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The Alchemy of Truth a song

[short instrumental intro]
[thick bassline]
[energetic beat]

[verse 1]
The alchemy of truth,
may be from a particular perspective,
or colored by youth,
and sprinkled with objective.
For your truth can hold your own view,
your lens through which you see the world.

[verse 2]
And naivety can lead astray,
reality fall subject to that doom.
And you may not have the ability yet,
to completely read the room.

When you don't have wisdom,
You have less fear,
and conclusions are reached quickly.

But life is so much more complex, 
and taken in context its sticky.

Was that what was really meant,
or did it happen by chance?

[Chorus]
The alchemy of truth,
colored by youth
is a perspective
and you are the lens

just focus
bring clarity,
perspective

[interlude]

[verse 3]
Was it deliberate inference,
or laid out by happenstance?

Most times most things are not architected,
they happen in real time whim,
(in real time whim,)

And though the outcome can be devastating,
the creation is less of a sin.

{verse 4]
What leads to what,
and how can that happen,
isn't always clear to see the cause and effect.

And so truth be known, 
good intentions implode,
and things go off track on their own!

[interlude]
[Guitar Solo}

[Chorus]
The alchemy of truth,
colored by youth
is a perspective
and you are the lens

just focus
bring clarity,
perspective

[bridge]
So don't hang the actors with the act,
they alone did not write the script, it's a fact!

Life is all improv,
with a heavy dose of chaos,
giving to much credence to the feelings caused,
can ruin what may be right there.

A living pachinko machine that happened to play out... 
that way, this time, here or there.

The alchemy of truth includes the lens...

[break]

[outro, fade out]
and that lens is you!

[fade out]
(that lens is you...)

(that lens is you...)

[End]
Form: Lyric


Premium Member Poetic Podcast Episode 30 Bop

You walk in hoping for solace or a smile,
instead you’re ostracized by iconoclasts.
Oh what irony!
Becoming what you profess to be against,
don’t you see what a joke that is? 
Now we’re overrun with hypocrites.

Safe spaces aren’t so free,
they’re not open to all who enter;

Copying a cadence shouting their beliefs,
rhetoric gets you in the ‘In’ crowd.
Somewhere art’s been left to flounder,
shy behind all their shallow noise.
No desire to speak,
that’s been tried before.
Can’t open up when the response   
is so utterly phony.

Safe spaces aren’t so free,
they’re not open to all who enter;

You’re not backed up when you’re gone. 
Don’t think you’re exempt from their rules.
Only truly welcome with a cave-ate,
be a catalyst for their agenda.
God forbid you hold your own opinion
perhaps it’s better to remain exposed.

Safe spaces aren’t so free,
they’re not open to all who enter.
Form: Other

Premium Member A WILL TO SURVIVE

Unbelievable, unthinkable, unimaginable, 
have lost everything, all gone, now homeless... 
are you willing to risk it all, are you strong enough to lead,
running out of food whom will feed you, in shock, now hopeless 

stranded, how then will you send for a rescue one day
have you a bag of tricks, skills to hold your own, stable
while you wait in hope, for word a rescue is underway
stressed, unsuspecting what will happen, unpredictable

good physical condition, is pure psychological
strong enough to rebuild, my world eschatology
yet still you have mustard skills to survive all,
you find a safe place, waiting, is leading you blind

finding your way there, where is safe now
            finding your way back...
all is up in dah air, this just is'nt fair some how...
    History will record, as a matter of fact

  that you did at last reach out to your Church..
for a hand-up with your heart a smart place to search
       write a little Poem book from your heart
        to make MONEY this is where you start

The Now Continum

The Now Continuum

In the quiet pulse of the present's breath,
Lies the secret, the power that outlasts death.
Not in the past, where shadows cling tight,
Nor in the future, a distant flight.

The now, the moment, this sacred time,
Where all is aligned, where hearts chime.
It whispers, “You are the creator, the key,
Unlock your truth, and just let it be.”

Since thoughts speak in past tenses,
Drop the mind, rely on senses.
Embracing and releasing,
Pain pangs and pleasure pleasing.

