Trek through a Thought

Through times of unbalance
We stand on weighty scales
Pondering each side
Which wins, which fails
The sun goes down each day
Like an anchor in the sea’s floor
We graciously abide with less, while needing more
Smiles of momentary bliss flow
Though not many deeply know
One reality from another
In the life of a strange mother

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Aside

Menstruated Relevance

It’s birth was a self-proclaimed excitement of newness from the very start

But what ejects from the mouth surely comes from the heart

I don’t know if you know that I happen to know

That seeds planted in the moment will flourish and eventually grow

Into a thing expected, but certainly not hoped for

Sometimes, we pray for a disengaged cap-off

Or a magical hinge which closes the door

On negativity, complaints, and unrealistic hopes for

Ungracious favor –  amenities; those things realistically not in store

For you? Me? No!

When unable to take the heat, one must pack up and go

Inside of self to find and oust the true yet vicious culprit

The answer won’t be found inside a gurus spirit, nor a sanctimonious pulpit

The guru needs to breathe and the preacher has his own life

Which is also filled with possessiveness, the God complex, and strife

But as long as I know that I know what I do know

You too can learn this way to evade being tossed to and fro

Through the thick and profuse forest for that very tree

Which stands in your way, though you refuse to humbly look and see

Me

The one and only one who truly understands

The plight of a queen, the fight of a man

Through the blackness of our blood, sweat, and unceasing tears

Though none go with, we remain adhering for years

Coming out and going into the sweltering furnace of death’s hell fire

Toiling, blistering, and carrying the dead weight of an anvil’s desire

There is always an insidious calm before the impending storm

When she is weary, debased, and facing a hope forlorn

It is by pure faith that dreamed hopes will one day be one

Until then, this pillared woman’s work is now done

She patiently waits for that grand day of relief to finally arrive

When menstruated relevance cedes, lays down, and

For the time being

Dies

 

Aside

Consummated Arrogance

The anguish of pride is a virginal bride

Willingly walking over  the threshold

Of disaster…

Refusing to be carried through to modesty

For she will have no master

 

She deserts the purity of humility

Leaving it slain as a permanent stain

Wrapped in defiled marriage bed sheets of deceit

Though the proof is now there

The anguish of pride keeps her blind… unaware

 

Will she ever learn that her mate will forever yearn

For the pleasure of a true coexistence – with much persistence

Daily longing to kiss her lips and fingertips

While in a strong embrace

Graciously savoring her would be sweet and humble  taste

 

If only she knew that as the morning dew

Falls and eventually evaporates

So would the anguish of pride

Gently drop…then gradually

Dissipate

 

 

Aside

In the Heart of…

Truth,

It resides in meaningful places, but

Empty facades of what could have been –

Yet cannot be are strained from

The solidity of

Solitude…

Preferring the brilliant glow of

Honesty, but facing

Rejection

From the other side of the

Facts of

Life…

Wandering aimlessly…searching for

Depth

In one’s own

Reality – suddenly

A loud shout from the

Heart

Brings fruition

 

Aside

Creepers

They walk in silence

And they run in fear

But they can only be heard

When we are willing to hear

 

On a typical day’s quiet stroll

Comes the caress of  gentle winds

When suddenly, they are there

As we take our surroundings in

 

While lying awake at night

Be it hot, pleasant, or icy cold

They slip in through small unsecured spaces

Bringing with them good, bad, new, and old

 

We can use them as we please

To create, enjoy, and build

Yet, we can also completely destroy them

Leaving them for dead in an open field

 

To forget, to remember, to cherish

To keep, or to throw away

Thoughts and memories continuously creep

On every given day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aside

Life Goes Lyrical|Urban Dialect

I had a lot of fun with this piece…(silent mental beats playing in my head – again, I feel alive in the midst of severe brain fog/stress/life happening). My intent is for the brutally honest Southern hood dialect orientation to epitomize the concept of a life from any walk (and the stuff that comes with it) to be ‘felt’.

I hope you guys enjoy!

Life Goes Lyrical

dscf009314.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tired – try’in to steal a nap like a thief in a robbery

Sick – cause the weather bipolar like a fake real housewife on TV

Broke as the Ten Commandments when Moses stepped down from the MT – couldn’t believe what his eyes did see

Tripp’in – like a stumbling block in my way cause b****es be hatin on me

But still good, cause I ain’t a slave to the world sayin, “F*** it!” like ‘2Pac’, set me free

 

Still be up – when my life be ’bout to crumble and fall

Come out fight’in – when my back is pushed against tha wall

Shawt – like a munchkin, but mentally standing tall

Throw at me what you will – whistle blown, flag thrown, my court – my ball!

