Do you know yourself? Between the love and the hate, do you know your strength between the stress and the calm? Do you know your limits between the vice and the abundance? Do you know the purity of your soul and what makes it glow? To know is one thing but to actually understand yourself as a soul, to fully acknowledge your conscience, is the goal. Do you even want to exploit such depth of feelings or do you just ride the wave, obliviously? Running with time and playing with the space that's given to you as it were free, life comes with a price called death. Hoping that the gold you've been so neglectively avoiding, would just turn up, without struggle and ambition, like undriven rewards. Do we learn or do we teach? Can you actually tell one feeling from the other, learning each one to its perfection or do you try and teach what you think we should feel, as opposed to knowing how you should feel? You can't teach feeling. Are we really lost in this suffocating society, slowly losing who we are with what we create. I cant help but think that we're so unaware of our greatness and history until it becomes just that, legend and myth. Why must life be such ways? Why do we fly blind on the horse of time? If we only understood the changes we set in motion, if we only knew our greatness, then to be honest with you we wouldnt make much a change. For we would know the out come, therefore contradicting our very actions. To not know is the very greatness of our own existence. To not know of our self greatness but with learning and experience, and patience to do so, well find out that the pieces that are missing, can be found just as easy as knowing from the begin with. Dont only learn from others, learn who you are also, dont only teach others teach who you are also. Using selflessness and patience. Through justice we will compulse into new beginnings and tranquillity will endure through to your very soul balancing all within, only then will we see true progression in oneself and also others. Because energy is connected, and forever bounded with faith.

fall down in new town
and break down while unbound
laughing while melting
and smiling making no sound
finding things hidden
and riding things unridden
while taken long lost unbidden
but leftovers are long given
from raiders undriven
and nonlooking foes unsmitten
burning the smithies
with weeds so pity
the trade and grade
of long lost givings
and unlearnt ideas
melting down in the smithing
because clothes so ripping
cause morality dipping
and effort slipping
and real gifts ungifting

a constant stress,
depressed.

a inapt feeling,
unhealing.

a unchangable mind,
unkind.

a warped vision,
undriven.

a dampened state,
irate.

a longing for more,
sore.

a wanting to change.

Do you know yourself? Between the love and the hate, do you know your strength between the stress and the calm? Do you know your limits between the vice and the abundance? Do you know the purity of your soul and what makes it glow? To know is one thing but to actually understand yourself as a soul, to fully acknowledge your conscience, is the goal. Do you even want to exploit such depth of feelings or do you just ride the wave, obliviously? Running with time and playing with the space that's given to you as it were free, life comes with a price called death. Hoping that the gold you've been so neglectively avoiding, would just turn up, without struggle and ambition, like undriven rewards. Do we learn or do we teach? Can you actually tell one feeling from the other, learning each one to its perfection or do you try and teach what you think we should feel, as opposed to knowing how you should feel? Or are we really lost in this suffocating society, slowly losing who we are with what we create. I cant help but think that we're so unaware of our greatness and history until it becomes just that, legend and myth. Why must life be such ways? Why do we fly blind on the horse of time? If we only understood the changes we set in motion, if we only knew our greatness, then to be honest with you we wouldnt make much a change. For we would know the out come, therefore contradicting our very actions. To not know is the very greatness of our own existence. To not know of our self greatness but with learning and experience, and patience to do so, well find out that the pieces that are missing, can be found just as easy as knowing from the begin with. Dont only learn from others, learn who you are also, dont only teach others teach who you are also. Using selflessness and patience. Through justice we will compulse into new beginnings and tranquillity will endure through to your very soul balancing all within, only then will we see true progression in oneself and also others. Because energy is connected, and forever bounded with faith.

Break your face on the reflection,
make no mistake there in lies perfection

Waste all that precious time of yours,
trying to get your act more together than hers.

I've seen you, making your self up.
Does it feel futile yet have you had enough.

You walk down the street with an aura of self consciousness.
Tell every one you meet, how hard you really tried for this..

I've watched you blame,
a temper uncontrolled.
I've seen you shamed,
man doesn't it get old.

Do you ever stop to think about what you are trying to be....
And if you ever did can you say you tried  sincerely.

Break your heart in the glass.
You can't be fake, it never lasts.  
Problems are easily hidden,
but you'll find yourself totally undriven.
I can see who you want to be,
but clearly you can't see.

YOur so bogged down
with all that plaster,
your so trapped in
life is your master.

White and undriven — the billowing drifts
the spring it buries does not yet know
the beauty it carries beneath the snow
to shine upon the world — to merely exist.

To be such a flower, nature's delicate gift.
I relish their smile and call out to them so
but is it macabre to smile when their petals blow?
To look upon their death with the same rose-tints?

What would I give for such simple design:
to reach to the heavens and flower just once
and then to pass after my first occurrence,
to not weather the woes of repetition and time.

Or the rose-tint is as good on theirs as on mine,
maybe I, too, will have a charming last pulse —
like a falling of petals, like a crescendo and crux
and all at once, like leaves it will fall, all my malign.

I am wearing heavy feathers
with the gaze of the day lit to my backside.
A rotisserie routine,
hot with punishment and prayer.
Prayer for punishment,
punishment for prayer.

Answers from a sky beaded in blue birds,
upon gods supposed pretty blue fabric.
Crowned crows and drowned geese barking their bird songs.
Like god’s dog, a dog’s god.
Feedback fed back to my waterproof back.
Backed by waterproofed ears.
No water, no proof.
Not even of the air.

Myself, essential as an appendix,
wise as a wisdom tooth.
A modern sticky taste of evolutionary distaste.
An undriven itch paraded down a forked road.
Forked, ******;
spooned and knifed.
I ask silver why,
silver when?
All it knows is where,
the non knowing of a mouth.

Only a stabbed spoonfed reflection,
down a downed throat.
Only, gagged.
Only, only, only.
One and only, twice and only, third and only.

Words like a modern car,
broken as modern routine,
breaking like the century,
braking on my tired back.
Treaded wrong,
treaded right in the in between spot.
Stubborn and beige as the day.
Shining with sheen of a hydrophobe,
a homophone,
a synonym.
Silver seal skin,
sealed in,
sealed out.

Worn all worn over unmatched elbows dripping dropped drops.
Pointed pens drawing the ink down from my cupped jaw.
Southern drawn tears
written on a northern face.
Tearing torn words on the papered table,
cornered into torn corners,
soiling the bread on the table.

The bacon,
this belly fat.
Migrations rations.
A seasoning.
Sprinting, flying flavors
chased to the next season.

Only less of a lesson when schools out, only schools never leave school.
Schools make students,
and fish,
and pheasants,
and flies,
and men.
This ancient ill-working work.
Same working sons under the same working sun.
Always an agent,
always a pharaoh.
Concealing the pyramids,
stealing cerulean.

Never claimed,
never claimed to claim.
But claimed clams
and bitten birds,
spun on a spit and spat on;
We all are
all we are.