Kind of Cruel , Lonliness n' Things.

Felt like writing something this morning the moment that I woke up. Lets talk about time. Things keep moving for us all and I keep dying and reopening myself to life. The days leave into the night than get enough of those and a season comes and leaves. Surrendered to those currents as If they would take me to a place more happening, or a place more enjoyable. It seems they lead me to where I still exist, after the movements, after the exchanges, the depressions and bliss. Some wide sense of aloneness. A fact that I am the only one here. That few and far between have seen the point where I have reached, and if I were to meet one like me. Than I think there eyes would be so far removed from my aim and conception that It would possibly double that sense of alone. I don't know who I am and this lonely sense makes me a stranger to myself.

Theres those in the periphery, that see in terms rather than colors, and see the emotional side of life through personalized reason. These are the ones that know me well and when they greet me are so certain of the reaction they'll get. "I've seen him many times, I know his name, I know his field of feeling." These people are the ones that do not notice themselves taking a step forward. For if they understood this law than they would ask me things at least with curiosity and listening in them.

So I continue to walk and look, talk and answer. Show interest in the things that my heart moves me to live and describe, taking time of leisure here, learning something in this movement and always transitioning, forgetting and losing. Living a life alone has not always been an easy thing for me. I face so many challenges that noone can see. Though I'm faced with the fact I must use my guidance to create around me the proper conditions for anthers development. That I cannot give up what I hold at the top of value, this one that cuts me down to build me up. My very self, after all this time I still hold in tender truth.

And this is strength, not those punks you see on the streets with there shirt sleeves removed. Or the one with the strong stare under a pair of fashioned sunglasses. There is more strength in the bleeding heart of a woman who cannot rise above the ceiling of her brutal husband. More strength in the boy that is of minority seeing clearly his lack of a home. More strength in the old man who spent his life in devotion to his wife, his wife who is now gone. The cloths and images we carry weigh pounds if not ounces, while the heart impregnated with loss holds the world. So before you assume, denounce or expect. I hope you dig into your shallow pockets and see what the coins you hold are worth. Before you plan another trip use that simple function to move on the windshield wiper so that the snow and dirt from yesterday (you call it knowing) is cleared off your window. See yourself before you speak to me, for it's commonplace for a dog to approach someone wanting food, but it's a rarity to see a human in humility asking for love. ~*~

The Sun Shines Through Me

Flooding over passionate boundaries
The tide is gone over finished squelched, DONE
I'm standing in the center of an oceanic sky whose currents are ripping gentle
Burningly sensitive I wave myself from the dress made of crumbs and slip slide like a banana into rebirth
The high octane liquids. The fire and flame!
The ashes of restrained and pained existence.
Oh... It's all to much it is
But If you know than theres no problem just a sun.
The undying pleasure that makes the senses heighten to muteness
A conceiving of the retarded!
Never ending yellow gold liquid bliss kisses

Ways of the World

I welcome this world, throwing me bricks of truth, never giving up hope on my weakness, bringing them back into scope till I round there corners. So many times if up to me the lessons would be learned for free or cheap, but society knocks with it's bundles of expectations, its shrill voice and prodding hand of bone only beckons me to see I have locked myself in my own home, cornered myself into ideas and given label to wonder.

May this world come through till I can hit it as hard with the lucidity It has given me as a gift, for the world has built the cathedral that stands in the middle of a dilapidated city , the hall with the portraits of men who were monoliths. Only such a place, showing self evident stops, could carve out a worthy hero willing to transcend and change it's nature.

Reaching the Womb

The last spec of sand hits the bottom of the hour glass
The eyes droop and move downward in motion
The hearts rhythm slips incrementally
Sliding me a sentence ill to hold
There is only a matter of time in a day, days in a year, and years in a life
To forget all and everything
Mathematics and stimulus of all sorts
Many conjunctions and similes
Moonbeams converse at a certain point
Mountains slope to meet the basin of the tides
Mammoths and Dinosaurs drink to leave the earth
Evolution remains a matter of wonder
Every now and than actualized by a sincere studier
Eyes in the sky study all each detail a color or painting
Each painting a mold to fall back to oceans uncapped
Enchanted by nothing but it's own look it stares steady
Soon the moon mountain and that which bases in the earth quakes
Suddenly leaving the moment betraying thier forever assurance
Ships sink so do frames of time, states of mind, all desires unwind
Sifting by itself, for the sake of the laws translated and scribbled
Seamen of the seven cast down there nets with no opportunity biting

