“We,” when one.
We held hands outside my parent’s house,
Hoping the night would keep us from the world
And we could chase the sun’s shadow together.
We saw the falling of the queen’s star,
Giving us the unique which can be common
And the
Posts published in “Year: 2015”
As my body’s blocks fell,
Tumbling
you effortlessly pulled
Them out of air,
My body,
Blocks but rounded,
Tumbles from itself.
And you,
Softest hands & eye,
Sweep me up by palm,
Placing head ‘low heels.
If I did not receive joy from commenting on the rain,
If I did not wait for the words to come,
If I hung my head in defiance of that high order,
If I followed a path set for me and not one I created,
If my logical mind took over the duties of a reverent soul,
I know where I would be:
I would not be here.
I have that
Good vibe
Goin’ through my head,
Runnin’ into walls.
I have that
Good vibe
Pacin’ through my heart,
Fallin’ into scars.
I felt something right
Before you said it’s
So wrong how far
Apart we live when
Being in the same home.
I fought the past to
Say I can grow a
Little more with
Each day, but
Life reminds
Us of who
We are.
You
Fidget in air,
Holding
Still
Only to be lifted,
Twisted
By an unseen rail.
Gliding by seconds,
Falling, flying,
Widening wings
To fit on breeze.
Hah!
You sway on strings unseen,
Posturing to keep me from your home,
Friends, food, or stomping grounds,
Yet I must mow.
How mundane
The situation, life,
Where the exceptional
Ability of awareness
Forgets itself,
If only to be remembered.
Grief. An unwanted annual,
Holding tight its lips
In spite of chatter.
I fall for you
In the afternoon;
I realize
How much you do
To catch my eye,
To keep my hand
By your side,
And our minds
Forever ours.
How sweet battlefield of breeze
Throws patterns against a white-washed sky,
With speck’d splatterings of grey-blood
Leading mind to wander in thought
Of life, slow-crawled to march o’er globe.
In contrast, wet green of Arbor leads me stay
To fight Gravity and her many anchors here.
Life is but a monumental painting, where brushes care not of color, but carry them relentlessly.
Quite magical to see
, flying above me,
The outline of a bird
Against the bare bottom of a cloud,
Darting o’er canopy
Man-made and not,
Taking my eyes on ride of Valkyrie.
A song can come from anyone who cares to sing.
Human languages are funny, right? We have to use so many sounds and symbols to express a desire for survival. [This desire includes surviving with others, which, in turn, increases our chances for survival.]
Coupling is replacing one’s blanket with another person.
Some hold fast this thought of being above emotion, knowing not that being dispassionate merely increases the likelihood of being met with emotion. Some hold fast this thought of needing emotion, knowing not that being emotional merely increases the likelihood of being met with dispassionateness. Between both somes lives empathy, waiting, like a crossing guard, to solve for situations before they happen.
Wordiness is next to boring, where all writers dear not tread, ‘less their readers know the perils.
Forgetting isn’t a problem, so long as I remember where I am.
Performance is less tied to cause than purpose.
“Motivation,” resonates as a reason to move, though was first the reason for standing still.
Part of taking the high ground is leaving the low ground.
There are they who are blessed by fortune, and they who are fortunate to be blessed; always remember: both are blessed.
From faucet flows flattened flame, clear on skin, burning all the same.
We fall to see which way is up.
Wind brings movement of seed, soil, sand, leaf, and temperatures, sure, but wind wraps around, pushing, and we, silly billions, always try to fight back.
Do we really know our experiences? How sad to know only our recollection, when angles matter more than occurrences; something can happen once, but be known an untold number of ways.
So, we’re here; where else could we be?
See yourself, but know everyone else.
Always gain another’s view. Being well-rounded isn’t just about knowing everything, but knowing how others view everything, too.
What he says makes more sense than what is heard.
In the most hostile environment, become comfortable. Relieving yourself of anxiety and fear make you more capable of handling reality, which is often less hostile than perceived.
More exists in me than expressions can show. For that reason, I must use subtleties and gestures as well.
I am not slow, nor is an artist quite inefficient. If you wish to see/hear/read the outcomes, enjoy the strokes and the lulls.
Life is one of few who can fool you into acceptance and rebellion, without letting you know in which you have fallen.
Pride is a mighty beast who cowers not at Belief.
If there is no new content, create. All we ever do is consume that which we have not created, giving rise to a need to create our own, that which is new. This is why we prosper so: we desire all we do not know, have not experienced, do not yet have; we desire completion, a feeling of being whole through absorption of life.
”Power,” this idea that someone has control over another, is completely imaginary. The only control one has is based solely on another’s decision to obey.
A situation is always scarier than a scenario.
Some people are bulldozers, some people are steamrollers. Some people can push through anything, and some people seem tough, but they need everything laid out all nice & even.