For the Critics...

Judgmental juggernaut showering venom on anything that will burn
Ripping through inspirations, creative ingenuity, un-fractured minds
Comprehension of such reaching incomprehensible lows
Yet mustering filth ridden bile from a half lived heart
Forming sounds hell bent on a combustible impact
For not a more honorable destination than reveling upon stained tears
A swelling, churning, putrid life reaching for others to burn
With not a truly pure incidental neuron found
Within these minds raped of art and revel as a puppet
Self destructive blood second sights a pain
Extroverted in weakness
Touted as power
Truly hated by its own cannibalistic breed
…and the rest of us.

Live...

Live to dream?
or dream of life...
Afraid of dieing?
or afraid of truly living...
Look for love?
or love to look...
Listen to the words?
or hearing real truth...
Looking or inspiration?
or inspiring the world...
Misguided confidence?
or confidently misguided...
Fix the world?
or examining ones self...
Looking through your eyes?
or seeing through anothers...
Choosing a path?
or paving the pay...
Waiting for the right time?
or creating opportunities...
Do we live to die? Or die to live?

A Moment

It was but a moment that lingers in the depths of my mind. I had no pleasure of a name, words or gratuitous expounding of frivolous personal grandeur. Exasperated attempts to repress a smile as unconscious intangible forces played upon my chest forcing wanting breaths to be bequeathed to wisps’ of air freighting not but a match burned within a spark of natural relinquishment. Optical windows of realization losing focus as I strained to regain composure of current impairments of the most basic visual functions. Previously unearthed confusion speaking volumes of a mouth saying nothing but reaching for words written on blank dictionary pages. Smile meets smile, eye meets eye, spinning thoughts meet a beating heart with a torrent violent enough to lose the footing of life. Life’s rouge essence spiraling with unfathomable haste through this hastily assembled internal chaos. Sitting screaming in the deep recess of my minds darkest corner is the briefest of moments…
…when I first touched her hand.

The Perfect Drink

Crimson courage creating consciousness’s
Bereft of brilliant blinding benefits
Forcing fires for freighting feelings
Wanting words without wavering wishes
Luscious love lingers lonesome life
The thoughts trail throughout tired trends
Pouring power possessing perfect prowess
Overtly owning overbearing offerings
Exhausting excess enduring eventual extraction
Sensual, seductive, sexy as hell…
please stay awhile…

Love or more...or less

Why does one desire another? Why are we not wired from some primal existence to seek a wholeness from and for ourselves? Instead this barbaric instinct seeps out of us to find another. Past this there is no rule or text in which a standard is found or followed, simply a generic term(s) that we refer to attempt to express that of which we do not understand. Love, affection, attraction, eyes to the soul, ect. All of these words will be used and accepted at face value, and only during this deep seeded instinct will we accept the face value as truth. Firing neurons that express a desire to touch, feel, hear, trust and witness another for no other reason than to have this uncontrollable urge reciprocated upon ourselves. If one questions what one calls love, social pressures slaps them with the hands of a cynic, deeming them as less then one of whom bow to the ancient tradition of the unknown inner cranial workings we misconstrue as love. Looking past love to a more primal state of desire, as we desire food or warmth, our mind requires compassion of who we are and what our limited 10% has allowed us to become. Does not a baby die of which has been given every provision of life minus that of a loving touch, it does, yet the question lingers as to why. Does not a person limited to the touch become a social shadow blending into the cracks and crevices of where one of the touch would be deemed unwanted for the eyes, they do. Where does this inner force meet satisfaction? For when one finds it, readily they will not let it go, succumbing to separation from it, forsaking all other necessities or survival synapse patterns to retain it. Why, if a factor of survival be so great as what one calls love, do we make such barriers to impede our reaching of its destination? Such a list of required imperatives does not exist in greater volume than in the mind of the one who has had love removed in repetition. In contrast to one of whom has yet to have their heart bound by the love of another. We will impede our ability to succumb to the reach of another albeit what we may desire most. As I ponder with these words upon this page one cannot help but witness that I sit alone, alone. Yet I breathe the life of the days and I doing so have let the words of love drain through my fingers so many times, yet I live and I am alone. How if I have every other of life’s provisions do I continue to excel myself to new heights, with the absence of love? The question begs another question this time asking; what do I not see at an amplitude that I can understand that has allowed me to thrive from within? Is there love I do not see? Why does the smile from another change me? The fruition of this questioning has led me to a conclusion of which I was not expecting but with a whole heart I will accept it. This generic term for love that I will never fully understand lives among us, around us, although most do not see it as such. It is why people such as myself sit in a coffee house of strangers, yet we all sit together and alone but allowing love to be transferred without realization or question, we give it and take it without knowing it is uniting us. I open my eyes and realize for the first time why I can seek for life among those I do not know…and find serenity.

A meeting

A change in perception
Creating a new moment of inception
Within the mind of a willing subject.
The routine of a previous moment
forever changed by a chance meeting
for all the change we desire yet never render
measure not to an unintentional twist in values.
Colors more vivid ideas more accessible
blinds the conscience understanding
with all the sounds of a palatable Aurora.
Expanding possibilities becoming tangible,
Assessable, obtainable, within a mental grasp.
The routine becomes forgotten
The values stripped of meaning, bricked over, sealed
ivory stretches to the far reaches of the soul.
Awaiting but a single thought
splashing across the fibers
of a life to begin anew .