Its true

Life perfects itself for itself of itself
Lusciously unforgiving stealing and shifting the playing boards
Laughing when the level surfaces extends into it's all-pervasive domain
Lying back into it's bossoms one sees the ambilical chord that holds this life
Laid out in the womb I am drenched in the oceans embryonic love
Drawn again into the stomach of the universal mother
Darkening days through that thin bodily throat
Dreaming all of the time as I weaved through the stomach
Drinking from something deep as its coolness becomes part of me
Dieing to something strong dropping it into digestion
Now I am in an open space
Near the size of limit in a cosmic lava lamp
Networking and feeding me with its pulse and blood
Neurons rest in fire while the heart restrings and beats
Narrowed into the mind is a question-less answer
What works to create in this moment
Waxing the moon, working the human face in it's memory
Welcome fades and faints back into it's wisps
Wisps trail off and there again I am
Where will I be than when this chord is cut
Since all stems to me from it
Since all given moves and gives back into it
Slice this connection and I go adrift floating beneath times birth
Sliding in and out of what I cannot dream nor construct
Slipping from all domains what can remain of me?
There are shifts of identities that I myself do not welcome
There are roots into maths and sciences, of implausible mechanics
There and here is the being that houses me all
There is no questions of validity or reality
There is an emptiness void of all

You are My Quiet Voice.

To me you are all, yes you are as white and blank as the unused page in a notebook, but your fabrication isn't pulp from wood. It is not the refined metal that a king rules from though by idea is closer. High in scope, broad in sight, my words fall and come back like mighty rapids. Again to fall, having each droplet become a silent tear, dripping from my eyes, caressing my cheek, burning my neck and landing within the target of my heart, instantaneously exploding. Again and again you tear me apart to expose my rawest part as yours, you claim me vicious. Karate chopped, sumo slammed, beaten thwomped and womped.

But mother mercy I am no fool to be continually deceived. You treat me as you have to. You only do this so I might behave to learn of you, to see you. After the fight and my resignation you slide from your cloths and nurse me to health. You restore my faith, and bridge my emptiness. I take the time to thank you and your ability to heal. You tell me secrets and I laugh. The fairy tales are new each time, and again I'm enthralled to listen and believe. Warming as the kettle on brick stovetop. You feed me faith. In a week i will be here to hug you, to talk with you and learn about how to improve. You are no enemy to me mother & sister. I don't have to fear your ways or try to conquer, but just to understand.

How will I fill you?
With empathy & listening skills.

How will I mold you?
Gently, through deep listening and a tender tongue.

By having faith in myself and loving myself I can entrust another with this delicate gift. I can smile without guilt and I can cry without shame.
I know there is good in me, beyond manipulation and aggression.
I believe I can bridge this and be better for myself and others

Seeking a Sage

Floundering in the seas of wanted company
sincerity strikes and knows
the little voice, seeker of consolidation
tho the consolidator may not walk the obvious paths
with familiar signs, deals, and bargains
for it is one that keeps his road broad but mind in contemplation
who has little need to taste a thing twice
those who seek find, but not always by cause or collection
if the man on the roadway can not give it will you stop search?
your gaze will only shift to something more admirable
and more so to notice what was there all along
felt in your hearts first fiber
the funny tickle of creation

Estoy Enfermo en su Casa

I'm sick
with an overgrown soul
looking blight at the task at hand
weary of what's next to do
but what I do today effects tomorrow
it is a line of sorts
And today I am alone at home
wishing for contact, longing for love
with such beauty prostrated
I only gaze and imagine
as the moments slip I retreat from the mountain
escaping into the solace of self
the dreary outcome of moments unlived
And whether a tower is constructed
or one slides away to a lower outcome
contact has been made & committed to the soul
so that in time, when it youthens, as it does
there will be another point of wisdom for light to pass
these I do not consider blocks