’t unhear your ignorance, I can’t unsee your belligerence,
The potential difference you swore you’d make, and the carnivorous path
You chose to take.
You are louder than monsters.
Heaven must scare you and your desire to dissipate,
Your chance to incriminate, the problems you exacerbate,
I can’t articulate your need to intoxicate.
Your laughter is louder than monsters.
You fabricat your pity you pretend to give, as you wait for me to forgive,
That night I have to relive when I dream, of our short lived view of how happiness seemed.
Back then how could I have known that you were louder than monsters.
Your grip on me becomes tighter, the more your desire for me expires,
The more you secretly become a liar, and the more I ask myself why her?
Her voicemails are louder than monsters.
I end up on the floor, after you hit me and you swore,
You don’t say I love you anymore, the way you used to before,
And now I’m just your little ***** you pretend to love as if it’s a chore.
Your silence is louder than monsters.
I pray for you and the guilt you must feel, screaming out our window,
frantic to appeal, for the pain you caused solely so you could heal.
Your lies are louder than monsters.
You laugh when I say no, giving me a messed up world you pretend to know,
Now it’s my turn to outgrow you and your plateau, the one you promised
To let go. While I undergo the pain you overflow.
My screams are louder than monsters.
I still tell myself you love me after you throw your fists, holding tight to my wrists,
As I keep allowing the crimes you commit, to become imprints from the pain you inflict.
This pain is louder than monsters.
Now, nobody seems sincere, every scar is like a souvenir, You leave me speechless, when you sip your beer, like you didn’t just make my whole world disappear,
You say you are not louder than monsters.
All I can do now is reminisce, look back on moments like our first kiss,
Before you led me into this abyss, before I was unable to dismiss the thought,
“What kind of monster does this?”
Someone who doesn’t know he is louder than monsters.
I dream about the day I can throw out your ashtray, The day
I can cast away you whole, no more arms to control my body’s soul,
A day where I no longer have to be your wife,
A day where I can play a character in my own life.
A day where love is louder than monsters
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 2:01 PM UTC
Started off in the [clouds]
and after falling and crashing down,
touched the roots of a redwood.
Now with the help of giraffes
I scale it's back as I'm looking
to climb my way up the trunk.
Branch after branch,
contact causing
**** hoping no one
stops my conquest
and burns this tree to ash.
Talking to fauna,
birds chirp, to attempt
continuing this saga,
after she left I reduced to
nothing but a larva, as I now
undergo the metamorphosis,
similar to that of Kafka's.
Trauma induces this
determination, of being reunited
in clouds with her creation,
and if up there nothing for me
is waiting, then abort mission,
swing towards a new notion,
and from the the clouds
I'm perched upon, jump
and plummet into the [ocean].
25 hours pass before
the tip of the tree is reached
and as the sun rises, I realize
I'm above the horizon and
on clouds perched I instantly
recognize the eyes hidden
under eyelids.
Finally we've met again,
tragic ending as I reach for
her to grab my hand.
Unstably standing on this branch
and as she hands me hers, she
retreats and pulls back.
Slipping, she let me fall
and midair I hear my heart
crack, falling thousands of feet,
I'm thinking of the love she couldn't
keep, and before the impact a thought passes my head; so honest.
Humans like myself, too ambitious in their conquest,
meant to stay at trunk of trees, and clouds, strictly homes for a goddess.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
XXXVII
Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,
Of all that strong divineness which I know
For thine and thee, an image only so
Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.
It is that distant years which did not take
Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake
Thy purity of likeness and distort
Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit:
As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port,
His guardian sea-god to commemorate,
Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort
And vibrant tail, within the temple-gate.
2.7k
To prolong such an absence of vexatious jove
Denying the will of instinct to arouse elation
Self-inflicted desolation in which we all strove
To create an empty shell like a fronted castration
All the while being comforted by a depressing superiority
As the uniqueness of our struggle blends in with conformity
Yearning for our relations to meet with a tragic end
Anticipating the consequence of a self-appointed woe
Glorifying our character as we passionately pretend
To endure an exclusive emotion that we all undergo
This proclamation of individuality through insipid gloom
Conveys nothing but the relative depiction of what I assume
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
To Matthieu, my ex French boyfriend
I'm smoking my last
In an empty room
I will watch the past
Seal and shake my doom.
I'm breathing my last
As I crawl under
Under the thunder
Welcoming the blast,
I shall undergo
In an empty room.
And deeper I go
Deeper in the gloom
I'm looking around
Trudging on the ground
I have come to nuke
To repel and puke,
This mild monochrome
Displaying your smile
I will hate your isle
From Sparta to Rome
To grab your image
Your ****** leverage
Going far further
Than before earlier
The road down below
Is dangerous, I fell
Is painful and slow
The road out of hell
Will be bright and pure.
