The Journey of this Earth.


What would you do if given the power of expression, the power to rule over all that one could create? This is the time of our coming, the landslide that you first hear in the rumbling, jungly nethers of your heart. Swollen with the emotion of a thousand synapses racing, receiving the transmission of a thousand antennas. There was no altering this mood, no stop to the substantial flow of gravity. All would come or all would fold into the frame of another, thing. Think now, what will it cost you? What will it take you to climb to the top?


Perceive your situation, perspiring to be placed in a ring above your stature. Stature. Hah. What is this thing that men make their minds from? What is this honeycomb that wraps them like a cobweb? Conquer or be conquered. Decide for yourself or be the victim of your own ineptitude. If you chase no freedom of thought, no freedom will your thoughts ever know. Palpable. Insatiable. It cannot be filled with sand or stone. No possession fulfills the mind whose soul is tickling. Trickling. Tantamount. Test your capacity. Have the audacity to break the mold. Boldness generated from your inner wisdom, the vision of your sanctum soul. No other man. No other woman. No position, division, revision, system or symptom, can state your inner vision. It is the one that sparks from within, is written in the curious mind, travels beyond the body, lives in your language, lives in your meaning, lives by your expression, your way. No other paves this for you. No other shows you the one path. There is no one path.


The only universal is that you must seek. Weakly made the babe comes from the womb. Wolves are here, ready to consume, how far now have you made it? What was it that you saw then, do you still know, are you still looking for the reasons we grow? So many systems spilling their synchronization, “here, come here, be made in our mold”. What is this? The marketed, targeted, “be like me” starter kit? Who is “me”, when I am you, you are they, tell me really, what is true? There is this inkling, this slow lonely decibel that reaches forth, carrying it’s need for relativity. An itch like wondrous joy, somber regret, when you fret and neglect this need. Higher inside you feel when it’s chased, when the place that you seek, comes face to face. Fearful. I know. So be it, amen. Slow dance with your time here and regret nothing since. The smooth calm, the breeze that blows, whispering it’s secrets from afar. Think now where this air has been, the places you have now inhaled. Feel the magic of 25,000 miles, the circular yearning, the journey of this Earth.


Hear the heart ache, find art before your heart breaks, find your meter, the tick, tick, the metronome of your making. If your hands are never shaking, then your missing the point. A proposition, to go with your half glass of submission, the one they poured for you at birth… Set it down son, daughter of the deepness, set it aside, this life is more than a ride. This isn’t just about surviving and you’ll need more than to be thriving, look me in the eyes, tell me, tell me you’re alive.


Life is Lucifer, knowledge, good and evil, a thousand doors, a thousand keyholes, crooked and regal, eagles and seagulls, vultures and velvet doves. Choice upon choices, “Listen here!”, “No here!”, voices and voices, everyone has your way you, you wayward child, now compose yourself to all edicts. Now let me ask you, is it the ‘All’, are they offering ‘Ever’? Are they the only ones selling? Selling?! Tell me money isn’t involved! The ways of the world are wayward, wanton, welling up, and it’s easy to join. You’ll soon see, I’ve long noticed, the frays at the edges, the seams, where there’s still so much to be sown. Blow hards and upstarts, the mania of fame, fakers, the ignorant intellects, the bias breathers, the zoloft inducing zealots, it’s best to be Helen Keller to the sop that they seep. 


Knock, knock, is your skull a prison? Does your mind still seek instinctive wisdom, has your situation arisen, the one where you act who you are? It crosses over more than once, your choice only lasts with so much closure, it’s the exposure to whats beyond, that your desire wishes to reap. Heap another burden, hear me, hear me, I know you’re hurting, but the difference is what you’ll feel, the feeling felt says, “you’re worthy”.


Worry, I know you worry, for your mind is judge and jury, with each faction currying it’s flavor on you. What is it then? How does one spend, every second, spilling minute, levying hour, lose my mind in a day? It’s okay. Thats what you say, “it’s okay”. It takes time to find the reason, the why of each thing you want to believe in, it takes time and intelligence to learn, your way, to behave. It’s okay.

The Dark Wrap.

I’m shaking, shaking,

The dark wrap has me,

The branches grasp my name,

I’ve always, been a dreamer,

But who knows the difference between vine and chain?

Darkness, darkness, awake my spirit,

Fight or flight, Shine the light of your spark,

Forgotten in nuance the versatility filling me,

The utter infinity in every quark.

Racing, racing, still the roots do chase me,

Still do drag me down into their depth,

Steps I’ve taken, have I still not awaken?!

What Act of Being will fulfill my test?

I-am-Diver.

Erratic ecstatic schematic,

Like a lightning bolt,

The scribe who wrote,

Scripture, to cut through all the static,

Databank, databank,

Saved message is sancrosanct,

Hold my hand, hold my hand

So you’re not mesmerized by the madness,

Glad this, is reaching you,

Receive transmission for teaching you,

Communion of one to another,

A tribe of one we are reaching to.

