It’s endless.
The words pour out of bodyless lips; honey oozing onto my burning, sheathed wounds.
Am I what they tell me I am?
The question expands through my membranes, inflating my insides until I detonate with the black of their degradation.
The sugarcoated insults hang in the air.
The sweetness intoxicates my silence until the noise implodes, a deliberate provocation to the vacuum of my consciousness.
I don’t want to be what they tell me I am.
Though, the vast, eternal plea for empathy betrays the feigning, defiant arch of my brow.
The hair follicles echo my hallucination of faith.
I wish for anything but the death of my soul;
A lack of voice.
I hate everything -
the reflection my mind shows
is jagged,
pointing at every flaw
with cold, surgical precision.
I do not understand the lessons
I should have learned by now;
The maps others followed
were incinerated
before my fingertips met the pages edge.
I speak.
I act,
and every word fractures the air.
faces tighten
like brittle glass
under unseen pressure.
And still, they call me
"The best thing in the world",
light and death,
while I spread the poison like a disease
just from inflating my lungs.
Sometimes I wish to vanish quietly,
leave no trace,
no smoke,
no echoes of the names you once called me.
But the accusation of selfishness strikes with immediate,
deafening gunfire.
I continue to patch the wounds and holes left by others,
my unneeded and wasted blood filling the voids
while my skin breaks cleanly,
my heart tears without mercy.
The figure my mind has constructed
waits in the dark,
unmoving.
while I screamed with my burning lungs
to take me away
Like when "Love" took away the pain
that used to be enough
to keep me here.
You don't need to be present in a church or subscribe to religion to be connected to more
You don't need to be receiving a pay check or income from an physical organisation or other individual to be working or to have purpose
You don't need to be an enrolled Dancer in a studio, team and culture to be a Dancer
You don't need to have paid mentors, because some mentor has a paid mentor and has told you not to use your intuition and to just be inspired.
You don't need to be in a meditative state or do psychedelics to see more than this plane.
You don't need to follow trends when your God and your intuition is leading you to set one.
You don't need to be seen or validated by others in order to be great.
Greatness lies within...
And that's where the real challenge is.
Is your greatness self serving, inflating and servicing?
Or is it a vessel to help others understand theirs.
Who do you do you for?
Can you be quiet, listen and be directed in your most quiet, darkest and blind state.
Close your eyes and listen.
When Dorothy and Tin Man were dating
She didn’t prepare for the mating
Til’ she heard a bang
And shouted out, “Dang,
Something inside there’s inflating”
Since Dorothy’s one chick he lusted
Poor Tin said he was disgusted
Coz there was no oil can
Nearby them at hand
To free up his zipper now rusted
As Tin was kissing Dorothy’s lips
He sadly knew he had to come to grips
‘Til she yelled, “My man
I’ll open your can
Coz in my purse I brought some tin snips!”
M'aider … Mayday, comes from French,
that word, with fright, I radio,
my engine dead, this nighttime glide,
vast sky and ocean black as ink,
waves rising, lapping, leaping up
until the splash, wings ditching in,
a frantic swim, inflating raft,
my sea-soaked struggle to climb in
then drift and bob through endless dark,
despair and chill a numbing pair
while drooping, dozing, nodding off …
then through his succor of weak sleep,
the sea's east edge grew limned with white
and stars lost vigor in dull sky,
its gray, faint light caressing him;
he gasped and jolted, jumped awake,
aware hope rises with pale glow,
that pastel-pink renews all life
and rescue, soon, will be at hand!
I Am As I Am complete
Though ego opines otherwise
Invoking grace we feel God’s heartbeat
Where ese does there remain for us to realize.
-Unseeking Seeker
Our soul lovingly speaks to us everyday
wherever we are, wherever we stay
Reminding us of our God’s beautiful gifts
that no life’s trials can carry us to drift.
For we are the handmade of God
created in His wonderful likeness and image
Our body dwells the Holy Spirit
as His temple to make us feel His heartbeat.
He knows what’s in our thoughts
and sentiments of our hearts, He sooths
Inflating our ego and pride
God watches us, He’s always at our side.
It’s God' faithfulness, love and grace
that empower us to deal with our imperfections
Then again our soul speaks within us, I Am as I Am
completely belong to God, a child of my Almighty Creator.
I netted a word today
spritzing in the back of mind,
examined it from angles:
politically, like stars and spangles
rhythmically, like Mr. Bojangles
spiritually, like sin~ the foolish soul
entangles
--------------------------------
Some writes simply
start that way, a little
prick, a piercing needle,
a little sip, then a bigger swig --
from a simple plan with
a hopping step~ to a stomping, glorious
gig! --
A bee of thought
from silent hive astray
a buzzing syllable
with small fanning wings
jolting every colony senator
with shocking, new contagious
temblor
till the whole damn swarm
takes alacritous notice --
the poet begins an inflating rock...
bursting out joyfully~ his pen verse
singing!
Once again, they horde the fuel
Tricking everyone to blame the gov't spoil.
Weeks ago, they pledged loyalty
To serve her faithfully with all might
Yet here they are, inflating prices, pocketing taxes.
They saluted the flag with pride so grand
But in their eyes, Sierra Leone is a battlefield
Where, like a jungle, the fittest survives
Even if leaving compatriots to die
To a grueling inferno on a highway drive.
