We as a people

Is there a line and where then shall it be drawn? When will they wake up in the morning and see that it’s dawn? At what point does the display give way and cause the moral decay? It’s happening now. Wake up and let growth be allowed. Put aside all the pride that you think you hide inside. Step out into the world with a new design. Step up and make a difference with your voice that separates from indifference and become a reference. For the unified voices that took a stand and demanded choices. More options to choose from , options that didn’t rob a mother from son, where has all of this begun, we have run away from what is right based on connection and concern for humanity and turned into a brainless mob lead by the sheep’s best of the herds society. Creating disaster amongst the ones that are the keystone of our entirety, entirely way too much empathy inactivity and inactively seeking better ways because you think you are right. Your righteousness reigns high while having your family by side, mocking at the ones you’ve abandoned from their kin, reading fireside with approval in your grin. Tell us of sin. Here are the stones, I’ll let you begin. Knowing that if we were to start, we’d be here all night. listening to your boasts of they’re wrong and you’re right, for the “party” you’ll fight., once again losing sight that it is we as a people not us against them and defining worth for others based on color of skin. Damnit that needs to end., like never should begin, not now not then and we as a people should mean we all are brethren.

Familiar

I feel vibrations on the ground and tires trembling over the earth. With each rotation and gripping of the rubber onto the gravel, my breath subsides. I track the volume and duration of travel. Little bits of hope escaping the stronghold of knowing better and disappointment. Breathe again. Now I hear nothingness. Hope remembers this feeling and falls away fast.

Into the new year…

Among all the other shifts, I could feel this one floating about my essence. Taunting, in its own subtle form, only offering enough aloofness to keep my instincts peaking. It could have been that a friend gave the plain prophecy or rather New Years resolution in disguise. He knew I knew., but to know, and breathe the actual thickness of the air where it should be light and brisk… that is the knowledge. also, the knowledge to come.

A few deep personal issues have come to a head the last week and it was expected. I felt ironic that the timing of what I spoke about months ago have taken place in my observation within such the time frame and now I am facing many things full face.

I have seen my face in the reflection in each person I have encountered and applied some form of judgment on. It is simply amazing how much the judgement I don’t actually pass on others gets absorbed by my own interpretation of who I am. I take in all these assumptions and let the direction of opinion be stewarding.

Now after have been going through some life changing moments recently, I observe that there is a new beginning. It’s esoteric but timely and is most assuredly described as cliche

the free resolution turned my faded goal of yesteryear back in toward my interrogation of self and scrutinized the very thing I keep running into. Blame. And in the process of finding happiness in the midst of darkness I keep pulling the cloak further over the progress.

Entering the new year was to represent another day. Another chance to show who I am, despite how I think I am turning into one crazy deluded woman on a mission to understand pain.

Entering the new year was to be a breath of fresh and ready filled air. Oxygenated with aspirations and inspirations.

I did not anticipate having to exit the end of the year watching what I do not have. Nor did I even come close to anticipating that to bring in the new year I’d once again be breathing the heavy air that holds my body down to the seat so that it doesn’t rudder away with the speed of which my heart beats.

But I was thankful for the company that I was blessed with. It leveled my heart just enough so I could see and have the knowledge that now I know, it is time to focus on intentional healing. Even in the pain that lingered from precious and previous days, there was a love holding my understanding or at least holding enough of me so that I felt secure enough to express my dualities of existence in the previously mentioned experiences.

Entering into the new year has provided ample opportunities to utilize the information gathered through last. It is an energy that is a risen vibration, waiting to be tapped into. Human conditions are fighting just as strong to be in charge and I am in the sense of feeling astral.

I can only hope that more of us will continue to heed the purity of instinct, deliverance or receiving the messages. Internal work. Eternal work.

Tints of it all

It’s always been a path that has twisted the second I have put my foot upon what was perceived as stable earth. Especially any time I have made any proclamation of change or declarative to myself. Or anyone else for that matter. There was never really a beginning step, nor do I see the paths direction clearly now.