It was emphatic,

That only together can we have it,

Peace between man,

Land and happiness,

Put it into perspective,

Holistic pursuit to grasp at this,

You are as I,

If I came from the land that your speakers do,

The stew that your preachers brew,

We each are a product of the concoction,

The magi’s choose.
This recluse ruse you not,

I jot the plot points deciphered,

I search the cypher for the currents,

The geysers,

The higher I get,

The more the constriction grows tighter,

What glass do you look through,

What lens, what visor?

I advise you give your undivided to seek the meaning of your desires!

To get to the chew of the matter,

First bite with the incisors,

I will explore every pantheon,

To its depth, i-am-diver,

I seek the pearls, the kernels,

That which makes me the wiser,

Bridges the barriers,

And destroys the dividers,

Feel each muscle of fiber,

I’ll be your transcriber,

The fire within you,

The lines of electrictry wire,

Speak for what you desire,

Make a plan with your hands,

Then make an action, be fire.

Beauty of Union.

All I seek is holy communion,

The heart of art is it’s beauty of union,

Karl Marx marked the start of our illusion,

A life lived in crisis is no state to infuse with.
So I search for the awareness of choosing,

A place in this life, a way to keep moving,

From the fear that I face and the face of confusion,

To a smile like a child, an accomplishment worth proving.
Something akin to bridging divides,

-with meaning,

Empathetically paint,

Each passion of each faction,

-believing,

Calmly show similarity tying together,

-collective,

A step closer to the union of our souls

-directive,

 

And in this,

We are boundless in our projection,

But just as we know space and not our seas,

To see inside ourselves,

Is the ocean of spiritual perception.
Woah. Emotions run deep,

Mariana trench, to the tenth, believe,

For me,

Fast food and vitamin water, no bother,

For thee,

Starvation, dehydration, feces stench,

-you see?
The challenges of our placement,

The corner doubts of our situation,

Our anxieties, our desperation,

The struggles of each our nations.
Small steps,

We all must face,

Each ten provides the zen,

To embark upon the next step stones chi,

The fee is good effort,

Vis a vis’,

Your heart and mind balance,

With your hands you’ll free,

 

Experience and well knowledge,

Purpose and depth of breadth,

Confidence to make your mark,

A life of meaning-

Before the next step.

The Winds that Awake Purpose.

​It was a long night, longer than most. The night made more so by the slow slipping of seconds that turned into minutes for miles, times meandering silence stretching through the cortex of the minds perception of it. He rolled his thumb across the tips of each his fingers like a ritual of one deciding his course.

 You see, this night was a night made darker by its dreariness, by its colluding cloud of bland reason, this night, this night was one of solitary thoughts wandering through the purpose of many things. The what of action and the why of all that could be. He ran his hand to his brow as he closed his eyes in the furrow of deep knots behind his eyelids, the pain of the mind is one that pushes upon ones sight.

 He sighed. “What does it even matter”. The first words spoken across the silence that seemingly had strangled his present discourse. “What if I don’t ever make it?” He said it with doubt that turned to disdain that he had even given these last words breath. ‘Truly though, what can one know of the variables that bend and grow?’ Ever was there the true rhyme of reason in his head. 

He rolled his shoulders, bending his neck slowly to each in a circular fashion, stretching the tension that was collecting there, like webs of vile thoughts spun by his foul concoction of dismay. Spiders spinning sorcery through his synapses. He breathed in. A deep long breath that he held for some of those slippery seconds, then let spill from him. 

He did this over the course of a minute that slowly became the imperceptible slow, the mile that makes no gesture as to how far along it is. He felt it as the last long breath left him, the weariness of worry, the dreariness of doubt, they too went with the air from his lungs. Good riddance. 

He set himself upright, rolling his neck again in a circular fashion, this time setting his posture also. He set his chin slightly higher. He pulled back his shoulders just a pinch. He inhaled until his chest visibly rose up, not just air, but he breathed in rejevunating winds, the winds that would awake his purpose.

​The Questioning Calculations of the Inner Hope.

I’m not sure if it does anything.

Should it? Can it?

Is this life the life of wills and their willpower?

Or am I sidetracked by not accepting what already is? 

Should it? Is it? Can it be different?

Can I calculate the whisper of what lies here before me, the secret of the secrets sister, the transistor of what might one day be a truth?

Uncouth is so uncool these days, but yet the raw still lies before me. The ocean never changes sway, it just is, and it’s never boring. 

I guess it’s terrible, the nature of what might be, us all. Also, though, It’s epic, the nature of what each possibility might befall. It’s incandescent in its scope, it’s journey, it’s mode of movement.