Like a puppeteers, they toy with prices
Steal and champion every vice there is
Their loyalty to the country is a hollow shell
Where offsprings of deception dwell
Their places of worship arenas to trample the hearts of their compatriots
Treating each of us like idiots.
A heartless patriot, an empty shelf
Striving to fill up, putting country behind self.
Wretched monsters by all indication
Boasting of knowledge and the best education
But the day of reckoning looms, where truth will eclipse their deceit.
They glisten and dazzle on the beach at night
on moonlight against light snow, they shimmer.
They sparkle, flicker like fire, or diamonds bright.
They guide your footsteps beneath starlight
soft against your toes as you wiggle your feet
when you sit on the sands aimless in the night.
You can feel them gently upon your hand
caress your fingertips as you do a lover,
to count the sands you need a magic wand.
This is a sand and shale beach where the surf boils
the ocean flecked with whitecaps of waves curling
a frenzied foam is dashed on shore to waters recoils.
How insignificant you are strolling idly on sands
but it feels good, and keeps your ego from inflating,
while your heart dreams of flying to distant lands.
@jjote022824
Fourteen pounds; that’s a bucket of lard
And losing that shouldn’t be so hard
It’s turkey, pud and let’s not quibble
A pretty frequent midnight nibble
It’s one whole stone of belly fat
Inflating what was firm and flat
Slimline tonic won’t do that
So did I eat an alley cat?
Six-point-three-five Kilograms
Twice what sometimes fills our prams
Were I pregnant, for my sins
Could be that I’m toting twins
But I’ve had lots of Christmases
And I’m sure when I tell you this
Six weeks watching what I eat
Will make my tummy nice and neat
The trifle’s gone, as is the meat
All the savoury, all the sweet
It’s time to watch my waist deflate
With smaller servings on my plate
And so I put away the gin
And tonic with no sugar in
For gin gives me an appetite
That makes me nibble late at night
So, fourteen pounds; that is my goal
A resolution in my soul
But, by the gin, before my eyes
A box - unopened - of mince pies!
Before we started
I was convinced
You’d never want me.
Then you confessed.
You liked me
Or so you said.
If that was true,
Would you not
Have done more?
I’d come around
Every chance I could
In the hopes I would see you
For even a split second.
But every time I was there
I was just another body
Inflating your ego.
You never gave me
The time of day.
I gave you
Every second of mine.
Our nation - at a crossroads now
With intersecting planes
Of concepts much at odds somehow -
Exacerbating strains.
The Democrats perplexities:
A "Heart without a Head"
Explains irrationalities -
(Dysfunction - simply said).
Republican proclivities:
A "Head without a Heart"
Explains their personalities -
(Flatlines on MDs charts).
Both play the same devout "blame game"
With terse polemics wrought
As zealots on both sides proclaim
Their hyperbolic thoughts.
They come and go yet most remain,
Though times change in due course,
And seem to think it's their domain -
Their livelihood resource.
And, money flows and money goes
Awash in large amounts
But how, from where, no accounts show;
Just smoke and mirrors doubts.
With most seats safely in the till
Few voters needs to heed,
Instead exert, exhort their will
On things inflating greed.
Then, how do we comport with this
Vast wasteland so immense?
We wax and wane and turn and twist -
It's our experience.
Shortest day, longest night
Celebration of light
Glistening ice and snow
Temperatures low
Bare trees
Ponds freeze
Dress warm
Long sleeve uniform
Cardigans and sweatshirts
Goodbye mini skirts
Silk and wool
Indoor pool
Soup and stew
Don’t misconstrue
Wish Bread
Glaze spread
Cinnamon and cloves
On stoves
Ice skating
Snow tube inflating
Snow skiing
Snowboard leaping
Snowshoe wearing
Spectators staring
Hope, intentions, and new year
Celebrate and cheer
Yule brings hope of life
Robins and wrens in strife
Red, white, green, and gold
My, it’s cold!
From the first filling nascent puff
love’s breath buoyed a ring, filial…
Onward floating where the hearts go
and hands cling during a stormy sea ~
To lift the sinking 'n offer benevolent
anodyne alms easing terrors of aqua
threatening to drown in bereavement ...
Inflated again, waits for a tsunami
on which to ride to placid scenario…
New waves toss and turn till benign ~
Deflated many times when pierced,
ended ties that stabbed once/twice…
Voyaging closely, my true two of luv…
In their re-inflating exhales, have I
come afloat again to remain kinetic
evermore, as their floatation device ~
(8/21/2022 - For 'The Meaning of Love' Contest)
He was a handsome man
hamming it up for the photographer
each flash inflating his ego
but cameras only capture the shell
what can be seen on the surface
insuring his true identity
remained securely hidden deep within
He was a man who had never experienced
the painful pangs of hunger
the sickening shame of want
squandered potential due to lack of opportunity
the sorrow of watching helplessly as precious dreams die
their withered corpses cremated
the ashes scattered to the wind
His reality had always been quite different
than that of the mundane majority
He was a handsome man
who despite his extensive and expensive education
earning an advanced degree
his noted name written in calligraphy
hanging on his office wall
knew nothing at all
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