Vision?

Umm.... yeah. lol figure it out cause, idk.


Image:
Something I see
an upside down picture
in the back of my eye
projects forward,
fun mirrors
correcting the fucked,
perfecting the blemishes of life,
hiding the fact that
NO, I am not standing up,
yet, PARALLEL to the
rest of the UNIVERSE.
We all are.
Only ones who stand upright are in
the cold, and wonder,
why did they freeze to death?
Even those who are upside down
Wonder
why did they freeze to death?
No two polar extremes of perception
shall prosper,
so get like the rest of us.
I ponder,
can it see itself
faking the ideas
of my own head? A
live depiction of
my active imagination,
it EXISTS only in the occipital,
where IN my mind fucks itself
and what was REALITY is no longer visible,
clouded by a lust for what I want which is
also what I need--
for my eyes.
My eyes are my worst deceptor,
these divine creations are divinely....
corrupt.


Why do these eyes plague me?
Why is it that
when I close my eyes,
the whole world seems clearer?
In the dark, I can feel the reality,
the heat,
the movement,
and when I step into the swarm
of contradiction, I can FEEL the deception,
I can FEEL the truth,
I can FEEL destiny.
So then, why must I be tempted
to open my eyes again?
Seems as if your OWN eyes are the windows into your OWN soul,
what you see is what you want.
what you DON'T see is what is truth.
Ah, I prefer blindness.

Bleh.

I hate when I can't have who or what I want,
but it's kinda hypocritical when I can't let someone have a part of me.
Eh, deal with it. I sure have.

Enjoy, I guess.

You cannot have this bit
You cannot take me away
pry me off
this ingrained dream
a pebble of
what is left
of this sadness
that nestled in
a little hole,
a polyp in
my little soul.
You cannot be a magician
You cannot remove all of
what was here
it can never
be truly erased
JUST STOP TRYING,
You cannot eradicate
You cannot cure
every ailment I
encountered, you'd just
have to learn
to deal with
the fact that
SOMEONE along the
line, actually did
affect me in
such a way
that it left
a little mark
on my life
and changed me
in a way
that caused me
to love and
appreciate you more.
It's not that
you CANNOT, it's
that you WON'T
have this bit
this small part
of me that
caused me to
love you dearly,
dearie. Just, Don't.

Love and Wannabes

Love

EVOLved lust;
overload of
flame pumping
through each atrium,
each ventricle
of your mind.
the fire brands
unhealing wounds
that never keloid
never disappear;
third-degree burning
impressions on
your soul
with their image
and you revel in that
feeling. For the moment
you feel no pain,
nerves dumbed--
excuse me, numbed
to express internal
ownership of an external
being. ___ IS here.



Ode to Wannabes

a breath
from another
says
"I'll try to understand
when you're down on your knees
in front of [THAT] man".
I will try to understand
that my brain-
programmed;
nerves dumbed down
to receive
the proverbial brand-
chased after you
and away from me.
But I have no concept
no imagination
no cognition anymore.
Only a body lacking
control of its
feelings,
emotions,
heart.
But only if
you knew
how difficult it was to
compact and part
this red sea
running through
me to make way
for you.
You never will know, for
my head rests
in your backpack.
Always behind you,
never a forethought,
only a trailing consideration
that is at the mercy of your
spine.
When you collapse
to your knees,
to service THAT man,
so will my memory.
Remember that.

Crap Shoot....

Crap Shoot.
I say that
The game of Chance lies within the hand
of YOUR Thrower
and you piss yourself.

--You always thought your
breath of superstition,
your muscles of repetition
controlled the crap you throw
But NO
the One who provided you with breath
as you exhale the carbon waste
your muscles created,
controls the strength of your hand,
the pitch of the dice
as you roll a 7 or a 2.

Not your choice,
for you are just dice with lead inside,
predetermined to land
on a number
of your Thrower's choosing.

