Thursday, May 11, 2017

The Attraction

A shadow in the distant horizon comes towards me and I squint to observe.
An orb tinted from the outside world with shaded colors of brilliance.
As this orb gets near I see shapes take form as my eyes adjust to the beauty contained within.
An inner orb of light emerges as the tint fades away
And I peer into the light.
A center orb emits a bright yellow white light that surrounds everything with in until it meets its canopy of shade.
Illuminating all as it touches lives and hearts.
From the center orb are two spiral cones of purple, green, and blue twisting to a single point on either side of the orb vertically.
A thin knowledge of soft gold separates each color like a division of time is softened by memories.
I am lost staring into this awefull beauty that captivates my mind and soul.
Images from the past and future make their quantum leaps from one side of my brain to the other.
Tingles of joy strike my fingertips and toes as I try to comprehend the sight standing before me then I go blind and see her smiling.

Friday, May 05, 2017

The predicament

Raised in a world that knows no boundaries
A world that knows no hate and no love at the same time.
Confounded and constrained, consumed and inflamed.
I adopt an idea, a reason, a belief.

Do no harm
and no harm shall come of thee

I practice it in my actions and my words yet I stumble upon a grey area.
An area that temps logic with heart, love.
Love for all and love for the unnamed, the hidden, the unknown.
A riddle constructed from a rubics cube.

Do no harm
and no harm shall come of thee

They would label it as complex or confusing.
An unexplainable feeling and thought to which the only confusing path is whether or not to take it.
An uncertain certainty, a simply complex concept.
A fearless fear.

Do no harm
and no harm shall come of thee

To resist speaking ones heart and mind for the sake of another
Is to save and protect all others
To be lost in ones mind locking away thoughts and emotions
Is to build your own sanitarium and keep the outside world from such honesty

Do no harm
and no harm shall come of thee

What is honesty anyway.
Who must believe it in order for it to be honest?
Lies frozen in ice thawed in time
For none such spoken shall be revealed 

Do no harm
And vengeful pain shall come of thee


The Unconscious Faith

I can make you weep and I can make you take a leap
I can make you love and I can make you hate
I will make you believe and I made you fear
I am what you read, I am what you need.

You’ve read my pages in vein and still you lost your soul
My words misunderstood with each passing turn of a page
and only complex questions remain.

Hast thou not read your purpose laid before thee?

Only freedom of mind can contain
You strike war against your brothers in rage
You buried alive your fathers love you stole

Art thou repentant?

I fell for you, I sacrificed for you
Like a bell ringing in time, like a mother giving her last life.
You saw not what you need to survive thus your time passes whilst you contrive

Hast thou understood thine?

You think you can force control, you think you are alive
You cause vengeance and anger, you cause jealousy and strife
You rape, you murder, you steal, you lie. What shall I do?

Fear not the furious anger beset onto you for the fear you beset onto others

I can make you weep and I can make you take a leap
I can make you love and I can make you hate
I will make you believe and I made you fear

I am what you read, I am what you need.

Wednesday, May 03, 2017

To MJ because you deserve as much

The Book 

I sit upon these shelves`` dusty and dreary 
Alongside old stories, mysteries, and fables.
I sit amongst these leather bound and paperbacks suffocating
My cover replaced and my spine undamaged but my pages, well my pages tell the tale.

My pages turned roughly a thousand times but a thousand more to come
They lay permanently dog eared and annotated from inspirations sought.
Only to be returned to the shelf below until the next reader comes along thirsting for the distraction, 
distraction from their own misery and haunting demons.

Thirsting for a reason, relation,  an escape.
More footnotes and foot prints left behind wearing me further away as my bones are dissected and analyzed.
Until every paragraph, until every line until every word has been looked at forwards backwards and upside down but the only thing found on their fine tooth comb is the fibers from which there very own pockets have woven.

Then, like so many times before, I'm placed back on the shelves, a little lower and now I sit below the populous, 
below the popular.
Why such fads should take up so much shelf space I dare not ask.
Is it to be my final resting place down here I dare not think.
My cover will grow stale and stick to preface from settling moisture in the air.
My pages will yellow and my bold black print will lose the battle with memories.

Few lookers have passed and paused at me. Fingering through my delicate pages skipping past the artwork looking for what I am not quite sure.
They place me back and dust themselves off then swiftly snatch up a newer bolder kind of love.

Then, just when I thought my placement on this shelf was worth no more than a magazine stand  someone stops at my index number and looks adoringly towards my dusty spine.

She picks me up and gently wipes away the dust and the slight moisture forming at the bottom of my embossed title.
She opens my cover with such delicacy and attention that I relax like never before.
My pages turn with a peaceful breeze singing along with my words.
So she stops herself from reading any further  as not to spoil the adventure , and packs me up carefully. 

When I awake, I find myself as if on display,  on display for the whole world to see.
See my restored pages and touched up ink like the first edition as it reads inside my cover.

She reads me every night and every night she wants the next chapter.
And the next chapter only comes too soon and she wants another, and another.
It would seem that the book she chose grows with her every day and every night.

Stories of adventure, tales of love, and manic mysteries to be solved by her.

Tuesday, May 02, 2017

The Agonia

I battle with my mind in the Agonia at Agon in pure agony as I slip into unconsciousness.
The tears of pain aspirate my pores and sting my cheeks.
Falling downward, no, perhaps upward into clouds of toxins laced with dreams of fright and incredulity.
A cognitive despair floods a flicker of light amongst the flames of whirling wisdom.
I sit up only to find myself laying down and I glance the mirror whose face shows not a smile in this reality but a frown.
A radiant wake of light storms through me from the stars 

The wake does not stop to ask why. 

Leaving a wake of unspeakable truths. A wake that’s awake and aware before I am able to convey such thoughts. My mind beats me to my tongue so it bites down suppressing the conception of an emotion that is to be raw as fresh flesh.

The wake saw me draw blood before I felt it in my mouth and still doesn’t ask why.

It circles my heart in my chest cavity as it beats and thumps against my ribs pushing blood outward begging to be freed filling my ears and head with a lucid inception of self. A dynamically stagnant dichotomy.

The wake sees the pain within and still doesn’t ask why.

I try and grasp this wake with all my might, all my mind, all my insight but the wake only throws me down, unaware of the damage left beneath it.
Emotions strewn about like limbs post war on a battlefield. 
Proclivities pierced by words not said, not thought, not felt like a cannibalistic porky Pine.

The wake has transmuted into a tidal wave and does not allow me to ask why.