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.
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
Two vultures have come to save the day
for my sensitive senses
sneering at smells seeping through nostrils.
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.
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.
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.
in awe at the gift!
In a dance
on a swaying branch
of the universe.
A chance: to transverse.
An ability: to exert will.
The power: of choice.
But where is the boundary
Do my heavens not extend?
Is nature not our mother?
from it, itself.
Pieces fit together, with nothing but
permeable membrane as barrier.
Role play in reality.
Togetherness existence in
Too much too serious
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
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
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
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.
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.
Mostly 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.