“Follow your heart, follow your heart,” they say-
but mine bends with the rain,
is bruised by a passing comment,
strangled by the silence
of an awkward moment.
I circle words on a screen,
reading, re-reading,
overthinking… overthinking…
Until my heart
feels more like a maze
of endless calculation.
I’ve tried, for so long,
to live by that phrase,
yet every word pulls me outward,
into the fog of exaggerated judgement
as if I were the center of all things.
Narcissistic, I know
or just sensitive.
And still, like a bee plunging
into a flower too deep,
I find myself sinking,
cloaked in a pollen-fluff
that never belonged to me.
We often communicate to the people
We use edited phrase to frank them
One of the most important asset is
To be by yourself, express who you are
Show yourself with beauty, genuine
No exaggerated aspiration, real you
No photoshopped soul, feel yourself
Doing the most wonderful unique you.
As we consider others
With more than a few objections
Can we unveil
Our own masked reflections?
As we review our brother
With an exaggerated disdain
Can we become cognizant
Of the true source of our pain?
As we inspect our neighbor
With ever ascending exasperation
Can we give pause and question
The root of our vexation?
As we give the mirror
Just one more searching glance
In order to adjust ourselves
So as to leave nothing to chance
Can we afford each other
Just one more unbiased look
Beyond the cover
And into the treasures of the book?
VERBOSITY extensive exaggerated & embellished expositions
The pressure to perform, which grips the soul
In the moment of action, digs its claw
Deep into the body, taking control —
Tense hands, weak knees, shallow breathing, clenched jaw —
Those symptoms of exaggerated worry
And anticipated anxiety
Are themselves the causes of that dreary
Failure to achieve. With some gaiety,
Attempt to fail instead, shoot to flounder;
This paradoxical intention, see,
May be just what sweeps the legs from under
Our deepest seated fears and sets us free.
“Let go,” said the Buddha. “Dive in,” declares
Viktor Frankl. One succeeds when one dares.
easy-going eccentric electric Eddie Edward
eagerly evolved, earnestly earning earthy eclectic
elixirs, executing exaggerated embellishments,
emotionalizing enchanting encyclopedic endorsements,
epitomizing enlightened entanglements, enticing envious emotions.
Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy
Parent presents herself as distressed, concerned, loving
Major caregiver to child who appears perpetually sickly
Child’s symptoms are exaggerated
Worse yet, sometimes falsified by mother
She might contaminate the urine samples
Child gets better in hospital until mommy dearest visits
What is happening?
Nurses are the first to suspect
Doctors do not want to think this way
Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy
A mental illness whereby a caregiver
Starves or poisons child
Sadly, many of them are health professionals
Wanting others to consider them saviors
As they save their child once again from the cliff of death
if tears of the sun were the metaphorical keys
to unlock twisted trinkets of the searing sky
would you feel the festering forest~
homing arctic orchids within these veins?
or am I to remain detached and numb;
caged in a cursed collision
like an evanescent epiphany
of a misled marionette ~
screaming for a cathartic elixir….
tonight my intuition is a passive-aggressive gaslighter
manipulating the inner voice ~ like a pathological liar
freezing the floral clairvoyance…
while curiosity keeps crawling
amidst crestfallen opium
I ponder: do frost and flame, as I breathe in bleakness~
transcribe how the echo
within the fog filters reality
curated in the midst of melted angst
fluctuating like stone-blind blackness~
a drop-dead delirium kissed by the darkness
of a silent sepulcher?
I’m a prisoner of splitting supernovae
caught in polarized pyretic disruptions
for everything feels like exaggerated deceit
when truth seems like a mere dot above~
a hyphen of irrational ratios
carved from calculated confusions,
betrayed by the violent strings
of my violin heart…
I am a demon and I want to be better….
The priest stared at the girl
A smile flickered for a see on his face
He grunted a cough
A demon wouldn’t want better -he beamed with exaggerated sense of worth at his answer
She tilted her head up
Her sockets devoid or eyes
Just a black crude pool wisp of greys slithering its depths
I need to be better…help me
A tear trickled her face it course burning the skin
like lightening crackle….
I am floating through my world of dreams
Searching for the perfect story.
There are three-headed dogs and stranger things
Mixed with exaggerated memories of past glories.
There are dead people, once again alive;
High school courses that must be repeated;
A recurring dream I've had since I was five
That I wish could just be deleted.
Lots of naked woman desiring me,
Many more than the actual amount;
I'll file those under sexual fantasy,
More than I could ever count.
Over in the corner trying to hide
Behind the nightmares and the absurd
Is the girl who will become my bride
In a dream that actually occurred.
I can hear her snoring in my ear,
With her arm slung over my chest;
Having my wife laying with me so near,
Is the dream that I love the best.
The dog is barking for me to take her out,
Seems my night has come to an end,
Later this evening, I will no doubt
Return to my world of dreams again.
Fabricated coast, they arranged a brigade
Aggregated to oppose, braving the waves
Saturated stones, awaiting decay
Exaggerated to juxtapose,
The real contained by the fake.
Professing control, they replaced the coast
Repressing the flow, sustained only to erode
Acquiescing the blows, an unstable repose
Depressing the both, the wave and the stone.
Soul Speak 8-28-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soul Speak
In a conversation with darkness,
Haunted
By whispered ghostly remnants of hope,
Exaggerated I only sees Ego
In a cherval glass broken
When grace seeps through cracks of pride
In blinding rays,
The unstoppable I Am
Roiling
With the tongue of the whirlwind.
In the vanishing point of truth,
My soul
Cowers,
Infertile as shards of a mirror
Mute as cracked reflections,
Then bows
To the beauty of no other,
Christened in testament,
The heartbeat of gospel grace,
Relentless
As incoming tides.
Diving into waves of mercy
My soul tastes the sweet confection
Of the Word,
Eternal ambrosia – everlasting manna –
Sing-speaking elocutions
Of I Am.
Exonerated Five
exaggerated
while they were castigated
then exonerated
Future of Democratic Campaign
was a detection
selection of direction
causing infection
creative thinking
to determine great future
will be within grasps
had been annoyed
our friendship destroyed
we now avoid
Jim Horn
You are with wit?
You ponder - you wonder
At the window pane you sit
Your IQ is exaggerated
It really becomes you
Yet modern communications
Indeed penetrates your mind
Mastering the inevitable
Do you see clearly?
The window reveals id
Strength in meeting people
Mingle! It's a charm . Cool!
You think and too observe
The life of ridicule
You clash ! What nerve
Intelligence is a boast
With every rhyme and reason
Intent the id then fun.
even heaven’s stars can be misaligned
the reports of her passing greatly exaggerated
a wrong number and evil intent came together
“How is my friend?”
“She died today.”
“When are the funeral services?”
“There won’t be any services!” CLICK
like playing telephone, passes between the pews,
the news of Lazarus…weeping ensues, towels passed
out…we all could have passed out if this saint
had showed up on Sunday next, praising with all get out
stone’s been kicked away…the one that the evil one laid
the devil lied, using the mouth of a man…oh man
telephone rings and rings and rings, call after call,
throwing us all, for a loop. nevermind the toss and turn
as we thought of our friend at heaven’s gate…the gait
a bit slower than we thought. kiss, kiss, kiss
her face…her halo will have to wait
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