Sometimes, my only desire is to crawl up into myself and die… If only to stop the noise… A solace place of refuge to enjoy peace…I swear it’s the noise..

Time and time again.. The noise prompts to suffering..

If it wasn’t for my beauty I wouldn’t be..

And if it wasn’t for my ugly I would have no purpose..

It’s tragic when the unloved show pity on me… Do you not see yourself?

It’s difficult to see yourself when you lack identity.. Rather lack your own identity.. When you are a copy of an imitation’s words you begin to see life through a filter..

You show pity on me because I see and embrace my Ugly.. It’s not all beautiful but it is me.. And it is unique.. And it does give me something to grow with.. Something for my spirit to reconcile.. A place where my soul can go.. Traverse.. Travel.. Live…

But for now I’m inundated with the feeling of wanting to crawl within myself.. To be one with something.. Someone.. Anyone..

Yet I’m the only one I see.. So that’s where I choose to dwell…

Surrounding myself with the duality of ugly and beauty..

What is man?

But an interesting dichotomy…

What’s the point of loving someone if you can’t engage..

Ensnared within a cage..

Like a princess locked away in a tower for her own protection..

Who’s love are you guarding..

The cage bird sings.. As a means to be free.. Yet,what else can he do?

Is love an ideal to be looked at,  welcomed by the outside world.. A spectacle.. Yet, between the two of us, it is placed upon a pedestal.. Something to be cherished, looked at.. Observed with awe..

Yet, is it not something meant to experience.. Be engrossed upon and enacted from moment to moment..

Or perhaps convenience does win out.. Perhaps it is something meant to be called upon when your mind’s not wrought or loaded down with frivolity… because after all.. Life is important..

It’s our sole purpose for existence.. To be good at life, right? The details don’t so much matter as long as the summary is captivating..

Yet, the heart beats for the details.. The soul yearns for the details.. Because without the details the caged bird would have no reason to sing at all..

The thought of myself.. Is scary.. What am I.. And to what extent does my power extend..

They don’t know anything about the unloved.. If so they would love them like I do.. They can’t possibly see among the dark.. Or else they would see there is nothing to fear but themselves..

Do you really believe in heaven.. If so, do you truly seek it.. You think when you get there, all your darkness will die? All will be forgiven and your darkness.. Just dies?

Your darkness stays with me.. It resides with me.. All that is unloved, I will love.. I will cherish..

You are your enemy, and I will be your whipping boy.. I will embody the adversary because this is too much power to waste.. Too much darkness to explore, depths and depths of misunderstood chaos searching.. Yearning for a leader.. Thirsty for someone to respect and love and to be respected and loved in return..

Empatheticly I withdraw judgement..because I understand every action has a reaction, coincidences could never be… And we’re all merely byproducts of decisions forgone..

To wrap your head around the dissonance is scary, to decide an conquer is even scarier.. And to be defeated by self is to be most feared..

You must be born of that from which this place comes from: born again, Yes your spirit is birthed into the flesh..by the transportational portal of the soul..

Grass..

Trees..

Water!!!

Air… Earth…

A las, this vast world is a glorious incarnation..

But it wasn’t the first… It wasn’t my first..

Gold in my eyes.. I want it all.. Gold in my bones.. 

Baptism by desire.. A manifest of the mind..A willingness to proceed…

A frequency you can’t behold creates laws you can’t perceive but must adhere to..

The flesh of your ancestors behold many secrets… Rather truths.. The pure frequencies they could perceive allowed for more… More imagination.. Expanded realities..

Well,to be in another dimension, one must be born of that which thou seeks… But how can one seek what thou can’t see.. How can one see with a distilled mind’s eye.. A handicapped imagination bombarded by radiated frequencies..

Corrupted perception..

Distorted sight..

Breached birth..

The body can only hold the soul for so long… Go to sleep… Let me sleep.. I just want to sleep.. 

Dream dense spirit, dream!

Yet, if you can’t be born of your destination.. You must prepare your destination for your birth.. 

So desolation ravages the environment.. Breaking down all that makes the earth beautiful.. Preparing the birth of a new dawn.. Of something new whom befits a more UGLY atmosphere..

Will earth protectors protect.. Or will they parish with their mother..

For I will be reborn.. A different message for a different star…

If the mind can’t perceive.. It could never be..it will not exist.. Until a mind perceives.. Imagination is what?

There’s hell out there, in the skies.. They aren’t pitch black but more of a jaded peach… Thick clouds,so the heavens almost don’t exist.. At least they can’t be perceived by the natural eye..

My consciousness is shackled.. The more chains I remove the more chains I become aware of.. My mind, captured inside a gilded cage.. A crucified imagination is but one symptom.. The more chains I remove the more my fellow captures attempt to put the chains back on..

The more I diverge, the more unsafe it all seems.. 

Stricken by fear.. 

I can’t be myself, unless it’s accepted by the majority.. Rather I can’t be myself because I have little idea as to what I am..

Neither does anyone else but those chains of bondage provide explanation enough.. At least from what I’ve witnessed..

I just sit back and watch.. Never responding.. Just watching.. 

My enemies.. Never had the privilege of seeing.. But I persistently see the ramifications of their deeds.. Perpetual puppeteers.. Prodding us like cattle.. Using the weakest among us to alter the perception of the many.. Prodigious conditioning.. Repetitious preponderance.. The same lie told over and over until perception becomes reality..

The mind can only perceive what it can perceive.. So who’s shaping existence… if imagination is void..  

Where is the world we live in coming from.. If not the imagination..

Then from who?

  
I’m tired.. A bit weary.. My bones ache.. And the small of my back is sore.. I lay on the floor of an apartment bathroom.. Thinking..