Cheater? Maybe.
Ironic? Yes.
Hypocritical? You tell me.
Possible? Well, isn't that what Craps is all about?

Wanted

wanted

Stepping out the lake,
Shrouded in purity
The parts of her whole
made clean
by the
Willpower
of mankind
to strive to a Place
unfathomable.

Paul could envy her
cleansed spirit,
John could not equal her
new heart,
satan could taste the
SWEET
Victory of obtaining her
SOUL
again.

Jesus ran through her veins,
the lifewater flowing out of Him
dripped into her,
and
Beezelbub LUSTS.

A Bloodthirsty
shell of evil who
enjoys the smell of
Christ on her believes
Pure things are
ALWAYS
coveted.

Gabriel rejoices in the
revisit, but
Lucifer also revels in
recapture,
and tempts her
to taste bittersweet Knowledge;
the weakness of man once more.

BLAH.

this is a personal piece, but, i'm putting it up JUST TO TRY to convince a friend of mine to write the uneasiness out of her mind. I felt a hell of a lot better after I wrote it. I wrote it after dealing with a bout of frustration, because i'm going thru this thing where i like this person but i feel as if they cannot trust me because of the "way of the world". I am so patient, however, emotions building just HAD to come out, all of this stuff wasn't piled on by this person, but sitting there doing NOTHING about it would have led to be venting out on this person when they really did not deserve it. all the emotion building had to come out..... somewhere. better on paper or screen than on someone undeserving or deserving.... but, if a relationship's livelihood hangs in the balance, no need to spit fire at this person and burn the relationship, correct? Form your emotions into words, and your words into sentences, and your sentences into music, and your music into ART. It's venting time, I think. PURGE. Like I did.


blah at the world
and all who inhabit it.
all you little earthlings
with your poor disposition
and all your fucking flaws
and your selfish ways
and your little bitchy moods
and your OBVIOUS disdain for idiosyncracies
and your hate
and your butterfly effect
regarding emotions
AND YAWNING...
contagious, making me
susceptible
to your energy.
my dainty shell,
my permeable membrane
I'D like to call my psyche
feels tormented.
feels VULNERABLE.
Earthly anxiety
frustration
confusion
happiness
joy
benevolence
falls through my atmosphere like
beautiful streaks of ugly rocks on fire.
From a high concentration
to a low concentration, the
way of the world diffuses in
to my Martian Dragon lair
FUCKING IT UP.
My little world
has been cluttered
with these damn human emotions.
Ignoring them would be the Martian thing to do,
but
for the first time in a long time,
I feel.... human.
I hate it.
blah at you earthlings
with your family values
and your love
and your perseverance
and your remarkable abilities
and your diplomacy
and your sick-ass strive to perfection
and your ability to
draw a dream from air,
to ransack my lair,
envelop me,
challenge me,
love me,
and your contagious laughter
that makes me smile
and feel
like I AM of this world.
EARTH...


Dragon?
What an amazing contradiction,
is it even possible to be grounded
and level-headed
with all the mighty authoritative power
Earth dragons possess?
A cold lizard that has the ability to warm,
A SERPENT with ANGELic wings
A revered yet reclusive being
Just like humans.
Just like me.

Ion even know what to call it...

Every which way the wind blows
is where you go,
I mean,
you move so swiftly
you cannot stay still to save
your life
your heart
MY life
MY heart
you Boeing piece of craftsmanship!
why don't you start drawing from the earth
instead of wind like me?
Seven forty seven, a time you're so fond of
soaring high, adrenaline's like jet fuel to you.
You float all accidental-like on a breeze
you feather. The down within my pillow
I hope you to be, but a bird in the air you remain.
I want to cage you,
but
you won't sing with me.
You wallow within the confines of my heart
cantankerous, cankerous, cancerous you become.
I know without your wind, your flight, your migration
you will surely die, and
the feathers of hope upon you no longer serves purpose
to me
to the world.
So, GET! Fly with your
Luftwaffe,
you 100th luftballon.