the seed

                         What does it mean to poison the seed before it has a chance to grow??

If it does not sprout, how will you know? 

I have only precious time to bare you.

Maybe a different view or two?

 My pride is not so proud for the need to astound you. 

I don't want to be your Wonder-Wall,

 not requesting to be your all.

 My rapture is not so taught, 

as to lack the want, to wrap itself around you. 

I only ask to be a dolphin, flying free,

 in your glimmering sea, 

safe from outside influence; 

Safe in you and me.

Inflection,... If you dont have it, Don't read it

Do you even understand the concept of inflection?
So very tarried is the thought, that you might not
When you read it right, it can be like and infection
(The voice of poetry shall have No Choice)
the rhythm is the tool, the rise and fall, the toolbox,the voice.
That silken instrument giving life to an inspiration,
The very point of this subjugation,
the requiem of this monotation,
such is self activation,
of life's palpitation in me...
or you. It can be read as red,green or blue,
Changing the Color or just a subtle hue.
The root is deemed the conception;
Perdition with an erection;
this can be said with obvious affection.
Go mad, sad, Happy with the unsolaced, waning, detection.
But if you read it aloud and seeming a coward is NOT your direction
For our sake AND your's, read with INFLECTION.

Spirit Alive

4am again...
You'd think I would be used to it by now,
living my best at dark-side's light....
Truth is, I AM used to it,
maybe a little too used to it.
It helps me see things I cant see in the day,
a kind of emotional infrared.

I have lost my way,
I wish to find it.
I need to pick up where I left off;
so far off. In a zone,
fresh reality. A love driven zone:
self preservation, humility, ironical ego.
I must drop this cloaked pride, whilst in the presence
of those who cannot, or choose not, to recognize.
I will take flight, back to the tremoring life
from which I originally lept,
wept from. My true bounty,
courage of conviction, I have soared upon it;
now, after falling from my blazing skyward path,
crashing down to the cold welcoming ground,
I have seen again and again, all it is
I am fighting for....

It has been a less than valiant victory
towards my own freedom of the tide
that binds us, all together in our persevering relevance.
Some can, perhaps, afford to be reluctant; I have been gone,
on this woopsie-daisy feildtrip a nye too long.
My voice is too loud, eyes are too open, ears know no fear;
most of all my passions are ever ardent and fierce.
My ascension has been a wrecking ball
in this chain reaction, defeat is no option.
Taught myself to swim early,
so I wouldn't drown when it all comes down.
Elusive enigma of why I even question myself...
How has complacency weaved it's gnarly vine around me?
Since when do I settle for anything less
than what I can grow from myself?
I refuse to be a prisoner of my own devices. Breaking free
from these self-compromising tides, these breached patterns,
so willfully exempt of normalcy.

My mental machete,
shinier, sharper,
than when the ideal in mind can grow
from its power to shed the unwanted, the unneeded, unhealthy weeds
in life's gargantuan garden! Spare me the etiquette trip
when I say whats on everyone else's mind,
don't be surprised if I turn around
then put your burning torches out
in succession. Karma's divine symmetry is no less
than every god's miracle through life.
To be a tool of light in it's wake, is truly a phenomenal oxygen.
It keeps me evolving as a healer, a true child in a world,
this same world, where most think they are the "adults" in charge.
I say, let them dream such foolish, ego-filled, assumptive
dreams, are true. All things are realized in time.
Time... just another dream humans share an interest in controlling.
More on that subjection later.
"LATER"; some shake their heads in chuckle.
Dreams, whether real or not,
keep living people living, and sleeping people sleeping.
The value of a dream, can scarcely be given justice in this language.
Hold tight, to whatever illusions
keep you strong, for we haven't long,
before we all SEE....
My path has not abandoned me,
and so I am barefoot and running towards it.
No shortcut needed, I am already here.
I can hear my dreams' footsteps padding just ahead;
they are running, laughing, giving chase to a fearless game of tag,
A rough and tumble game,Where I AM eternally, ethereally, IT.

The Storm

Part I

I ask of you....

Conjuring power from within your inner-most merciful gift, can you feel me?

Feat after feat, my bones ache, but are not growing.
My body feels weary and heavy with knowing.
Empathy has been a cursed path for so many, yet my burdens are gifts.
Such energetic vibrations, illuminating rifts.
The somber tune carries more sweetly in the air of the night.
Sometimes joyous symphonies, other times a fight.
Whatever the melody, of light or spite,
Just know, that I will be alright.

My condition is my faith on high, it is the sacrifice- so many fail to make.
Its only because they do not know what, if anything, is at stake.
I will make my way, and you can go or stay.
With only one thing promised, I shall remain the epitome of change.
I'm not sure that you will ever know my pain.
I do not think you can say the same.
Be still now... Can you smell the rain??
It's coming; coming from our past, moving to our present, washing the future's fast approaching face.

How repressed can one consciousness be?
How long must we all go blind before just one will see??

I think of you, then I think me.....

Part II

At first, in all such glory, the sound can be alarming.
Thunder builds as it rolls in on it's own warning.
Electricity, the torrid sister of her rumbling brother,
is amidst the conversation over heaven and earth's dismay.
Cracking and whipping the speedy relations of sound and light,
flashing all of their precocious drama on display.
For their counterparts, it reflects the very consciousness of true partnership and sway.

....Silence slices through the thick, dark billowed shrouds.
The calm before the storm forms a cohesive connection-
the quiet ease of whispers as an orb finishes it's dance among the clouds.

Suddenly......

SILENT HARMONY collides with SONIC SYMMETRY!
Is there any shinier entity?
Explosive Peace Exists....
My hunger for more persists.

I shall pray for your storm to consume my existence,
and tell no one of this satisfying instance.

sOME DAYS...

sOME DAYS MY PHILOSOPHICAL BREAKDOWNS ARE ON POINT AND MY HEART FEELS THE LOVE, AnD MY SOUL SINGS THE TUNE OF ENLIGHTENED JOY....

SOME DAYS i FEEL GOD'S HAND ON MY SHOULDER. I KNOW THAT I AM BLESSED, WATCHED OVER FROM ABOVE, AND THAT I AM INHERENTLY HERE TO DO THE SAME FOR THE EARTH AND HER MANY CHILDREN......

sOME DAYS i FEEL THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD ON MY SHOULDERS IS CRUSHING ME TO A PULP AND i CANT BReATHe OR i WILL DROWN IN ITS BLOOD AS WELL AS MY OWN. SOME DAYS i KNOW WHAT i MUST DO AND CURSE MYSELF FOR NOT DOING IT AT ALL, LET ALONE, SOONER.....

SOME DAYS i CANT STAND TO THINK ABOUT THE STUPIDITY INFESTING OUR CULTURE AS THE SOUR SMELL OF OUR RANCID REALITY LINGERS AMONGST US ALL, TURNING MY STOMACH TO FERMENTED REGRET. REGRET THAT SOME DAYS i KNOW TO JUST LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND AND SAVE MYSELF AND MY FUTURE HANDS-THAT-BE, BEFORE IT REALLY IS TOO LATE AND i TOO, AM SWALLOWED BY A FATE SO INEVITABLE. .....

SOME DAYS I DRIVE AROUND REMEMBERING WHY I STAYED HERE SO LONG AND WHY WHEN I LEAVE, I KEEP COMING BACK!
ON THESE DAYS, I PROUDLY RECALL THAT I LOVE THIS PART OF THE THIS COUNTRY AND THAT I HAVE FOUND MYSELF AGAIN, VERY QUICKLY, IN IT'S PEOPLE AND IT'S SOUND ABILITY FOR SOUL RECOGNITION! I LOVE THE PEOPLE I HAVE COME TO SEE AND KNOW AS FRIENDS AND I COULD POSSIBLY BE HERE TO HELP THEM OUT OF THE FUTURE'S RECKONING AND PATH OF DEATH , SUFFERING AND DESTRUCTION.....???
{DIRE CONSEQUENCES NEEDED, BEFORE WE CAN BE REBORN AGAIN ONTO A TRUE PATH OF LIGHT AND RECONCILIATION OF THE SOUL-SOURCE OF ENERGY AND HER PHYSICAL COUNTERPART.}

A Few Moments

I’m more curious about you than ever. I wonder about you even in my dreams. I see your face flash before my minds eye, like some fascinating craving. Remembering the scent of your skin, I can almost taste your sweet essence glide across the clasped hands of my senses. I wish to feel your weight on mine, again and again. Your voice is missed like the morning dew on an afternoon bloom. It seems all I want now, is to be bathed in your attention for a few moments and held onto with wisdomatic intention. If only you knew my tortured existence is vying for you…. You may very well condemn me to my far off kingdom- Exiled for falling in lust with the thought of you on my throne with me, wanting me, needing me, fuckin’ me, feelin’ me; fueling my fire. Poetic justice is born in the thought of you thrusting your passion into mine, a head on encounter, heat-smattering collision. It’s a condition. I beg that such a correlation is not so very withholding. Some pleasure is so good it hurts. I imagine that’s what it would be like to satisfy my new semi-addiction. I urge you to illuminate my poetry with your motion. I don’t expect to justify my cravings for your flesh, or my hunger for your mind. I only wish to explore them. I haven’t forgotten what you said OR what you’re all about,but I still want a piece. Maybe, even seconds….

The Huntress and The Hunter

Like a warm breeze interrupting the birth of a chilled moonrise, the force in you could be the force in me.

Fragile reflections of each other’s light, dubbing our counterpart's actions with accents of what seems to be missing in the alternate ‘same’. What if I could make your green side grow greener?? What if I could take your tattered straw and spin it into fine spools of heart-gold?? Thus, adding to our glistening territory, would you be surprised?

I am the HUNTRESS and you are the HUNTER. Side by side, we are abundance at its core. “Mere Survival” is a phrase weaned from the vocabulary of minds such as ours. Beasts rush to conceal themselves at the first sight of MY bow and YOUR arrow. Sacred winged spirits take refuge amongst our shadows, as it is the only safe haven for virtue in such a tainted, cruel jungle of a world. Such an awakening has all the energetic creations in a fury of folly and mania. The quickening is upon the hunted, and soon we shall feast!! Perhaps our self-prevailing wheels of fortune shall begin to turn. The forecast tells of blissfull splendor and opportunity with a chance of true contentment on even the cloudiest of days.

To be continued.....