It has an air of taste but not fully indulge, regardless of the all you can eat buffet. It is the holding back children from the desert bar after eating all their dinner. A reminder to the senses that they are only in control of detecting deliciousness but not given the utensils to fulfill the salivation for hope and fulfillment.

Looking into the mirror has been a ritual in compartmentalism and I think I have become the pastor of preaching projection. The imagery that I am seeing in this reflection is of generic body parts and decorations on the anatomy. it’s not a clear picture, it is a bit foggy. And yet it is clearly seen as a component for an opportunity to critique my whole self, none the matter of the bold attempt to witness through another’s observation.

Moments of beauty linger still and wrap their scent stamp of importance. immersing ideas that memory and present agenda can somehow coexist. Breathing in a breath that was taken years already before and freshly adorned with a sound. This envelopment of calming acceptance has been trying to guide an old soul. The urgency of anew has been heeded. Moving into the fog has been the design all along.

in my world

In my world there is no question,

In my world it is never too much to make mention

Of the love that sits on the tips of your lips

And whispers confidence

morning through nighttime

So the receiving tender ears might find

Nothing to fear

The love is near.

In my world the pull is attractive and strong

In my world the evening embrace has been yearned all day long

watching the time as it is shed away

inviting energy waiting to play

leaving the void, i will not stay

nothing to fear

the love is here.

So … confused?

I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what it is with this feeling I don’t want to let go

but I know I’m no longer healing

I can see the happiness congealing

into little pools. …

when I pass by

i see the reflection of only a fool

who keeps trying to jump over the puddle forgetting it’s a river

forcing myself to Drown,

pressing down

into a sliver of hope

waiting for it to Hold my body

and help me Float

Flow freely, I don’t wanna keep repeating these same mistakes

waiting and hoping for love to grow,

but it won’t,

how could it when I raise the stakes every day.

This is loves game to play,

bounce the heart back-and-forth between what is real

and what is my reality,

what is real to me?

I only shorten that time by the time I spend questioning

the time I spend assuring

that deception is luring and

obscuring the clarity,

the hilarity is the severity

of how disparity takes a hold of me

and I see that I can see

but I’m blind to the outcome,

trying to outrun

the inevitability that this journey is done, drug me down turned me into someone that is no longer some one’s

present and certainly not future…

it’s fear is pure.

Born out of hell for the last two years. And now I can see

how I am responsible for these

about to be tears.. .

All the hypocrisy

coming from my broken mirror.

No wonder it all looks mispieced

and no wonder my perception

is not perceived the way that I can, conceptually

this is a malfunctioning plan

if I expect to somehow reflect

these jagged edges

and expect you to understand

and make them smooth

and cut clean like hedges..

still broken and rebuilt

but preferred to stack my brokenness tidy and esthetically,

brick by brick of emotion

as to predict the pattern accordingly, unfortunately

or a misfortune for me

or perhaps it is all jumbled beautifully, but when you look you see

shattered and shredded stories

staring back at you

from your imagery of truth,

and hear from your preferred tuning

in or tuning out of the details

expressed through,

communicating empathy.

and the reply is emptily

offering empty hearts,

easily breaking apart ,

what little is left of loves art

Damn feelings

I feel alone. I feel like the only one sitting here in this throne. Emptiness for accompaniment. Sadness in this establishment. Housing big servings of feelings that are only mine to digest. Pulling my chair up to an unoccupied table. Feeling like instead of in my kingdom, I am eating from the stables. Being fed bullshit enough to get my belly full. Then I feel uncomfortable. I realize that I am not being fulfilled, this has become illogical. Magical time and show is over. I need to be held onto forever. Or at least when it’s clever to show that the care is as deep as said. More than text messages and weekend dates in bed. More than hey this is what I did today, more like, I need you in my life, how is your heart, baby? Me, I’m crying inside I’m crying outside, Im feeling like it’s the pride that keeps me from dying. Again with the crying. I wish I didn’t feel so alone in my mind. Especially when I share it so openly. I give my thoughts over to help you see me accordingly. See me so that my heart feels your love for me. But I don’t feel that. I feel pushed, slightly. Away is not quite right, but averted from deepening. Lonesome reasoning.

