looking so hard
at the ratios of
self-worth
confidence
security
against
strife
overcoming
strengthening
wondering why they have
always
been step for step with each other
with me still standing in place
then a click happens

that whisper, again…
question a bit further

i realize i am fighting with the symptoms
while the cause is ignored…

there are two specks of dust
of which all life comes from
love & fear

fear, alone, creates the consequences which
prevent
restrict
make me hesitate;

but
understand what the specific consequences
truly are
and the fear of the results diminish
making the reality of them more insignificant
than I could have ever tried to imagine,
which I did, which was the initial problem

It’s not how hard I focus on fixing my problems,
it’s the perspective from which I view them.

af

(written on computer, realized this morning)

The omens are more obvious now

Attention to this self had been fading
so tonight the omens made a choice…
this self over handing life over;
remembering the journey
that I must see through, as it need be

I am alone in the gorge
My shoes, My music, My weed, My drive
Just when all was about to be surrendered
Just when everything on me, around me
was breaking apart…

I Jumped…

The subject of my musings
The label of insanity as a result of my actions…
I stood by my word
jumped
every time
whole soul
all love all in

It is all so mysterious,
the things I see and believe,
all that I am willing together

Connected to these ghosts
the overwhelming comfort they provide
adrenaline seeping mysteriously within -
a happy fear.

When scared, I breathe them in,
my nerves calm,
feel finally a part of something
…humble and small and significant.

af

(written with pen on paper; inspired by Wadsworth and Poe)

words cloud thoughts in mind
clouds assume rain with no truth
go, walk in silence

sugar in the raw
savior of bitter coffee
sweet the holy cream

phone craves attention
“look at me, someone might care”
i wait and i wait

cute kittens online
boy shot seven times in life
which do you notice?

Oh, Dependency
Lucifer of mad lovers
Soul of lost artists

af

(written with pen on paper)

The wombat cried to the sloth to watch the two lovers in the tree where he usually eats his leaves.  The sloth didn’t mind…creation happens and anything in that tree in this life was simply for the sake of existence, he thought.

A pastry turns into fat.  Softens the tight image but helps a creature stay warm in changing climates.  Clocks spring forward and spring clocks the evolution of more time.

To everything…turn turn turn.

Feces is a beautiful poem of the meaning of life.  It is wholly the present, foul smelling and cleansing.  Yet, also all of the food of the world, both the past that has been ingested and the future soon to be created from it.

Perception:  The sky is the land for the bird.  Ain’t no need to growl at the arctic wind…She is who She is.

Just then, the writer took his pen, watched what was able to be witnessed, and slashed his new pants with his pen.  He stared at the ink bled through tan canvas, Silly how we try to keep so clean in a world made of dirt.  He laughed at the irony of becoming soiled by what gives him life.

Jesus loves Popeye, and God loves spinach…what beautiful collusion.

Hippies dance for peace and receive wrath because of their strength, and the ships still float on top of water, just as our feet never could.

Meanwhile, uptown is west of downtown, which is north and a man might survive war but be strangled to death by a guitar string, .2286mm.

Proud of our consumption yet?

Muhammad proclaimed jihad in the holy book yet Christians have killed more than inhabit the earth in the name of unconditional love so why fear the peace of Buddha?  The bugs do not care, neither do the other planets.  A tree will still be a tree.  The sun will always be nourishing violence, tumbleweeds tumble, redundancy redunancing…All language is created so make new words whenever possible.  Be proud.

“Let me out of this glass house…Stones refuse to smash these windows.  They know the broken glass will become stone to sand to glass and they will destroy their ancestors no more!”

Check the message.  Life is silly.  Stop trying.  The sloth don’t give a shit because it all just happens.

af

(written with pen on paper)

When a prophet walks this earth
he is not afraid to tell the masses
I love you
    and you are wrong
fearless to shame in righteousness
to die to prove anger at ignorance is
worth the compassion of self-sacrifice
worth the animosity towards his truth

We have become too polite in our interactions
too convinced that everyone has
a right to their opinion and that everyone’s opinion,
because it is what they believe,
is correct

But a prophet flips tables
at the temple
is violent in his scathing
of human indulgence

The Buddha
The Mother
The Messenger
The Father
The Christ
all loved each other
all lived by each other’s message
all embraced all other prophets and all people
regardless of their merciful disdain
of rhetoric’s views and beliefs

We are all capable of coexisting
regardless of our faiths
but prophets are just that
because they know
only one perspective is correct
only one truth is truth

 
af

(written with pen on paper)

a family is bittersweet
love, camaraderie and all the stereotypes
not a truth but an idea

family is loud and chaos
work, not peace
an obligation

family takes for granted and expects

memories and nostalgia
in its past
frustration and second guessing
in its present
hope and security
in its future
» Read the rest of this entry «

Love is such a constricting freedom.
It should let me go, give me those
proverbial wings
but rather
it restricts my breathing
places two hands on my mind and
squeezes.

I have been taught that
it is an obligation, a commitment
a never-ending vortex of sacrifice which forces a denial
of many of the impulses my instincts desire…

So love scares me
because I cannot recall anyone who has yet crossed my
path who became a better person as a result of
this notion I have been bred with.
» Read the rest of this entry «