 

Darkness invades – as if my midnight is on tha loose

Tie a big knot, rope it up, kick my chair, – look up at tha noose

But it ain’t for my neck, you damned silly goose

Just hang’in up all my hang-ups – time to let it all loose

 

Times got to get betta – that’s all I’m say’in

Don’t get pissed off at me cause U evol’vin and I’m still pray’in

No time for tha BS – put a cap on tha monkey-ass play’in

My miss’in link ain’t no invisible ape –

Just a nomadic biped – survive’in… gray’in

 

 

Aside

Homograph Haiku

Strings attached ensnare
The ties that bind are riddled with knots
Make bows and take bows

Aside

The Collector

Small Gift Box on Pine

Image courtesy of sritangphoto / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I must admit that this poem was literally pulled out of me by an old yet new friend from my past (school) who has managed to reconnect with me in a big way, so thank you much MS COOPER!!! I also feel the need to attribute these words to another friend – YES, YOU CHRISTYB!  It is these two ladies that I in this case consider – (((drumroll)) – FRIENDS. You have both supported me from day #1, and both of you still make yourselves a very present asset in helping me to clear my overly filled (with whatever at the time) brain – via encouragement, genuine friendliness, and authentic support.

I can only hope that these two gems receive some warm light in return for what that they continuously give out. 🙂

The Collector

Her special box is hidden in her heart,

Filled with many colors,

Shapes, forms;

Collecting often, but –

Sometimes – not always the norm.

Before, they lay dormant…

Until the day came,

To awaken –

Those forsaken –

And forlorn…

With the sweet scent of friendliness,

And compassion true;

She acknowledges all forms,

Be it red, brown, or other hue.

The shapes never matter,

Because her love never ceases to refrain;

From spreading a scattered distribution

Of camaraderie over the lawn of  any species,

Holding the existence of pertinence –

To bliss and pain.

Keeping the old and bringing in

Those irregular – even blue,

The bright colors uplift,

While dark  rich hues renew.

She sets newness neatly,

Lovingly,

In its designated spot;

Publicly, with all the others, discreetly.

She will savor joy,

Togetherness,

For a time, many pleasantries ;

Until back to that special hidden place,

Goes the collector’s paper leaves.

 

 

Aside

The Zone

Image of writer's block frustration

Writer’s block frustration

I have been so frustrated and stressed lately that I haven’t been able to create ANYTHING along the lines of writing. I have not enjoyed being away from WordPress where I usually find solace in visiting to create whatever comes out – however, it is my daughter’s birthday today, and somehow I managed to come up with something like a freestyle-5- line-intertwining-rhyming-stanza situation – whatever! . I will enjoy today because it is truly a day to celebrate, and despite how weird this piece ‘sounds’ to me and how crazy the pic looks…it does represent my brain during the past week spent in a zone that I dread being trapped in against my will. Maybe this happens to force me to ‘break’ when I would normally keep it moving, so there’s always a bright side…yeah…I’ll just go with that! 🙂

The Zone

The blink of an eye takes me there;

But again, I missed the entire ride,

To I don’t know where;

Finding emptiness before me and on every side,

Totally unaware…

Pertaining to day or set time;

When I lost the urge to care,

For anything save words that rhyme;

So I decided to share…

Seemingly years since before;

The beginning began to begin,

From the uttermost depths beneath one lone shore;

Mixed with an extreme gust’s remnant of a caressing  wind,

Possessing all of nothing, but desperate for more…

Fullness of easily followed direction with content;

Amid the trek of reality’s sidewalk,

Wondering if it is not – or truly meant;

To abide disease induced superfluous rhetorical talk,

Leading to the source of reality’s truths being twisted and bent…

Horribly out of shape, creating sporadically atrocious views;

Of  life’s craving for selfishness during idle time spent,

Counting time against results sadly, not to uplift – but abuse;

A heart’s vision of what is whole, yet finding it rent…

Searching for the glue which is truth – it understands;

The power of authentic words created,

By hands;

Held together,  mutually, willingly, satiated,

Once again home with a sigh of relief – oh, that familiar land!

Aside

Or Else

Thinker thinks about how to take sun burst shot

Thinker thinks about how to take sun burst shot (Photo credit: davidyuweb)

All eyes fixate

On what lies before them;

All minds create opinions

Of what has been seen..

All brains collect

Data

According to what is produced;

The average, the mean…

From darkest brown

To Amber,

From cerulean blue

To emerald-green…

All eyes see the same –

Every mind works alike,

But opinions often differ

In what has been seen…

Is it because

Of Freedom,

Or could it be

Functionality…

Could it be that both works

Work to produce

The mind’s own rationality…

When raindrops fall,

Do you see mere water,

Or are they

Transparent particles of life…

When you hear a love song,

Does ‘musical piece’ come to mind,

Or imaginings of a melodic overture

From a man dedicated to his wife…

Certainly, all eyes view

The beholden –

Beautiful, physical and natural wonders

Of any given site…

But it is solely

The beholder;

Mind, thoughts, freedom and functionality

Which defines actual sight…

All things creative –

Musical, poetic, colorful, rhythmic,

Seen, heard, and felt

Are remnants of a piece…

Of creativity –

Constructed, balanced and

Made;

The beholder’s

Freedom and functionality bringing you peace…

Our own functionality collects

What we see, hear and feel

In a creative world

Which naturally compels…

All eyes and minds – ears, and hearts

To receive creations freely,

Either the same way – sometimes

Else…

In all

That we give,

And in all

That we create;

Complex reception

Of sights from the site

And peace from the pieces

Define true talent that all alike appreciate!

Aside

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