The Climb to Freedom

If you don't adhere it, your bound to fear it
The boundless birthright of the spirit
Storm the gates, offer them clearance
Infinite wealth despite appearence

Happy, holy, unified
Born of mercy, you and I
To find this space, i tried and tried
I dug until my wrists grew tired
I sung until the sun perspired
And fell till i couldnt get much higher

A sudden second sun did rise
A perfect path and glorious plight
I spoke to elders through grapevines
Using thier knowingness to fly
Began to think, this must be it
Much more to go, so cannot sit
A bridge between both death and life
Traversed by spans of day and night

You'll find me here, your utter twin
Gone arriving yet again
Momentous moments do exist
Amidst egoic offerings

Non-Descript

kicking my shoes off
rolling a spliff, part of an atom
up and at em', a gift
it is to exist, allow demonstrate
life in a vacuum, lore love and hate
a final mistake, is for one out of practice
mistakes lead to learning, the alphabet backwards
did you read the latter? Zero yelling xplained
now onto the former, the reason i came
Back from the dead, Fiascos' The Cool
Tales from the crypt, and maybe high-school
You go to Ridgemont? You acting real fast
My dude gonna crash, always mashing the gas

On the real he's got class, some stature and prose
Stuck in second gear with some asphalt to go
You already know, Yardy supposed
I come from a climate that leaves many froze
I come from a lion conducting a roar
I leave for some layers few freed to explore

I beat Naxaramis, I face Molten Core
Putting face to a name for a world at war
Ragnorok's hammer, the bounties are clutch
No hitch in a rush, still I paint with my brush

Hold signs like "free lunch" a dignified trooper
diagnosed with disease, please. I aint what ya used to
And even if you digest, every angel and all
Don't studder and stall when your heading the call
For every soul reading in perceptions hall
Head of the class, inner champion evolved

Conductors aim trains to the farthest of reaches
Ushers take aim at the wandering seatless
Fathers find folley as rather intrusive
I make use of many, all and any condusive

I shed forth my masks and the fabrics most frequent
And take like a bat towards the depth of the evening
Each purchase a path, may it be one worth leading
A moment entranced by the heart set on reading.

YOU are the Christ I Know

When I look into your eyes, so much speaks without a sound.
I realize, through all the toilsome troubles and gut-wrenching fear.. you have been beside me.

You've made it all possible for my light to pierce the blackness. And although its been impossible you've yielded to me. You've been the bridge, the key, and the envelope.

I'm staring at an avalanche of mail I forewent reading. They are all letters of accomplishment, appreciation and love. I pick one up, its wrinkled from spilt tears. It is unlabeled, but I know who its from.

It's from god, hes been trying to get ahold of me, hes been trying to get ahold of me while Im at work, while Im helping a friend, while Im berating myself for being me. He speaks firmly and its written in his writing.

Matt. I know you are struggling and hurting, but I need you to do better. I need you to teach, I need you to learn and grow, as I did when I was amongst you. I need you to impact the planet that needs you. I need you to show this struggling child love, I need you to show them who you are.

I'm not christ... I say to myself..

The letter continues and confirms my faith.

You are Matthew, gift of the lord. You are the most stunning creation.. I am silenced.. The dreams and wishes, the failures and flaws.. lay on the floor stunned and deserted.

Come hether I hear.. I drop the letter and venture into the gates. I have the opportunity now to view the kingdom of god. His strength is so mighty..

FRIEND

you are Forever welcome in my arms you are never foRgotten in my heart remembered always In my soul in my mind, your mEmory, it never fails to briNg a solid gold smile to the farthest Deepest reaches of my face!

The Familiar Walk

It's been difficult to the point I'd go unconscious. Placing a sharpened pencil to paper, scribbling lines, notes, and visions; crumpling each paper and beginning anew. But..

Ideas free fall and float into one's mind on a walk. The brisk evening's especially, when the moon hides faint behind wispy clouds, almost as if seeking a passage for itself to remain hidden. It cannot. To the open eyes, it's borrowed light hits their iris and refracts inspiration into them. So when they blink, a battery has been charged somewhere in the human conscience.