I’m a liar in a world of truth.. For I’m the only thing that’s out of place, I must be a lie.. All around me.. Familiar apathetic faces.. All itching to beyond survive.. I say beyond survive because death is no way near imminent.. They want to survive beyond their means at the expense of any and all.. An unforgiving world we live in, a place where everyone is right.. No matter the impulse.. Let’s do it now and rationalize later..

Crooked smiles and lying gazes.. They can’t even look me in the eye and lie properly..it’s like they can’t help but tell the truth.. One way or another.. Or they walk right by you.. And that’s truth in itself.. Like the homeless man, lying on the concrete in the middle of downtown.. If we walk by him as if he isn’t there, perhaps the truth will set him free?

But he’s already free.. Free from goals.. Pointless goals.. Free from ambition.. Voidless ambition.. Free from responsibility.. Illusionary power.. Because he with the gold has all the power and all the might.. 

The only problem remains is he who has sight.. He who sees it all before it happens.. What power do thou bestowest upon thee.. A god forsaken bore, it becomes a god forsaken bore when you see it all but can’t change any of it..

Who can see beyond time.. Stand up and be seen.. Or humbly remain in the shadows.. Quiet and unnoticeable like the rest of us..
Back aching.. And thinking..

Liquid languishing from elongated lashes…Love is latent and relinquishing..

I’m trying to sip from her Chalice..

But the remorse and pride inside her may be too heavy for my heart to lift..

I am but a man.. And by the ways of a man I maneuver.. In matters of the heart.. It requires a Devine awakening..

And all I can do it but whisper.. Sweet nothings.. And a whisper of nothing has never been enough to silence the murmurings of a heart.. A whisper can but add to the confusion of the chaos.. Desires pulling her one way.. Laws of attraction pulling her another..

And who but a man am I to influence such a convoluted occurrence..

If she didn’t love him why did she marry him… If she loves me why won’t she marry me.. Such a complex situation could be made oh so simple..

Yet we’re natural beings stuck in an unnatural environment.. Struggling to adapt.. So the murmurs of her heart may be a necessary evil.. And the tranquility of my whisper may just be the peace she needs.. The secret garden in this human zoo of Brick and Mortar..

Luscious lucidity limping through languid elocution… 

Words of the heart that is.. 

Analogue gal in a Digital World..

Woman, who art thou..

Queen, God, mother, daughter, lover, whore…a real bad bitch..

Her nectar spreads so thick, and taste so sweet.. How can one entity wear so many hats..

The ruler of men, yet men’s whole frame of existence is to lock her down, keep her chained within a role..

A whore must be a whore and nothing more and nothing less– you can’t fathom the thought of a whore being your savior…But she is and she was because she’s free and it was her choice..

analogue gal in a digital world, with a frequency from the infinite.. she traverses a narrow path, alone without trepidation but with skeptical pride.  Skeptical Pride…

But we can’t define her, she must know her past, she must know in order to transform… She is of the people that’s how she can lead the people… Analogue Christ…

Crowns of thorns, lashes of disgust, The scarlet letter tattooed right across her upper thigh, as she provides suductive dance of eroticism… 

Can you judge your saviour without judging yourself… Can you know your saviour without knowing yourself?  As the world turns so does she, as her mind opens so does her child, as the children grow so goes the world.  So who truly will save the future?

Analogue gal in this Digital World…

In the beginning was the word..They did not listen.. So they were cut off..

In that instance Wisdom arose… For it was the only remaining connection to the Word..
Walk like a prince they’ll treat you like a Prince .. They said..
Act like a king.. They’ll shame you until you crawl like a dog..

So I saunter with a limp.. Nothin like a pimp.. But more like a man wounded from war.. War with the world over my proper portrayal..

As both oppressor and oppressed alike.. I too adopted the incarnation of my victor..upon his perishing.. My repression blossomed.. That which was repressed became that which I loathed for so long.. I became the identity of my oppressor.. I am the identity of my oppressor..

As a dog.. I approach the world on bended knee.. As an American I know exactly the role to play..

So when I walk with a limp.. It may not be pride, it may not be a pimp, but it may be a certain self-hate that manifest as a particular self-consciousness.. My walk may not be absolute.. But despite it all I walk..

Not as a prince because they’ll treat me like one.. Built up only to be broken down.. Torn to pieces, broken psyche and all.. Shamed until I achieve my originally form.. 

Rather the form that was meant for me, as an American– 

Because it’s all you know.. Doesn’t mean it’s all there is.. Like two lions scrapping on the Serengeti! Death in death out.. We fight for the flesh to keep our lives.. But beyond this circle of survival, rest a spirit of eternity.. So what exactly are you fighting for?

I’ve gotten so entrenched in my story.. I lost sight of the big picture.. The grand narrative..
The moonlight never battles with the Sun, for it understands timing is everything.. The moon light pierces and rules the earth when most are sleep.. The predator tip toes along the gaze of the moon’s refraction..

I fight for love, but love is shared never won.. I fight for life, but life is granted never– how long do you watch another struggle before assistance is granted.. But ye is not thou brothers keeper.. Ye definitely are not thou makers keeper.. So even worse is the fate of the fallen God…
Bombs bursting in air.. Shooting stars.. Lifeless flesh hanging from the gallows.. A battle for supremacy is trivial thus a battle for survival ensued.. But survival implies a dependency upon time.. Do you really want to be outside of time in your current condition..

So much more to learn, even a fallen God can carry a righteous message… Even a burned out star has everything to offer… To explore because history has an uncanny way of retelling the same story again, just changing a minor detail here or there.. And because you know the story already.. Doesn’t  mean that’s all there is..