I did **** and mure
Your mild monochrome
And now to my home,
I shall soon return
Far from you lost love
Yes, is gone the dove
Your paper will burn
Ashes, melting fast
Burning monochrome
Blasted monochrome
I'm smoking my last
July 19, 2013
Chambéry, France
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
Those who see my tattoos think they're abuse
But their views are skewed
My tattoos are my selection of bruises
Chosen by me for me
I am amused that my skin art is met with disdain
After all you didn't undergo the pain
You peruse my tattoos, but don't see the wearer of the ink
Would it surprise you ( if you bothered to ask)
That I hold a degree, am multilingual, and hold a responsible job
No, because you'll never ask
You'll avoid me
Your loss, my tattoos are suffused with a story
A story 40 years in the making.
All of us that are marked with ink are transfused and transformed
We are unique, we are inked.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
*
My BELOVEDz
Wherever YOU are - Remember
Whatever YOU do - Remember
My prayers will guide your spirits
My blessings will sail YOU through
OUR LOVE-SOUL-CONNECT will protect YOU
Whenever you feel sad
I will take away your sadness
Whenever you will cry
My LOVE words will stop your tears flow
Whatever, whichever path you take
My LOVE will shower flowers on your path
If you long for me anytime
I will adorn myself with your longing
Even if I am not physically with YOU
Remember, I carry your SOUL within me
To live within YOUR every cells
I will sail you through every breathe of LIFE
Just look inward - within YOUR SOUL
And you will find me smiling in your heart
LOVING YOU like no one else LOVES YOU
If world separates me from YOU
Never feel sad and mourn on me
Do not let tears moisten your eyes
Always remember
My ETERNAL AGAPE LOVE for YOU
The sad eyes of my SOUL LOVE longing
Is present in your sadness & your pain
Feel the sacrifices and unbearable pain
I undergo every moment for YOUR LOVE
My LOVE has given you infinite LOVE
In all & every moment
In all and every births -
Past, present and future
My BELOVEDz
Wherever YOU are - Remember
Whatever YOU do - Remember
My prayers will guide your spirits
My blessings will sail YOU through
My LOVE-SOUL-CONNECT will protect YOU
*
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run,
A mist retreating from the morning sun,
A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream.
Its length? A minute’s pause, a moment’s thought.
And Happiness? A bubble on the stream,
That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought.
And what is Hope? The puffing gale of morn,
That of its charms divests the dewy lawn,
And robs each flow’ret of its gem—and dies;
A cobweb, hiding disappointment’s thorn,
Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise.
And what is Death? Is still the cause unfound?
That dark mysterious name of horrid sound?
A long and lingering sleep the weary crave.
And Peace? Where can its happiness abound?
Nowhere at all, save heaven and the grave.
Then what is Life? When stripped of its disguise,
A thing to be desired it cannot be;
Since everything that meets our foolish eyes
Gives proof sufficient of its vanity.
’Tis but a trial all must undergo,
To teach unthankful mortals how to prize
That happiness vain man’s denied to know,
Until he’s called to claim it in the skies.
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See, the smile on the stone face
of the mountain, once so cold, stoic
it drives home the meaning of change
brought about by erosion of ages past,
molten paste slowly sediments,
decides to be various kind of rocks
on it's path being metamorphic
is just one of it's pranks,
volcanoes in ******** frenzy erupt,
display the pyrotechnics of creation
in it's ****** urge a deep sea stream
breaks tectonic plates,makes new continents
mountains that hold their heads high,
are brought down by landslides, floods
avalanches or sudden cloudbursts
stars script secret messages across galaxies
the meanings will never be deciphered
in spite of the astonishing research
astrophysics can put together and
the thirst for knowledge of mankind
Beauty, my muse, lovely concert I adore,
I see you in animals, birds and fish
that undergo mutation and become different,
ocean currents, seasons,shower of stardust,
most of all in music, that activates the hidden signals,
that come beyond birth and death,embedded within oneself
Can you cite one reason for writing biography
of any one, whoever it may be, in this planet?
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
A bogus nation.
That's known to throw the faces,
that they don't like
inside the lowest places.
Prisons and graves overflowed with
wasted,
potential.
Mental forces undergo no changes.
If we don't like it,
then we fight with rage.
In exchange for our freedom
we might die today.
The sun always comes out on a brighter day.
Ignited is the spark that inspires flames.
The fire is alive and your minds ablaze.
It’s hard to feel alive,
when your life is caged
Released and unleashed this is my domain.
My disdain for you is unkind but hey,
we’re living on a globe where hope became,
worse than smoking dope
or slanging cane.
But thats the way she goes,
nope I won't complain.