is it?

am i allowed to tell it like it is? i feel veiled and slightly filtered. i feel like i should be able to tell it like it is. but i am not sure if i do. sometimes i believe that i the story i represent of myself is true. like, i really am that fierce. like i really am that brazen. but i dont tell it like it is. i tell the veiled, the filtered version.

if i was allowed to tell it like it is, really tell it like it is, then there would be an intensifying disdain for my presence. there would be an ever present caution of character when i arrived. that might be cause for me to become brazen. but i dont tell it like it is. i tell the version that your ears are hearing.

if it was allowed for you to hear what i am saying, really telling it like it is, then there would be a real genuine empathetic growth in relationship. an understanding of expression and not an attack on what the original interpreter suggests it means. but that would take a miracle, to hear it like it is.

it doesnt feel like i am able to tell it like it is. it is personified through the filter of personal experience and interpreted with a lens of altered perception. though it may be of the same resonance, it is never the same received as to which it was delivered. hear it, but not like it was.

would i be able to receive it like it is. it is a pondering that lingers. i applaud jokingly for myself as i attempt to persuade myself to believe that i would have none of the altering that i accuse generally amongst fellow human. that i would be able to hear what is being told  to me like it is as a genuine expression of their inner heart and world and it is their process that is true and therefore important to tell. for me to help them understand that yes, empathy and love are a real thing.

I need…

To be told I’m loved. Even if it’s late.

To be told I’m loved. Even if it’s early.

To be told I’m loved. Even if I know it.

To be told I’m loved. Especially before I sleep.

To be told I’m loved. Especially when I am sad.

To be told I’m loved. Especially when I’m being difficult.

To be told I’m loved. Every time I’m full of doubt.

To be told I’m loved. Every time I want to run away.

To be told I’m loved. Every time I feel distant.

To be told I’m loved. Proved by desired time talking.

To be told I’m loved. Proved by asking me to be near.

To be told I’m loved. Proved by asking about my heart.

To be told I’m loved. Providing a safe space for my healing.

To be told I’m loved. Providing open ears to hear my feelings.

To be told I’m loved. Providing a vision of love without fear.

To be told I’m loved. Desire to share time and energy.

To be told I’m loved. Desire to learn more and connecting deeply.

To be told I’m loved. Desire to know and inquire my mind.

To be told I’m loved. Devotion of kindness and empathy for my pain.

To be told I’m loved. Devotion of priority to reflect affections.

To be told I’m loved. Devotion to my being, because of love, only love.

factual fiction

I don’t wanna do this anymore and by this I mean that and by that I mean whatever it is that proclaims to be fact.  in my experience, fact is just a misconception of perception. Fact is we are just an example of an alternative personification.  there’s more layers to it than just one or two, which will encapsulate the idea of what it means to be you. You have to go down at least six or seven personas further. Fact is we are just fiction covered in a multiple media moldable plaster of lustre. Overwhelming the egos stature or, boasting that its perception is the only one available or factual. Fact being prepared and produced through the eyes of the one who lives in self-induced demise. Always implying that what they are saying is no way displaying an active disapproval or an act of a mouthful of lacked truth, full of Words that are heard but have no definition. words that are delivered to be accepted without friction, just factual diction. again, encouraging you to understand that it can no longer stand to be what is held on the pedestal of undeniable truth, no longer served to our famished and truth-seeking youth. fact is the words are regurgitated fractions of agitated hack jobs applying for the positions of manifesting life long words of manipulated wisdom. its looking grim, son, so i am done, i don’t want to listen anymore to the distortion of fact in your swoon song.