Today the walk came early, rain was predicted for later and the weather did not permit an evening excursion. He walked as he always did, calmly, perceptively, with each step an intention to add to the depth of his experience. As he strolled up the nestled valley where his house did reside, he wished he could find more comfort in the sheltered home life. For, whenever he invited relaxation into the picture, anxiousness would leap in front of it's reception and again call him outdoors.

Outdoors.. yes. Here where openness is the sky itself. Where conformity is the spontaneous branches that protrude from the trunk of a tree. Where life beckons to the free, and grants freedom to return the call..
It was not merely a hobby to walk for him. He created his worlds of exploration while on the walks. And even if the trajectory did not change, what was witnessed was never as similar as it seemed.

Each day brought a new horizon, a new sunset, a new sparkle, and a familiar wear to the automobiles and automatons that drove them. He did not hate the life of transport, of work, and of survival; but recognized it's limitations while working upon it's blind spots in himself. For example.. to live to work and work to live creates a type of square around the perception. In which work leads to more work and living also leads to work. When, he often wondered, would living lead to living; and not merely activities of fun, but actions of fierce and lasting inquiry into what composes this life.

To complete the answers to these questions would take time and diligence. Trust and sacrifice that things willed to workout. The momentum of his steps, over time, had become the momentum of his questions seeking out their own answer. These worlds of observation always connect, sink into each other, and prove useful he thought.

To keep an eye open, a mind wandering, and a soul exposed to influence was as primary as a care doctor to him.. he walked.

The streets were quiet and quaint, the roads somewhat narrow but well maintained. These were the footpaths familiar to the beginning of his walk, yet the real treasures lied in the trails that stretched into the woods.

As he approached the end of the streets, a beaten path came into view. Step by step it became clearer to his vision. It would lead him, past the pond that waded in reeds, through the hillside, and into the bright green forest. Anticipation sprung in his mind and his steps quickened. Soon he would not be beside himself, but beside belonging, in the wonders of the woods.

Arrival came quickly, perhaps because his brisk walk, or maybe because the odd time of day it took place in. The clouded sky was still producing enough light to walk the paths with ease, besides, at this point he could travel blindfolded and reach. He knew this stroll like the back of his hand.

The waters were still, tranquil, and his spirit the same. Leaves silently rustled in the cool breeze, which caressed his cheeks. Frogs and minnows danced seamlessly in the greater puddles. Looking out into the forest, the dance of creation revealed itself. The passionate fire of daily living was silenced in him, and he flawlessly reflected this movement of life. The trees, the earth, and the entirety of his view seemed to move in unison with his awareness;flooding his senses with the wonder of the season, the wonder that trailed effortlessly out into the mystery of it all.

In the depth of the forest he found himself seated, with an overflowing perception. There was no aim, goal, or idea left to reflect, simply an unaltered, un-judging witness to the scene before him.

This.. he felt.. this was paradise. Being whisked away by wonder, taken aback by beauty, and lost in the seas of dispassionate observation. His previous thoughts about adapting to home-life had faded and what remained seemed so much more important. The great outdoors, the great call of life, and the cool fade of ideology.

Here he indeed felt home.

Illumination

Progress not perfection
prayers to claim protection
why pass on lifes lessons
why scoff at your teacher
understand the role and soul
kind of like a preacher
always, seldom, never
wisdom, hatred, clever
set sights on the prosperous
in every known endevour
cant adjust the forecast
nor overcome a prophet
so i keep the king of kings
booklet in my pocket
eveangelize through service
whirl like a dervish
step into a upright shrine
resurrect the purpose

rhyme condensed as audio
movement ceasses, breathing slows
what was foreign now is known
what was stunted starts to grow
what was blockade begins flow
what was toppled built from gold

in the grips of ancient prose
temptation becomes absolved
the spinning world it still revolves
yet its issues cause no harm..