There was a beggar who asked me for R10,
With a tired face, worn by life's harsh trend.
I looked at him, and I asked, "Have you searched deep within yourself?"
For many seek outside, not knowing the wealth
Lies within, in the heart, in the soul's true song,
A treasure that’s been there all along.

He sat atop a bucket, weary and lost,
I asked, “Have you checked what’s inside, at what cost?”
He shook his head, “I’ve never dared to look,
Since I got it, I've just sat, in the same old nook.”

“Open it,” I said, “See what’s in your grasp,
Your power is hidden, break free from the clasp.”
He opened the lid, his eyes widened in awe—
A golden bar, a life-changing law.

No longer a beggar, no longer in need,
For inside that bucket lay the seed
Of wealth and freedom, the key to his fate,
A life transformed, no longer chained by fate.

In the now, in the present, you hold your own power,
A moment of truth, a single hour.
What you seek outside, you already possess,
It’s within, it's yours—nothing less.

For the continuum of time is vast,
But the now is your anchor, built to last.
Embrace the present, let it be your guide,
In this eternal now, you cannot hide.

So rise, creator, in this space so wide,
The universe moves, and you’re the tide.
In the now, your future is spun,
You are the light, the moon, the sun.

In the now, your future is done,
The present is where you’ve already won.

I surrender

How sad, a mere mortal can promise forever?
In any context, forever doesn't exist, 
Forever falls apart sooner or later, 
Or when they say it gets better soon, 
How long is soon? Good far is it? 
How can a pathetic human foretell the future? 
How do you know I'll be better? Or even if I will be or not?
How do you know what's in my brain? You know the words I tell you. 
The pieces I pick out and display to show I'm not perfect, but hide the ones to scare you off,
How can you say I know you when I don't know myself? 
I don't wanna grow up, I don't plan to. 
Not in a nostalgic way, but in a way I won't exist. 
I won't exist for that future, no matter if it's better or not, 
I don't want to live in this world, 
And if I end up sending myself to hell, I hope that fire gives me warmth.
I hope it's comforting like how my mother's arms are supposed to be, or I hope I burn until I don't feel.
You say I don't care about you if I wanna leave, I'm selfish I agree, I'm a hypocrite, but  you'd want to see your friends fine too? Even if you're not.
Fixing others when you can't hold your own pieces together. 
How can I get better, when I've seen people still the same, 
How much effort can I make when my hands get cracks and I can't lift?
How much can I bear, when a ship sinks if too full?
How do I hold the pieces when I have two hands and the shards are too many, cutting into me as I gather. 
i simply cannot bear this
© mika truse  Create an image from this poem.


Dusk

So many seek you by the light of the dawn only to lose you through the haze of dusk
You are mysterious at times a silent secret  in the navel of mans thoughts, a deviance 
a variate inside the doors of the conscience far remote when peppered with denial  
you want to be sought after like love agape, 
so many seek you by the light of the dawn, only to lose you to the heady scent of musk 
you are like a fine cut diamond in the raw, if I press you to a  mirror you break the image  
you save, you redeem, you make deer sleep, you see a sinner and turn him into snow  
Palpable like the studded stars of heaven every filament of your grace, is a hot burner  
You show up at the most inconvenient times and sometimes the most timely ones too 
So many seek you by the light of the dawn but you being truth, always come as you are,  
clear faced and bold, you hold your own    
So many seek you by the light of the dawn only to lose you through the haze of dusk
you are mysterious, at times a silent secret in the navel of a womans thoughts , deviant.