But I can **** the giant
and overthrow the slain.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
041921
Gusto ko nang gumaling —
Paulit-ulit kong sinasabi sa utak ko
Paulit-ulit kong panalangin.
Pero naisip ko rin,
Kaya ko bang gumaling nang walang gamot?
Sa paghihintay kong hindi nakapila,
Sa paghihintay ko sa oras kong itinakda —
Sa oras ko nang pagsalang..
Gusto ko naman sanang
“Magaling na ako
Bago ako mag-undergo ng test.”
Naisip ko, sa ganitong estado pala’y
Gaya pala ito ng paghihintay
Sa pagbabalik ni Hesus..
Na ang nais ko lamang
Ay matagpuan Nya akong “magaling na”
Sa anumang sakit at sumpang dumapo sa akin.
Sa bawat pagsikat ng araw
At sa bawat pagsipat ko sa bagong buhay,
Ang tanging lunas pa rin
Ay ang presensya Nya..
Walang ibang kasagutan
Sa paghilom ng aking pagkatao
Kundi Sya’t Sya pa rin naman talaga.
Hindi ko naman pwedeng madalian
Ang oras ko tapos hindi pala ako handa
Hindi pala ako naghahanda
Sa pagbabalik Nya.
Yung wala pala akong ginagawa
Habang naghihintay ako sa pagdating Nya.
Isinasariwa ko kung ano ba dapat
Ang laman ng puso ko.
Dapat kasi hindi ako maligaw ng landas
Lahat kasi ng “dapat” maggawa ko..
Pero hindi eh..
Gusto lang ng Panginoon
Na maging totoo ako sa sarili ko,
Maging totoo ako sa Kanya..
Hindi ko kailangang itago
Yung mga kamalian ko sa buhay,
Walang pagpapanggap.
Apr 30, 2021
Apr 30, 2021 at 9:55 PM UTC
Lord God that dost me save and keep,
All day to thee I cry;
And all night long, before thee weep
Before thee prostrate lie.
Into thy presence let my praier
With sighs devout ascend
And to my cries, that ceaseless are,
Thine ear with favour bend.
For cloy’d with woes and trouble store
Surcharg’d my Soul doth lie,
My life at death’s uncherful dore
Unto the grave draws nigh.
Reck’n'd I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit
I am a *man, but weak alas * Heb. A man without manly
And for that name unfit. strength.
From life discharg’d and parted quite
Among the dead to sleep
And like the slain in ****** fight
That in the grave lie deep.
Whom thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard,
Them from thy hand deliver’d o’re
Deaths hideous house hath barr’d.
Thou in the lowest pit profound’
Hast set me all forlorn,
Where thickest darkness hovers round,
In horrid deeps to mourn.
Thy wrath from which no shelter saves
Full sore doth press on me;
*Thou break’st upon me all thy waves, *The Heb.
*And all thy waves break me bears both.
Thou dost my friends from me estrange,
And mak’st me odious,
Me to them odious, for they change,
And I here pent up thus.
Through sorrow, and affliction great
Mine eye grows dim and dead,
Lord all the day I thee entreat,
My hands to thee I spread.
Wilt thou do wonders on the dead,
Shall the deceas’d arise
And praise thee from their loathsom bed
With pale and hollow eyes ?
Shall they thy loving kindness tell
On whom the grave hath hold,
Or they who in perdition dwell
Thy faithfulness unfold?
In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known,
Thy justice in the gloomy land
Of dark oblivion?
But I to thee O Lord do cry
E’re yet my life be spent,
And up to thee my praier doth hie
Each morn, and thee prevent.
Why wilt thou Lord my soul forsake,
And hide thy face from me,
That am already bruis’d, and *shake *Heb. Prae Concussione.
With terror sent from thee;
Bruz’d, and afflicted and so low
As ready to expire,
While I thy terrors undergo
Astonish’d with thine ire.
Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow
Thy threatnings cut me through.
All day they round about me go,
Like waves they me persue.
Lover and friend thou hast remov’d
And sever’d from me far.
They fly me now whom I have lov’d,
And as in darkness are.