It’s gut wrenching and anxious, it’s beautifully not finished, it’s what we think it might be, even as stories are told to its attrition. It’s within each of our systems. It’s vision. It’s visionary. It’s the heights that care for each and every and you and her and him and how they might and what could be, and what lies over the next hill, the next bend, what fruit might one day grow upon a tree. It’s, …scary. 

It’s uncaring. It’s motherly. It’s the dance that goes each way; It’s heavenly. How might it all, if we could just, ‘haps, tap the chance of what it is, the might that just might be. It lies still beyond us in the fog that turns the morn’ to night. It sweeps still like the wisps of air that touch us with the fragrance of their flight. It is what we would will. It is what we could. It is what might, could might, should might, BE.

And all sails are set in its direction, it’s course is the inescapable, going both backward and fore’. It is what we may yet see if just enough of us are ready. Just enough of us are brave. Just enough of us are strong of blood and kindness and see through the blood that it is done. It is a truth that might be, just as the rays shine through the layers of each cosmos, each belief, each light like the leaf of a tree. It is the eternal promise of what we may yet, still, Become. 

What it is that we may yet still, BE.

The Man amidst the Waters.

​I saw before me the face I lacked,

The measure I had not met,

The craft I have yet, to create,

The risks I’ve still not bet,
The measure grabbed me,

Every look and fold,

Every feature upon his face,

The elegance was intimidating,

The eyes that knew their place,
Gracefully undaunted, 

Master of his mold!

His boldness was no mistake.

I saw the stakes that must be wagered

For me to find my way.

Child of Earth

There is a difference between saying something that’s obvious,
And saying something,
That once said seems obvious,
Do you know the positives?
Of the emotion, of the magic that is wraught,
Of the amazing, placement in every thought,
Every drop,
Of this fluid fills the speaker,
It’s so amusing when your lucid,
All the bevels, teach me teacher,
I am nearer, say it softer, say it clearer,
I am the mirror,
Come hither here,
Teach me, teach me not to fear,
Say it louder, so my heart knows,
It beats for what it hears,
Hear me now,
Hear me proud,
Hear me humble as a child,
Hear me smile,
Been awhile, yes I’m wild,
Yes I’m open like a child,
Yes I’m wild, inner tiger,
Tell the savage, tell me how,
How to live, how to breathe,
Tell my child how to dream,
Find what’s beneath the make believe,
Find belief.
Show the truths,
In each their tellings,
Ripples of water,
Feel the swelling,
Know your chest,
The sorceror,
The source of your compelling,
Your heart,
With all its levies,
Lead is heavy,
Loose your armor,
Choose to,
Choose to be stronger,
Eat the fresh food of the farmer,
Share with grace and kindness,
Put yourself upon your karma,
Know your dharma,
Know your purpose,
Know the why of each your verses,
Live life like writing cursive,
Each beauty and mistake,
Take your place,
Put a smile upon your face,
Wake and greet the sun,
Child of Earth,
Your taking shape,
You’ve what it takes,
You’ve overcome,
The past is past,
But today is won,
One, minute,
Take a moment,
Tell yourself your monumental,
Instrumental,
Your the strings,
And your voice knows how to sing,
Say it,
Say what’s needed,

Obvious, Is only obvious,
Once the many,
Do believe it.

Hypotheticals of the Celestial Ocean.

Hypotheticals engaged,
My hypothesis takes over,
I comb over,
All these untamed thoughts.

Life as a moving system, ever changing, Expounding, curriculum,
Tell me,
How do you,
Explain our predicament,

This thing…

That we all touch,
But cannot grasp.
Uh-huh.

I ask because I’m listenin’,
To the wisps whispers of each dimension,
The trace elements of a systems schism,
The mechanisms of,
These,
Voices across the void.

Now please do define majestic,
Is it a holy, magical, vestige?
When you feel it how do you express it?
Tell me, what is the message,
What is your call?

Cause I’m all for every answer,
Each piece to a puzzle scanner,
Each spark to light the lantern,
My heart won’t darken,
Though hope may damper,
We’ll find the keys,
We’ll take our chances,
A life lived,
Can’t be reprimanded,
Odds against,
Let me not stammer,
When I speak, for a life,
Put your hands up,
And live life,
In existential splendor,
It’s only right,

That you are,
Who you might be.

Be you.
Be true.
Action is truth.
Reactions are based on factional proof,
Uncouth, so raw,
Polish your flaws,
Beware the jaws,
The abyss, the maw,
Dark emotions,
Momentum erosion,
Persevere through the pain,
Patience my potion,
My Strength is in motion,
Per-petu-al!
Celestial ocean,
I’m come.

Timeless.

How really genius are you, Are you?

Locked by the bars inside your mind.

Tell me which way that your facing?

Propagating.

Tell me,

What investments do you make of your time?

Tell me, tell me,

What is it that drives you, finds you?

What’s the last and first thought on your mind?

Seeking resolution behind these eyelids,

Is timeless.

But the clock keeps ticking,

So don’t you waste your time.