When the Spark Fades

It is a blessing when a decision is born on its own,
when a mind chooses its own terminus.
Everyone carries the burdens of their existence
the way one carries the ugliness of silent secrets.
You chose to leave, but behind you, they will rejoice at your fall,
not out of grace, but out of a jealousy that corrodes.
Human existence holds a worth nothing can equal.
Reducing it to dust for a replaceable attachment
is a deep misdirection.
One tragedy takes someone away,
another remains with the sting of fierce insolence.
When someone erases themselves for you,
it is never proof of greatness.
It is only the mark you left eroding in them:
their trust in humanity.
If the universal force walks beside them, they will move forward for themselves.
Otherwise, their spark may drift between two directions.
Self-love remains the strongest foundation.
Everything else is disguised worry.
And when we look at those who fight to keep living,
watching a heart surrender remains a piercing sorrow.
And within that inner turmoil no one can detect,
you move forward with your story pressed between your ribs.
They think you are strong because you stay upright,
but beneath the skin, there is that pressure pounding,
a silent battle no one truly wants to hear.
They judge you by fragments,
by actions interpreted in haste,
by faults stuck on you like labels.
They forget that a human being rebuilds slowly,
like a fractured structure still searching for its center.
Those who watch you have no idea
of the hardships you walk through,
nor the intensity that fills you when everything collapses.
They examine your choices from afar,
unable to grasp the strength required
to hold your own universe together when it threatens to dissolve.
But even in the most difficult moments,
there is a discreet source that remains within you,
a primal energy that refuses to disappear.
It asks for neither witness nor applause:
it rises, simply,
like a vital principle renewing itself in silence.
When you feel decline striking you down,
remember that your existence is not measured
by toxic gazes,
nor by the departures that tore you,
nor by the words that diminished you.
Your life surpasses the fragile ties
that tried to confine you.
Your being rises beyond the old wounds
that made you question your worth.

No Problems

If you've noticed there's no problems,
the government has too.
There's a billion cars poluting
and a mask to put on new.

There's a tax upon your property
for nothing they might do.
And a pox upon your neighbourhood
the cops will card at you.

There's a billion kitchens rinsing
what the government calls trash.
Where the people doing the rinsing
pay the bill of their own cash.

And a group of food been modified
they pass off as organic.
With no label to say otherwise
and keep us guessing frantic.

And a thousand private food banks
telling government we're poor.
When a wealthy funded welfare
should exist for our tenure.

Making several billion dollars
from a loan invested gold.
On a mint who's plates are rendered
for a government to hold.

Where the deed to our own dollars
are a travesty of old.
And the breech of our own value
for the talismen's last fold.

Where no food's upon the table
and the market sold to one.
That the note to one another-
"Hold your own until you're done".
Form: Quatrain

Where Pressure Lives, Pleasure Leaves

Pressure came knocking at the door,
And slowly, love began to fade;
The laughter heard there once before
Was buried underneath the weight.

Two hearts that once would softly meet,
Now speak in whispers, cold and brief;
The days are filled with endless needs,
And nights have little room for dreams.

Where pressure grows, pleasure retreats,
Romance becomes a distant song;
A tired heart has little strength
To give the tenderness it longs.

Love needs more than roofs and bread,
More than bills that must be paid;
It needs a smile, a gentle touch,
A little time that won't be traded.

So ease the burden, hold your own,
Remember why you chose to stay;
For when two hearts make room for love,
Even weary souls can find their way.

Pressure and pleasure cannot coexist;
Where peace returns, love finds its bliss.
Form: Rhyme

The Alchemy of Truth Includes the Lens

The alchemy of truth
may be from a particular perspective

or colored by youth
and sprinkled with objective

For your truth can hold your own view
your lens through which you see the world

And naivety can lead astray 
and reality fall subject to that doom

And you may not have the ability yet
to completely read the room

When you don't have wisdom
You have less fear and conclusions are reached quickly

But life is so much more complex 
and taken in context its sticky

Was that what was really meant
or did it happen by chance

Was it deliberate inference
or laid out by happenstance

Most times most things are not architected
they happen in real time whim

And though the outcome can be devastating
the creation is less of a sin

What leads to what
and how can that happen 
isn't always clear to see the cause and effect

And so truth be known, 
good intentions implode
and things go off track on their own

So don't hang the actors with the act
they alone did not write the script, it's a fact

Life is all improv 
with a heavy dose of chaos

And giving to much credence to the feelings caused
can ruin what may be right there

A living pachinko machine that happened to play out 
that way, this time, here

The alchemy of truth includes the lens - Artimus 9/24/23 (C) Susan Manley

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