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first musical memory
playing Mary Poppins
over and over on my portable suitcase
phonograph
not convinced that
a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down
went over to my friends house
to play Barbies
heard B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets
on her record player
began my life long
love of rock music
grew up attending a Southern Baptist church
if my faith continues to evolve in and out of specific creeds and dogmatic beliefs
right arm will never fail to involuntarily rise
towards the Heavens
whenever i hear
How Great Thou Art being sung
parents were in their late 30's
by the time i was born
was exposed to big band music
show tunes
mom's favorite
French operatic singer Edith Piaf
Riverview Elementary
in music class
taught how to do The Hustle and The Bus Stop
to disco records
got to bring in
on Fridays
love of guys with
long hair
blame
on the big hair
bands
the 80's
the 90's
such a kinship to the dark depressing sounds of grunge
believed Scott Weiland
Kurt Cobain and
Jerry Cantrell
plagiarized my thoughts
mad or need to clean
my house
the 2 often go
hand in hand
heavy/nu metal blaring
at maximum volume
Currently
am at a crossroads
need of direction
helps me to undergo the deep soul searching
inecessary
major life changes are required
give myself vehicular therapy,
driving around Wilson Lake
symphonic classical sounds from the radio
surprisingly
maybe not
blaring
maximum
volume
brainstorming
my options
to the
music
overheard
ppl say
they wished that
their life
came with
a soundtrack
Mine does.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
*
*******
*LOVERZ whole world collapsed
Into a small GOLDEN speckle dust of BELOVEDz*
********
My fall in the BLACK HOLE OF YOUR LOVE
Gave you Golden wings in flight to rise
YOU rose from within LOVE's UNION
To create the milky way of our galaxy
The fusion nuclear energy with
The Golden speckle of LOVE dust
The world illuminated and
Every human heart enlightened
By your sun-shine silver rays of
The Golden speckle dust of LOVE
All the milky ways in many galaxies
Are witness to your LOVE energy
Dazed, surrendering to YOU in AWE
Time withers under LOVE
Pendulum stands still....
Colliding of two energies
The crash become a necessity
For creating the new world of LOVE
****** within that black-hole
We Fall in LOVE
LOVE - a process of revelation
Through pain, frustration, suffering
Longing, grief and agony are necessary
For the molten to undergo the fire
To brighten and purify the into
The Golden speckle of LOVE dust
Now the same Gold dust flies & floats
Around all of us
To spread the message of LOVE
To FREE us from life's delusions
To fix the broken hearts
To heal the wounds and despairs
To form new connections
Between stranger seeking LOVE
The Golden speckle of LOVE dust
Lives in a ZERO gravity world
Without prisons of morals/ ethics
Traditions, scriptures, laws & religions
Thus enabling its own vectors of
Drivers of LOVE - push and pulls
To save the dying humanity
By experiencing and realizing
Inert lessons on core SOUL LOVE
There are billion faces
But just two blink and click
The LOVERZ AND BELOVEDZ
They unite amidst the barriers of
Walls, castles, and fake masks
The world builds to imprison them
That UNION of LOVE -
The meeting of
The LOVERz and BELOVEDz
will produce a fresh Fusion
A NEW BLACK HOLE OF LOVE
To create another
GOLDEN SPECKLE OF LOVE DUST
To fly & float around
In search of
PURE, True, Innocent
LOVERZ AND BELOVEDZ
That's how
The Golden Speckle of Dust
Keeps on creating LOVE around us
Through its SOUL's illumination
*
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
We are the lost generation
One would say we strayed
If there was a path to stray from
To be lost, to not know one's whereabouts is tough
When one doesn't know themselves.
A gap year will solve that problem
Or two
Or eight
Perhaps a gap life might be more appropriate
More appropriate than 3 years of falsities we label as education
Three years of losing oneself
-the self one never owned-
For instant gratification, excessive debauchery
Live now, pay later
In full, with interest
They never warn you of the interest
At some point undergo transformation,
Don't so much follow as pursue your passion as a detective seeks his criminal
Craft your philosophy and prepare for war where
Freedom fighters clash with crashes of the sharpest steel
Shame really,
To be fighting when one does not know what they are fighting for
The world burns and we feed the fire without thinking
The lights are on
Yet we are shrouded in darkness
Cast over by the shadows of our possessions
Acquired as one collects stamps or stones
Stones more like, for they will be too heavy to take with us
As will the paper our degrees are published on
As will the words I scribble furiously, daily
All because my work is by extension, me,
And so with it comes purpose
A bumpy, undefined path for me to trek on
For me to struggle and strive for an invisible finish line
Sans friends and family
Without anyone to shield me from my own monstrous thoughts
Is it fear or control which prevents me from action?
Perhaps a more suitable question for those who do
Take action
Seeing evil, hearing evil, contributing to it
Ignoring it
Ignoring the little boys and girls plucked from their homes
Or forced into silence by the ones they trust
Or watching countries storm their neighbours for no reason
Or even the most ordinary,
Where families are ripped apart and vows are broken
Where we cut and chop and mutilate our flesh to become someone's doppelganger
Where heart, honour and respect mean nothing.
Don't tell me money started this
When evil existed before money
Long before we didn't know who we were
Are.
We are the lost generation
And though I don't know how to be found
Maybe the solution
Is to find each other.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC