Storm

The storm, wrestled and temporary
All around the swirling vortex of emotion, the calm sits eternally. Like a promise to believers who can see past the clouds into the heavens within us.

It’s hard to see your way to the center where silence whistles and warns of the next step. The eye is clear and light shines through a center only you can see, only you can feel. Confidently I stand knowing that just the other side of the swirling debris and dust is what’s left, life.

I must move with the winds of time avoiding the edge of chaos. The wall of thundering clouds surround this pristine space where you can feel the color of the wind and hear shapes that scream with the force of eternity, but here I’m a universe. Here I raise my heart to truth joining a legacy of humanity.

But here I’m alone. Lost to the horizon that surrounds the earth with hope and wonder. A respite from the turmoil created by lesser beasts seeking to thrive on the emotions of bowed heads and bruised knees. Death comes slow to the one defeated by fear.

Separated from the sounds of liberty and the smell of victory my words have no meaning. I must escape the sounds of silence screaming within my heart. I must walk through the fog of debris and torment into the the light of day, through the glow of night into a new day. A day of reckoning.

This demarcation is a birth. A new beginning where the past becomes silent, once again leaving now to hope for tomorrow. I only know and think what the future can be, what now will produce. I must close the book and remember throughout time that pages are a past that fade with time. A collection of privilege passed on through genetic inferiority with the hope another man will prove their indulgence was valor. Now we control truth.

So cast your lots free. Set your burdens aloft. Hold nothing but the light of day as a path through the night. Walk forward with your head held high knowing that now is forever and yesterday never is. Here you can gaze into tomorrow leaving fear and ignorance behind for the beauty of hope and truth.

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Reflections of Us

Reflection across this linear existence. Beyond the cracks and scars there is an image, the man you carry into hope. Or maybe a monster you hide in the mist or fog of fear. Who is me?

This reflection protects us from ourselves, because one day the mirror won’t be enough. The distortion will fade, the illusion will dissipate into you. Only then will we understand that I is not a singular expression.

I is a prism. A tense refraction of hopes, dreams, or fears. Not now, or yesterday, nor tomorrow can define us. We are many inside broken hulls and silk threads, the world is too destructive for the illusion of freedom, too ravenous for one man.

It’s the moments hidden outside time or space that random acts of bravery hide. Legends that span the horizon never revealing their depth, looming across time for those willing to shed the cloak of humanity and shine.

Mirrors, horizons, fear; man was meant to be more than a reflection of another’s reality. Never confined to roles or robes that capture his spirit like a mirror in a dark room. That moment when the light, the mirror, and the reflection blind us with light is who we are.

It’s the hope that when all the colors and moments come together we’ll be blinded into that singular person that is the origin of us, human. Matter, memories, and moments recreating perfection, if only for a glimpse.

I hold that light as a moment in time. It reminds me that I’m you and you’re me. It reminds me that I is a luxury reserved for the silence. I is a reflection with the world looming behind me, waiting to define our moments.

Human

Captured by time and the expectations it leave me defiant. So I crush my clock into pieces I can’t count and turn my back on praise and scorn. Now I know nothing.

Crossroads and crosshairs converge and a lucid moment finds me standing in the midst. The moment where I walk out of the mirage no longer breathing lucid air to fuel your illusions. No longer scorched by your secrets.

I stagger and walk for miles and hours not remembering where I’m going or whence I escaped. I care only of the sound of muffled footsteps dragging my solitude aimlessly across asphalt and dust. Little plumes burst with each footfall keeping time with my breath, until both stop in silence.

Lying here looking up into the sun I see a glimmer of hope in the black spots that dot my mind with despair. Then I hear the silence and suddenly time and space have melted into here and now, and I realize true freedom is one breath and the only space that matters is within me.

Forever no longer matters. Here is a moment and a breath away from there. I’m finally me, here, and now. My own heaven dead to the world, but alive to my self and all it’s glory, human.

Expectations

Expectations are dangerous in many ways. Depending on folks takes trust. Believing in yourself raises doubts. Some times we work hard and it doesn’t pay off.

The most dangerous expectation is that everyone loves you. It’s this all or nothing thing wrapped in co dependence and Facebook cliches. It’s like folks don’t understand social media is virtual, not actual for most folks.

It’s ok if folks just “like” you. That’s probably closer to normal. It’s also closer to normal that someone may like you, but not like some things you do, that’s normal too. Like say for instance, someone may not like the way you need to be loved by anyone you come into contact with, especially virtual contact like social media, but like the way you hope for the best.

I think expectations about others based on anything but human contact is the beginning of a dysfunctional relationship. You don’t have to look much further than the show “Catfish” to see the extreme example. It’s like you can predict the level of dysfunction by correlating the time between contact on social media and actual contact.

If you’ve had a relationship “on line” for more than a couple weeks and have not touched the person you’re communicating with physically there’s certainly something “Fishy”! One of you is hiding something. If the “relationship” has morphed to months or years it’s about as real as your infatuation with a TV star.

These are of course extreme examples. Normal folks don’t have these detached virtual relationships and believe they’re real. It doesn’t mean they can’t work in the real physical world. Maybe two folks finally meet, have some drinks, and laugh off the lies disguised as exaggerations and move foreword with their real selfs. Highly unlikely, but possible if you have no expectations.

My point is that even our closest friends who may “love” some things about us, may not like things about us, this is normal. It’s cool to be liked. The need to be “loved” is usually a delusion tied to something you do or have. It’s good enough to be a “good guy, or girl”.

The meaning of love is under attack. The onset of social media has deluded its meaning and contributed to dysfunctional virtual and real relationships. A little thought before you let those words or letters fly can go a long way towards being liked for who you are.

The expectations for loved ones are not temporary or attached to anything but the heart. So go forward and be a good person, that will yield more happiness and love than any word will produce.

Working Poor

Here we don’t chase no nationalized dream, we run from the reality that those folks chasing the dream run right over us, until it’s time to vote. We don’t have time to dream. Life is too short. Cold weather and sore backs won’t even let us sleep long enough.

We don’t need a hand up or out. We’ll be fine if you just keep your hands out of our pockets and let us keep the money we earn.

Keep our hands free from your fake bracelets. Leave us alone to wave goodbye your peddling laws for the drugs you sponsor. Stop pretending you wanna shake our hand when you’re really shaking us down from our homes to the trap disguised as a convenience store, into the hallways of your schools designed to steal our children’s minds. Keep your hallelujahs, we have our own prayers, and they’re free!

I’m sick of folks attacking the poor. They want something in return for every kindness. You demonize our mothers for a few stamps that fund your economy. You want to trade their piss for some block cheese. You musta forgot all those hypocrites you got for neighbors who got jobs handing out that cheese. You don’t understand the “10 for 10” at your poseur grocery is funded by the subsidies they get receiving all that state money. You don’t understand how many of your neighbors are gonna be movin if we decided to not spend those stamps.

These idiots don’t even know how they benefit from our decision or misfortune to live poor. They don’t even understand that “Targey” they shop at, or that Japanese food joint they enjoy on their lunch break was possible because the company that built it hired temporary laborers a few days a week cause they’d lose money putting those folks on a payroll. They built these homes and businesses on the backs of those kids sucking the milk from those vouchers.

You enjoy those nice positions you got outta hustle, not effort. We ain’t stupid. You locked out everyone who mis stepped and relegated them to poverty so that lazy bastard you raised on microwaved popcorn and video games could have a chance. These entitled little shits couldn’t last a day in our world. They’d be back on your couch in the basement complaining about the tv reception.

The working poor in this country carry the nation. You ain’t building high end homes or businesses without us working to save you dollars as sub contractors or under the table labor. Those taxes you talk about paying that make you so special are made because low wages enable you to keep the flow of money rolling.

It’s cool though. Trading piss for food ain’t a bad deal. Hands dirty from work cleanse the mind, while hands dirty from deeds poison it. Understanding this ignorance from the ground up gives us experience. We nod and smile as you further your dysfunctional ideas as something progressive or conservative. The view don’t change from down here though, all we see is asses.

Surrounded

The echos of my world reverberate within my soul. That space the doesn’t feel, but absorbs that which cannot be processed but with time. This space leaves my silence thundering across the horizon.

This is the beat my spirit dances and sleeps. I carry this weightless feeling with a heavy heart. The motion of my soul writhes in anguish, but all you see is a dancing fool.

There is a world within me that never stops beating. Fighting for every thought against a world of oppression. I’ll never be free until I grasp the wind that moves my spirit; but who can hold a soul. Its like grasping smoke after the fire has smoldered and darkness set in. It’s just faith.

I’ve slowed down to the point my mind races. Noticing the spirits that inhabit my world is dangerous. Part of us becomes them. You can’t defend your soul, it just absorbs, then the spirit moves till your mind awakens, but then it is to late. The damage or blessing is done. Then it’s time to heal or celebrate, but if even for a minute, all you did was drift.

This world is so much more than what we see. I sympathize with those that question truth. It’s hard to create a harmony between what we’re feeling, our action, and our thoughts. It’s much more complex than awareness, it’s freedom.

Hemmed In

Not fittin in to these spaces
Dramatic dialogue behind
painted faces.

Nothing makes sense anymore
The streets are silent
The people even more

I hear the cries from afar
The dangers of guns
While the cell phone star

Who knows with whom I speak
They’ve put up screens
As walls and barriers for the weak

This other world hangs in space
Without any leader
Just chaos and disgrace

It’s suffocating our youth
Giving wind to lies
And watering down truth

Reality has become a show
For plastic people
Thriving below

I walk silently among the lost
Staying outside the halo
At all cost

The silent luminescent glow
Illuminates dark corners
A virtual snow

No temperature or degree
Can be felt
Or be

It’s finally outta our control
Replacing Pluto
As a planet or a hole

The writing has faded on the wall
We didn’t take it serious
It swallowed us all