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Just poems swirling in space
I don’t know where everyone is in their life, although there are some people here that I can feel strongly in my heart without knowing or meeting them as if our light tentacles are somehow connected beyond this realm and its many layers of illusions.
Lately, many things have happened in my inner worlds. I still don’t know how to approach it or talk about it. I am just looking at it as I am growing in momentum to slash my sword right into the heart of the matter because even my breath feels different today.
I am heavily pondering about the realities I have seen and experienced. Every day I feel more sober, and more distant at the same time. Yet, closer.
I could always see what is happening in the larger picture. The illusions are transparent. The blanket that has been pulled in front of the sleepy hearts of man by lights and by darkness is atrocious. Dreadful.
If it is a game, I left the table.
The phony heart shape people make with their hands while they are held down by confining perceptions of life- not knowing how to get out of it- not knowing they can- is mind blowing. The hard core grinder of people who don’t know who and what they are is heart breaking.
I am stripping off every facial expression that mimics my surrounding as if I am with you. I am not, I cannot. I have to stand up, I can’t buy more of the stuff just to stick around any longer. I refuse this reflection. It is not me.
I am still waiting for my tribe, if there is anything like it, to rip this place apart. To shreds. But not this place- the other place.
I feel I have waited enough, joined the party, and tasted the wine- maybe too long. Watching the world taken away piece by piece by cons as if we cannot stand. Watching the blind leading the blind into distractions. No, don’t lift your head, no, don’t gaze straight- look over there, smile, take a selfi.
There are two kinds of love. One is the mover of all energies, the dancing, knowing, free, and hugging life- relaying on nothing. And the other Love is the trick to get your consent for crap. Yes, crap. I say it double because my word doc grammar underlined ‘crap’ with a blue line to tell me that my vocabulary may be offensive to my reader- are you offended?
You are worth more than a mountain of gold, and definitely more than the trap that is coming to close you in.
I heard some people say that it is the end. If you didn’t wake up until now, you cannot. I call it: bullshit.
Yes, you can. But do you want to?
I feel loaded. Explosive.
I hope you do too.
Take what you like from it.
Take what you feel from it.
A friend of mine wrote this short poem, and let me share it here.