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Nobody knows anything
but im real smart at knowing nothing. what is there to say about sanity when we are weapons of destruction? bullets will keep flying long after votes say don't if we can't learn to teach compassionate compromise. Violence can't be the answer, it sure isn't my educated guess.
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I am you looking at yourself
Interested and understanding. You’re the most intriguing thing I’ve found since the universe began expanding. You are the leaf that dropped on the ground near market street With a pattern so beautiful I couldn’t help but meet. After collecting and admiring, noticing you’re too interesting to alter. Just the perfect texture. And you are me looking at myself Through your own specific spot in the retina. The one that loved the sun so, that it gave it a hole in its vision to climb into--so as to always remember: light only exists because of darkness understanding because of confusion. And to never forget about that love because that love propels the you-in-verse, through unison. And we are each other and the birds and the bees. We are the bark and we are the leaves. We are the motherboard and ram Just computing what we perceive. I am you and you are me Only with different brains and bodies. Similar but dissimilar Like two puzzle bits near one another. We are a piece and we are a whole And we Are connected. Two vultures have come to save the day
for my sensitive senses sneering at smells seeping through nostrils. Agonizing armadillo. Though the sight of a swarm that feeds off the deceased intrigues. To witness energy morphing in material matters. A cyclical self sustaining unified purpose sometimes rides on flat tires against the wind inching up mountains only to glide down again. At others it sprints on springs so that each step allows gravity to give way a split second. How to take hold of that instant of soaring in between? Tapping into the transitory Nature of all things. For a week each month she serves wine.
Apart from that her honey comes sweet and divine. The dew of her skin ensues a dawning scent all her own And her alimentary milk, more pure than silk Will continue to sprout the future. Holding the seed of life she secretes sacred substances. Her existence Reflective of nature's gifts is to nurture. Don't callus yourself to their concerns
hasty to assume with upcoming polls to be counted attempt to acknowledge the path between head and heart. Peeling back the lid to expose perspective and maybe try to taste a different one every now and again. With that thumping, throbbing, blood pumping bulb of love in the chest. Dance to its beat but don't let it bleed your brain until it oozes out of your eye sockets. Logic and reason can channel energy in motion. You've become emperor in moccasin boots. Walk your own way and try to keep upright. Align time in resources, energy, and delight. Now put your patience in your tool kit and use it to fix the broken while your pride slides down the back of your throat. It's true that life is a game but it needn't be a competition against anything other than your habit to have the last word. Play to overcome every level of ego entering into the ecstasy of existential bliss. Life will become a series of instances enveloped in love stamped and mailed to the finishing of business under the responsibility of growing with your own grain. Accept them. Learn to love the challenges they present you. This is what will make you strong. This is what has always made you strong. I am a vault
holding heavens inside. The moon pulls at my breath like the tides It creates a sigh. Exhaling experience in awe at the gift! In a dance on a swaying branch of the universe. Tranquility. Bliss. A chance: to transverse. An ability: to exert will. The power: of choice. I choose to be me. But where is the boundary between myself and other? Do my heavens not extend? Is nature not our mother? Connected spirits consciously experience similar thoughts similar feelings. Different interpretations different perceptions of it from it, itself. Pieces fit together, with nothing but permeable membrane as barrier. Role play in reality. Togetherness existence in Diverse unity; That's you That's me. Too much too serious
Relax have a laugh. treat it like a game and see how long you last. It's all here in front of you your perception of the good and the bad. It's not all on your shoulders like the weight you've had. So, step back and tip your hat you can and you will when you find a way to deal with that. If you were born without an ass
where, then, would you sit? If you were born without an asshole, from where would you shit? When you realize--one life becomes sustenance for another, eventually you'll learn that everything turns to turd. Ideas without execution Plenty of preparation and still no manifestation. The pressure of definition On the object of description Squeezing out a fear of miscommunication. But what's to fear of another's misunderstanding? To what effect is non acceptance? And why must acquiescence of self be heavy with reluctance? Not just the current self But a promise that my future can fit into this skin too. self in all stages The we of me. Each new moment brings along an entirely different state of being in need of adoption. Just as the previous performed its role for provision The now of myself will also. Then the next. Then the next. Becoming continuously keen to the alive alignment of molecules made human. Reveal them with your art. Learn each atomic shift within And sprout forward-forth from there. So make! Make ephemeral things To represent your temporal state. They will blow away with the wind just as your previous personhood. We are you So let's get along. I tend to put too much energy into being polite. Sometimes the boxes in my head aren't aligned just right. Life is complex, any way you look at it from the vastness of the universe right down to the very intricate. Paradox after paradox beyond my comprehension but there's beauty in the unknown and curiosity can ease the tension. |
AuthorMostly in a state of existential crisis, wrapped up in my own mind and in the thoughts that weigh heavy through cyclical depression. Thoughts consisting of anxiety and unhappiness about school, society, humanity, the world, the waste, the ignorance, and my own inner conflicts of knowledge and memory cause constant yearning to exist in a more positive and productive state. My writing through this time has reflected the tendencies I have to think too much, my resolution being through doing art and through connecting with nature. My writing process is usually different every time. Sometimes by compiling small phrases I’ve jotted down in my notes, other times by writing stream of consciousness, and others are more about what word sounds intrigue me. I have found that my writing reads best when I utilize all of these tactics together. Archives
March 2018
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