Broken bitter. You let it all weigh on your nights. Mirrors reflect flashbacks, pandora box of memories, you relish in reliving. Stop there. Let your fractured pieces heal themselves internally. One shouldn’t peel a scab if one is not ready to possibly draw blood. You see what you wish. Beauty beyond the scars. Feeding your emptiness with disguised nourishment. Illusions have killed many. Plagues rot perception. Genocides of emotions. Your expectations are forever ruined by your falsity. Yet within every glance you chase your reflection, trying to capture images. Those needing to be left on the other side of the glass. Double sided rooms fool no one, unless the fool is you.Nearly every night, you forget to appreciate the day, broken bitter. Open your eyes.
Forest, trees, leaves….
once was. is.
While traveling (via greyhound) in college from GA to FL, I peered out of my window and suddenly connected to nature in a way that has yet to escape me.
I saw my ancestors among the forest. I felt their spirits within the simplicity of the trees, the movement of the branches, and their sway from side to side.
It was almost so effortlessly. As if they were being guided from some divine hand. I could smell their sweet scent, feel the warmth of them watching me. All my bitter brokenness became whole.
It (the aura) cuffed my ego, and stimulated my curiosity, while increasing my pride. I was reborn. New.
All through mother nature. And since have been giving her all respect. Reaching to pose as a reflection of such, a lifestyle as inspiration, to calm my complexities. Watching their stillness, even among the most turbulent storms, they stand. Withstand the test. Forest. Trees. Branches. Leaves. Roots. Trunk. Souls.
I am learning. Observing.
And so what of this? How is this important to our existence? When he tells me of a story where the forest is overseen for the trees. And yet here I am worshiping each branch. What now? I guess I am beyond living.
I wouldn’t mind dying today so as long as you post this so everyone can read:
“Words are means of expressing the depth of the ocean, the height of the sky, and the simplicity of observation.”
Everything in question is under the scrutiny of truth, the validity of circumstance, and toying the line of integrity.
If you must over think love, then are you really loving? If you must worry about consequences, then how do you justify your actions?
Just remember time does not stop when death pays a visit.
My words will be timeless. Worth every second.
Lets get naked
Bare your soul. I will catch all your faults,cuddle them next to mine, clothe your insecurities, and affirm your unique ability to write yourself into my life. Don’t attempt to put together poems on your reality because with every touch of my pen, my intentions are enough to subdue the silence. you’re still half human.
You built me from the top down. You exist off the ruins of my smile as we break molds to create a masterpiece. You always told me that you didn’t want any one else’s leftover pyramid. Though there is something magical about restoring an antique. But you deserve your own throne and crown. Deity. Pharaoh. Queen. You saw the god in me. Yet became trapped within my winds. You tore away my protective fortress, only to find something unexpected. You never imagined: I was built from the inside out. Since reincarnation I have always been HER, your keepsake.
outside my window is a train wreck of emotions. bodies floating. nothing close to selfless intentions. i can see what everything has done to my people. or better yet what my people have done to themselves. traffic jams holding machines responsible for lost souls. when will accountability be the first word our children speak? and what of my rituals… lonely, long dark nights stretching limbs for safety. watching my back because its only me. I’m stuck in a vault. defense mechanism that no one else will understand but you. when turning the cheek is fashionable like wearing a different pair of shoes. looking away is picture perfect… a subtle way of saying hello. and moving forward takes little effort… just planting one foot in front of the other. This is the part of life that we too often forget to accept: uncertainty. Fluidity of accepting me as i am and moving according to who you will always be. Yet it feels like my conscience wont allow movement without knowing. I just wish that you, I, we one day will allow all the light of being in the dark to illuminate our moments. To eliminate our worries. So that i can be on my way, within my realms of safety and you… be content within your blanket of consistency. Then our people will be free… if we just except uncertainty. No one will be let down by the present.
Did you know that on average, most arabic linguistics make a minimum of 42k a year in the United States? Its funny how a job studying language, translating and deciphering a language of our (the U.S) self proclaimed “enemy,turned new friend” seems to pay decent. If only the world saw this as a joint exploration, venturing to uncover cultural barriers rather than decoding encrypted manuscripts. An income and a diversion. I see it as an outlet. A way to connect with him. Since he said ”our minds are translators for our souls” what does my soul say when I can translate his heart. Transcribe conversations, converting symbols into means of expression, simple phrases left unsaid. Who is to say I will ever need to understand arabic. Why, when I can understand his soul. What’s. The purpose of any of language, when my salary is counted in good mornings?
My memories tease the emotions of current and past events,destroying the structure of its natural flow. Its destination has changed drastically. My soul has been inverted. And for once I can finally see myself for its truth. Never again will dams misguide my waters. Life’s bumpers can only be valued through nature. Artificial routes ultimately lead back to me. Self hate doesn’t lurk in my shadows.